' '/ give theft Books •YAiLE-^MViEisajnnf- LINONIAN AND BROTHERS LIBRARY OLD SPANISH MASTERS THE CONCEPTION OF Till': VfRGIf l*KAUO Ml'MiL'.U, MADKID, VIURILLO. i\S*m Ju&i, OLD SPANISH MASTERS ENGRAVED BY TIMOTHY COLE WITH HISTORICAL NOTES BY CHARLES H. CAFFIN AND COMMENTS BY THE ENGRAVER msm WO #?"'& iUQ'! iaa&is^imm^! NEW YORK : THE CENTURY CO. 1907 V{\3 ,"•% lA^iy? jf-i Copyright, 1901, 1902, 1903, 1904, 1905, 1906, and 1907, by THE CENTURY CO. Published October, ie/07 THE DEVINNE PRESS CONTENTS PAGE A Note on Spanish Painting . 3 CHAPTER I Early Native Art and Foreign Influence the period of ferdinand and isabella (1492-15 16) . . 23 I School of Castile ... 24 II School of Andalusia .... . . 28 III School of Valencia 29 CHAPTER II Beginnings of Italian Influence the period of charles i (1516-1556) . ... . 33 I School of Castile 37 11 School of Andalusia 39 III School of Valencia 41 CHAPTER III The Development of Italian Influence I Period of Philip II (1 556-1 598) 45 II Luis Morales 47 HI Other Painters of the School of Castile 53 IV Painters of the School of Andalusia .... .... 57 V School of Valencia 59 CHAPTER IV Conclusion of Italian Influence I Period of Philip III (1598-1621) 63 II El Greco (Domenico Theotocopuli) 66 VI CONTENTS CHAPTER V PAGE Culmination of Native Art in the Seventeenth Century period of philip iv (1621-1665) 77 1 Lesser Painters of the School of Castile 79 II Velasquez 81 CHAPTER VI The Seventeenth-Century School of Valencia I Introduction 107 II Ribera (Lo Spagnoletto) 1 09 CHAPTER VII The Seventeenth-Century School of Andalusia I Introduction ..117 11 Francisco de Zurbaran .120 HI Alonso Cano 125 CHAPTER VIII The Great Period of the Seventeenth-Century School of Andalusia (continued) 133 CHAPTER IX Decline of Native Painting charles 11 ( 1 665-1 700) 155 CHAPTER X The Bourbon Dynasty FRANCISCO GOYA l6l INDEX OF ILLUSTRATIONS Murillo, The Conception of the Virgin . . . Frontispiece Prado Museum, Madrid FACING PAGE Murillo, The Prodigal Son Feasting 9 Prado Museum, Madrid El Greco (Domenico Theotocopuli), Portrait of Himself . 16 Seville Museum Velasquez, Portrait of King Philip IV as a Sportsman . . 18 Prado Museum, Madrid Velasquez, Don Baltasar Carlos (Detail) 34 Madrid Museum Morales, Madonna and Child 47 Bosch Collection, Madrid Morales, Madonna of the Little Bird . 50 Collection of the Marques de Remisa, Madrid El Greco, The Stripping of Christ 66 The Cathedral, Toledo El Greco, Coronation of the Virgin 71 Collection of Senor Pablo Bosch, Madrid El Greco, St. Martin and Mendicant 72 Church of San Jos£, Toledo El Greco (Domenico Theotocopuli), The Daughter of El Greco 74 Collection of Sir John Stirling-Maxwell, Bart., M. P., London vii Vlll INDEX OF ILLUSTRATIONS FACING PAGE Velasquez, Don Olivarez 83 Prado Museum, Madrid Velasquez, "The Spinners" 86 Prado Museum, Madrid Velasquez, The Surrender of Breda (The Lances) .... 91 Prado Museum, Madrid Velasquez, The Menippus ... 94 Prado Museum, Madrid Velasquez, The Head of a Young Man 97 Collection of Duke of Wellington, Apsley House, London Velasquez, Pope Innocent X 100 Doria Palace, Rome Ribera, The Assumption of Mary Magdalene 112 Real Academia de Bellas Artes, Madrid Zurbaran, St. Elizabeth 120 Smith-Barry Collection, London Zurbaran, St. Catharine in Prayer . . . . . 122 Collection of the Infanta Cano, Madonna and Child . . 126 Cathedral of Seville Cano, St. Agnes . . ........ 129 Berlin Museum Murillo, The Holy Family of the Little Bird 134 Prado Museum, Madrid Murillo, The Adoration of the Shepherds 137 Seville Museum Murillo, A Spanish Flower-Girl . . 139 Dulwich College, England Murillo, St. Anna Teaching the Virgin 142 Prado Museum, Madrid INDEX OF ILLUSTRATIONS IX PACING PAGE Murillo, St. Joseph and Child 144 Seville Museum Murillo, St. John the Baptist 148 Prado Museum, Madrid Goya, The Washerwomen 165 Madrid Museum Goya, In the Balcony 168 Collection of the Duke of Marchena, Paris Goya, Dona Isabel Corbo de Porcel 172 National Gallery, London OLD SPANISH MASTERS OLD SPANISH MASTERS A NOTE ON SPANISH PAINTING IT is not until the end of the fifteenth century that the story of Spanish painting begins to emerge into clearness. Starting at the moment when Italian art was entering upon the supreme achievements of the High Renaissance, it survived the latter's decay, reached its own independent climax in the seventeenth century, and received a supplementary chapter at the end of the eighteenth. As a connected narrative it may be said to have begun with the birth of a United Spain in 1492. Paintings of an earlier time, how ever, are still extant, but little record of their painters has been pre served. In the Escorial, for example, and the National Library and Academy of History is a collection of illustrated manuscripts, the miniatures in which are assumed to date from the first century after the Moorish Conquest (1087-92). To the same period probably belong some mural paintings, executed in dry fresco; figures of saints in the little Church of El Christo de la Luz at Toledo, and scenes from the Passion on the vaulted ceiling of the Chapel of Saint Catherine in San Isidoro of Leon. Again, with the introduc tion of the architecture of Northern France, there came in a style of drawing evolved from it, traces of which are to be found on the monuments of the old cathedral of Salamanca. Of the three mural paintings of the Virgin in Seville, those of Nuestra Senora de Roca- 3 4 OLD SPANISH MASTERS mador at San Lorenzo and of Nuestra Senora del Corral in San Ilde- fonso probably date from the fourteenth century. The third, in Ca- pilla de la Antigua in the cathedral was painted over in the sixteenth century. Moreover in the fourteenth century two Tuscan painters of the school of Giotto, Stamina and Dello, are known to have worked at the court of Juan I and Juan II of Castile; and while no authenticated specimens of their work survive, the vault paintings of San Bias in the cloisters of Toledo are undoubtedly Giottesque. Fur ther Italian influence is discoverable in the "Lands of the Limousin Dialect": Valencia, Catalonia, and Majorca. In this district, from the fifteenth century a style prevailed which is akin to that of the early Tuscan and old Cologne schools. Its characteristics are light tempera coloring, animated and graceful movement, flowing drapery, and fine and even beautiful forms. The retablos on which these paintings are found may be recognized by their flat gilded frames, with Gothic tracery and ornamentation. The influence, however, which has left most trace upon the earlier period is that of the Flemish school. Many of these pictures were introduced by traders ; others painted in Flanders to the order of Spanish patrons, while some were the work of Flemish painters visiting or residing in Spain. Jan van Eyck, for example, in 1428, despatched by the Duke of Burgundy on a special mission to Por tugal, paid a visit to Madrid, and it has been suggested that the "Fountain of Life," in the Prado, may be a work of his hand. The most remarkable example of the Flemish influence is a retablo painted by Luis de Dalman for the chapel in the City Hall of Barce lona. Produced about ten years after the famous altarpiece of the Van Eycks at Ghent, it exhibits the oil technique, the forms, and even the singing angels of that masterpiece, but translated into Catalonian types. "Those who pass from village to village," writes Carl Justi, "in almost any Spanish province will receive the impression that in the fifteenth century every church possessed one or more painted reta blos, so great is the number that have escaped (mostly in the poorer places) the 'churrigueresque' mania for restoration. Most of these A NOTE ON SPANISH PAINTING 5 works date from the second half of the century and show the general characteristics of the early Flemish school. The figures are lean, the outlines sharp, the colors rich and aided by gold. Local types and customs and peculiarities of dress and ornamentation are frequently used. The legends are represented with drastic vigor, and the painter is often quite unique in his way of relating Bible events. In delicacy of workmanship and charm of color they are, however, in ferior to the Flemish works of the same kind. In Navarre, Aragon, and Roussillon a French element is noticeable; in Catalonia we see French, German and Italian influence at work side by side; in Va lencia and the Balearic Isles the Italian influence is predominant." In 1492 Ferdinand and Isabella entered Granada in triumph. With the loss of their capital the power of the Moors was fatally broken, and the fair province of Andalusia was added to the king dom already formed by the union of the crowns of Aragon and Cas tile. All Spain was united under the sway of the Catholic sovereigns. The same year brought to Isabella the first fruits of her support of Columbus. A New World had been discovered, the wealth from which was shortly to make Spain the most powerful country in Europe. Meanwhile forces elsewhere were in fermentation, that, stimulated by the discovery of the New World, were to change the order of the Old. But in the benefit of these Spain was to have no share. Her sovereigns, clinging to the title of Catholic, and arro gant from excess of wealth, were to become champions of the old order, and in the passing of the latter their own power was to be swept away. Indeed, the rapid growth of Spain in the sixteenth cen tury, and her equally rapid decay in the following one, are among the most significant facts of history, and not without their bearing on Spanish painting. The latter from the beginning took on a character that, with only occasional impairment, it maintained to the end of the eighteenth century. The determining factor was the deeply religious spirit, in herent in the Spaniard. In the long struggle against the Moors a race of iron warriors had been bred, soldiers of the Cross, inured to O OLD SPANISH MASTERS privations and pain, upheld by the holiness of their cause. Even to this day a marked gravity of demeanor distinguishes a Spanish gentleman. In the fifteenth century he was still a champion of the Truth; at his best, imbued with religious chivalry; at his worst, a fanatic and cruel. The characteristics, then, of Spanish painting are its preoccupation with religious subjects and its gravity even in portraiture; and, corresponding with this feeling, a preponderance of dark and somber coloring. II The consistency with which these characteristics were main tained is due to the nature of the patronage. Its main sources were the church and monastic orders, and in Castile, the heart of the monarchy, the king. Political power being centered in the one and ecclesiastical authority concentrated in the other, there was not in Spain that variety of patronage which in Italy was one of the results of her civilization; no splendid rivalry of enlightened despots, or proud self-expression of free communes. Moreover, in Italy, these secular influences, perpetually in conflict with the temporal power of the papacy, encouraged the spread of humanistic literature and with it a fondness for legends of Greek mythology and a devotion to the beauties of Greek sculpture. Pagan as well as Christian sub jects were demanded; the nude assumed an importance in art, and ideals of beauty found one of their chief expressions in types of feminine charm. On the other hand in Spain the pagan subject found no foothold, except in occasional works by foreigners; the nude was actually forbidden, and the portraiture of women, or even the painting of women as women, apart from their necessary con nection with some sacred story, discouraged. In actual life a woman of good position was secluded from the public gaze with a jealousy that had its counterpart, if not its origin, in the harems of the Moors ; and, when she attended church or took the air, went veiled. For ceremonies within doors a costume had been devised which displayed only her face and neck and hands, preserved her feet invisible, and, by means of the huge farthingale, or "lady-pro tector" (guarda infanta), kept the bystander at a distance from her 7 8 OLD SPANISH MASTERS person. It was with these disfigurements of form that the painter had to contend, on the rare occasions in which the fact that he was a man was overlooked in the desire to use him as an artist. When we remember how the Spanish lady following the oriental custom, daubed herself with chalk and vermilion, reddening even the tips of her shoulders and her hands, we may believe that the artist joined in the husband's unwillingness that her already painted charms should be exposed on canvas. He turned with more relish to the simple sunburnt faces and lithe free forms of flower-girls and peas ants, and introduced them as Madonna or Saint into his sacred pictures. For another characteristic of Spanish art is its unwavering naturalism. Every school of art has been developed at its start upon nature-imitation, but other schools, having gained a mastery over natural forms, proceeded to idealize them. Spanish artists, however, even Murillo, painter of the "Conception," clung, like the Dutch of the seventeenth century, to the actual types of nature. In the case of the Dutch it was due to their single-hearted preoccupa tion with themselves and their own life; in that of the Spanish to their corresponding devotion to religion as a natural part of their actual lives. THE prodigal son feasting, by murillo. PRADO MUSEUM, MAUKID Ill It is impossible to form a just estimate of the spirit of Spanish art, unless one realizes how intimately and naturally religion entered into the lives of the highest and the lowliest. As in Italy, it did not necessarily exclude a laxity of morals. It is one of the anomalies of Spanish civilization, that a king, so severely Catholic as Philip II, could reconcile his orthodoxy with the keeping of mistresses, and even go to the length of permitting Titian to introduce him into a picture, gazing at the unveiled charms of one of them. And a simi lar taste for wandering beyond the restrictions of marital fidelity distinguished all the kings of the Hapsburg line, and was not un known among the great nobles. On the other hand, the church in Spain was free from such reproaches. While Alexander Borgia, a Spaniard by birth, but Italianized by education, was polluting the Vatican with sensuality, and the elegant epicurean, Leo X, ban queted gaily with pagan wits, or hunted and hawked in the woods around Viterbo, the miter of Toledo was worn by the Franciscan Ximenes, once a hermit in the caves of the rocks, who had not doffed the hair shirt when he assumed the archiepiscopal vestments. And this is an example characteristic of the dignitaries of the church, as a body. They were at once thorough-going and consistent. The proof they gave of this, so far as it concerns art, was twofold. On the one hand they exercised a restraint over the painter, and on the other secured his popularity by insisting that his art should be in telligible to the people. In a great degree, at any rate, the sobriety and purity of imag ination which distinguished the Spanish painters is to be attributed IO OLD SPANISH MASTERS to the control exercised by the Inquisition. Palomino quotes a de cree of that tribunal, forbidding the production or exhibition of im modest paintings and sculpture, on pain of excommunication, a fine of fifteen hundred ducats, and a year's exile. The Holy Office also appointed inspectors whose duty it was to see that no such works were exposed to view in churches and other public places. Palo mino himself occupied this position at Madrid, and Pacheco, the father-in-law of Velasquez, a painter and writer on art, at Seville. He lays down in his writings that to treat a sacred subject in an indecorous manner was an offense that merited personal punish ment. He relates that he knew a painter at Cordoba imprisoned for introducing into a picture of the crucifixion the Blessed Virgin in an embroidered petticoat and farthingale, and Saint John in trunk hose, and adds that the penalty was a "justly deserved chastisement." Pacheco, who is supposed to have received his data from his friends in the Jesuit College at Seville, also formulates rules for depicting the Madonna, covering the position of the figure, and the color of her draperies and hair. His argument against immodest altarpieces is enforced by a curious anecdote. He received it, he says, from a pious bishop, who was himself the hero of the tale. The picture was a "Last Judgment" by Martin de Vos (a Flemish, not a native, painter, it is to be noted) that once hung in the Church of the Augus- tines but is now in the Seville Museum. It is a composition of con siderable power, the principal figures being well drawn and full of interest and character. But the gravity of the whole is disturbed by accessory episodes of broad caricature. In one a grotesque devil with a blow of his fork and vigorous kicks is keeping the damned within bounds ; while in another direction is a group of nude women, one of whom, conspicuous for her flowing hair and abundant form, is being dragged off by a demon. It was on this figure, "a woman remarkable for her beauty and the disorder of her person," says Pacheco, "that the eye of the friar chanced to rest, as he was cele brating mass. The poor man fell into a condition of mental dis composure, such as he had never known before. "Rather than undergo the same spiritual conflict a second time," he explained A NOTE ON SPANISH PAINTING 1 1 afterward when he had become a bishop and had made a voyage to America, "I would face a hurricane in the Gulf of Bermuda. Even at the distance of many years. I cannot think of that picture without dread." But the most complete code of rules, governing the manner of sacred pictures, is one by Fray Juan del Ayala, a doctor and profes sor of Salamanca. It was not published until 1730, but probably brings together a mass of formularies that custom had already sanc tioned. Written in Latin, it was entitled: "The Christian Painter Instructed: or considerations of errors which occasionally are ad mitted into the painting and sculpturing of sacred subjects." It is a fine specimen of pompous and prosy trifling, dealing with such sub jects as the proper shape of the Cross, and the condemnation of those painters who represent it as a T instead of in the Latin form; the number of the angels, whether one or two should appear, in pictures of the resurrection morning, and, as the Gospel accounts differ, the advisability of following both alternately; the unnecessary display of the figure, especially of the feet, and the right of the devil to his horns and tail. On the other hand, while the painter was subject to the restraints of orthodoxy, he was regarded as enjoying the special favor of heaven. Many of them, like Fra Angelico, were filled with pious enthusiasm and believed that their imagination was quickened and their hands were guided by heavenly inspiration. Thus Luis de Vargas sought to purify his style by disciplining his body with scourging and by keeping a coffin beside his bed, in which he would lay himself and meditate on death. Vincente Joanes, again, was wont to prepare himself for a new work by prayer and fasting and by partaking of the Holy Eucharist. Of him is recorded one of the numerous legends that represented artists as being supernaturally inspired. In this case the Virgin herself had appeared to a certain Fra Martin Alberto, of the Order of Jesus, commanding that a pic ture of herself should be painted by Joanes, and giving instructions as to the dress. On another occasion she honored the devout painter Sanchez Cotan with an actual sitting; and the picture, like the one 12 OLD SPANISH MASTERS by Joanes and numerous others, produced under similarly super natural circumstances, became an object of special veneration and celebrated for the miracles which it wrought. Sometimes the mi raculous virtue existed in the picture before it was finished. For Lope de Vega relates that, while a certain painter was engaged in painting Our Lady and the Holy Child, the lofty scaffold on which he was working suddenly gave way and he would have been precip itated to the floor, had not the Virgin put forth from the picture her one finished arm and held him suspended, until the monks could rescue him with a ladder. The painter having been rescued, the hand was withdrawn into the picture, "a thing," says the pilgrim into whose mouth Lope puts the tale, "worthy of wonder and tears, that the Virgin should leave holding her son, to uphold a sinner who, falling, might peradventure have been damned." Another Madonna of great fame in Castile, Nuestra Senora de Nieva, re stored to life a painter who had fallen from a scaffold while paint ing the dome of her chapel. But, while the devout artist was fre quently rewarded, punishment would fall on the profane. Thus Our Lady of Monserrate struck blind a painter who was about to re touch with color her celebrated image that had been carved by Saint Luke and was the object of special adoration in the monastery of Monserrate. He remained blind for many years, until, having duly repented, the Virgin was pleased to restore his sight, whilst he was chanting "Profer lumen caecis" with the monks. It would be easy to regard these legends as impudent frauds, concocted to enslave the conscience of the faithful for the pecuniary benefit of the church or monastery. But such a view, even though some ground might be found for its support, would not help the stu dent in his comprehension of the art of Spain, for it leaves out of account the conditions that made the growth and perpetuation of such legends possible. No plant will take root and flourish except in congenial soil, and the soil in which these legends flourished was the religious conscience inherent in the Spanish people. It was an actually existing vital fact of race, bred of a mingling of Gothic in tensity with the passionate ardor of the South, to which, at most, A NOTE ON SPANISH PAINTING 13 the church could but point the moral, while the artists adorned the tale. Indeed, we shall only reach the heart of the matter if we regard the union of religion and art in Spain as a natural and in evitable expression of race, realized alike by the priesthood, the artists, and the people. This fact very naturally affected the character of religious painting in Spain, giving it a simplicity and ingenuousness of mo tive. The ecclesiastics, while desirous on the one hand of beautify ing the sacred edifices for the glory of God and in pious rivalry of one another, never lost sight of the other purpose of instructing the people. As Juan de Bartron, a writer on art in the reign of Philip IV, observes, "For the learned and the lettered written knowledge may suffice; but for the ignorant, what master is like painting? They may read their duty in a picture, although they cannot search for it in books." The painter, therefore, was regarded in some sense as a preacher, one whose gift could bring home to the hearts of the people the dogmas of the faith, the passion of the Saviour, and the examples of the martyrs and saints. And, so far from chafing under this role, many of the painters, as we have noted, gloried in the privilege which Providence had vouchsafed to them, while all, even the most worldly-minded, rejoiced in the opportunities of craftsman ship which it permitted. For the requirements of the church that the sacred matter should be presented in a manner thoroughly intel ligible to the people, enabled them to indulge their own inclination toward naturalism. IV This naturalistic tendency, it should be remembered, was not confined to Spanish art. It existed in Italy at this period, and was appearing in Holland. In the latter country it was the continuation of the early Flemish preoccupation with the real appearances of form that distinguished Jan van Eyck and Memlinc, and made its influence felt in Germany in the persons of Diirer and Holbein the Younger. It represented a characteristically northern devotion to the actual and true, in contrast to the racial genius of the Italian, which, expressing all forms of intellectual activity in terms of beauty, often deviated from the truth and idealized the appearances of nature. This idealizing ran its course in Italy, reaching in the High Renaissance an elevation of line and color beyond which, in pursuance of the principles involved, no further ascent was possible. But art, like life, moves on continually. In Italy, therefore, its only course was downward. The mannerists tried to stem the decline, by imitating the manner of the giants without possessing their power ; and their failure was supplemented by the equally vain efforts of the so-called eclectics, who, under the leadership of the five Carracci, proposed as a panacea to combine Michelangelo's line with Titian's color, and tincture the mixture with Correggio's light and shade and Raphael's grace of expression. In opposition to these grew up in Naples a school led by Caravaggio which was at least sound in purpose, since it went back to nature for suggestion, but developed that symptom of decadence — a fondness for extravagance. For its models it chose, the more desperate class of the Neapolitan populace, H A NOTE ON SPANISH PAINTING 15 the robbers and brawlers ; pushed dramatic vigor to a melodramatic extreme, and sacrificed the sobriety of truth in favor of picturesque- ness. Yet the work of the Neapolitan naturalists, despite its fre quent coarseness and exaggeration and its violent opposition of lights and shadows, represented something vital, for at least it was true to its own times, a characteristic expression of the storm and stress of the age. In the above paragraph we have anticipated the course of events, for the naturalists of Naples did not grow to prominence until the last quarter of the sixteenth century, a hundred years after the date we have selected for the beginning of the history of Spanish art painting. During these years the Spanish love of naturalism was due to other causes ; partly, no doubt, to the influence already men tioned that was exerted by the introduction of the Flemish pictures, but chiefly to the primitive instinct for imitation of nature that dis tinguishes the beginnings of all schools of painting. The point of peculiar significance is that the Spanish school continued to be faith ful to this instinct, notwithstanding that for a time the painters, in imitating the Italians, became mannered. It began by being nat uralistic, later found its naturalism confirmed by the example of the Neapolitans, and naturalistic to the end it remained. The reason for this may to some extent be due to that national trait, which still appears to be the characteristic of the Spaniard, that makes him not only indifferent to, but haughtily intolerant of, outside influences. Thus the painter Theotocopuli, of Greek family, born in Venice and possibly a pupil of Titian, so thoroughly identi fied himself with the amour-propre of his adopted country, that when he found his work was thought to resemble the great Venetians, he altered his style, giving it a dryness of color and harshness of line that lost him the patronage of Philip II. But a