'Beauty, like all other qualities presented to human experience, is relative.'—Walter Pater.
'Beauty, like all other qualities presented to human experience, is relative.'—Walter Pater.
'THE art of Spain was, at the outset, wholly borrowed, and from various sources: we see heterogeneous, borrowed elements assimilated sometimes in a greater or less degree, frequently flung together in illogical confusion, seldom, if ever, fused into a new harmonious whole by that inner welding fire which is genius; and we see in the sixteenth century a foreign influence received and borne as a yoke, because no living generative force was there to throw it off; and finally we meet this strange freak of nature—a soil without artistic initiative bringing forth the greatest initiator in modern art—Diego Velazquez.'
These words, which form a portion of the address delivered by the late Lord Leighton to the students of the Royal Academy Schools, in the year 1889, epitomise the salient points in the artistic history of Seville. An almost impenetrable gloom shadows the early records of her art. Only one work remains to testify to the skill of her artists, during the thirteenth century. This is a rare old Bible, written on vellum and richly illuminated. It was transcribed for Alfonso, the Wise, by Pedro de Pampeluna, in the thirteenth century, and its numerous miniatures represent the pristine efforts of the Sevillian school of painting.
During the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, the artists of Seville were wholly dominated by the Flemish school. The great master of the Low Countries, Jan van Eyck, visited the Peninsula, and from that time the Flemish influence continued to increase in potency. Flemish works of art were largely imported into Spain, and three Flemish artists, according to Professor Carl Justi, were employed in the court of Isabella la Catolica. The Gothic characteristics of the Northern school are manifest in all the pictures of this period. They may be readily recognised by their long lean figures, their definite, almost harsh outlines, and their rich colours, which are frequently embellished with gold.
The pictures painted during these years bear little trace of Italian influence, although we know that in the year 1466 a Florentine painter, Dello, who belonged to the school of Giotto, was living in Seville. No authentic works from his hand remain, but he amassed great wealth, as a proof of which we are told that he always painted in an apron of stiff silk brocade.
Many of these paintings, dating to the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, bear no signature. They are classified without distinction as theEscuela Flamenca, and the Spaniards apparently regard them with scant reverence. They are all interesting, while many of them possess great charm, and reveal well-developed artistic power. The Gothic influence is dominant, but a distinctly Spanish tendency can frequently be discerned. Local dress and customs are often depicted, and the pictures are executed with the relentless vigour, which is the specific characteristic of the early Spanish school. Examples of these Hispano-Flemish pictures will be found in the Museo, in theCap de Santa Anaand theCap de la Antigua, in the Cathedral, and in many of the churches.
The earliest Sevillian artist of whom we have any distinctive record is Juan Sanchez de Castro, who lived in the city from 1454 to 1516. Sir W. Stirling-Maxwell calls him 'the morning star of the school of Andalusia.' He quickly absorbed the Flemish influence, and his works are wholly Gothic, both in conception and manner of treatment. No details of his life are extant, but the wreckage of time has spared his work, and we can still study both a fresco and a panel painting executed by his hand.
In the Church of San Julian, situated in theplazaof that name, is a giant San Cristobal, painted by Sanchez in 1484. It is executed in tempera upon the wall of the church, close to the principal entrance. The figure of the saint is of enormous size, entirely subordinating the remainder of the composition, thus producing an effect of exaggeration and lack of proportion. The fresco has unfortunately been repainted, and little of the old master's work remains, except his signature and the date 1484.
Of infinitely greater value is his painting on panel, preserved among the pictures collected by the late Señor D. Manuel López Cepero, which may now be seen in the house of Murillo, described elsewhere in these pages. The picture is painted upon a panel of wood, covered with canvas and carefully prepared plaster, as was the manner of the early masters, who did none of their work hurriedly, and devoted much time to the painstaking preparation of their materials. The picture may be regarded as a typical instance of the Hispano-Flemish manner. The conventional grief, symbolised by the drooping eyelids, falling tears and set countenances of the women; the harsh outlines; the extreme length of the reclining figure of the Christ, all bear the imprint of the Gothic school. The picture deserves much study. Its decorative proportions, extremesimplicity and harmony of colour can hardly be praised too highly. It is a meritorious herald of the work of the Sevillian artists.
Juan Nuñez, the pupil of Sanchez, continued to imitate the manner of his master. His finest work is a composition, representing thePiéta. It was painted for the Chapter of the Cathedral, during the latter half of the fifteenth century, and now hangs in theSacristía de los Cálices, where many of the choicest treasures of art are preserved. The Virgin supports the dead body of the Christ; St. Michael and St. Vincent are at her side, while kneeling ecclesiastics pray below. The Flemish manner still prevails, and the Gothic stiffness of the Saviour's figure bears a strong resemblance to the work of Sanchez. Cean Bermudez praises the picture very highly, and states that it is not inferior to Albert Dürer in colour and arrangement of the drapery. Like many of the early religious painters, Nuñez appears to have been destitute of a sense of humour, and in a picture of St. Michael and St. Gabriel, painted for the Chapter of the Cathedral, he depicted the saints adorned with gaily-coloured peacocks' wings.