more signal instance of this trait of independence is seen in Velasquez. In the royal gal leries were fine examples of Titian and other Venetian masters ; but neither these nor the two visits that he paid to Venice could stir Velasquez from his path of naturalism. They did suggest to him, as we shall note later, some lessons useful to himself, yet he was as 1 6 OLD SPANISH MASTERS blind to their allurement, as he had been to the powerful influence of Rubens. But another reason can be traced to the church's encouragement of pictures that made a simple and direct appeal to the knowledge and sympathy of the people. The same feeling that impelled Diirer to incorporate in his woodcuts of the life of the Virgin the familiar surroundings of the German workshop and cottage of the period, actuated the Spanish artist in his presentment of the sacred subject. He brought it down as closely as possible into relation with the daily habit and experience of the people. Did he paint a Holy Family? It represents an incident to be found in hundreds of happy homes. Or the ecstatic vision of some saint? The radiant air becomes filled with the forms of healthy human babes. Or if it be the anguish of some martyr, the faithful shall be made to realize the poignancy by the sight of blood, the gaping wound, or mutilated limb. He shall be roused to emotion by a forcible appeal to his own experience of pain. This naturalism in the service of religion was carried so far in Spain, that even in sculpture the resemblance to life was increased by color, and by the still more barbarous device of dressing up the statue in clothes. The sculptor in such cases was concerned only with the head and hands, and worked as often in wood as in the more durable and difficult medium of marble. Indeed, many of the most famous statues celebrated far and near for their miraculous powers, and shown only on great occasions of festival or penance, were mere billets of wood with attachments of modeled heads and hands. This use of color on statues was entirely different from that employed by the Greeks, who, it has been discovered of late years, used color freely. But their intention was to increase the decorative effect and their use of color was conventional, whereas the natural istic tendency of the Spaniards, when carried to extreme, caused the dignity of sculpture to evaporate into the semblance of a doll. EL GRECO (DOMENICO THEOTOCOPULI). BY HIMSELF. SEVILLE Ml SLCM, V One other fact of Spanish naturalism is to be noted. The painters, with only two or three exceptions, paid no heed to land scape. Velasquez, in a limited way, is one of the exceptions. During his stay in Rome he painted two pictures of the gardens of the Villa Medici, where he lodged, and left also views of the palace-grounds of Aranjuez. But these after all are scarcely landscapes, since they represent the studied effects of verdure in combination with archi tectural and sculptural detail. His widely comprehending mind, however, had studied and absorbed the appearance and significance of the landscape around Madrid, and he incorporated it into his por traits. It is characterized by a largeness of design, unembarrassed by detail, wherein no trivialities encumber the main structural fea tures. As Mr. Stevenson remarks "it is a country in which the figure dominates. You see it on the dry stony foregrounds of empty roll ing plains, which are ringed round with sharp, shapely sierras in the broad blue distance." This reads as if it were the description of the background in one of the artist's open-air portraits. And indeed it might be, for with just such natural accessories Velasquez im parts to these canvases an heroic quality, while securing predomi nance for the figure. For this, it is to be observed, is his main motive. Like the great majority of the other painters of Spain, though with higher skill and feeling, he paints the landscape as sub sidiary to the figure, not as an object of study, desirable for its own sake and sufficient in itself. Yet during his lifetime artists in Hol land, Ruisdael, Hobbema, and others, were extending the natural istic motives of their school to the painting of landscape, pure and 3 17 1 8 OLD SPANISH MASTERS simple. How came it that the naturalists of Spain, with few excep tions, ignored it ? While it is not an explanation, it is a fact, that the love of land scape is a characteristic of the northern countries. Titian and others carried the rendering of landscape to a high pitch of perfection, but with them it still remained subordinate to the figures. In fact in southern countries, where outdoor life is easier, nature has not fastened itself upon the imagination with an appeal so tenacious and powerful as in hardier climates, where the struggle for existence is more exacting. It is as if the conflict of man with nature produced a better understanding of its worth. In the case of the Spaniard the generic indifference of the southerner may have been increased, on the one hand, by his self-concentration, the unit of the national exclusiveness, and, on the other, by his religion, both of which de manded satisfaction, respectively, in portraits and figure-pictures. Nature, however, while disregarded as a pictorial subject, has left its impress upon Spanish painting, for the different schools owe their general color characteristics to the suggestion of the local landscape, as they do their types of head to racial variations. The school of Castile is distinguished, as a rule, by dark and sober color ing, gray backgrounds and clouded skies, while the type of female head is generally inferior to the male in dignity and interest, the features coarse and showing a predominance of Gothic over Moorish blood. On the other hand, the schools of Seville and Valencia were affected by the fairer natural conditions of those regions. The browns and reds of the soil around Seville, as well as the golden yellow of the sunshine, were reflected in the pictures of that school, while the painters of Valencia, the Riviera of Spain, learned from the coloring of her hills a fondness for violet hues, and, from the abundance and brilliance of her flora, a special fondness for flower- subjects. Moreover, in the pictures of both these schools the Ma donna and women saints exhibit the arched brows, lustrous eyes, and delicate features inherited from their Arabian ancestry. These three schools of Castile, Andalusia, and Valencia are alike distinguished for their treatment of drapery, at once natural, PORTRAIT OF KING PHILIP IV AS A SPORTSMAN. IIV VELASQUEZ. PRADO MUHKUM, MADRID, A NOTE ON SPANISH PAINTING I9 simple, and full of dignity. For everywhere the national "capa" or cloak, worn by all classes with an instinct for picturesque ar rangement, afforded suggestive studies to the painter, while even the beggars that swarmed in the streets and countryside, carried their rags with elegance. Moreover Spain abounded with monas teries, and pictures in honor of the several religious orders were in constant demand. Thus Murillo and Espinosa were much employed by the brown-habited Franciscans ; Carducho and Zurbaran by Car thusian white-friars, and Roelas by the black-frocked order of the Jesuits. The ample masses and simple folds of these plain-colored habits were a constant example to the painter of the effectiveness of broad simplicity. Thus the Spanish school brought the treatment of draperies to a pitch of dignity that has never been excelled. EARLY NATIVE ART AND FOREIGN INFLUENCE CHAPTER I EARLY NATIVE ART AND FOREIGN INFLUENCE THE PERIOD OF FERDINAND AND ISABELLA (1492-1516) THE reign of Ferdinand and Isabella represented the most brilliant epoch of Spanish history. It was a dawn flushed with victorious achievement, full of golden promise, a period of high enthusiasm. For not only had a new continent been discov ered, but there were opening up new worlds of intellectual enter prise. History, drama, and painting claimed attention. Pulgar, the father of Castilian history ; Cota, whose dramas were a foretaste of Lope de Vega's and Calderon's, and Rincon, the first native painter of note, were prominent amid the throng of courtiers that gathered in the presence chamber of Isabella. The enchanting beauty of the Alhambra and the palaces, gar dens and fountains of Granada had helped to fire the imagination of the conquerors to emulate the arts and learning of the vanquished. Especially during this reign was progress made in the art of archi tecture. The queen herself set the example of building monasteries and churches and endowing them as centers of learning and of sumptuous worship. Even Ferdinand, the Spanish counterpart in craft, as well as the contemporary, of Henry VII of England, though too parsimonious and immersed in state intrigues to bestow much thought on the arts, recognized the advantage of their cultivation, and approved, if he did not much aid, the magnificent patronage of his queen. 23 SCHOOL OF CASTILE Antonio Rincon, of the school of Castile, is the first Spanish painter mentioned by Palomino. He was born at Guadalajara, a province of Castile, in 1446, and is supposed to have studied in Italy under Castagno or Ghirlandajo. But this seems to have been an assumption based on the fact that he was the first to soften the stiff ness of the Gothic style by giving his figures something of the grace and proportions of nature, and that the influence of the Italian quat- trocentists was at this period finding its way into Spain. It was felt especially in Toledo, where much of Rincon's life was spent. He enjoyed the patronage of the cathedral chapter and of Ferdinand and Isabella, by whom he was appointed court painter and honored with the Order of Santiago. Portraits of these sovereigns, painted by him, hung over the high altar of the Church of San Juan de los Reyes, in Toledo, until they disappeared in the wars of the French usurpation. Similar portraits were likewise possessed by the Church of San Bias, in Valladolid, but were removed at the beginning of the nineteenth century to the staircase of the chaplain's house, near San Juan Letran in that city. They were suffering from exposure to the open air, when seen by Bosarte, who praises them for the curious exactness of their costumes. In the Royal Gallery in Madrid hang two full-length portraits of the Catholic sovereigns, copied from Rincon and, perhaps, from the Toledo or Valladolid originals. Of these Stirling-Maxwell writes that both seem to have been painted when the sitters were in the 24 THE PERIOD OF FERDINAND AND ISABELLA 25 prime of life. Ferdinand has the dignified presence and the fine features, clothed with "impenetrable frigidity," ascribed to him by Prescott. His hair, usually spoken of as bright chestnut, is dark here, and being cut short and combed over the brow, enhances the cunning keenness of his eyes. Over a cuirass he wears a surcoat and black cloak, and holds a paper, apparently of accounts. The queen's portrait is no less true to history than her husband's. Her bright auburn hair and blue eyes are among the points of resemblance that she bears to the English Elizabeth, recalling the latter as she ap pears in an early portrait by Holbein, at Hampton Court. But in beauty of person the Castilian far excelled her. Isabella's forehead is high and full, and her eyes are softly lustrous. The finely formed mouth indicates energy, tempered with gentleness; and the whole expression of the head and bearing of the figure are not unworthy of the woman upon whose person and character so much deserved praise has been bestowed. Her dress is a crimson robe, trimmed with gold, over which falls a dark mantle. In her hand is a little breviary, as fitting and characteristic a companion of the pious queen's leisure, as is the financial statement between the fingers of her lord. At the village of Roblada de Chavila, a few miles west of the Escorial, Cean Bermudez, author of the "Dictionary of the Fine Arts in Spain," mentioned the existence of an altar decorated with seven teen pictures of the "Life of the Virgin," painted entirely by Rincon, which he praises for their "drawing, beauty, character, expression, and excellent draperies." Many of Rincon's works were burnt in the fire which destroyed the Palace of the Prado, in 1608. He died in 1500, leaving a son, who assisted Juan de Borgoha in various works at Toledo.. This painter, although, as his name declares, a foreigner, became by reason of his influence at this early period a part of the story of Spanish painting. For, a Burgundian by birth, he represented the Flemish tradition, modified by contact with the Florentine quattro- centists. Carl Justi suggests that Ghirlandajo may have been his master ; and, notwithstanding a certain crudity and stiffness of type 26 OLD SPANISH MASTERS in his figures, he recalls the Florentine's firmness and breadth of drawing, and clear sprightliness of color. He enjoyed a high repu tation at Toledo under the patronage of the great Archbishop Xime- nes de Cisneros. His frescos in the cathedral cloisters have disap peared beneath the over-paintings of the eighteenth-century Bayeu, but on the walls of the Chapter House his works may still be seen, well preserved and admirable for their brilliant color and tasteful draperies. The end of the room is occupied by a large composition, representing "The Last Judgment," which is remarkably suggestive of the imagination of the time. Immediately beneath a figure of Christ, a hideous fiend, in the shape of a boar, roots a woman out of her grave with his snout, twining her long amber locks around his tusks. To the left are drawn up in line allegorical embodiments of the several vices, the name of each appearing on a label above the head, in Gothic letters. On their shoulders sit little malicious imps of monkey-shape, while flames curl round their lower limbs. That Borgoha was also a skilful painter in oils is proved by the retablo in the cathedral of Avila. In these he was assisted by the court painter, Pedro Berruguete, and Santos Cruz, for the work ex hibits two styles beside his own : one that of a follower of Perugino, as Berruguete is credited with being, and the other that of a purely Castilian painter. The realistically conceived racial types, the vigor ous coloring, the firmness of the drawing and perspective, and the skilful handling of the gilded surfaces make the retablo take rank as one of the most characteristic performances of early Spanish art. (Justi.) A work of great archaeological interest is the series of portraits of the primates of Spain, down to and including Cardinal de Fon- seca, which Borgona painted in the Winter Chapter Room. Most of the fabulous and early prelates seem to have been drawn from a single model ; but the authentic portraits of his contemporaries are distinguished by dignity and character. The painter has betrayed his Flemish propensity in the care and patience bestowed upon the vestments and accessories. The collection, indeed, affords an ex traordinary opportunity to the student of ecclesiastical details ; with THE PERIOD OF FERDINAND AND ISABELLA 27 its innumerable and gorgeous specimens of episcopal ornament, of crozier, pallium, pectoral cross, gloves, and miters. The artist some times furnished designs for church plate. His name ceases to ap pear in the cathedral records in 1533, when, it is supposed, he died. Under the enlightened munificence of its archbishops Toledo be came at this time the metropolis of art. The Cardinal-Archbishop Mendoza erected at his own cost the magnificent building of the Foundling Hospital of Santa Cruz, while his successor, Ximenes de Cisneros, was even more munificent in his patronage of art and let ters. Under his supervision the sculptor, Vigarny, achieved the noble high altar of marble in the cathedral, while the latter's archives still preserve the cardinal-archbishop's missal, in seven folio volumes, embellished with paintings and illuminations by artists whose names the work has saved from oblivion. At Alcala de Henares, the birthplace of Cervantes, some twenty miles from Ma drid, he founded a university that in the sixteenth century was at tended by as many as twelve thousand students. It was here that the celebrated Polyglot Bible, known as the Complutensian, was com piled at Ximenes' expense. II SCHOOL OF ANDALUSIA But while Castilian art had found its metropolis in Toledo, the seat of government, for the court was not finally transferred to Madrid until the reign of Philip II, beginnings had been also made of native schools in Andalusia and Valencia. These were under the no less munificent patronage of the church. The founder of the former school was Juan Sanchez de Castro, who as early as 1454, that is to say, before the accession of the Catholic sovereigns, painted for the cathedral of Seville the pictures of the old Gothic altar, which, though stiff and languid in design, still preserved their freshness of color, when seen by Cean Bermudez, three hundred years after ward. For the church of San Julian, he painted in fresco a giant Saint Christopher in a buff tunic and red mantle, who bears more than the usual burden assigned to him; for, beside the Holy Child who holds the world in his hand, the saint supports the weight of two palmers in habits of the Middle Ages, who hang by his leathern girdle, and so pass the river dry shod. But the figures have been repainted and the signature is almost all that remains of the origi nal work. Pictures of Saint Christopher are common in Spanish churches and are usually placed near the entrance, to enforce humility on the worshipers. A follower of Sanchez de Castro was Juan Nunez, whose best work is in the cathedral, representing the Virgin supporting the dead body of the Lord, with accompanying figures of Saint Michael and Saint Vincent Martyr, and of an eccle siastic kneeling beneath the group. 28 Ill SCHOOL OF VALENCIA In Valencia, always particularly susceptible to Italian influence, early names are those of Francisco Neapoli and Pablo de Aregio, who are supposed to have been pupils of Leonardo da Vinci. To them has been ascribed the series of scenes from the "Life of the Virgin" painted on the doors of the great side altar in La Seo, the cathedral of Valencia. They were presented to the city by Pope Alexander VI, of the Valencian house of Borgia; and it was in recognition of their beauty that Philip IV remarked : "The altar is of silver, but the doors are of gold." Most important, however, of the early Valencian painters, writes Carl Justi, was Pablo de San Leocadia, highly appreciated by his contemporaries, yet overlooked by the writers of biographical dic tionaries and encyclopedias. His large retablo at Gandia and the now dismembered retablo of Villareal, reveal him as a painter who did for Valencia what Juan de Borgofia did for Castile. He is distin guished by deep culture, nobility of form and expression, delicate sensibility, and close observation of life. It was not, however, in painting, but in architecture and sculp ture, that the high enthusiasm of the time was most signally ex pressed. The Pointed or Gothic style, originally derived from France, now became enriched by German and Flemish artists, who introduced a rapidly increasing profusion of ornament, a decorative treatment, often very realistic, of animal and plant forms. The heart of this movement was the diocese of Burgos, from which archi- 29 30 OLD SPANISH MASTERS tects and sculptors were summoned to various parts of the country, especially to Seville. This was the period of great tomb-building, and famous among the builders were the Siloes of Burgos, father and son, sculptors as well as architects. Gil, the father, is best known for his magnificent tombs of King Juan II and his Queen Isa bella of Portugal, the parents of Isabella the Catholic, and for the tomb of the latter's young brother, Don Alfonso. These are the chief glory of the Carthusian convent of Miraflores, and among the finest in Europe. The massive plinths which bear the recumbent figures are octagonal in shape, with two lions at each angle, support ing the royal escutcheon. The sides are embellished with statues, set beneath canopies that in their intricate filigree work of leaves, branches, fruit, flowers, and birds, are marvels of fantastic imagina tion and untiring craftsmanship. The remains of the Catholic sovereigns themselves rest beneath stately tombs in the Chapel Royal of the cathedral in Granada, the city of their great triumph. These magnificent mausoleums were erected to their order by Felipe Vigarny, otherwise called Philip de Borgofia, an architect and sculptor trained in Italy, and their style is that of the Cinquecento. Their grandson, Charles I, enlarged the chapel, finding it "too small for so great glory," and added tombs in honor of his parents, Philip of Austria and the mad queen, Juana, employing for the purpose an artist of Burgos. When it is remem bered that Charles had no fondness for his Castilian subjects, this choice of a native artist in preference to an Italian, Pietro Torrigiano, points to the rapid progress achieved by the arts in Spain during this glorious epoch. BEGINNINGS OF ITALIAN INFLUENCE CHAPTER II BEGINNINGS OF ITALIAN INFLUENCE THE PERIOD OF CHARLES I (1516-1556) FERDINAND survived Isabella thirteen years. At his death, in 1 5 16, his grandson became Charles I of Spain, the Indies, all lands west of the Atlantic, and the Kingdom of Naples and Sicily. He was sixteen years old, and, through his father's death, had already been for ten years archduke of the Netherlands and Franche-Comte. Three years later, in 15 19, upon the decease of his paternal grandfather, Maximilian, he was elected by the Diet Em peror of Germany, under the title of Charles V. It is significant that he is better known under the latter title than as Charles I of Spain. Until a year after his accession he never set foot in Spain. Born in Ghent, and brought up in Brussels, he was at heart a Netherlander. But even if his interest in Spain had been far greater than it was, his multifarious duties and ambitions, spread over and beyond his vast dominions, would have left him little time or opportunity to watch over her welfare. He made occasional visits to Spain, during which he threw himself with characteristic ardor into various public schemes, and from a distance exercised a general con trol over his viceroys. But the continuity of the reforms instituted by Isabella, and the steady development of political unity that fol lowed them, were interrupted. Allured on the one hand by the wealth of the New World, and drawn on the other into Charles's 5 33 34 OLD SPANISH MASTERS European intrigues and wars, Spain gradually relinquished her na tional progress to become a nation of adventurers. About to enter upon a period of spectacular supremacy, she was already on the path that was to end in her decay. It is with these conditions that her art is intimately connected. The drama previously seen in Italy is to be reenacted in Spain, of national art and political life proceeding in inverse ratio ; the art to reach its climax on the ruins of the nation. So the reign of Charles, viewed in relation to Spanish painting, is a period of transition. The gradual development of native art is interrupted; the Spaniard goes abroad to absorb the influence of Italy, and it is not until nearly a hundred years later, in the reign of Philip IV, that the influence will have been thoroughly digested, and an art truly native will assert itself in Murillo and Velasquez. With the sagacity of his grandfather, Ferdinand, Charles in herited also much of the fine taste of Isabella. In the midst of wars and intrigues he found time to notice and reward many of the chief artists of foreign countries as well as of his own broad domain. As a patron of art, he was as well known in Nuremberg and Venice as in Antwerp and Toledo. In architecture he left several monuments. At Madrid was rebuilt the greater part of the Alcazar, which, after being embellished by his successors, perished by fire in the reign of Philip V. He restored and enlarged the hunting-lodge at the Prado ; commenced, but never completed, a palace at Granada, and added a noble court to the citadel of Toledo. Nothing remains of it but the shell, yet the facade of the front, the interior arcade, and the grand staircase, still attest the grandeur of conception of the architects, Covarrubias and Vergara. Painting, however, was the art in which Charles especially de lighted and displayed a cultivated and discriminating taste. He lavished honor on Titian, feeling that it redounded to his own. No other hand, he declared, should draw his portrait, since he had thrice received immortality from the pencil of Titian. And, when worn out with fifty-five years of life, old before his years, he resigned the empire to his brother Ferdinand, and Spain and the Netherlands to his son Philip II, and retired to the monastery of San Yuste, it was DON BALTASAK CARLOS (DKTAIL). in' VKLASOUKZ. MAJJRIli Ml SI- I'M BEGINNINGS OF ITALIAN INFLUENCE 35 Titian's so-called "Gloria" that hung in his bedroom. Before this apotheosis of himself, he died, leaving directions that it should be removed with his body to the Escorial. The order was carried out, and the picture is now with the other Titians in the Prado. One of the last acts of Charles's official life was an imperial pre script, permitting the wives of goldsmiths in Spain to wear silk at tire, a luxury forbidden by the sumptuary laws to the class of artisans and craftsmen. But in consequence of the enormous flood of precious metals pouring into the country from the New World, the art of the goldsmiths had assumed an extraordinary importance. It was no longer a craft merely of metal-workers, but enlisted the finest imagination of artists. The goldsmiths, in fact, had become architects and sculptors in plate. For, in addition to the smaller ob jects that enriched the ceremonial of the church and the palaces of royalty and nobility, gold and silver was fashioned into tabernacles and shrines, and into that characteristic adornment of Spanish cathedrals, the custodia. The latter was an ark or tabernacle, for the reservation of the Host, surmounted by a canopy, that rose in tiers of architectural design until it resembled an edifice in minia ture. Nine feet is the height of the celebrated example in the Toledo cathedral, that has escaped the fate of many of those miracles of design and workmanship, which were melted down by the French in the War of Independence. The creation of Henrique d'Arphe, a native of Germany, who settled in Leon early in the century, it is a Gothic structure, somewhat resembling the Scott monument in Edin burgh, though far exceeding it in richness of design and luxuriance of decoration. From an octagon base rise eight piers and pointed arches, supporting as many light pinnacles, clustered around the beautiful filigree spire. Beneath the canopy is a smaller shrine for the Host, fashioned of purest gold, and blazing with jewels. The whole is a dazzling mass of fretwork and pinnacles, flying buttresses, pierced parapets, and decorated niches, among which are disposed two hundred and sixty exquisite statuettes. The apparently inex- haustive inventiveness lavished on this custodia, so that there is no tedium of repetition, but every detail has been the creation of a fresh 36 OLD SPANISH MASTERS impulse, has gained for it the reputation of being the most beautiful piece of plate in existence. The work of Henrique d'Arphe was carried on with equal brilliance by his son, Antonio, who, however, reflecting the influence of Italy, substituted for the Gothic style the classic orders, as used by the architects of the Italian Renaissance. The example of these artists and of other workers in plate was gradually adapted by the architects of Spain to the treatment of large surfaces of buildings, enriched by the sculptors with a pro fusion of ornament and statuary; and this florid style is character ized in Spain by the name of "plateresque." While Charles was enriching Spain with Italian masterpieces, and at the same time precipitating the ruin of Italy by making it the chess-board on which he played his game for supremacy with the French king, Francis I, a peaceful invasion of that country was being made by Spanish students, in search of scholarship and art. Italy, the fountain and source of both, was explored by intellectual adventurers no less characteristic of the ferment of the times than those who were pushing their material exploits beyond the western ocean. Nor was it long before there was a reciprocity of intellectual commerce between the two peninsulas. Spanish students flocked to the universities and botteghe of Italy. But the Spanish genius soon asserted itself, as it had done during the Roman occupation, when, having quickly assimilated the new civilization, it reenforced the literature of Rome with men of letters, such as the three Senecas, Lucian, Martial, and Quintilian. So now, in the early part of the sixteenth century, Spaniards became distinguished as professors in the Italian universities and welcomed as patrons by the Italian artists ; many of the latter secured honor and emolument in Spain, and Italians were to be found among the students of the Valladolid university. Of the Italianized Spanish painters of this transition period, it will be sufficient to mention three, Berruguete, Vargas, and Joanes, representing, respectively, the three schools of Castile, Andalusia, and Valencia. SCHOOL OF CASTILE First of the trio in age and importance was Alonzo Berruguete, born about 1480, in the province of Old Castile. He received his first instruction from his father, Pedro, already mentioned as cooperating with Borgona and as showing the influence of Perugino. After his father's death, he moved to Italy and entered the school in Florence of Michelangelo, whose example he subsequently followed by becoming famous as architect, sculptor, and painter. In 1 503 he made a copy of the celebrated cartoon, "The Battle of Pisa," which Michelangelo had made in competition with Leonardo da Vinci's "Battle of the Standard," and the following year accompanied his master to Rome. Here his proficiency was recognized by Bramante, who selected him as one of the sculptors to model the Laocoon, for the purpose of casting it in bronze, but the competition was won by Sansovino. Returning to Florence he was employed by the nuns of St. Jerome to complete a picture, left unfinished by Filippo Lippi at his death, and for many years enjoyed the friendship of the chief artists of the time, especially of Bandinelli and Andrea del Sarto. In 1520 he returned to Spain and settled in Valladolid, then the seat of the court, where he soon attracted the notice of Charles, who ap pointed him one of his painters and later conferred on him the chamberlain's key. The pictures attributed to him in Valladolid, Salamanca, and Palencia, show "a strange and yet intelligent reproduction of Ra- phaelesque forms." But it was as an architect in the "plateresque" 37 38 OLD SPANISH MASTERS J style and, even more, as a sculptor, that he chiefly impressed his per sonality on the period. While some of his work, such as the ala baster statuettes in the choir of the cathedral at Toledo, show a re markable power of inventing expressive attitudes, gained from his study with Michelangelo, a great deal is characterized by the ex travagant mannerism into which the followers of that master both in Italy and in Spain were betrayed by superabundance of energy and inventiveness. Although this so-called "Grotesque style" appeared in Spain twelve years before Berruguete's return home, his name, through the number and importance of his works, has been par ticularly identified with its development. The most notorious ex amples of his art in this manner are the statues and carvings in the museum at Valladolid, which originally formed the embellishment of the high altar in the Church of Saint Benito, belonging to the Bene dictine monastery. These are likened by Carl Justi to the creations of a madman. II SCHOOL OF ANDALUSIA In Andalusia, where the absence of imperial patronage was amply filled by the magnificence of the church and monasteries, the chief artist of the transition was Luis de Vargas. Born in Seville in 1502, he early devoted himself to painting, and found means to visit Italy where, on the evidence of his style, he is supposed to have studied with Perino del Vaga, one of Raphael's assistants in the decoration of the Vatican Stanze. The first picture he painted upon his return to Seville, after some twenty-four years' absence, was a "Nativity" still to be seen in the chapel of the cathedral, dedicated to that event. The Virgin has much of the charm of Raphael's manner, while a peasant who kneels at her feet, offering a basket of doves, is a study from nature, anticipating the naturalistic rendering of local types that became so usual in Sevillian pictures. His finest work is the altarpiece in the Chapel of the Conception, in Seville Cathedral, representing the "Temporal Generation of Our Lord." It is a sort of allegory, showing the human ancestors of the infant Saviour adoring him as he lies in the lap of the Virgin. In the foreground kneels Adam, concerning one of whose legs there is a tradition that Perez de Alasio, an Italian painter, declared it was worth the whole of a colossal "Saint Christopher" that he himself had painted in another part of the cathedral. Hence the picture is popularly known as "La Gamba." On the outer wall, in the court of orange trees, Vargas painted in fresco a "Christ Going to Calvary." It was known as the "Christ of the Criminals," because it was customary for the 39 4F A VOUNC MAN. BY VELASQUEZ. }>i 'II-1E liilLki.TIO\ OK THE DUKE u(- WELLINGTON, U'M.GY HOUSE, LONDON. VELASQUEZ 97 greatest, — "Las Meninas," — the finest canvas in the world, as indicating the high-water mark of realism. The "Equestrian Portrait of Oliva rez," now in the Prado, is painted in the artist's second manner. Olivarez was prime minister of Spain during the first half of the forty-four years of the reign of Philip IV. He quickly recognized the genius of Velasquez, who was then twenty-four years old, and brought him to the notice of the more youthful king. He was his con stant friend thereafter, and it is worthy of record that in the minister's down fall and disgrace, when all but a few of his friends had deserted him, the artist was prominent among those few who could still attest their gratitude by personally visiting the old man in his exile at the risk of incurring the displeasure of the court. Olivarez doubtless possessed, in pri vate life, estimable traits that endeared him to such discerning spirits as Ve- lasquez,but as a statesman it is recorded that he was the most unscrupulous and powerful of the seventeenth cen tury. He was always raving for war and protesting that he could not live without it. Thus he kindled a confla gration, to the ruin of the land, "losing more, territories to the Castilian crown than it has been the fortune of few great conquerors ever to have gained" (Stirling-Maxwell). He who stirred up so many wars now wished, finally, to see himself seated in the saddle as a general of cavalry, although he had never so much as smelt the odor of battle. Carl Justi, referring to this portrait, says: "The general is un doubtedly a humbug, just as his brown hair is a sham. His habits were any thing but military, and his enemies sneered at this 'heroic minister' and 'grand old man,' who was so delicate that he refused to go on board a ves sel, as at Barcelona, in 1632, for fear of sea-sickness. When his portrait was exposed for sale in Madrid, in 1635, it was pelted with stones, and the same occurred again at Saragossa, in 1642. "But these are outward considera tions, and it must be admitted that the figure suits well the assumed role. So true is this that, were the subject un known, he would perhaps be taken for some leader of invincible 'Ironsides' in the great war. In fact, the French critic, Charles Blanc, describes the pic ture as that of a hero leading the charge without bluster or ostentation." Velasquez made many portraits of his powerful patron, but in this one, showing him mounted on his Anda lusian bay, it is considered that he strove to outdo himself. In composi tion it lays no claim to originality, since Rubens and Vandyke had done similar things before, which Velasquez had seen and doubtless studied, and the position of the figure upon the horse is generally criticized as being too far forward upon the neck of the animal ; but as a tissue of rare and subtle tones, of subdued and sonorous harmonies of color, it ranks with the most refined canvases of the world. To give a crude idea of the coloring, we may say that the figure is clad in black armor, the jointings of which are edged with gold; the hat is dark gray, with purple plume; the scarf is gold-embroidered and wine-colored; the boots are of a warm, grayish color ; and the saddle is old gold, mingling with the golden fringe of the scarf. These tones appear to great advantage upon the chestnut horse and against the delicate grays of the clouded sky, the blue passages of which are of a warm greenish tint. The whole of the 98 OLD SPANISH MASTERS sky and the background is bathed in a greenish cast, and the foliage behind the figure comes out with brighter touches of green, giving the impres sion of spring leaves. This is a spe cially charming bit, and so modern in treatment that nothing at present could surpass it. In the distance, the um bery tones of which become richer toward the foreground, is seen the smoke of battle and the marching of soldiers. This canvas measures approximately ten feet three inches high, by seven feet ten inches wide, and was, accord ing to Carl Justi, painted about 1636. The "Portrait of King Philip IV as a Sportsman," which hangs in the Prado Museum, Madrid, shows the king at nearly thirty years of age. Velasquez was about thirty-six when he painted it. It belongs to his sec ond period, and is a most charming example of his coloring. The king, we see, was of a blond complexion, and his pale face is in the highest relief against deep, soft umbery and olive- toned foliage. He is clad in a hunting- costume, the jacket and hat of which are of an olive shade, similar in tone to the background. The leggings and trousers are black, and the gloves of a soft buff shade. The sleeve is a very dark blue, relieved with gold embroi dery, and the dog of a brownish-yellow color. The hands, being gloved, are thus in a natural way subordinated to the face, and the dog is still more sub dued; its features especially are soft ened. The clouded sky, which is of a warm gray flushed with a delicate purple tone, breaks golden toward the horizon, and the dark distant hills are of a purple hue, which floats mysteri ously into the greenish color of the trees on the right and the umbery and brownish shades of the foreground. The sweetness and the harmony of these simple tones and the richness of the ensemble — its impalpable umbery warmth and subtle breath of purple and gold — make it something to be felt and remembered rather than de scribed. The royal sportsman was reck oned the best shot of his time and the stoutest of hunters. He frequented the bull-ring, and on the occasion of a great fete, when a certain bull, the hero of the day, displayed extraordi nary valor in vanquishing every an tagonist, the king, struck by his prow ess, thought him worthy the honor of dying by his own hand. So, seated on high, he raised his gun, and amid an impressive silence shot the creature through the forehead. Of all the beautiful things that Ve lasquez has left us, the portrait of the young prince, Don Baltasar Carlos, on his pony takes precedence for sparkle and vivacity of color, and is esteemed by many as the most perfect example of the artist's second manner — a man ner differentiated from his previous style by stronger individualization, greater purity of tone and color, and a richer technique, which he varies according to the sentiment of his im pression. But that rounded whole, the complete ensemble, is the triumph of his third and latest phase. The subject here was doubtless an inspiration to the painter, for the little fellow, the hope and pride of his father, Philip IV, was but seven years old, and already at that tender age was one of the most fearless and graceful of riders, with a steed the most mettle some and sprightly. The result is, as Carl Justi remarks, "all that is capti vating in a creation of the pictorial art —life and motion, all-pervading light and prospect in the distance, air and luster, mass and contrast, the soul of VELASQUEZ 99 the artist and consummate mastery of his technique." All of which we con cede; but the "motion" is that of the hobby-horse rather than of the real live animal. Indeed, I have often heard this work objected to on this score— the hind legs of the creature glued to the ground, as it were, with its rounded belly also strongly suggesting the com parison. But motion in the horse is one of the latest acquisitions of the art of our day, and was undreamed of by Velasquez, who, in his equestrian por traits, followed the conventional stat uesque form of bygone times. In this portrait of the prince, the statuesque feeling is further aided by the mar shal's baton, which he holds extended in his hand. The same type of fat-bellied pony may still occasionally be seen in Spain, with the rich long mane and tail that the Spaniards are fond of seeing in their horses. The engraved detail gives the most interesting portion. The child is decked in all his bravery : black hat and plume setting off the subtle flesh-tone of the face, which is a marvel of handling and character; body of coat, black vel vet, with outflying cape ; collar, white ; scarf, wine-colored, with golden fringe ; rich golden-colored sleeves and yellow gloves; saddle, rich golden gray; and chamois-skin boots. All this against the fine bay color of the pony and up on the deep greenish blue of the back ground sky makes verily a gem of tone and harmony. Not the least in teresting portion of the picture is the background, with its distant snow-clad mountains and middle landscape bathed in an ocean of blue light, and recog nizable as the elevated environs to the north of Madrid. It is a large canvas, measuring six feet ten inches high by four feet eight inches wide, horse and rider being life- size. It was painted about the year io35, when the artist was about thirty- six years old, and after his first visit to Italy. "The Surrender of Breda," from which I have engraved the detail of the principal characters, was painted by Velasquez for King Philip IV in KEY OF "THE SURRENDER OF BREDA*' 1647, and was one of the latest — cer tainly the most important and best— of the works of the artist executed be fore his second visit to Italy, in 1648. It marks the culmination of his second period. "The Surrender of Breda" is also styled "The Lances," from the number of pikes which form a conspicuous fig ure in its composition, striping, as they do, the blue sky to the right of the pic ture. The subject represents an im portant event in the history of Spain which happened in 1625. It also gives us a living portrait of "the last great general Spain ever had," Ambrogio Spinola, who, by the way, was an Ital ian and an esteemed friend of the painter. It is a large canvas, measuring ap proximately ten feet high by twelve feet wide, with figures of life-size. The Spaniards are on the right, headed by the victorious General Spinola, and the Hollanders form the opposite group, IOO OLD SPANISH MASTERS from which the vanquished leader, Prince Justin of Nassau, bends for ward, advancing toward Spinola, and resigning the key of the fortress. This the latter generously ignores, and pre pares to embrace his fallen foe, and doubtless to praise him on his valorous defense, for "he held the fort with stubborn resistance." It is a trying and delicate moment, but the artist has depicted it with consummate skill, placing us into sympathy with the sit uation. How well he invests the whole figure of the Italian with the kindly and courteous air of the perfect gen tleman ! The Dutchman shows in his whole person the sense of defeat. The whole is rich and powerful in color and low in tone. The Spanish general is clad in a coat of mail riveted with brass, and he wears buff boots. He holds in his right hand a field- glass and his hat, from which projects a white plume. From his shoulder hangs a wine-colored silk-scarf, which flows in folds behind. The Dutch leader is loosely clad in a full habit of a warm-brown tone, which is orna mented with gold braidings that glint and sparkle softly in the relief of its folds, giving it pleasing variety. His thick boots are of a similar warm- brown tone, with flapping tops, and his limp costume presents a contrast to the trim elegance of his conqueror. The scene is laid upon an eminence. Behind, and lower down, are soldiers marching, and off in the distance stretch the lowlands of Holland, with Breda and its smoking .fortifications. On quitting Madrid for Rome to engrave the famous portrait of In nocent X, I was warned by Senor Beruete, a profound and noted stu dent in all things pertaining to Ve lasquez, that I should be disappointed in the head. I hardly expected, how ever, on confronting the picture in the Doria gallery, to experience, as I did, so palpable a confirmation of the truth of his conviction. The canvas was not painted from life, but after the studies from life that the artist made of his illustrious model— studies which exist, one in the hermitage of St. Peters burg and the other in the Duke of Wellington's collection in London.; These studies are far finer as portraits, being broader and softer in treatment, and replete with those evasive, uncon scious, and spontaneous touches which the presence of nature inspires in the artist working directly. It is these subtle, living qualities, these impal pable essences, that one feels are miss ing from this head of the Doria palace. The chief merit of the work rests in its composition and its splendid color ing. Velasquez at that time (1648) was imbued with the Venetian color ing, and had but lately arrived from Venice, where, as well as at other towns in Italy, he had been occupied in buying pictures for Philip IV. The portrait of the Pope that he painted at that time is quite Venetian in its rich ness. The splendid golden-brown back ground curtain seems flushed with the rich, soft tones of the red dress, the skullcap, and the red leather of the back of the chair. It is all in a fine, rich, mellow tone of red, and the white vestment and sleeves, though very low and warm in tone, tell as a glowing value. Yet the eye is not held by it, but goes at once to the head for the reason that the gilded decoration of the chair-back, coming in close prox imity to the head, serves to direct the attention to the face. It is very sur prising, one may think, that, with so much detail,— everything worked up uncompromisingly to the force and brilliancy of nature,— the eye goes nat- POPE INNOCENT X. BY VELASQUEZ. IN THE DOK1A PALACE, ROME. VELASQUEZ 101 urally to the head and is held there. But it is this gilded square of the chair- back that is the secret of it, for re move this, and it will be felt imme diately how important a factor it is in the composition, not only for its color but for its sharp angles, which offset the many flowing lines of the other parts. But Velasquez was indebted to El Greco, his predecessor, for this ar rangement; for there exists in a pri vate collection in Madrid a life-size portrait of a monk seated in a square- backed chair, the whole conception of which is exactly similar. He holds a book, instead of a paper, in his hand. Again, at an exhibition of El Greco's works given last year at Madrid, there was shown a life-size portrait, full- length, of a seated cardinal in red and white, which for pose and coloring re called strongly this of Pope Innocent X. This is another evidence of the esteem in which Velasquez held the genius of El Greco. In this portrait of Innocent X, the brief in the left hand carries the in scription: "Innocenzo X," and the signature of the painter, "Diego de Silva Velasquez." I was never more impressed with the power of the great Spaniard than while engraving the "Head of a Young Man," which is in the Duke of Wel lington's collection at Apsley House, London. Its magnificent technique is beyond all praise. It is a virile head, treated in a manly way, and a more splendid example of strong, squarely defined shadows, combined with ex quisite finesse of modeling, would be difficult to find, unless, indeed, among the master's own works. It belongs evidently to the third and most ma tured style of the artist, resembling, in its impressional unity, refinement of drawing, and breadth and mystery of chiaroscuro, the wonderful "Msop" of the Prado. Note the masterly contour of the forehead, or the well-defined shadow about the nostril in contrast with the subtle delineation of the nose in the fusion of its boundary with the off cheek, or the fluency of the model ing in the broad masses of light. An anatomist would say that you feel the skull beneath; but with Velasquez nothing especially arrests the eye save the fact of the impression as a whole— the character of the thing as the light revealed it ; and he makes you feel, above all, the entrancing mystery of light. The canvas measures thirty by twen ty-five and a half inches, and the bust is life-size. It is very thinly painted throughout the dark surfaces, but is more heavily overlaid in the lights. The touch is choice, discreet, and of restrained power and dignity, as well as of nice discrimination in the pas sages from light to dark, culminating in the high light upon the forehead. I have endeavored to suggest by a mixture of line and stipple, taking my cue from the brush-work, the quality of the handling in the flesh, which is differentiated from that in the hair, and these again from the treatment of the black cloak and the nuanced depth of the warm umbery background. The coloring of the whole is golden, neu tral, and subdued, yet rich and of a fine glow. We are indebted to the Duchess of Wellington, who cheerfully accorded us every facility for photographing and studying the work. The "Menippus" hangs in the Salon de Velasquez of the Prado Museum in Madrid, and measures five feet ten inches high by about three feet wide. It is life-size and painted on canvas. 102 OLD SPANISH MASTERS The figure is clad in a black cloak, and the painting has a warm brownish and grayish background. It is in the third or latest style of the artist. The form of the figure beneath the cloak is well expressed. The boots are of a soft, deep-buff color, harmo nizing well with the general scheme. The standing of the brown water- jar on the board, which is poised on two round stones, is said to have been a favorite feat of the philosopher— a vainglorious formula of his sobriety and abstinence. He lived on beans, de spite the fact that Pythagoras pro scribed them. At his feet lie an open folio on the left and a roll of parchment with an octavo volume on the right. He has the cheery, optimistic air of the true philosopher, though there is mingled somewhat of the Cynic in his expres sion. Note here what Lucian, the Greek poet and satirist, gives in his picture of Menippus, and how Velas quez takes the license of a poet in de parting from him. The parchment and books at the feet may have been in tended by Velasquez to symbolize the disregard and contempt in which he held the would-be philosophers of his time. R. A. M. Stevenson, in his book on Velasquez, says of "The Spinners" : "What a rounded vision swims in up on your eye and occupies all the ner vous force of the brain, all the effort of sight upon a single complete visual im pression! One may look long before it crosses one's mind to think of any color scheme, of tints arbitrarily con trasted or harmonized, of masses bal anced, of lines opposed or cunningly interwoven, of any of the tricks of the 'metier' however high and masterlike. The art of this thing, for it is full of art, is done for the first time, and so neither formal nor traditional. The admiration this picture raises is akin to the excitement of natural beauty; thought is suspended by something alike yet different from the enchant ment of reality." And farther on he says : "Now the ensemble of 'The Spinners' has been perceived in some high mood of impressionability, and has been imaginatively kept in view during the course of after-study. The realism of this picture is a revelation of the way the race has felt a scene of the kind during thousands of years. The unconscious habit of the eye in estimating the relative importance of colors, forms, definitions, masses, sparkles, is revealed to us by the un- equaled sensitiveness of this man's eye sight." And again in comparing that marvel of light, "Las Meninas," with "The Spinners" he continues : "In the busier, richer, and more accentuated canvas of 'The Spinners,' the shad owed left acts as a foil to the right, and in its treatment we feel the master even more, perhaps, than in the lively right half which contains the heroic figure of the spinning girl. It is be cause this left half is complete and dignified yet not obtrusive that we ad mire the art with which it has been organized. True, it contains about as strong local color as Velasquez ever painted, but the tints sleep in a rich penumbra, which serves to set off the highly illuminated figure on the right. In this comparatively tranquil side of the picture, the spindle, the stool, the floor and the objects on it, as well as the draped and shadowed figures, seem to quiver in a warm haze, sil vered with cool glints of light. Here Velasquez has reached the highest point of telling suggestion, of choice touch, of nuanced softness, of com parative definition, and of courageous VELASQUEZ IO3 slashing force in the right place. But these two marvels do not quarrel; this rich circumambience of populous shadow and this dazzling creature emerging from shadowiness with the gesture of a goddess, set each other off and enhance each other's fascina tions. Is not the magic of her exqui sitely-turned head, and the magnifi cence of her sweeping gesture due, in part at least, to the natural mystery with which the stray curls, the shining arm, the modeled neck and body slide into the marvelous shadow in the angle of the room? The cool light, slightly greened now, which pervades 'The Spinners,' comes to its culmination on this figure, and one should not over look the painter's nice discrimination between the force of definitions in the passages from light to dark of the girl's chemise." This picture represents the factory of tapestries of Santa Isabel, of Ma drid. In the alcove is seen a tapestry suspended, athwart which a ray of sunlight glances, and which is being inspected by visitors. The canvas measures seven feet two inches high by nine feet five and one- half inches wide, and is the last great work done by the artist. It is seen in the Velasquez room of the Prado Mu seum at Madrid. T. C. THE SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY SCHOOL OF VALENCIA CHAPTER VI THE SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY SCHOOL OF VALENCIA I IN the Valencian school the most important figure of the seven teenth century was Jose de Ribera. His life belonged to Naples, but his pictures were eagerly welcomed by his countrymen, Philip IV being one of his most constant patrons, and their influence was felt by all the painters of the period. But before discussing his career we may note two local artists of Valencia, Jacinto Geronimo de Es- pinosa and Esteban March. The former, born at Cocentagna, in 1600, became the pupil of his father, Rodriguez, afterward studying, it is supposed, with the Valencian painter, Francisco Ribalta, and paying a visit to Italy. In his twenty-third year he was in Valencia painting a picture for the convent of Santa Tecla, and appears to have continued to reside there, for in 1638 he painted eight large subjects for the cloister of the convent of the Carmelites. His piety, no less than his industry and prolific fancy, soon established his pop ularity in a community so devout as that of Valencia. When in 1647 the plague attacked that city, he placed himself and his family under the protection of San Luis Beltran, whose intercession not only preserved them all from contagion, but cured Espinosa himself of an affection of water on the brain. The artist, therefore, in return for these benefits, executed a series of pictures to adorn the chapel of San Luis in the convent of San Domingo. His works abounded throughout the province of Valencia, and examples may be seen to-day in the galleries of Valencia and Madrid. He died in 1680. 107 108 OLD SPANISH MASTERS We have already noticed Pedro Orrente in discussing the paint ers of the Castile school, for definite knowledge exists of his having worked much in Toledo. But by birth he belonged to the Valencian school and probably resided in Valencia for some time, since Esteban March of that city was his pupil. The latter's work, like his mas ter's, bears some resemblance to the landscape and animal-genre pictures of the Venetian, Jacopo Bassano. But March was of a vio lent and eccentric temperament, delighting in battle subjects, which he executed in a dashing style of brushwork. It is said that before painting he would work himself into a suitable condition of excite ment by practising with the various weapons that hung around his studio, to the no little discomfiture of his assistants. He possessed a taste for what was coarse, as certain forcible but hideous heads in the Prado attest. In his private life he was correspondingly violent and disorderly, working only when the mood was on him, absenting himself from home in the intervals, and on his return breaking out into fits of rage against his wife and pupils. Palomino, as a charac teristic sample of his doings, relates that on one occasion, long after midnight, he brought home a few fish which he insisted on having fried. His wife protested that there was no oil in the house, where upon he ordered one of his pupils to go out and buy some. It was urged that the shops were closed. "Then take linseed oil," cried March, "for, per Dios, I will have those fish fried at once." But the mess when tasted acted as a violent emetic ; "for, indeed," remarks Palomino, "linseed oil, at all times of a villainous flavor, when hot is the very devil." In his rage the master flung fish and frying-pan out of the window, whereupon Conchillos, the pupil, flung chafing- dish and charcoal after them. The jest caught the artist's humor and restored him to good temper. Such an anecdote, though of little interest in itself, serves to show that the personality of March was in marked contrast to the customary piety of the Valencian school. II RIBERA (LO SPAGNOLETTO) Ribera's long sojourn in Naples led some writers of that city to claim him as an Italian. The fact that he often supplemented his signature with "Spaniard of Jativa" was attributed to a vainglori ous desire to identify himself by birth, at least, with the ruling na tion. It may have been ; but the title was correct, as has been proved by the discovery of his baptismal registration, which states that he was born at Jativa, in Valencia, January 12, 1588; and that his pa rents were Luis Ribera and Margarita Gil. In due course he was sent to the University of Valencia to pre pare for one of the learned professions ; but, following his own bent, abondoned these studies to attend the school of Francisco Ribalta. He made rapid progress, and at an early age contrived to reach Rome. Here he subsisted in a destitute condition, endeavoring to improve himself in art by copying the frescos on the outsides of the palaces, until his industry and poverty attracted the attention of a cardinal. This dignitary carried him off to his own palace, and pro vided him with clothes, food, and lodging. But the independent spirit of Ribera preferred freedom even with indigence to constraint however comfortable. He escaped into the streets and declined with thanks the cardinal's renewed offers of assistance. It was not long before the little Spaniard (Lo Spagnoletto) became a marked figure in Rome, both for his sturdy temper and for his skill in copying the works of Raphael and the Carracci and later in imitating the style of Caravaggio. But Rome being overstocked with painters, he moved to Naples. 109 IIO OLD SPANISH MASTERS In this city fortune smiled upon him. A rich picture-dealer who had given him employment was so satisfied of his genius that he offered him the hand of his daughter and a handsome dowry. Ri bera at first resented the proposal ; but, finding it was made in good faith, accepted it, thereby stepping at once into a position of assured comfort with promise of future opulence. He was now stimulated to increased exertion and produced a "Flaying of St. Bartholomew," a composition of life-sized figures in which the horror of the subject was rendered with frightful realism. The picture, being exposed in the public street, possibly in front of the dealer's store, attracted naturally a crowd of sight-seers. The excitement was visible from the windows of the vice-regal palace, at one of which happened to be standing the viceroy himself, the eccentric Don Pedro Giron, Duke of Ossuna. He inquired the cause, sent for the painter and the picture, bought the latter, and appointed the former his court painter. Ribera, now having the viceroy's ear, became a person of import ance. Such prosperity no doubt aroused the jealousy of the Nea politan painters, and may have colored the story which obtained currency in Naples that Ribera, realizing his power, formed with two other painters, Belisario Corenzio, a Greek, and Giambattista Caracciolo, a Neapolitan, both as unscrupulous as himself, a cabal to crush competition and secure for themselves the pick of the work in Naples. Their conspiracy to obtain the commission for decorating the chapel of St. Januarius in the cathedral of Naples, is one of the most curious and disgraceful pages in the history of art. Cavaliere d'Arpino, to whom the work was first given, they assailed with various persecutions that finally drove him to take shelter with the Benedictines of Monte Cassino. Guido being chosen next, his servant was beaten by hired bravos and ordered to tell his master that a like fate would befall him, if he attempted the work— a hint which drove him also from the city. A pupil of Guido having ac cepted the commission, his two servants were inveigled on board a galley in the bay and heard of no more. At last the commissioners assigned the work to the conspirators, but for some reason changed THE SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY SCHOOL OF VALENCIA I I I their minds and transferred it to Domenichino, tempting him by an offer of large payment and the empty promise of vice-regal protec tion. No sooner had the luckless Domenichino undertaken the work than anonymous threatening letters poured in upon him ; his charac ter was slandered ; his works abused ; and the plasterers were bribed to mix ashes with the mortar on which his frescos were to be painted. Harassed by these persecutions Domenichino escaped to Rome, but in an evil hour was persuaded to return to Naples, where he shortly afterward died of vexation, not without suspicion of poison. But, though the conspirators had prevented others from having the work, they did not secure it for themselves. The Neapolitan died a few months after Domenichino, the Greek two years later, and to Lo Spagnoletto was assigned but one item of the whole scheme of deco ration. This was an altarpiece, in which he represented St. Janu- arius among his baffled tormentors, issuing unscathed from the furnace. Notwithstanding that Cean Bermudez in his "Diccionario his- torico" makes no mention of these circumstances, their veracity re mained unquestioned until the publication in 1866 of the "Discursos practicables del nobilissimo arte de la pintura" by Jusepa Martinez. This writer, a painter of Zaragosa, describes his visit to Naples in 1625 and his meeting with Ribera. The latter received him with courtesy and introduced him to a Neapolitan painter, who, assuming the unpopularity of Ribera, would have been one of his opponents. The suggestion is, therefore, that Martinez detected no existence of any friction between Ribera and his Neapolitan contemporaries. Moreover, the conversation which he records that he held with Ribera seems also to dispose of the stories of the latter's arrogance and exclusive predilection for naturalistic motives. Martinez asked him if he did not regret being away from Rome ; and he replied that he did, especially that he missed the constant inspiration of the im mortal Raphael. "Those words," says Martinez, "showed me how little to the point was that report, according to which this great painter boasted that none of the old or new masters had equaled his own unsurpassable works." 112 OLD SPANISH MASTERS In face of these impressions and fragments of conversation re corded by Martinez and of the silence of Cean Bermudez concerning the Neapolitan story, Carl Justi considers it disposed of. "This artist," he says, "who never condescended to pander to the gross sensuality of the age, has hitherto been known to posterity only through the hostile and utterly untrustworthy accounts of the Nea politans." Whatever quarrels he may have had with other artists, Ribera retained the favor of each succeeding viceroy, was enrolled in the Roman Academy of St. Luke's, and presented with a cross of the order of Christ by Pope Innocent X. According to Bermudez, he died in 1656, full of riches, honor, and fame. Cean Bermudez dwells on the artist's popularity and opulence : how he occupied sumptuous apartments in the vice-regal palace and maintained a retinue of servants in livery ; painted for six hours a day and gave the rest to pleasure, and how his wife took the air in her coach with a waiting gentleman to attend her. The Neapolitans, however, have given his life another end. They assert that Don Juan of Austria, during his visit to Naples in 1648, enjoyed Ribera's hospitality, won his daughter's heart, carried her off to Sicily, and, tiring of his passion, placed her in a convent in Palermo. Stung with shame, the painter is said to have sunk into a melancholy, abandoned his family, and disappeared from Naples. Which of these accounts is the truer, remains undecided. The fame enjoyed by Ribera at the court of Naples caused a con siderable number of his pictures to be sent to Spain by viceroys eager to conciliate the good will of the king and church. Thus, alike in Valencia, Madrid, and Seville, his work became familiar to stu dents and set the direction and pace for the great development of the native Spanish school. Velasquez, Murillo, and Zurbaran were all established in their own predilection for naturalism by his example. The last two, moreover, could find in his work a solution of the prob lem of uniting the motive of naturalism with the spirit of Catholi cism. For it is in Ribera that first appeared the union of these two elements, which gave a new impetus to painting in the seventeenth century, and a new possibility of originality and greatness. THE ASSUMPTION OF MARY MAGDALE.XH. BY RIBERA. IN THE REAL ACADEAIIA DE BELLAS ARTES, MADRID. THE SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY SCHOOL OF VALENCIA I 13 It is not unusual to lay overmuch stress on his debt to Caravag- gio and to associate Ribera himself too narrowly with subjects of a violent character. In the terrible realism of his martyrdoms he proved himself more akin to the Spanish than the Italian instinct; while as a painter he ranks far superior to Caravaggio. Among his masterpieces in Spain are a few in which he rivals Titian in beauty and brilliancy of color. His "Immaculata," in the Church of the Agustinas Recoletas at Salamanca, is considered to excel in color and splendor of light and nobility of form and invention all that Murillo, Guido Reni, and Rubens have attained in their representa tion of this subject. Nor was he unequal to the rendering of types of gracious melancholy, as may be seen in his "Assumption of the Magdalene," in his "St. Agnes" of Dresden Gallery, and the "Rest During the Flight into Egypt" at Cordoba. Ribera, as Justi says, unapproached by any of his countrymen in knowledge and skill of drawing and modeling, represents the seri ousness and depths of Spanish piety, sometimes degenerating into morbidity and cruelty. He also, though more rarely, shows a po etic charm that glows like a richly colored flower among the rocks. NOTES BY THE ENGRAVER RIBERA is one of the greatest a destitute condition, subsisting on names in the history of art, and crusts and clad in rags, yet industri- in the Spanish school he stands un- ously copying the frescos on the fa- rivaled for power and brilliancy of cades of the palaces, or the shrines at technique, richness of coloring, un- the corners of the streets. He prose- surpassed strength of drawing, and cuted his studies in the chambers of loftiness of conception. He was born the palaces, and all the great painters at Jativa, in the delightful region of from Raphael to Caravaggio came Valencia in southern Spain, and is under his pencil. From the sale of supposed to have had some instruction his works in this field he scraped to- in art from Ribalta. Though very gether sufficient money to visit the poor, he early made his way to Italy, north of Italy, studying the works of in the fervor of his desire to prosecute Correggio at Parma and Modena, and his study of art. In Rome he was in apparently digesting the whole field of ii4 OLD SPANISH MASTERS Italian art. Later in life, when at the zenith of his fame and prosperity, re ferring to the great masters from whom he had learned so much, he said : "These are works which should be often studied and pondered over. No doubt people now paint from an other standpoint and another practice. Nevertheless, if we do not build on this foundation of study, we may eas ily come to a bad end, especially in the historical subjects. These are the polar-star of perfection; and herein we are guided by the histories painted by the immortal Raphael in the holy palace ; whoever studies these works will make himself a true and finished historical painter." Thus he devel oped his art under an Italian sky and the changing influences of a wander ing Bohemian life. Returning to Rome, and feeling that the city was overstocked with artists, he determined to go to Naples. He was obliged to leave his cloak in pawn at his inn, in order to clear his score, or to raise enough money for the journey. At Naples fortune was auspicious, and threw him in the way of a rich picture- dealer, who gave him some employment, and their relations became so intimate that he finally married his employer's daughter, and at once stepped out of solitary indigence into happiness and a prospect of future opulence. He soon afterward attracted the attention of the Duke of Ossuna, viceroy of Na ples, who appointed him his court painter, with a goodly salary. It was in this capacity that, ten years later, he met Velasquez, who visited Naples and was entertained in princely fash ion by "the little Spaniard" (Lo Spag- noletto), as Ribera was called by the Neapolitans. Carl Justi gives us the account, and has, happily, blown to the winds the disgraceful stories that have hitherto prejudiced his name, as : that he was a crude naturalist, who despised his great precursors ; was a conceited, am bitious and envious intriguer, plotting at the head of a violent cabal against his colleagues. We now know him as a man of much civility, temperate, and wise in his judgments, deep and ten der in feeling, courteous, and a lover of all that is great and good. The "Assumption of Mary Magda lene," a large canvas, was painted in 1626, when the artist was thirty-eight years old. It is a solemn and magnifi cent presentation of the legend which says : "Every day, during the last years of her penance in the wilder ness, the angels came down from heaven and carried her up in their arms into regions where she was rav ished by the sounds of unearthly har mony and beheld the glory and joy prepared for the sinner that repent- eth." She is clad in a deep-red robe, the symbolic color of love, and in the angels' hands are her attributes — the skull, the scourge, and the vase of anointment. The sky is blue, streaked with gray and golden clouds — a splen did harmony of color as fine as any Titian. The work hangs in the Aca- demia de Bellas Artes, where I was accorded every facility for engraving the picture before the original, which the light fortunately enabled me to do. T. C. THE SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY SCHOOL OF ANDALUSIA CHAPTER VII THE SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY SCHOOL OF ANDALUSIA I TO the school of Andalusia, during the seventeenth-century renaissance of Spanish painting, belongs the highest place. It had furnished to the school of Castile the great person of Ve lasquez, and still retained in its own school a preponderance of the chief names of the period. Juan del Castillo (1584- 1640), who lived and worked in Seville, with occasional visits to Granada, has left some pictures, to be seen in the museums of Madrid and Seville, of which the quality is un even, for the drawing is at times defective. His title to a place in the history of the school rests rather on his having been the teacher of Cano and Murillo. Yet too much stress is not to be laid on this fact, for these men, like the rest of the younger generation, grew to their own positions by hastening to get beyond the teachings of their masters. A stronger influence was at work — the example of Ri- bera's paintings. These had found their way to Seville in consid erable numbers and taught the lesson of studying from nature. Naturalism became the characteristic motive of the school of Anda lusia. In face of it such painters as Francisco Pacheco (1579- 1654) the father-in-law and teacher of Velasquez, a writer also and an authority upon art; and as Francisco Herrera (1576- 1656), Velas quez's first teacher, found their influence supplanted. Not, however, until they had played an important part. Both were learned paint- 117 Il8 OLD SPANISH MASTERS ers, skilled in the principles of their art, excellent draftsmen and anatomists, and with knowledge of color. Pacheco, too, by his scholarship and taste, was a potent factor in lifting to a high level the culture of Seville, and must have had a decisive influence upon the mind and character of Velasquez. The latter also derived from Herrera, what he could have obtained from no one else in Spain, an appreciation of the value of a bold and vigorous brush attack. For in this respect Herrera, the Elder, as he was called to dis tinguish him from his son, was the most remarkable man of his time. Though he had learned his art in Andalusia, with no other examples than the minutely finished work of his predecessors, he leapt of his own independence into a breadth of design, a forcible suggestiveness of method, an ease and vivacity of touch and a flowing freshness of color that have caused him to be compared with Rubens. In his private life he was equally defiant of conventions. His violence of temper drove his wife and children from the house and frequently emptied his studio of pupils. His occasional practice of engraving is supposed to have tempted him to coin false money. At any rate the charge was made and he sought refuge in the Jesuits College, where he painted the altarpiece of St. Hermengild. When the young king, Philip IV, on a visit to Seville, saw the picture, and was told of the charge against the painter, he sent for the latter and granted him a free pardon. "What need of silver and gold has a man gifted with abilities like yours? Go, you are free, and take care that you do not get into this scrape again." Many years after Herrera moved to Madrid, to find his pupil Velasquez in high favor at court. Another of Castillo's pupils was Pedro de Moya, born in Granada in 1610. Perhaps the most important item of his life is that he gave the turning-point to Murillo's career. They had been fellow-pupils in Castillo's studio, and when the master moved to Madrid Moya gave up painting for soldiering. While with the army in Flanders, however, he saw some of the works of Vandyke, and under the en thusiasm of their inspiration, obtained release from military service, passed over into England, and enrolled himself as one of the artist's pupils. When Vandyke died, Moya returned to Seville, bringing THE SEVENTEENTH -CENTURY SCHOOL OF ANDALUSIA I IQ with him copies of some of the master's pictures. The sight of them aroused the ambition of Murillo, who as soon as possible set forth upon his eventful journey to Madrid. Moya continued to paint in Seville in imitation of Vandyke. He died in 1666. II FRANCISCO DE ZURBARAN The study of life, color, and chiaroscuro with which, in a rebound from the mannerists' tame imitation of Raphael, Juan de Roelas had vitalized Sevillian painting, are the qualities conspicuous in his pupil, Zurbaran. The latter was born in 1598 at Fuente de Cantos, a small town of Estremadura, among the hills of the sierra which divides that province from Andalusia. He very early received some instruc tion from an unknown painter, possibly a pupil of Luis Morales, whose birthplace, Frexenal, is in the neighborhood; and made such progress that his father abandoned the idea of bringing him up to his own occupation of a husbandman and sent him to the school of Roelas in Seville. Here by his talents and industry he speedily gained considerable reputation. Like Velasquez, he was resolved that everything that he painted should be from direct study of the model ; and the effects of this dili gent and faithful observation were soon apparent in the remarkably realistic character of his works. In his earlier, and, as many think, his most interesting, ones, the realism is pushed to a singular ex treme. It is as if he were persuaded that the painter had no concern with anything but what is visible to the eye ! and must, therefore, permit himself no exercise of fancy, much less of imagination. Even his angels are but boys and girls, picked, it would seem, at hazard off the streets, pleasant looking, plain or ugly, as it happened, and set upon the model's stand in freshly laundered linen. His female saints and martyrs, in costumes that are fantastic adaptations of the ST. ELIZABETH. BY FRANCISCO ZURBARAN. IN THE SMITH-BAHRY inlLhi IIUN, LONDON. THE SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY SCHOOL OF ANDALUSIA 121 prevailing fashions, with the strange disfigurement of flat and pointed bodices, appear to be portraits of the beauties of the day, rouged a la mode. Yet these peculiarities, while they detract from the religious suggestion of the pictures, invest them with the interest that belongs to what is sincerely and intimately true. His masterpiece of this period is the allegorical picture of St. Thomas Aquinas now in the Seville Museum. It is divided into three parts, with figures somewhat larger than life. Overhead in the heavenly radiance appears the Trinity, attended by the Virgin, St. Paul, and St. Domenic. Toward these the figure of St. Thomas Aquinas is ascending. Lower down, enthroned on clouds, are the venerable forms of the four doctors of the church, Ambrose, Augus tine, Jerome, and Gregory, while beneath them, kneeling on the ground, are the Archbishop Diego de Deza, founder of the College of St. Thomas, and the Emperor Charles V, attended by a train of ecclesiastics. This picture, one of the grandest of altarpieces, was painted when Zurbaran was in his twenty-seventh year. It was among the spoils carried off by Soult, but was recovered by Welling ton at the Battle of Waterloo and restored to Seville. Zurbaran now became much occupied with commissions executed on behalf of the monastic orders, especially the Carthusians and Jeronymites. The best of these works are probably the eight scenes in the sacristy of what was once the magnificent monastery of the order of St. Jeronimo of Guadalupe; while others scarcely less strik ing are the pictures of brethren of the Carthusian order in Seville Museum. For these monastic subjects Zurbaran is justly famous. The voluminous, plain-colored habits presented an opportunity for grandeur of composition and a breadth of chiaroscuro of which he made a noble use. The heads are realized with amazing fidelity, each one having the appearance of a portrait, keenly differentiated in type and character from the rest ; and in those pictures that record actual scenes of the cloistered life, the spirit of the environment is reproduced most vividly. What was an insignificant branch of painting Zurbaran raised to a high pitch of artistic dignity and hu man interest. 122 OLD SPANISH MASTERS Before he was thirty-five years old Zurbaran had been appointed one of the king's painters; for, on a picture dated 1633, appears his signature with the addition "Pintor del Rey." But there is no record of work done in the king's service until seventeen years later, when in 1650 he was summoned to court by Velasquez, to cooperate with Carducho, Caxes, and Velasquez himself in decorating the royal villa. For this he received a commission to paint ten subjects, repre senting the labors of 'Hercules, during the execution of which he seems to have enjoyed the intimate favor of the king. The greater part of his life was spent in and around Seville, with occasional visits to his native town, and periods of solitude among the wilds of Estremadura. For he seems to have had in himself much of the temper of a recluse, and an inclination for the quiet of the cloister. The important point in connection with Zurbaran' s work is that it showed no leaning whatever toward the Italian. In him, as in Velasquez and Murillo — all of them, it is significant, being of the school of Andalusia — an art displayed itself that was Spanish in ori gin and character. It was both a product and expression of native temperament and conditions. In the case of all three it was based upon naturalism, exhibiting a preoccupation with the visible appear ances of men and things. But, while Velasquez left the associations of his youth and became identified with the court and with the school of Castile, Zurbaran and Murillo worked among their own people, in the service of the church and religious orders. The naturalism of both the latter, therefore, was strongly tinctured with the local ardor for religion ; Murillo's exhibiting rather the ecstatic phenom ena, Zurbaran's being a keen portraiture of the votaries of religion. With these differences each reflected in his art the twin elements of Andalusian character— a fervor of religion and a no less fervent interest in life. NOTES BY THE ENGRAVER FRANCISCO DE ZURBARAN, porary with Velasquez, by whom he born at Fuente de Cantos, Estre- was summoned to the court at Madrid madura, Spain, in 1598, was contem- in 1650, where he thereafter labored, ST. CATHARINE IN PRAYER. BY ZURBARAN. THK COLLECTION OK THE IM'^'IA, THE SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY SCHOOL OF ANDALUSIA I 23 and died in 1662. He painted mostly religious subjects, among which were many female saints, the originals sup posed to be the reigning beauties of the time. We are indebted to Claude Phillips, Esq., keeper of the Wallace collection at London, for having pointed out the present beautiful ex ample of the painter's work, and to its owner, the Right Honorable A. H. Smith-Barry of London, for the priv ilege of engraving it. St. Elizabeth of Hungary is here shown in her character of patron of the poor and distressed. In her out stretched hand she holds a coin, while beneath is a group of poor folk sup plicating relief. The figure is life- size; the canvas measures thirty-eight inches wide by forty-five inches high. It is a fine, soft, warm glow of color. The background curtain, which drops over a dark landscape heavy with clouds, is a rich, soft, deep shade of maroon, whose high lights are yellow, of a salmon flush, harmonious and beautiful. Against this tone the figure is relieved with softness and charm. It is clad in a sumptuous dress, the waist of which is a lovely, soft, warm shade of blue, keyed almost to the verge of green, exquisite in its tender melting quality, and harmonizing de lightfully with the rich gold embroi deries, and the creamy lace about the bosom, that floats into the warm, rich tones of the luminous and even flesh. Were it not for the blue, the picture might be too warm, but it is this de lightful note of color that gives to the whole such a charm. The flounces of the sleeves, which form so important a feature in the costume, are white, but grayed to a tone lower than the mass of the light on the flesh, with touches of black velvet between the flounces. Though this is stylish and very effective, it is not turbulent, and owing to its discreet management in its subordination to the head, it does not clash in the least with the relief and expression of that part; for the head receives the highest light, and framed as it is between its wealth of dark tresses— which, next to the touches of dark velvet, are the strong est notes of color in the picture — the eye naturally goes to the face. The rich dark hair is of a frizzy texture, which, on close inspection, reveals an extraordinary number of little ringlets that were impossible to engrave. I could only show its soft character and volume, as one would see it without too closely scrutinizing. There is great breadth of treatment as well as delicacy of finish to this work, and the drawing is charming. Zurbaran has been styled "the Spanish Caravaggio" from his resemblance to the Italian in his broad handling, strong contrasts of light and shade, and the easy, natural grace of the attitudes of his figures. Zurbaran was an admirable painter of monks and female saints, and of the latter class the "St. Catharine in Prayer" is without doubt one of the loveliest and most touching examples. I was told that the original was at Palencia, a good twelve hours north by rail from Madrid; and, Baedeker corroborating the statement, I jour neyed thither, only to learn that it was a copy. From higher sources of in formation I entertained the hope that the original existed at the queen's pal ace ; but I found, on inquiring, that the queen had only a small collection — no collection, in fact — and that ex- Queen Isabella II, residing at Paris, very probably had the picture I sought. Off I went to Paris, only to learn that it was at Madrid, in the Palace of the 124 OLD SPANISH MASTERS Asturias. Back I jogged to Spain, provided with a letter to her Royal Highness the Infanta Donna Maria Isabella Francisca. This lady gra ciously led me herself to the picture, where it hung in her bedroom, and granted me every facility for photo graphing it and working up the copy before it. The original measures, without its frame, four feet three inches high by three feet three inches wide. It is very simple in coloring. The drapery of the saint, which is a soft, creamy white, makes a fine ef fective spot upon the background of umbery atmospheric depth. This is all there is, except that the desk is of a lighter brownish tone than the back ground. Yet it does not take much to make a picture, and the simpler its elements the more effective it becomes. Zurbaran, like Velasquez, early made it his determination to accept Nature alone as his mistress, and to appeal to her constantly. We can see in the "St. Catharine" evidence of his desire to give a faithful transcript of nature in the carefulness of the mod eling of the robe; in the delicacy of the gradation of the light, which falls strongest about the neck and shoul ders and fades gently downward to the knee ; and especially in the model ing of the hands and face, which have the softness of flesh. In the arrangement of the whole we have a carefully thought out and well- balanced composition. The blank space above and behind the figure offsets the agreeable disposition of the objects of the other half of the canvas— the crucifix, the clasped hands, the book, the skull, and the pendent rosary. There is emotion in the beautiful face, and one wonders if the artist saw this in his studio model, or if it was not rather the remembrance of some rare occasion when for a brief moment he caught some pure, angelic creature rapt in reverie and oblivious of self. T. C. Ill ALONSO CANO The last of the great Spanish artists who, following the example of Berruguete, practised painting, sculpture, and architecture, was Alonso Cano, born at Granada in 1601. As a boy he learned his father's craft of carving retablos and by his talents attracted the notice of Juan del Castillo, who advised the family to move to Se ville. Here Alonso was a fellow-pupil of Velasquez in the school of Pacheco for eight months, after which he worked under the painter, Juan del Castillo. In sculpture he became a pupil of Martinez Mon- tafies, and probably enjoyed the advantage of studying the antique marbles which adorned the palace and gardens of the Duke of Al- cala. This, at least, has been suggested by Cean Bermudez, as an explanation of the purity of style which his figures exhibit, notwith standing the fact that he never visited Italy. The general influence of his experience as a sculptor may be traced in the feeling for roundness of form that his best paintings reveal, and in the exquisite finish, bestowed particularly on the modeling of the hands. On the other hand, his excellence as a colorist reacted upon his sculpture, giving to some of his colored statues an unusual charm and dis tinction. His most important work as a sculptor consisted in the erection of several retablos, of which a famous example that has survived the ravages of time and war can be seen in the Greco-Roman church of Lebrija, a small town on the Guadalquivir. This monu mental altar-decoration comprises two stories, each supported on 125 126 OLD SPANISH MASTERS four spirally fluted columns, with elaborately carved cornices. The whole is crowned with a crucifix, while colossal statues of Saints Peter and Paul occupy the second story, and a lovely image of the Virgin is enshrined in a curtained niche over the slab of the altar. This figure of Madonna with deep-blue eyes and a mild melancholy grace is considered one of the most beautiful examples of the colored carving of Spain. The painted panels of this retablo, not included in the original commission, were executed by another hand. By the time that he was thirty-six, Cano's work as a painter had secured him a foremost position among the artists of Seville, when his career in that city was suddenly cut short. For some cause, now unknown, he fought a duel with a brother-painter, Llanos y Valdes, wounded him, and, to keep out of the clutches of the law, fled to Madrid. Here he renewed his acquaintance with Velasquez, whose characteristic generosity procured him an introduction to Philip the Fourth's all-powerful minister, Olivarez. In 1639 he was appointed superintendent of certain works in the royal palaces, while at the sanie time engaged in painting for the churches and convents. The excellence of one of these paintings having been reported to the king, he visited the Church of Santa Maria, in which it hung, under the pretext of adoring Our Lady of the Granary, a celebrated brown image carved by Nicodemus, colored by St. Luke, and brought to Spain by St. James. The picture won the royal approval and Cano was appointed one of the painters in ordinary and drawing-master to the little prince, Don Baltasar Carlos. In 1644 a tragic event involved Cano in a charge that has never been clearly proved or disproved. His wife was murdered. Accord ing to his own story he returned home late at night to find her dead in' bed, clutching a lock of hair, and pierced with fifteen wounds, ap parently inflicted with a penknife. Her jewels were missing and an Italian man-servant had disappeared. Suspicion was at first di rected upon him, but later shifted to Cano himself. For it was proved that the painter had been jealous of this man ; that he lived on bad terms with his wife, and was himself engaged in an intrigue with another woman. Alarmed for his safety, he fled from Madrid, MADONNA AND CHILD. BY ALONZO CANO. I"-! TIM-: CATHEDU'AL OF SEVILLE. THE SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY SCHOOL OF ANDALUSIA I 27 causing a report to be circulated that he had set out for Portugal, but really seeking refuge in Valencia. For various monasteries that gave him shelter he executed paintings, until sufficient time had elapsed to make it appear safe for him to return to Madrid. He was received into the house of his friend the Regidor, Don Rafael San- guineto, but nevertheless was arrested and condemned to the test of torture. Having obtained exemption for his right hand on the plea of being a painter, he went through the ordeal without uttering a cry and was judicially acquitted. Whether he was really innocent of the crime remains unknown ; but it may be noted in his favor that the Regidor Sanguineto seems to have believed it, and that he con tinued to receive patronage both from the court and church. Some six years after the tragedy he determined to enter the priesthood and moved back to his native city, Granada. The stall of a minor canon of the cathedral becoming vacant, he sought through friends his own appointment to the post, on the understanding that in lieu of choral duties he should superintend the architecture and decorations for the cathedral. There was opposition in the chapter, but it was overruled by Philip IV, who prevailed on the Nuncio to grant the painter dispensation from choral duties, provided he took holy orders within a year. Installed in his new position, he con ciliated the chapter by designing two silver lamps for the chapel and an elaborate lectern of fine woods, bronze, and precious stones for the choir. The top of the lectern he also adorned with an exquisite statue of Our Lady of the Rosary, about eighteen inches high, while for the sacristy he painted eleven pictures, nine of them representing episodes in the life of the Virgin, and two, the heads of Adam and Eve. At the same time he executed sculpture and painting for some of the convents in the neighborhood ; visited Malaga to make a de sign for a high altar, and also executed commissions for private patrons in Granada. With one of these Cano came into conflict over the price of a statue of St. Anthony. To the objection, that the amount was too much for a work which had taken only twenty-five days to accom plish, he made the retort that perhaps suggested Whistler's in simi- 128 OLD SPANISH MASTERS lar circumstances : "You are a bad reckoner ; I have been fifty years learning to make such a statue in twenty-five days." "And I," rejoined the other, "have spent my youth and my patrimony on universities' studies and now being auditor of Granada— a far nobler profession than yours— I earn each day a bare dubloon." "Yours a nobler profession !" was the hot reply; "know that the king can make auditors of the dust of the earth, but that God reserves to himself the creation of such as Alonso Cano." And the artist dashed the St. Anthony to pieces on the floor. Such sacrilege was an of fence within the jurisdiction of the holy office; but the auditor, instead of laying information with that body, prevailed on the chap ter to declare Cano's stall vacant, because he had delayed to take priest's orders. The painter appealed to the king, who obtained for him from the bishop of Salamanca a chaplaincy which entitled the holder to full orders, while the Nuncio supplied a dispensation from saying mass. So Cano returned to Granada and triumphantly re sumed his stall, but never afterward would ply chisel or brush in the service of the cathedral. The remainder of his life was chiefly de voted to piety and charitable works; the latter so draining his resources that when in 1667 he was attacked by his last sickness the chapter voted five hundred reals to "the Canon Cano, being sick and very poor and without means to pay the doctor" ; and a week later another two hundred reals to buy him "poultry and sweetmeats." He died on the third of October, 1667. NOTES BY THE ENGRAVER ALONSO CANO was one of the in 1667. Besides painting, he excelled JTx. greatest artists of Andalusia. He in sculpture and architecture. He is was born at Granada in 1601, two described as a restless spirit, of way- years after Velasquez ; and after study- ward habits and of a tempestuous na- ing and working much at Seville and ture, characteristics which are by no at Madrid, — at the latter place being means reflected in his works, which, aided and befriended by Velasquez, — on the contrary, breathe a feeling of he returned to Granada, and died there peace and serenity. Notwithstanding 4^- AWHi m Mmmm ^^B mm tail I§li ST. AGNES. BY ALONZO CANO. III. Kl IN Ml'Skl'M, THE SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY SCHOOL OF ANDALUSIA 1 29 his restlessness, he is said to have been indolent, and to this is ascribed his preferring rather to appropriate the ideas of others than to bestir himself to original research and invention. He borrowed from every source, however insignificant, and of his own few mo tives made numerous repetitions. He had, however, periods of inspiration, when he produced work like "Our Lady of Bethlehem." This is one of his very latest pictures, and was painted, on one of his visits to Mal aga, for a gentleman who, being a minor canon of the cathedral of Se ville, made a present of it to that church, where it still remains in its original place, a small chapel to the left of the door leading to the court of orange-trees. Next to the Madonnas of Murillo, this is probably the most beautiful pic ture of its kind ever executed in Spain. It undoubtedly is the artist's master piece. Nothing could be more simple or effective as a composition. Cano, more than any other painter of his day, aimed at cutting short the details and accessories of his art with a view to expression; and to this end also he abbreviated his values of light and shade, and reduced his pigments to the fewest possible. He carried this idea to the verge of inanity and empti ness, thereby rendering much of his work abortive. This canvas, however, leaves nothing to be desired. In color ing it is a luminous and harmonious ensemble, rich, and with a soft, warm glow. The cool, umbery background, of atmospheric depth, moving and ten der ; the lovely, quiet blue of the Ma donna's mantle, into which this is del icately and insensibly modulated; the scarcely perceptible note of crimson of the robe beneath the mantle ; the pearly bit of white linen ; and the mellow, subtle flesh-tones — all these, quite im possible to describe, lie steeped in a soft envelop of light, very gratifying to the eye. The finish of hands and feet were refinements that always distin guished the work of Cano. The hand of the Child, extended in blessing, is subdued in its value, evidently that it may interfere as little as possible with the expression of the head of the Virgin. The combination of sweet ness and gravity in the precocious Child is well expressed. This picture is painted on canvas, and the figures are life-size. "St. Agnes," virgin and martyr, is accompanied by a lamb, emblematical of her name and purity (Agnes is the Latin word for lamb). Her legend is one of the oldest in the Christian church, as well as the most authentic in its main features. She was a Ro man, and was early distinguished for her gracious sweetness, humility, and beauty. The son of the prefect of Rome, becoming enamored of her, de sired her for his wife, but she repelled his advances with scorn, avowing that she was already betrothed to Christ. As an edict had been pronounced against all Christians, the father of the young man — the prefect— threw her into prison. She was further ac cused of sorcery, and put to death, January 21, a.d. 304. Two churches, one within and one without the walls of Rome, bear her name, and reverence is yet daily paid to her memory. She is the favorite saint of Roman women, and is the patroness of maidens and maidenly modesty. She bears the palm as a symbol of her martyrdom and victory. The picture is one of the best can vases of the artist. The character of the saint is well imagined. Her erect attitude, jetty hair, and lustrous black 130 OLD SPANISH MASTERS eyes, and the firm way in which she grips the palm, show a maiden of spirit. As a corollary to this, the veil, which adds much distinction to the head, is floating on the air as if flung out by a spirited turn of the head. Ad mirable, also, are the purity and sweet ness depicted in the countenance. The painting is in the royal gallery of Ber lin, and measures two feet seven inches wide by three feet ten inches high. The figure is life-size, and the colors are very simple; background gray and umber ; dress a yellowish brown, float ing delicately into it ; rich black waist, against which the white of the chemise is very effective. A warm lake-col ored robe is thrown over her arm, falling in deep rich folds, behind the brown pedestal on which the lamb rests. X. C. THE SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY SCHOOL OF ANDALUSIA CHAPTER VIII THE GREAT PERIOD OF THE SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY SCHOOL OF ANDALUSIA {continued) FROM Seville, "pearl" of Spanish cities, sprang the two fore most artists of Spain. But, while Velasquez became the companion and painter of royalty and is identified with the Castilian school, Murillo, devoting himself to the services of religion and the church, stands for the ripest product of the school of An dalusia. The son of a mechanic, Gaspar Esteban, he is supposed to have been born on the last day of December, 1617, for the record of his baptism shows that it occurred on the first of January, 161 8. At the age of eleven he was left an orphan in the guardianship of a surgeon, who had married the child's aunt, Dona Anna Murillo. It is prob ably from her, whom in after years he came to look back upon as a second mother, that he assumed the name by which he is best known ; just as Velasquez also is known to us through the mother's rather than the father's surname. For this adoption of the mother's name was not an infrequent practice in Andalusia. Since the boy displayed a marked taste for drawing, his uncle apprenticed him to Juan del Castillo, at that time the most noted teacher in Seville, who had numbered among his pupils Alonso Cano. But in 1640 the master transferred his activities to Cadiz, and Mu rillo, now in his twenty-second year, was left to his own resources. Seville was full of painters, whose competition was keen; so the young man, as other aspirants for popular recognition were doing, 133 134 °LD SPANISH MASTERS sought the humble opportunities afforded by the Feria, or public market. Here, amidst the picturesque confusion of stalls laden with the produce of the neighboring villages, and with city-made articles to tempt the country folk; amid the moving, chaffering, or idle throng of burghers, beggars, street-boys, gipsies, and peasants, he hung up his assortment of little sacred pictures, painted upon linen. His paint-box and brushes were at hand, that, if necessary, he might alter the subject to suit the particular fancy of a customer; ready to transmute an angel or St. Catharine into a St. Rufina or a St. Justa, Seville's saintly patronesses. For legend tells how these maidens, as a procession passed their house, left their potters' wheels and dared to make open profession of Christianity by seizing and breaking to pieces the statue of Venus that was being carried in tri umph. They were scourged with thistles, made to walk barefoot over the mountain range of the Sierra Morena and then brought back ; Justa to die of starvation in a dungeon, Rufina, after exposure in the amphitheater, where the lions refused to assault her innocence, to be beaten to death. Doubtless also in the Feria Murillo displayed among his relig ious pictures the bodegones, or "kitchen pictures," which were so popular in Seville, paintings of still life, pots and pans, fruit and vegetables, on which students tried their 'prentice hands. And in the intervals of waiting for a customer Murillo's eyes were busy, laying up a store of observation, gaining an intimate knowledge of the human types around him, and unconsciously shaping his artistic motive in one of the directions that was to distinguish it. For to these experiences may be traced the impressions which eventually helped to infuse his devotional pictures with so remarkable a blend of naturalism. But this lowly period of his career was suddenly interrupted by the return home of a fellow-pupil, Pedro de Moya. The latter, tiring of the routine of Juan del Castillo's workshop, had joined a company of Spanish infantry, setting out for the war in the Netherlands. While serving, however, in Flanders he had become acquainted with the work of Vandyke, the wonder of which retired his enthusiasm i K THE SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY SCHOOL OF ANDALUSIA I35 for art, so that he abandoned the army, made his way to England, where Vandyke was painting at the court of Charles I, and enrolled himself as a pupil. After the great artist's death in 164.1, he made his way back to Seville, bringing with him many copies of his mas ter's pictures. The sight of these aroused the impulsive tempera ment of Murillo; opening up a vision of what great art meant and making him resolve to seek the further knowledge of it at its source in Italy. But first he would go to Madrid and crave advice and let ters of introduction from his famous fellow-townsman, Velasquez. Accordingly he made his way on foot across the sierras to Ma drid, where he was kindly received by the older man, taken into his household, and given an opportunity of studying in the king's gal leries. Here, during the absence of Velasquez for a few months in attendance upon the king, Murillo worked diligently, copying paint ings by Ribera, Vandyke, and Velasquez himself, who on his return to Madrid was so pleased with the studies that he showed them to the king and introduced the young painter to the prime-minister, Oli varez. During the winter of 1643 -1644 Velasquez was again ab sent on an expedition which the king in person was making against some of his refractory subjects, roused to insurrection by the misgov- ernment of Olivarez, and the time was spent by Murillo in unflag ging study of the masterpieces in the royal galleries. So rapid was his progress in drawing and color, that Velasquez, recognizing in him the making of a master, advised him to go to Rome. But to this, fortunately for his own individuality, Murillo would not consent. He had already obtained what he set out to find; a knowledge of great art. The works of Titian and Rubens in the royal galleries, of Vandyke and of Velasquez himself — these and many more had suggested to him view-points, methods, and re sources, from which his instinct told him that he had already derived what was needful for his own personal development. Moreover, he had the true Sevillian love of his native city, "the glory of the Span ish realms." Seville claimed him. Arriving there after an absence of three years, he was, as a painter, entirely unknown. But a welcome chance of gaining recog- I36 OLD SPANISH MASTERS nition presented itself. A member of the mendicant brotherhood of Franciscans had collected a small sum of money, which the friars determined to spend upon eleven big paintings to decorate the clois ter of their monastery, the Casa del Ayuntiamento. The amount, however, being too small to interest the well-known painters of the city, the monks with considerable misgiving intrusted the work to the young, untried Murillo. At the expiration of three years the paintings were completed, and immediately acclaimed as a trium phantly new thing in Andalusian art. For instead of the tame and mannered style, adopted hitherto by most of the painters of the Se ville school, here was a union of the grand style with a natural unaf- fectedness; big scope of composition and powerful coloring, allied to a treatment of the subject that appealed to the every-day sympa thies, alike of cultured persons and of the men and women of the people. And all were represented in that spirit of devotional ecstacy which was characteristic of the religious feeling of the period. For by this time the terrors of the auto da fe and the Inquisition had been succeeded by the wise and gentle influnce of the Jesuits, who were trying to win souls through love. Yet the stern conflict between Moors and Christians had left a legacy, still in force throughout Spain, of deep seriousness ; and this in Andalusia, where nature is romantically beautiful, and the population, richly veined with Moorish blood, is quick of impulse and imagination, had pro duced, when leavened with the fervor of religious love and devotion, a prevalence of spiritual ecstacy. Monks and nuns saw visions, and the people received these tokens of divine favor with devout belief. And now in the midst of this piously passionate community had ap peared a painter, himself a devout Catholic, who could give the noblest expression to what was in the souls of all; and more, could satisfy the love of life, of their own life as they knew it, which was equally a characteristic of these people. In this series of subjects he represented alike the elevated soul- condition, the miraculous intervention of the world of spirits, and the homely and familiar incidents of this one. "St. Francis," stretched on an iron pallet, listens with rapt emotion to an angel TIIK ADORATION OF THE SHEPHERDS. liV fMURILLo. Sl'.\ II. Lh. ftH'SHUM, THE SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY SCHOOL OF ANDALUSIA I37 playing the violin. Here were shown the "Death of St. Clara," that favored saint who had received the veil from St. Francis; the "Ec stacy of St. Giles" and the miracle vouchsafed to the monk who, as he busied himself in the kitchen, fell into a trance, during which angels appeared and attended to the cooking. It is characteristic of the temper of the times that this was known as the "Kitchen Pic ture." A corresponding blend of the sublime and commonplace appears in "St. Diego Blessing a Pot of Broth" before distributing its contents to a crowd of beggars, gathered around the monastery door. These victims of misfortune or their own laziness were repre sented with unvarnished realism, the counterparts of the unfortu nates that could be seen anywhere about the streets of Seville. Murillo was about twenty-eight years old when he completed this first independent work, and found himself acclaimed the leading artist of Seville. And, indeed, the episode is a remarkable one, per haps not to be paralleled in the history of painting: that at his first bow to the public a young artist should have so completely compre hended the needs and aspirations of the public and his own par ticular faculty. The explanation is to be found in the fact that he himself was a true son of Seville, alive to the same emotions and experiences as his fellows, and only different to them in having the power to give visual expression to what was in their souls and lives as well as his. There was not in his case the wide gulf of misunder standing and indifference which too often separates the artist and his public. Murillo was now in a position to make an advantageous mar riage. His house became the resort of the artists and cultured people of the city, and when Pacheco, the acknowledged dean of the arts, died in 1654, Murillo succeeded to the place he had filled in the popular estimation. He used his influence to establish in Seville an academy of painting. Already in Madrid Velasquez had felt the need of such an institution, yet, notwithstanding the approval of the king, had been unable to realize the scheme. And in Seville also Murillo was opposed by rival painters, such as Herrera the Younger and Valdes Leal, whom, however, he gradually won over to his views 138 OLD SPANISH MASTERS by quiet perseverence and urbanity. In 1660 the twenty- three leading painters of the city enrolled themselves in an academy, and elected two presidents, Murillo and Herrera, to serve alternate weeks in superintending the students' work, settling disputes, and keeping order in the school. The expenses were to be divided be tween the members, the students contributing what their means would permit. From each of the latter on their entrance to the school was required the following confession of faith: — "Praised be the Most Holy Sacrament and the pure Conception of Our Lady." But the academy proved unsuccessful; Herrera very soon aban doned Seville for Madrid, Murillo retired from office; Valdes was sole president, tried to dominate his fellows and, failing, withdrew in anger, and the institution twenty years after its birth died of inanition. Its failure, however, is worthy of record, since it throws a light upon artistic conditions in Spain, emphasizing the rivalry of the painters, their inability to cooperate with one another, and their dependence upon the outside stimulus of the church and king. Of the private life of Murillo, from this time on, there is nothing to relate, except that the Catholic spirit, so apparent in his work, seems to have ruled in his home. For his two sons became priests; the elder, Gabriel, migrating to America, while his daughter, Fran- cesca, entered the convent of the Mother of God, in Seville. The other facts of his life were summed up in his professional career ; an interrupted peace of active productivity. The end was brought about by a fall from a scaffold, while he was engaged in painting a "Marriage of St. Catharine" for the high altar of the Church of the Capuchin Friars at Cadiz. Whether the accident occurred in that city or in his own studio is unknown, but it is certain that the last days of his life were spent in Seville. As the end approached, he would spend hours in prayer in his parish church of Santa Cruz, kneeling before Campana's picture of the "Descent from the Cross." Painted a hundred years earlier it was as different as possible to Murillo's latest style of soft outline, delicious color, and beatific sentiment. Harsh in drawing and crudely realistic, Pacheco had said of it that he would avoid being left alone with it in the dimly A SPANISH FLOWER-GIRL. BY MURILLO. IN TIIF. GALI.KRY OK JJl/LWILH Ci H.l.l- t.E, l-NtiUND, THE SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY SCHOOL OF ANDALUSIA I 39 lighted chapel ; but Murillo admired it. On one occasion, lingering longer than usual before it, he was approached by the sacristan, inquiring why he waited, since the Angelus had sounded. "I am waiting," he replied, "until these men have brought the body of our Blessed Lord down the ladder." Beneath this picture, by his own request, he was buried. The end came on April 3rd, 1682, some two years after the death of his wife. Among the earliest pictures, executed after Murillo had estab lished his reputation, were "The Adoration of the Shepherds," the "Flower-Girl," and the "Holy Family with the Bird," which are reproduced in the accompanying engravings. The last two are frankly naturalistic; there being nothing, even in the sacred subject, that separates it from the ordinary aspects of a happy domestic scene in the workshop of some artisan of the period. Even in the "Adoration" the expression in the several faces around the Holy Child betoken little, if anything, more of reverence than is expended in every-day life on the worship of the baby. In fact the charm of the picture exists in the fact that Murillo, like Rembrandt, has brought the sacred story down into touch with ordinary human experiences, thereby giving the latter a portion of holiness. His devotion to infant loveliness is seen at its highest in his "Vision of St. Anthony" of Padua in Seville cathedral. It is not the saint which interests us, but the miracle of sight as the radiance of heaven bursts into the dim cloister, and a multitude of baby forms are re vealed, dancing like motes in sunshine. It is the apotheosis of the cult of infancy; the assemblage in triumphant form of the little miracles of worship that occur -in countless happy homes. For the cathedral Chapter House Murillo painted a full-length "Virgin of the Conception" and eight oval half-length pictures of saints, after the completion of which he received the important commission for decorating the Hospital of the Holy Charity. "This house," declares the inscription over the entrance, "will stand as long as God shall be feared in it and Jesus Christ be served in the presence of the poor. Whosoever enters here must leave at the door both avarice and pride." And after nearly two hundred and fifty 14° OLD SPANISH MASTERS years La Caritad still stands, a monument of the piety of Don Mig uel Manara Vicentelo, who devoted his life to obtaining funds for its restoration and endowment. For the adornment of the church Murillo painted eleven pictures, eight of which were carried away to France by the enlightened thief, Marshal Soult. One of these, the "St. Elizabeth of Hungary," which, after being restored to Spain, now hangs in the academy in Madrid, gives a fair idea of Murillo's treatment of biblical and saintly themes. The figure of Elizabeth is the key to the whole composition ; the eye is irresistibly drawn to it, but not to linger on it, for the face lacks charm and the pose of the figure suggests a certain artificiality. In his desire to represent the spiritual abstraction of the saint, occupied primarily with the love of the Saviour, her administrations to the beggar (el tinoso — whence a popular name of the picture), seem almost per functory. Indeed, it is toward the persons who await their turn that the attention is drawn, especially to the realism of the man who is unwinding the bandage from his sore. Such realism may be repul sive to modern taste, but was common enough in Spanish art, espe cially in the pictures designed by the church for the edification of the faithful. They felt, as did Theophile Gautier, that "Christian art, like Christian charity, feels no disgust at such a spectacle. Everything which it touches becomes pure, elevated and ennobled, and from this revolting theme Murillo has created a masterpiece." Gautier had in mind the excellence of the drawing, the skill in the distribution of the figures, the imposing composition of their union with the architecture, the coloring and luminous fabric of light and shadow. "The picture may be studied," writes Paul Lefort, "as one of the best manifestations of the characteristics and tendencies of the Spanish schools; a sublimity in conception, linked to the most audacious naturalism in form : qualities and defects which seem the essence and originality of Spanish genius." It is customary to summarize the method of Murillo as repre senting three styles— the estilo frio, or cold style; estilo calido, or warm style ; and el vaporoso, or vaporous and misty. Many of his earlier pictures are cold and somber in tone, sad in coloring, black THE SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY SCHOOL OF ANDALUSIA 141 in the shadows, jejune and trivial in character and expression. The warm style is marked by deeper coloring and strong contrasts of light and shadow, yet the light is actual light and the modeling of the forms well defined. In the vaporous style he exhibits the desire of all colorists to get away from the opacity of pigments ; to repre sent colored light. Although still of solid impasto (hence the endur ing quality of his painting), his brushwork is now loose and free, producing effects by a variety of tints melting into one another, the draperies being arranged now in sharp folds, now in flat. He models in the light without the aid of gray shadows; his palette is spread with warm and cheerful colors; his figures are overflowing with life and sensibility ; he has found the secret of so dematerializ- ing them, partly through their gestures and partly through his handling of drapery, chiaroscuro, and accessories, that they seem to float in the air. His visions are, as it were, woven of light and air. On the other hand, it is not to be supposed that all his pictures can be sorted and labeled according to the above distinctions. The latter are chiefly valuable as generalizations, summarizing the vari ous phases of his style. What is of more account for the apprecia tion of Murillo is to recognize that, like the other artists of Spain, he was by instinct a naturalist. He delighted in representing the actual life around him, and even when he borrows from it a model for some spiritualized form, allows the touch of the familiar to remain. His Madonnas and angels, no less than the beggar-boys and flower-girls, betray their Andalusian origin. He does not ideal ize the type; but, when the subject demands it, sets the familiar individuality in ideal postures, amid idealized surroundings. If in doing so he finally adopted a manner which grew to be somewhat manneristic, and lavished sentiment to the verge of sentimentality, the fault is perhaps less his own than that of the conditions which he so faithfully represented. The church has been always apt to enjoin certain manners of representing sacred subjects and in the Andalusia of Murillo's day the influence of the church was paramount. It appointed inspectors of pictures to watch that no indecorous or indecent paintings found 142 OLD SPANISH MASTERS their way into churches or were exposed for sale. This office, when Murillo returned to Seville, was held by Pacheco, who, being as facile with his pen as with his brush, had published a set of regula tions presenting the way in which a painter should or should not represent the sacred characters. In several respects Murillo trans gressed these instructions, as when he made the Virgin dark instead of fair, and established a manner of his own by which, however, he became himself bound ; for so popular did it prove, that commissions for pictures of similar character poured in upon him, and even his fertility of invention necessarily reached its limit. As to his senti ment, it was the reflection of the Andalusian feeling, the highly strung fervor of a people charged to the full with a blend of the religious and the mundane. Murillo's own portrait, painted by himself, reveals this blend in a marked degree, even at the age of sixty. The forehead is high and modeled with those slight bosses which are said to betray a quick but rather feminine intelligence, and the black eyes are penetrating and full of fire ; but the lower part of the face is coarse, the lips being thick and the chin heavy in out line — a combination of high sensibility and sensuousness. In none of his works are these qualities more conspicuous than in his picture of the "Immaculate Conception," of which he painted more than twenty examples. This dogma, that the Blessed Virgin came into the world as spotless as her Son, was formulated in the fifth century, but its acceptance was left to the exercise of free judg ment. In 1607, however, Spain, with whose revival of Catholicism had grown up a revival also of the cult of the Virgin, persuaded Pope Paul to issue a bull which forbade the preaching or teaching of anything contrary to this doctrine. Upon its application "Seville flew into a frenzy of joy. Archbishop de Castro performed a mag nificent service in the cathedral, and amidst the thunder of the or gans and the choir, the roar of all the artillery on the river walls, and the clangor of all the bells in all the churches, swore to maintain and defend the peculiar tenet of his see." In Murillo's rendering of this mystery, the Virgin, surrounded by an aurora of luminous glow, is poised in the sky, yet she scarcely ST. ANNA TEACHING THE VIRGIN. J!Y MURILLO. PMAJJO ML'SEI'.M, MAUK'IU. THE SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY SCHOOL OF ANDALUSIA 1 43 lifts the imagination upward. Rather, she brings it down to contem plation of an earthly perfection of purity. She is a child of earth, with that pure detachment from the consciousness of sex, that ex pression of dreamy awe and wonder, such as the artist may have seen in the faces and forms of maidens at their first communion. Exquisitely beautiful in their purity, but of our own flesh and blood. And what are the attending angels but earthly babies, seen through the prismatic glamour of fond parents' eyes? One is scarcely conscious of spirituality in these pictures, still less of sublimity of conception, but touched with reverential tenderness. And it was so, we may suspect, that Murillo felt toward his subject and the public toward his representations of it; and it is their intrinsic humanness probably that has endeared them to countless people up to our own time. For the past fifty years, however, realism has ruled the studios ; Velasquez has occupied the study of artists, and Murillo, the blend of naturalism and pietism, has been compared, to his own disadvan tage, with his contemporary, the naturalist par excellence. The comparison is unjust and profitless. Velasquez was in the nature of a specialist devoting himself to the almost exclusive study of visible phenomena; Murillo, through the demand of his surroundings, di vided his time between the visible and what lies within it and, beyond it. But it has been remarked that, when painting or sculpture at tempts to explore the moods of emotion and spirit, it is transgress ing beyond its own domain into that of poetry and music ; that this is a weakness in Michelangelo's work, for example, as compared with Greek Classic art. Well, it may be so according to strict academic conventions; but, just as the human will rebels against arbitrary curtailment of its liberty, so art has always scorned re strictions. A product of complete humanity, it has resisted the at tempt to confine it within any four walls of a convention. And it should be easy for the modern mind to appreciate this, since in response to what, from its prevalence, may be regarded as an in stinct, the various arts to-day are borrowing one another's terminol ogy and qualities. 144 OLD SPANISH MASTERS Since, then, Murillo is in excellent company in his attempt to express the invisible through the visible and familiar, we may be satisfied to judge him not by formularies but by actual accomplish ment. Now the latter, as we have observed, is remarkable for the fidelity with which it interpreted the spiritual needs and strivings of his time ; and not in the way of lowering his key to the popular taste, but of lifting the latter always to a higher plane of feeling. Velas quez also unquestionably did this ; but in the domain exclusively of naturalism, which made no excursions into that of spirit and ap pealed to a smaller clientele. Murillo, on the other hand, had the faculty of giving concrete expression to what was vaguely in the minds and hearts of thousands of his countrymen ; surely a privilege so rare that such faculty amounts to genius. And, if you are dis posed to judge a man by his value to his own time, Murillo stands very high. For an artist, however, so to identify himself with the spirit of his time, involves the inevitableness of participating in its weakness as well as in its strength; and the weakness of Murillo, especially in the matter of sentiment, is a reflection of the mental and spiritual weakness of his contemporaries. Moreover, a man cannot be the idol of the multitude without having in himself a measure of what is common to all, a tincture of the commonplace. This trait is discernible not only in Murillo's expression of sentiment, but in the line and massing of his compositions. By the side of Velasquez, the aristocrat, Murillo is a bourgeois. NOTES BY THE ENGRAVER WHEN Murillo was a student, of Velasquez, his fellow-townsman at twenty-four years old, poor, Madrid, and formed a resolution to dissatisfied, and painting fanciful, obtain the advice of the great man as gaudy, and unsubstantial pictures of to the best course to pursue in his saints and the like for the churches art studies. To raise sufficient money and monasteries of his native town, for his expenses, he procured a large Seville, he heard of the fame and work canvas and filled it with numerous ST. JOSEPH AND CHILD. BY MURILLO. SEVILLE MUSEUM. THE SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY SCHOOL OF ANDALUSIA 145 small devotional subjects, which he disposed of to the shippers for the Indies, thus killing two birds with one stone— contributing to the edification of the faithful in Peru and Mexico and putting sufficient money in his purse for his new venture. Velasquez was very kind to him in every possible way, influenced him to a serious study of nature as well as of the best art, commending to him the work of Ri bera, procuring him admission to the palaces in the frequent absences of the king, and doubtless giving him many valuable criticisms of his work. His subjects at this time were beggar boys, street urchins, peasant and shepherd boys, old woman spinning, and the like— models that would not cost him very dear. As many as fifty such have been catalogued, all finished and attractive pictures ; for he evidently made his studies subserve two ends : instruction and money. It is only the student with a rich father who can afford to multiply studies and unfinished com positions that are of no interest to any one but himself. The knowledge that Murillo thus gained formed the groundwork of his later devotional and religious works. After two years thus spent in Madrid, he returned to Seville and astonished his friends and former neighbors, who wondered where he had acquired this new, mas terly, and unknown manner; for Mu rillo had kept his sojourn in Madrid a secret, so that they never suspected the valuable experience he had under gone. They fancied that he had shut himself up for two years, studying from the life, and had thus acquired skill. "The Flower-Girl," which hangs in the gallery of Dulwich College, near London, shows the sweetness and grace of his later works. We are ac customed to see in pictures of Spanish girls something of the flashing Goya type, that of the dark-haired Moorish extraction, or the black-eyed gipsy kind; but this of Murillo is also a type which may be seen repeatedly in Madrid. The Spanish maiden invari ably wears a flower or sprig of green in her hair, and I was told in Spain that this was a sign of her virginity. Here we have a maid seated, prob ably, at the entrance of the gates of the town, offering roses for sale to passers-by. She is clad in a yellowish bodice and dress, while her under- sleeves and chemise, with the turban about her head, are white. Her petti coat is a yellow-brown ; over her shoul der is a brown embroidered scarf, in the end of which are four roses — white and pink. To the left lies a landscape with bushes and cloudy sky. It is a masterpiece in invention and in characteristic harmony of rich colors. It is on canvas, three feet ten and three-fourth inches by three feet one and three-fourth inches. For a full appreciation of Murillo's art it is essential for the student visiting Spain to see not alone his superb works at the Madrid gallery, but his magnificent canvases scattered throughout Seville, especially those in the museum of the city, where are collected upward of two dozen, many of them being of his best period. It is in this museum where the large can vas of the "Adoration of the Shep herds" hangs, from which the present selection of the central and most inter esting portion is taken. The original shows two cherubs in the sky above, with additional figures to the left, and more space to the right and bottom of the picture. The color ing, as is general in Murillo's best 146 OLD SPANISH MASTERS works, is rich and subdued in tone, and consists of harmonious blendings of golden browns, umbery depths, and delicate neutral grays, all united in a field of mellow radiance. There is a note of color in the robe of the Ma donna about the bosom and sleeve, which is a red of pleasing shade. Her mantle, falling just off the shoulder and covering the knees, is a deep, rich blue, much more agreeable in tone than the rather hard blues generally prevailing in his numerous Conception pieces. The influence of his contem porary, Ribera, is recognized in the strong disposition of the light and shade, its flatness, breadth, and sim plicity eliminating all details that are unnecessary to the expression of the principal parts. How the eye goes straight to the infant in its mother's lap ! The child is one of the sweetest creations of the artist, who of all Spaniards possessed the happiest in stinct for the delineation of infants. Here the very fragrance of babyhood seems to exhale from the tiny bright body, wrapped in its little cloud of gauzy linen. How charming to mark the beholders, all softened to infant tenderness, bending over and breath ing in, as it were, its sweetness, as of that from a flower ! This canvas measures seven feet four inches high by five feet wide, and is painted in the artist's second manner ; for he had three distinct styles during his life. The first was the frio (or cold), in which the out line was hard and the tone of the shadows and treatment of the lights reminiscent of Zurbaran. The second, or calido (warm), style came with ex perience, in which a softer outline and mellower coloring are apparent, as in the engraved detail. The third man ner, the vaporoso, is his final develop ment, in which the outlines are lost in the light and shade, as they are in the rounded forms of nature. OUTLINE — MURILLO S 1 ADORATION OF THE SHEPHERDS ' In "St. Anna Teaching the Virgin " we are reminded of the tradition that the Virgin Mary was dedicated to the Lord and lived at the temple in Jerusalem, with other virgins, after the manner of vestals, from the time she was three years old till the period of her betrothal at fourteen, "fed with celestial food from heaven, and holding converse with angels." Her mother, Anna, visited her from time to time, and in Murillo's picture we see the Virgin in the portico of the temple receiving instruction in the Scriptures from her mother. One of the appellations of the Virgin is "Queen of Heaven," and, with this evidently in mind, the artist has added a touch of royalty in the voluminous THE SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY SCHOOL OF ANDALUSIA 1 47 train of her silk garment. While I was copying the picture, a spectator remarked upon the awkwardness and difficulty that the little one would ex perience in getting about in so flowing a robe. I called her attention to the angels, — one of the attributes of the Virgin, — her ministering spirits ever in attendance, who, doubtless, might be suffered to act as train-bearers. The difficulty that many contend with is the modern cynical spirit with which they approach these old works. While it is doubtless incongruous with the simplicity recorded of the Virgin to suppose that she wore her skirts of such extraordinary length, we must not overlook that fact that symbolism is here combined with realism. The crown or wreath which the artist has gracefully introduced is the Virgin's particular attribute as the Queen of Heaven, and is also emblematic of su perior power and virtue. In the wreath is seen the lily, — for purity, — another of the Virgin's attributes, and the rose, typifying "The Rose of Sharon," another of her many titles. Her flow ing robe is white, for purity, inno cence, and virginity. It shades off in its train to violet, which signifies love and truth, also passion and suffering. She carries a blue garment over her arm, which color is for truth, con stancy, fidelity, and sorrow. While with the early religious paint ers particular attention is given to this mystical application of attributes and colors, with the later sacred historical painters it falls into disuse, especially the matter of color, the characteristic proprieties of which were sacrificed to the general effect. The Virgin and Christ, however, retained their time- honored colors. Thus we see that Murillo does not apply symbolism in the colors of St. Anna. The drapery falling from her head over the shoul ders is of a grayish white or ashes-of- roses tone, the skirt about her lap is a yellowish hue, and her lower skirt is a russet brown. But they are so charming, so subtle in their color val ues, that I have looked long and often at them, wondering how to denomi nate them. The whole is bathed in a cool atmosphere, as though it were morning that the artist wished to de pict, and it probably is, for we see by the basket of bread that the saint has come with an offering to the Lord. How very natural and beautiful is the dignified attitude of St. Anna as she pauses to explain some portion of the Scripture, while her child glances up with reverential attention ! This pic ture was painted on canvas, in 1674, a few years before the artist's death. It is six feet five inches wide by seven feet seven and one-half inches high, and hangs in the Murillo room— the octagonal— of the Prado Museum at Madrid. The Holy Family "del Pajarito," an early masterpiece, is one of the most notable examples of Murillo's second style,— the calido, or warm, —and shows the influence of Ribera, whom he studied, and to whom he is indebted for his earliest system of lighting. Murillo was a young man when Ribera was at the zenith of his reputation. This warm style is marked by deeper and richer coloring than his previous cold manner generally ex hibits. The contrasts of light and shadow are stronger and the forms come out with greater force and defi nition. The coloring here is rich and simple. That which strikes the eye at first, and makes a fine spot, is the agreeable tone of yellow in the robe about the knees of Joseph, which is blended finely with the delicate lilac 148 OLD SPANISH MASTERS hue of the child's garment, and the brownish neutral tone of the floor and basket. The dog is white, but the lightest touches in the picture are con fined to the linen chemise of the child, while the darkest hues are in the upper garment of Joseph, which is black. The Madonna's dress is a rich, deep madder, and her shawl is of a purplish- brownish tone. These float subtly into the deep umbery tones of the dark neutral background. The picture takes its name "del Pajarito" (of the little bird) from the bird held aloft in the infant's hand. It is not an uncommon thing, at the present day, in Spain, to see children playing with a fettered bird. The ar tist here takes a hint from the life about him, and projects with realistic truth this charming, simple home-scene of the carpenter's shop, in which he depicts St. Joseph, in a moment of re laxation from his labor, recreating himself with innocent amusement of the child Jesus, while Mary, attracted from her employment, looks on with sweet motherly sympathy. This work, among others, was car ried off by Napoleon to Paris, but was returned on the treaty of peace in 1814. It has been cut down on each side and at the top, but when is not known, and the want of space in the composition on these sides — especially on the top and at the side where the Madonna is seated — is accordingly felt. The picture measures four feet eight inches high, by six feet three inches wide, and the figures are life-size. When Murillo came on the stage, the people of his time were unaccus tomed to seeing, in their devotional pictures, subjects treated with so charming a play of fancy and in so free and felicitous a manner as was the little "St, John," an instance out of scores of similar beautiful things with which he delighted and surprised the public of his native town. Through out his active career, he kept every one interested and in love with his works by, as Carl Justi puts it, his "gift of a language intelligible to all times and peoples, to all classes, and even to aliens to his faith." He tran scribed Bible stories and old monkish chronicles with a freedom of hand and a novel unreserve that made them seem like probable and every-day oc currences. In a word, he modernized them, since he drew his inspiration from the circumstances of life which he daily encountered. Thus we have in the "St. John the Baptist" one of his beggar boys, but idealized and im bued with that spirituality which is his special and unique charm — is, in fact, the very quintessence of his art. This subject forms one of the many rare possessions of the Prado Gallery at Madrid, where it hangs in the Mu rillo room, an octagonal space devoted to his works. It is painted in his best manner, — his estilo vapor oso, — and is soft and luminous in coloring. The background is a delicate tissue of grays, and is of a more impressionistic nature than many of his distances, since it carries no sharpness of defini tion, no small varieties of patch or modeled detail, but is broad, aerial, and of a fluid looseness, and held well in subservience to the expression of the head. Against this background, which is of an exquisite coolness, the flesh of the boy, a red garment over his knees, and the lamb are relieved in the yellow light of the setting sun. Telling as is this effect, there is no decorative flashiness about it. In its coloring it has the solemn mystery and repose of nature that are in keep ing with the solemnity of the scene. ST. JOHN THE IIAPTIST. IIV MURILLO. PRADO MUSEUM, .M\HK1I THE SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY SCHOOL OF ANDALUSIA 1 49 The unity of tone, the grayness of na ture, the subtle modifications of color by light, are not lost for the sake of the lower and cheaper delight of a bright, untrammeled play of pigment : for this would be to allow his color- scheme to take precedence of, or to preponderate over, the religious senti ment which he seeks above all things to depict in the child. Hence we are impressed at first sight not so much by its glowing ensemble as by the gesture of adoration expressed in the whole of the figure. The figure is life-size, and the can vas measures three feet three and one half inches wide by four feet high. It was originally in the possession of the Marques de la Ensenada, and passed thence into the collection of Don Carlos III. The "St. Joseph and the Infant Jesus" is one of a series of religious pictures executed by Murillo for the church of the convent of the Capu chins at Seville, shortly after its com pletion in 1670. They are nearly all now gathered together — this one among them — in the museum of Se ville, forming there a matchless col lection of the works of the great Sevillian painter. It is a large canvas, showing life-size full-length figures. The engraving gives a detail of the most interesting portion. Being a late work of the master, it is painted in his third and most improved style, called el vaporoso, in which the outlines are lost in the light and shade, as they are in the rounded forms of nature. The attribute of St. Joseph is the rod which miraculously budded in sign of his being chosen, by divine will, from among the suitors of the Virgin. This the artist, by a happy idea, has placed in the infant's hand, and noth ing could be more beautiful or appro priate than the charming attitude of the child, with his sweet gesture of innocence, as he gently reclines his head on his father's bosom. Like the majority of Murillo's paintings, this is an instance of his power of imbuing what he wished with a feeling of pur ity, which mounts, in some of his grand works, into one of profound re ligious sentiment, capable of stirring one deeply. In coloring it is very simple and sober. The background sky is com posed of warm grayish tones, umbery in quality, tinged with bluish passages. The robe of Joseph is of rich, neutral brownish shades, and the dress of the child is a delicate light gray of a pink ish blush. The whole is soft and at mospheric. "The Prodigal Son Feasting" is one of a series of four small sketches, ten and a half by thirteen and a half inches, carefully finished, as all Mu rillo's work is, and representing the prodigal son at various stages of his career according to the parable of the New Testament. They are seen in the Murillo room — the octagonal— of the Prado Museum at Madrid. They are painted in the artist's best and latest manner. I saw the large finished pic ture for which this small sketch was evidently made, at the Spanish Loan Exhibition held at Guildhall, London, in 1 90 1, but it struck me as heavy compared with this sketch ; the darks in the background, even in the bushes beyond the wall, being as murky as those of the foreground. But this little sketch, infinitely to be preferred, is gay and clear and brilliant with gem like coloring, and has that lightness and spontaneity of touch — the natural concomitant of a work of first hand- that constitutes so charming a quality in a work of art. Seated at a table, x5° OLD SPANISH MASTERS and arrayed in a red doublet and felt hat decorated with a large white plume, and thus distinguished from the rest of the company, the hilarious youth is entertaining or being enter tained by two of the fair sex, while behind are two servants, one present ing him a goblet of wine, and the other bearing aloft on a tray a roasted fowl. In the foreground a musician, seated, is playing the guitar. It is twilight, and the lamps already lighted shed a flood of mellow radiance upon the table and the surrounding group, and as the light comes from above the musi cian's head, he is naturally thrown in to shade, which serves the artist's scheme of composition in concentrat ing attention upon the group. The background, which serves to throw this in relief, is in the conventional man ner and color of the time ; the sky be ing of a warm greenish cast shading to a yellower hue and blending with the neutral green of the trees and the gray wall and field. This sky extends back of the figures, mingling with their embrowned shades and the dark red drapery hung from the pillars, and floating into the umbrose tone against which the forms of the pewter vessels are softly relieved. It is all mellifluous and atmospheric, and serves its purpose admirably, but had Mu rillo been aware of the late discovery that this background in juxtaposition with the lamplight effect would be steeped in a cool and purple tone, in stead of a warm and green one, what a glorious contrast and effect of pur ple and gold he would have produced ! The art of his day, however, did not seek color effects in the sense of color values, but was intent upon the subject merely, and to deck it in agreeable and harmonious tones. There are beauti ful bits of color in the draperies of the women : the one by the prodigal is in a green dress lustrous and gem like in tone, and the graceful figure of the other is a yellow tone mingled with creamy lace and touches of black velvet, perfectly lovely, both as to color and freedom of treatment. No tice that the dog coming from beneath the tablecloth is artfully introduced in order to break what would other wise be a disagreeable repetition of the horizontal line of the table above. Murillo was essentially a religious and idealistic painter and his concep tion of this scene is naturally steeped with the sentiment of his nature. There is nothing here of an erotic character, such as a more mundane artist would doubtless have introduced, but rather a staid feeling is given to it. The youth, it is true, has his arm about the young woman's neck, but we would scarcely suspect it, while the gentle sweetness and refinement evidenced in the other female cannot fail to impress. Murillo is styled by his countrymen "the painter of Conceptions," and among his many sacred and purely devotional works this example prob ably ranks first for spiritual beauty. The unconsciously rapt expression of the glorified Virgin's face, its adora tion, purity, innocence, and youthful- ness, present one of the triumphs of the master's art. The crescent moon on which she stands as she floats up ward symbolizes her chastity and pur ity as well as her youthful maiden hood. Murillo got the device from Ribera, by whom it was first employed, though it is an idea probably borrowed from the Orientals through the Moors, by whom Spain was dominated. The joys of heaven are expressed in the happy angels at her feet, while at her head, on each side, are cherubs and THE SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY SCHOOL OF ANDALUSIA I 5 I seraphs. The cherubs are on her right, being known from their bluish tinge, —turned from the direct light they assume this shade, — while the seraphs may be recognized as such from their fiery hue,— turned to the yellow light they receive it fully and are delicately flushed with red. The seraphs stand for love and adoration, the cherubs for wisdom and contemplation. So Pope: As the rapt Seraph that adores and burns, and Milton: The Cherub, Contemplation. Angels are always supposed to be masculine, perhaps for the reason beau tifully given by Madame de Stael— "because the union of power with purity constitutes all that we mortals can conceive of perfection." It is full of suggestion, therefore, that in this Conception we have the Virgin sur rounded by the masculine element, and bathed in a flood of glory proceeding from the divine essence. The back ground is a mellow radiance of warmth and light, softening into the cooler tints of the clouds in which the angels sport, holding various attributes of the Virgin. One has a stem of lilies — for purity, and in allusion to Joseph's rod, which budded at the time of her be trothal and sent forth lilies. Another holds a palm leaf, emblem of victory. A third holds the rose— for incorrupt ibility, and the "Rose of Sharon," one of her many titles. A fourth bears the olive branch of peace, borne by the angel Gabriel when he announced to her that she should bear a son. Her robe is white, for virgin innocence and purity; and her mantle blue, for truth and sorrow : she is the "Mother of sorrows and consolations." The picture is a splendid piece of decora tion; the golden background and sil ver clouds, the rich, dark blue of the Virgin's mantle and her white robe forming a most telling combination of simple and powerful values. It is painted on canvas, and measures six feet eight and a half inches high by four feet eight and a half inches wide, and hangs in the long gallery of the Prado Museum at Madrid. T. C. DECLINE OF NATIVE PAINTING CHAPTER IX DECLINE OF NATIVE PAINTING CHARLES II (1665- 1 700) CHARLES II was three years old when his father died, and for twelve years, in fact until he reached his majority, the govern ment was in the hands of the queen dowager, Mariana. Her mismanagement was profound, her amours notorious; the govern ment at home daily grew more rotten, while abroad the French were making themselves masters of the Spanish Netherlands and the buc caneers were ravaging the coasts of Spanish America. Nor after the king had attained his majority did affairs mend. The last male descendant of Charles V inherited the taint of his race in an accumu lated form. Feeble in body and mind, he was the victim of habitual despondency, from which he sought relief in the chase, the society of his artists, and religious exercises. But his opportunities of patron age were limited, for the finances of Spain were crippled. The treasures of Mexico and Peru were mortgaged, and the pressing needs of the government supplied by open sale of places. Scarcely could the ministers raise funds for the annual visits of the court to Aranjuez and the Escorial, while officers of the army begged in the streets of garrison towns, and the rank and file were glad to share the victuals doled out at the monasteries. The exchequer, indeed, was hardly rich enough, as the French ambassador wrote to his sov ereign, to pay for an olla for the royal board. '55 156 OLD SPANISH MASTERS Meanwhile, there was no falling off in the wealth of individual nobles, and, while the menage of the court was shabby and frugal, luxury increased in the palaces of the grandees. Their tables were loaded ostentatiously with gold and silver plate ; their ladies adorned with a profusion of jewels, and their galleries enriched with treas ures of art. The court might give its cachet to a painter, but it was from the nobles that he chiefly drew emolument. By far the most popular painter of this period was the Neapoli tan, Luca Giordano, a pupil of Ribera. His arrival may be said to have marked the end of the old Spanish school, for chagrin at the instant success of the foreigner caused the death of Claudio Coello, the last of Spain's great painters of the seventeenth century. He was born in Madrid between the years 1630 and 1640, the son of Faustino Coello, a Portuguese sculptor in bronze. After obtaining some instruction in painting the young Coello attracted the friend ship of Juan de Carrefio, who, as court painter, procured him permis sion to study in the royal galleries. Later he entered into partner ship with a painter named Ximenez Donoso, and superintended the artistic arrangements for the ceremonial entry of the French Prin cess Maria Louisa, on the occasion of her marriage to Charles. From the palace of Buen Retiro to the Alcazar, the way was spanned by triumphal arches, decorated with painted allegories and trophies, and bordered with galleries and pavilions, gay with gilded statues and pictures, emblematic of the Golden Age that was about to return to Spain ! In 1684 Coello was appointed one of the court painters and the following year received the commission for his most important pic ture, "The Festival of Santa Forma," which hangs over the altar in the sacristy of the Escorial. The canvas is eighteen feet high and nine wide, set behind the framework of the retablo. The subject of the picture is the ceremony that took place, when the Santa Forma, or the Miraculous Host that exuded blood when trodden on by Zwinglian soldiers, was deposited on this actual altar. Conse quently, beyond the vista of the sacristy itself and beyond the altar and its retablo, you see, as in a mirror, a repetition of the place itself, DECLINE OF NATIVE PAINTING 157 only crowded with monks and singing boys and a company of dis tinguished persons. Of these at least fifty are said to be portraits. The picture was received with great applause, as well it might be, and for some years Coello reigned supreme among the artists of the court and capital. It was during this period that many of his best portraits were executed. In 1692, however, Luca Giordano arrived and was given a commission to paint the dome of the Escorial. Coello's mortification was intense ; only after urgent entreaty would he finish a "Martyrdom of St. Stephen," on which he was engaged, and after its completion flung away his brushes forever. Early in the following year he died of some disease, brought on or aggravated by his disappointment. With him, as we have said, may be consid ered to have passed away the great Spanish school of the seventeenth century. THE BOURBON DYNASTY CHAPTER X THE BOURBON DYNASTY FRANCISCO GOYA WITH the death of Charles II the rule of the Hapsburg House of Austria came to an end. In the person of Philip V, grandson of Philip IV and Louis XIV, the offspring of the marriage that took place on the Isle of Pheasants and cost Ve lasquez his life, the crown passed to the Bourbon dynasty. With two short interruptions, one when Napoleon placed his brother Joseph on the throne, and the other when the brief reign of Victor Emmanuel's son, Amadeus, was followed by a still briefer republic, that dynasty has lasted to the present day. Philip's accession, in direct contravention of the agreement made by Louis XIV to abjure for himself and successors all claim to the Spanish throne, led to the War of the Spanish Succession. During the twelve years of that disastrous conflict the convents and cathe drals were despoiled of much of their painting, sculpture, and plate, and the miserable years that lost Gibraltar to Spain completed the ruin of her commerce, and dried up the fountain of her national genius. No new painter of note appeared to carry on the succession of native art, and the king, while retaining the services of Luca Giordano and a few insignificant Spanish painters, showed his French preferences by sending for Vanloo. Later in the century Luca Giordano was followed by the Venetian Tiepolo, and by the 161 1 62 OLD SPANISH MASTERS German eclectic, Raphael Mengs. Such Spanish painters as existed side by side with these do not call for comment. Native art was to all intents and purposes dead; when, suddenly, the last quarter of the century witnessed a revival of Spanish painting in the person of Francisco Goya. This strangely bizarre and forceful personality was, like all the true artists of Spain, a naturalist, happiest in depicting the passing show of contemporary life, but gifted with something of the spirit of Cervantes and Lope de Vega, a prober of shams and a ruthless expositor of the vices of the times. And, while thus an embodiment of Spanish past and present, he has been also called the first of mod ern painters, since he anticipated the motive and manner of modern impressionism. He was born in 1746, of humble parentage, in the village of Fuente de Todos, near Zaragoza, in the province of Aragon. His childhood, little disturbed by schooling, was spent in running wild over the bare hills that in summer are parched with heat and in win ter swept with cold, and under these conditions Goya early developed the passionate independence and reckless disregard of consequences that characterized his subsequent career. By the time that he was thirteen he had made up his mind to be a painter, and was placed with a teacher in Zaragoza. For some five years he frequented the lat- ter's studio, but the discipline of steady work was alien to his dispo sition. From first to last during his student days he was a quick assimilator of what a master or masterpiece could give him, with an instinct for what was needful for his own development and a disre gard of aught else. In later life he used to say that his instruction had been gained from nature, Velasquez, and Rembrandt. Meanwhile, at Zaragoza he was following the call of his instinct by touching life at various points, especially lawless ones. Of great physical strength, quick and apt with the rapier, he was a leader among the swashbuckling youth of the city, until the eye of the In quisition was attracted to his escapades and he found it convenient to skip to Madrid. Here he divided his time between study in the galleries, and adventures of gallantry, until he was picked up one THE BOURBON DYNASTY 1 63 morning with a knife in his back. Once more to escape the clutches of the Inquisition, he lay concealed until his wound was healed, and then worked his way south as a bull-fighter and sailed for Italy. During his stay in Rome he became intimate with the Spanish painter, Francisco Bayeu, and fraternized with David, the future leader of the academic school in France, who was already imbued with the republican spirit. At this time Goya's reputation as a painter was such, that the Russian ambassador offered him a posi tion at the court of Catharine II, an honor which he declined. Nor did his reputation for amorous adventures suffer any abatement. The last of them in Rome was an attempt to carry off a girl from a convent. It failed and he found himself in the hands of the monks, from whom he was rescued with difficulty by the Spanish ambassa dor. He now left Rome and returned to Spain, settling in Madrid, where in a few months he married Josefa Bayeu, the sister of his painter friend, Francisco. Through the introduction of his brother-in-law, Goya was brought to the notice of Mengs, who, with a corps of painters, was occupied in decorating the palaces of Madrid and Aranjuez. He received a commission to design a set of cartoons for the royal fac tory of Santa Barbara, in which he at once declared his independence by selecting subjects as far as possible removed from the kind af fected by Mengs. Instead of a tedious rehash of some time-worn theme of mythology, these thirty-eight compositions, executed in some eighteen months, are alive with incidents drawn from the habits and pastimes of the people. Some of them, with much of Watteau's grace, represent a picnic, a fete champetre, young people flying a kite, playing tennis or blindman's-bluff ; others, a wedding, the evening promenade in the Prado, the Madrid fair, or the episode of a rendezvous ; while in others appear such well-known personages as flower-sellers, washerwomen, beggars, gamblers, tipplers, hunts men and their hounds, guitar-players, manikins, and stilt-walkers. There was so much esprit in the invention of these designs and their spirit reflected so precisely the temper of the time, that at the age of twenty Goya found himself famous. He clinched his success by pro- 164 OLD SPANISH MASTERS ducing a variety of pictures representing subjects so akin to the national experience as bull-fights, processions, masquerades, high way robberies, and scenes of gallantry. The drawing was occasion ally faulty, but the color luminous and silvery, while the whole impression was alert with vitality and the brushwork fascinating in its ease of manner. About this time he began practising with the etching needle, executing some prints after pictures by Velasquez; was elected to membership in the Academy of San Fernando, and accepted a com mission to furnish some sacred paintings for the Church of the Vir gin del Pilar. In these the subject of the "Virgin and Martyred Saints in Glory" are treated with skill of composition and decorative originality, but with a complete absence of devotional feeling. Nor was this to be wondered at, for Goya was a professed unbeliever, who made no secret of his mental attitude toward religion, and was entirely lacking in that sympathetic quality of imagination which could lend itself for the time being to the point of view of other minds. This, however, does not seem to have deterred the Church from employing him, for by the time that he had made his success at court, he was equally in demand for ecclesiastical decorations. These he executed for churches in Seville, Toledo, Zaragoza, and Valencia, and for the little Church of San Antonio de la Florida, in the out skirts of Madrid. Here on the ceiling of the cupola he depicted a miracle ascribed to St. Anthony of Padua. The latter's father had been suspected of a murder, and to clear him the saint was said to have brought the victim to life that he might declare the real culprit. How such a theme would strike Goya's grim humor may be gathered from one of his later etchings, which represents a corpse half-buried in the ground, lifting itself upon its elbow and writing with finger upon a piece of paper "Nada"— nothing! As a matter of fact he saw in the miracle of St. Anthony an opportunity for a gay and brilliant bouquet of color and movement. Some dramatic import is given to the group in which the saint and murdered man appear, but the rest of the circle merely represents a skilful arrangement of figures, brightly dressed, in various attitudes of animation. "As a colorist," THE WASHERWOMEN. BY GOYA. MADRID ML'SFUM. THE BOURBON DYNASTY 1 65 writes Charles Yriarte, "Goya never attained a greater height than in these frescos, which in imaginative qualities, in life and spirit, and in ingenuity of arrangement, are among his most characteristic works. From a humble sanctuary he has changed the building— I, was about to say into a temple, but I should rather say into a mu seum, for it must be acknowledged that Goya's paintings are abso lutely devoid of religious feeling, of solemnity, or of asceticism." And why not? For, at the time he executed them, he was the idol of a court that was probably the most squalidly dissolute in Europe. Charles IV had succeeded to the throne, but real power was in the hands of Manuel Godoy, who, through the notorious par tiality of the queen, Maria Louisa, had been advanced from obscur ity by rapid steps of promotion to the role of prime minister. Characteristic of this creature, and at the same time of the imbe cility of the king and the conditions of the court, is the brutally auda cious remark attributed to him in Doblado's Letters. Charles, it seems, was standing at one of the windows of the palace, surrounded by his courtiers, when a handsome equipage passed below in the street. It was driven by one, Mello, late a private in the guards, now reigning favorite with the queen. "I wonder," said the king, "how the fellow can afford to keep better horses than I can." "The scan dal goes, sir," replied Godoy, "that he is himself kept by an ugly old woman whose name I have forgotten." The "ugly old woman" was pictured by Goya on horseback, and her coarse face, "red with rouge or rum," justifies the severity of Godoy's jest. In such a court, steeped through and through with intrigue, Goya was a notable figure. His own gallantries were as dashing and brilliant as his brushwork; his charm of person exercised a fascination ; his wit amused, and his prowess as a swordsman made him feared. Moreover, he had at his back the populace of Madrid, to whom his great physical strength and skill in encounters of offense and defense had endeared him. It is recorded that professional swordsmen, giving a public exhibition of their art in the streets, would stop at his approach and hand him a weapon, that the specta tors might enjoy a taste of his quality. And his effrontery was equal 1 66 OLD SPANISH MASTERS to his courage. A story is told that on one occasion, when the court was in mourning, he made his appearance in white socks, and was barred from entrance by the ushers. Retiring to an anteroom, he procured some ink and decorated the socks with portraits of some of the courtiers, to the great amusement of the king, queen, and every body, except the persons caricatured. He was made much of by the great ladies, especially by the powerful Countess of Benevente, who loaded him with favors and commissions. But the particular object of his own admiration was the beautiful young Duchess of Alba, who, thereby incurring the animosity of the countess, was banished from court. Goya immediately obtained leave of absence, and es corted his inamorata to her residence at San Lucar. During the journey the axle-iron broke, and the artist, in default of a black smith, lit a fire and mended it. In the process, however, he caught a chill, which brought on the first symptoms of deafness that in the course of time deprived him entirely of his hearing. Meanwhile, the court was dull without their favorite painter. He was summoned back from his voluntary exile, pleaded the cause of his duchess, and secured her recall. His audacity now began to declare itself in an artistic direction. It was about 1799 when Goya, who had been for some years director of the Academy of San Fernando and was now first painter to the king, commenced that remarkable series of etchings subsequently published under the title of "Los Caprichos." The satire of these "caprices," directed against political, aristocratic, religious, and social conditions, was unprecedented in the history of art. They represent an amazing record of mordant hatred, horribly grotesque imagination, and merciless ridicule. Small wonder that the Inquisi tion was stirred and demanded his trial. But he escaped by a subter fuge. According to one story, Goya parried the blow by dedicating the plates to the king, while another has it that the king himself extricated the favorite by sending for the plates which he had com manded. This series of etchings was succeeded by another known as "Los Desastres de la Guerra," in which he depicted with less originality THE BOURBON DYNASTY 1 67 than before but with startling realism the horrors of war, during the French invasion by which Napoleon tried to keep his brother Joseph on the Spanish throne. These again were followed by "La Tauro- maquia," a set illustrating episodes of the bull-ring, and by "Los Proverbios." In all these plates the background was executed in aquatint, upon which the figures were etched with light and rapid strokes full of verve and meaning, while the groups are put together with an ease of manner and a justness of ensemble that seem to be the result of an act of improvisation. The subject-matter of the etchings has led some writers to couple Goya with Hogarth. But the latter was a moralist, of which there is no trace in Goya. It was out of the ferment of a passionate nature that he produced these things, not for public edification, but for his own amusement; sometimes, no doubt, to vent an ancient grudge, more often, however, in the indulgence of a grim humor and in response to an inherent love of the horrible, that is characteristically Spanish. For in innumerable pictures the blood-lust of the race, inherited, it has been surmised, by the protracted struggle with the Moor, obtruded itself. Under the thin guise of a sacred subject, the tortures of martyrs and the torments of the damned feed the same appetite that used to be satiated with the atrocities of the auto da fe, and now finds a pleasurable excitement in the carnage of the bull ring. Yet it is possible to see in Goya a symptom of the spirit of revolt against existing institutions which was permeating Europe and had just broken loose in the violence of the French Revolution. In a country the most conservative in Europe, and under the shadow of the Inquisition, which still maintained an almost medieval con straint over men's consciences and conduct, he dared to be an anarch of the pronounced type. During the days of his prosperity at the court of Charles IV it was de regie to be painted by Goya, and his studio was besieged by people of the great world, statesmen, scholars, court ladies, and famous beauties. As a result his portraits are very unequal in qual ity. If the subject attracted him, he could produce a portrait as beautiful as that of the Andalusian wife of Don Antonio Corbo de 1 68 OLD SPANISH MASTERS Porcel, or as full of dignified reserve as that of his brother-in-law, the painter Bayeu. On the other hand, in the presence of a group like that of the family of Charles IV: imagination fails him, and the best he can accomplish is a clever but perfunctory rendering of the mediocrity of his subject. Other portraits betray the hurry in which they were executed, the result sometimes of indifference, on other occasions of the fury with which he was wont to attack his canvas. His subject pictures also vary in character. Sometimes with amazing impetuosity he dashed on to the canvas the impression of an incident remembered, sweeping it in with large strokes of the brush and with a seeming carelessness that gives the appearance of the scene having been rapidly sketched on the spot. Such are two vivid scenes of slaughter suggested by the French invasion, and others representing brigands, bull-fights, assassinations, and victims of the plague. But his subjects were not always violent, as witness the sparkling grace of "In a Balcony" ; nor was his method always summary. The companion pictures in the Prado of "La Maja," representing the same girl in the same pose, clothed in one case, in the other nude, reveal the most attentive observation and treatment ; ] a sensitive devotion to the harmonious lines of the young body, and \ an exquisite feeling for the texture and tones of the flesh. The latter part of the artist's life was disturbed by the political changes that overtook Spain and by his own infirmities. Charles IV and his wife were exiles in France and during the brief usurpation of Joseph Bonaparte, Goya, like most of the courtiers, swore alle giance to him. Upon the return of Ferdinand in 1814, he again changed his political coat. "In our absence," the new king re marked, "you have deserved exile, and more than exile, you have deserved hanging, but you are a great painter and, therefore, we will forget everything." But though he painted this Ferdinand several times, these portraits being among his best, and still held the position of first painter to the king, he had outlived his popularity at court, and spent most of his time at his beautiful residence of Las Romerias, whose walls he had decorated in his earlier days of buoy ancy with grotesque pictures. Now he was nearly seventy years "IN THE EALCONV." liV GOVA. IN THE COLLECTroN OF THE DUKE OF MAKLHEI.A, PAKIS. THE BOURBON DYNASTY 169 old; the wife who had borne so patiently with all his flagrant infi delities was dead; so too were all but one of his twenty children, His faculties were decaying; periods of moroseness would alternate with flashes of ungovernable rage ; his hand no longer moved with rapidity and lightness ; and his color had lost much of its limpidity. At length, retiring to his own country, he obtained permission to visit France and settled in Bordeaux, where he was tended during the last five years of his life by an old friend, Madam Weiss, and her daughter. A few portraits, among them some miniatures, and four lithographs known as "Les Taureaux de Bordeaux," belong to this period; but as the end approached he sank deeper into depression. Stone deaf, and with failing eyesight, he would pass whole days without speaking. In the spring of 1828, recognizing that the end was near, he sent for his son, and a few days after his arrival suc cumbed to a stroke of apoplexy. He was buried in the cemetery of Bordeaux; but his remains were exhumed in 1899 and reinterred with suitable honors in Madrid. In the period of his ascendency Goya was nearly a hundred years in advance of his age. While his contemporaries in Spain and France, following the lead, respectively, of Mengs and David, were intent upon line and enclosed their figures with hard contours, he, as he was wont to say, only saw in nature objects in light and objects in shadow, according as they approach or recede from the eye. "I do not count the hairs in the beard of a man who passes by," he would say, "and my brush cannot see more than I." And again, "Teachers confuse their young pupils by making them draw year after year with their best sharpened pencil almond-shaped eyes, mouths like bows, noses like the figure seven reversed, and oval heads. Why not give them nature for a model? That is the only master." This is very much what Delacroix urged in his fight against arbitrary notions of beauty, founded upon the study of Greek sculpture. "In order to present an ideal head of a negro, our teachers make him resemble as far as possible the profile of Anti- nous, and then say, We have done our utmost; if, nevertheless, we fail to make the negro beautiful, then we ought not to introduce into 170 OLD SPANISH MASTERS our pictures such a freak of nature, the squat nose and thick lips, which are so unendurable to the eyes." Delacroix visited Spain and must have made acquaintance with Goya's work. Certainly many of the leading French critics were familiar with it, and had derived from it reinforcement for the at tack which on behalf of romanticism they were leading against the academy. Their battle was probably the fiercest ever waged in the arena of art, and the battle-cry of the young men was directed against arbitrary conventions; in favor of conforming to nature rather than to rules, and of substituting for the tame formality of academic motives an expression of the flesh and blood and emotions of the human body and spirit, and it is in this respect that Goya was the precursor of the movement. That outburst of individual liberty of spirit, which in France did not reveal itself as the artistic product of the Revolution until 1830, had appeared in Spain fifty years be fore in the person of Goya. His career, therefore, passes beyond the interest that attaches to the individual and his particular locality, and is seen to have been symptomatic of the age. He is one with Goethe, Schiller, and Byron, as well as with the French Revolution and the Romanticists. But his genius also anticipated a still later movement in painting — that of impressionism. Himself a follower of Velasquez, as mod ern painters have since become, he brought the lesson of Velasquez up to the point where it could serve his present purpose and, by anticipation, the purpose of the moderns. To use a mathematical formula, Goya's impressionism was Velasquez's impressionism, raised to the nth power, "n" representing the infinite variations of human life. For while the older artist, instead of giving a detailed record of the object before him, rendered the impression that it had made on his eye, his practice, if not his experience, was limited in scope. How far his impressionism would have been modified or extended, had he ruffled it in the outside world, as Goya did, can be only a matter of conjecture. As a fact, he was confined to a certain range of subjects, demanding a certain manner of being seen and rendered. Goya, on the contrary, acknowledged no master, even in THE BOURBON DYNASTY I 7 I the royalties that he served ; extended his researches over the whole panorama of external life, and represented what he had seen accord ing to the sole dictates of his own temperament. For it is in the way in which his art was swayed by temperament that he belonged to the moderns. Velasquez's impressionism, in its primary intent, at any rate, was objective. However it may, and must, have been modified by his personal memory and experience, it represented a conscious ef fort to summarize the qualities as they actually existed in his sub ject. Goya, on the contrary, painted, in our modern phrase, to please himself, influenced in what he saw by his mood of the moment, emphasizing and suppressing this or that according to the condition of his feelings; intent, less upon giving a truthful synthesis of the qualities of the subject, than of showing how they affected himself. In this lies both his strength and weakness. When a subject ac corded with his mood, and his creativeness was alert and interested, he could produce a marvelously vivid impression of the scene ; when the one was out of key, or the other lagged, the work would be of correspondingly indifferent quality. Just the same distinction is apparent in the case of the modern impressionists. Their success depends upon a coordination of "ifs," that is not by any means in variably present. Moreover, this subjective, temperamental kind of impressionism is in a measure antagonistic to the avowal that these painters make of being nature-students. They go to nature, it is true ; but too often only for a suggestion, after which they turn their back on their teacher, as being inadequate, and busy themselves with an exposure of their own feelings. Here and there in certain men, but even of these, as we see in the case of Goya, only at certain times, there is enough of genius, that is to say, of originality of comprehension and feeling, to give the expression of their personal impression a distinct and abundant value. Nature, passed through the alembic of that genius, reappears with a heightened significance. But what, when nature that means already to most of us so much emerges from the pot of a mediocre brain? And painters are but as other human 172 OLD SPANISH MASTERS beings ; only a few of them rise above the average. I do not forget that modern impressionism is not necessarily temperamental. But most of it is, and this form of it has spread to music and to literature and crops out crudely even in our daily papers. The Spain which Goya pictured and satirized has passed away. It was a civilization that had its roots still established in tradition, gallant and barbarous by turns, and Goya, in mirroring it, was one with the painters of the past. He was the last of the Spanish school ; the first in the later republic of art which, now spread over the western countries, may present local variations but no distinctions of schools. During Goya's life occurred the Peninsular War, in which the French army supplemented the devastation that had been wrought by the archduke's soldiers in the early part of the century. But the pillage on this occasion passed beyond the wanton damage of reck less soldiery, and the rifling of altars and sacristies in search of the precious metals. For Marshal Soult, with the instincts of a shrewd dealer, sent ahead of his advance an expert, with the dictionary of Cean Bermudez in his hand, to identify and attach the most famous paintings, which he compelled the churches and convents to sell him on his own terms. Thus a vast number of masterpieces, notwith standing that the allies compelled the return of some of them, were lost to Spain and passed through Soult's rapacious hands into the public and private galleries of Europe. NOTES BY THE ENGRAVER GOYA'S "Washerwomen" is one at Madrid, about 1776, when the ar- of a series of decorative paint- tist was thirty years old. They are ings of scenes from Spanish life de- collected at the Madrid gallery, in the signed originally to serve as models lower halls dedicated to Goya's works., for tapestries, and executed by Goya while the tapestries made from them for the royal manufactory of tapestry decorate the walls of the escorial pal- DONA ISABEL CORBO DE I'liRlKL. NATIONAL GALl.kKY, LUMJU>,. HV COVA. THE BOURBON DYNASTY 173 ace, in the mountains to the north of the city. The painting of these cartoons was procured for Goya by Raphael Mengs, the director of the manufactory, and painter to the king, Carlos IV, who was attracted by the originality and power of the young man, then just re turned from his studies in Rome. This work was the first step in the artist's upward career, since it was an immense success, and he soon became the most popular painter in the city. The figures of these canvases are all life-size. While a few of the cartoons possess great charm and brilliancy of tone, the majority are harsh and crude in coloring, owing possibly to the com mercialism of the time, which may have demanded something gay and catching. Certain it is that in black and white they have greater dignity and simplicity. Knowing them only from reproductions in this medium, I could not help marveling, on seeing the originals, that the artist should have spoiled the nobility and repose of his works by staining them with hard and spotty colors. Their unnaturally bright hues are accountecT for by the fact that they were done for copying in tapestry, as though it were the na ture of the texture of tapestry to soften them. But in fact the repro ductions, instead of ameliorating the tints of the originals, have accentuated their defects, and this so deplorably that they present a garish spectacle of pigments, ill suited to the quiet, un obtrusive flatness so becoming to the walls of an interior. Nevertheless, these representations of the gay aspect of Spanish life un doubtedly reveal Goya's mind in its happiest and healthiest phase. The light and playful incidents of every day existence are vividly depicted with a vigor and virility ©f drawing that is wanting in much of his later work, especially of that period of gloom that settled over his declining years. In the example of the "Washer women," one of the best of the series, the two maids seated are playing a practical joke on their dozing com panion. One has led a sheep up from behind and is pulling its ear in order to rub its nose against her face and make it bleat in her ear and thus to scare her into waking. In the Madrid gallery may be seen the sad contrast between the artist's early and late productions. To turn from these cheerful scenes of frolic some mirth — country dances, love epi sodes, picnics, games, and escapades, set in gay colors and brilliant tones — to the black and gruesome horrors of his later canvases, is like stepping from the joyous sunlight into gloom: all color is fled, and chaos reigns, peopled with hideous and unearthly shapes. One feels instinctively that the man must have gone mad. The Portrait of Dona Isabel Cor bo de Porcel was purchased by the National Gallery of London in 1896 from Don Andres de Urzaiz, of Ma drid. As an example of the artist's power in portraiture it is one of the best, displaying delicacy of execution and vivid delineation of character. We here have a handsome young Spanish lady, of a type that must have enlisted the painter's sympathy. She is clad in a rose-colored satin dress, which is almost "entirely "veiled by a black lace mantilla, of a style worn by ladies of Spain at the present day, forming a rich head-dress and for cibly setting off the face, and flowing down over the breast with decorative effect through which a portion of the white chemise is seen as well as the 174 OLD SPANISH MASTERS rose color of the dress which is thus enriched. This lace work is vigor- 4 ously executed with fine impression istic effect, and its masterly and un premeditated handling renders it an important feature of the canvas. Note how the full force of its technique is , artfully brought into juxtaposition ) with the exquisite delicacy of the I chemise that softens "'so' tenderly into 1 tKe flesh-tones of the bosom! Then, again, this bit of technique is abso lutely vital to, and constitutes the very soul of, the atmospheric quality that is observable in the mass of the lace of the head-dress, as it floats into the depth of the umberous background on either side of the head, relieving it with such distinction and brilliancy; for if it were removed, the sense of space would suffer immediately. The hair is that of a blonde, but the large eyes are dark, partaking of a greenish gray cast. There is delicacy of modeling, but the expression is vi vacious and spirited rather than re fined. Noble and high-strung it may be, but I have always fancied I could see somewhat of cruelty in its make up that seems in keeping with the draggled hair of the forehead, ending in those huge, fierce spit-curls, and the almost defiant pose of the body- right shoulder forward, left hand planted firmly on hip— that gives such a feeling of bravado to the character. The canvas is still as fresh as though but lately finished, a fact due ' to the simplicity and fewness of the j colors that it was the habit of the i painter to employ— usually four or five, but often not more than three. For his portraits he chiefly employed white, black, vermilion, the ochers, .. and sienna, and he once painted a head with black and vermilion only, his aim being to show the effect chi- iaroscuro was able to produce. "In nature," he said, "exists no color, and ,no lines ; nothing but light and shade." He painted with remarkable rapidity, one or two sittings often being suffi cient to finish a picture. This canvas shows the half-length of life-size, and measures two feet eight inches by one foot nine and a quarter inches. I was told by a Spanish painter whose father had known Goya per sonally, that the great man was wont to declare that he who aspired to the name of artist should be able to re produce from memory, with brush or pencil, any scene or incident in all its essential features, after having once beheld it. His own power of working from memory was simply phenome nal, and his best and most spirited productions — his wonderful etchings and drawings and many of his paint ings, the works, in fact, on which his fame and claim as a great artist rest — were done "out of his head," as they say. The "Belles on Balcony" is a pretty instance-erf- this. True, there is something in the drawing of the figures — in their unsubstantial bodily structure — that reveals his want of probity in this respect; but the spirit of the scene, its pleasant surprise and freshness, its glamour of light and golor, its flutter of lace and movement, caught the artist's eye, and it is these that he sought to convey to the can vas. There is rapid execution here — passionate haste to give expression to the scene as he was impressed by it. It sprang, as it were, from the artist's palette, too spontaneous to admit of reflection. There is little that he has done that can rival the excitement with which he despatches the back ground, or the consummate ability and play of his brush in the rippling sur- THE BOURBON DYNASTY 175 face of the lace. Goya is the direct forerunner of the modern school of Impressionists, among whose charac teristics are displayed an impatience of drawing and an eager haste to com pass the essence of the thing. In the Luxembourg may be seen a canvas by Manet (the recognized head of the Impressionists) of a couple of belles at the balcony. It is a picture almost exactly similar to this one by Goya, and plainly an outcome of it in its treatment and inspiration, though Goya in the totality of his art has dealt with more advanced problems. The girls are Sevillian, and the scene is a familiar one in that gay town, especially at Carnival time. All Spanish houses have balconies. The girls could n't exist without them. We have in the background of this picture two male figures, a soldier and a citi zen — lovers doubtless of the fair crea tures, who guarantee their safety ; for at Carnival season indignities by jeal ous rivals are often offered to the fair onlookers. It may be wondered that the figure standing should be so muf fled up, but one of the most ludicrous customs that still prevail in Spain is that strapping fellows, on the first breath of winter, bundle themselves up to their eyes, while the young girls go about no more warmly clad, appar ently, than in their lace mantillas. And a pair of lovers thus form an odd con trast to each other which Goya has not failed to hit off in some of his paintings, and "Scenes of Madrid Life." This painting was at Aran juez when I had access to it, through the kind instrumentality of Senor Beruete of Madrid. It belongs to the Duke of Marchena, son of the Infant of Spain, Don Sebastian de Borbon, and is now in his collection at Paris. It is painted apparently in three colors, brown, black, and white. The figures are life-size, and the canvas measures six feet five and a half inches high, by four feet two inches wide. T. C.