The Hispano-Flemish manner was perfected by Alezo Fernandez, who came from Córdova, in 1525, to work in Seville Cathedral. Lord Leighton considers him 'the most conspicuous among the Gothic painters,' and without doubt, his work marks a further advancement in the development of the Andalusian school. It bears testimony to advancing knowledge. For the first time we perceive clearly the growth of a distinctive Spanish style. The Flemish manner is still strongly visible, but from out of this eclecticism emerges that forceful effort after truth and natural expression, which is the conspicuous characteristic of the Spanish school. His finest picture is the Virgende la Rosa, in the Church of Santa Ana, at Triana. The charm of this work is very great. The mellow splendour of its tones, and the lofty spirit in which it is conceived render it a study of high merit. Other pictures by this master may be seen in the Palacio Arzobiscopal, where hang the Conception, the Birth of the Virgin, and the Purification, three works of great interest; and in the Church of San Julian, where there is a fine altar-piece. The figure of San Pedro depicted upon the left of the composition is one of the ablest; beside him is San Antonio, while San Julian and San Josef stand upon the left. Over the altar are representations of the Incarnation and the Crucifixion.
During the opening years of the sixteenth century a new influence from without was imposed upon the Spanish school of painting. The Italian Renaissance extended to Spain, and this movement, which in Italy produced the brilliant group of thequatrocentisto, fell upon the artistic genius of Spain as a deadening blight. It was alien to the temper of the Spanish nation. The simple, truthful directness of their early mode was forgotten; gradually their art became steeped in a hopeless mannerism.
Luis de Vargas, who was born in Seville in 1502, was the first Andalusian artist, whose work testifies to the Italian influence. He spent many years studying in Italy. He was a devout Catholic, and like all the artists of Seville was supported by the munificence of the Chapter of the Cathedral. Unfortunately his frescoes, upon which his reputation, according to Cean Bermudez, largely rested, have been almost entirely obliterated. Dim traces of them may be seen upon the Giralda Tower, and upon the outer wall which encloses the Court of the Oranges; but it is impossible to appraise the work of De Vargas from these time-spoilt relics.
Of his panel paintings only a small number have been preserved. They are simple, yet powerful in design; the colour is fresh, and the drawing is good. They are specially noteworthy for the charm with which women are portrayed, a characteristic unusual among the artists of Spain. The earliest known work of De Vargas was The Nativity, which was painted for the Chapter of the Cathedral, in 1555, and placed over the Altar del Nacimiento, where it still hangs. Sir W. Stirling-Maxwell says that the figure of the Virgin, as she stands gazing upon her babe, 'bears a simple dignity not unworthy of Raphael.' The grouping of the figures is admirable. Notice especially the peasant, as he kneels and offers his basket of young doves. The care bestowed upon the execution of the details shows that De Vargas had not yet forgotten the example of the early masters. The goat, the sheaf of corn, the Spanish pack-saddle, all the accessories are painted with Flemish accuracy.
The Temporal Generation of our Lord, in the south transept of the Cathedral, adjacent to the colossal figure of San Cristobal, is generally considered the masterpiece of Luis de Vargas. It is an allegorical composition, representing Adam and Eve adoring the infant Christ, who rests in the arms of the Virgin. The picture is lacking in charm, but the figures are finely conceived, and executed with power. Indeed, the life-like drawing of Adam's leg has given the picture its name ofLa Gamba(the leg). It is reported that the Italian Perez de Alesio, the painter of the giant San Cristobal, exclaimed when gazing upon his handiwork, 'The whole of my figure is of less merit than the leg of Adam.'
Greater than Luis de Vargas was the Flemish painter Pedro Campaña, who came to Spain and settled in Seville in the year 1548. He had spent many yearsin Italy, studying in Rome, and his pictures bear the impress of a combined Flemish-Italian influence. He stayed in Seville for twenty-four years, and is always identified with the artists of Andalusia. His finest picture, The Descent from the Cross, was painted for the Church of Santa Cruz in the year he came to Seville, 1548. The strength and realism of this work are truly majestic. It is, without doubt, the finest picture painted by the Italian mannerists in Seville. It exerted great influence upon the artists of a later day. Pacheco declared that its realism was so overmastering that he did not care to be left alone with it in the dimly-lighted chapel. Murillo spent long hours in earnest contemplation of the picture. He was wont to perform his devotions before it, and once, when asked why he sat watching the picture so intently, he is reported to have answered, 'I am waiting until those men have brought the body of our Blessed Lord down the ladder.' It was beneath this picture that the favourite master of Seville chose to be buried. The picture now hangs in theSacristía Mayorof the Cathedral. It was rescued from the Courts of the Alcázar, where it had been wantonly flung by the French, during the War of Independence, and tolerably restored by Joaquin Cortes, in 1882.
Seville contains many other works by the Flemish master. In theCap de Mariscal, in the Cathedral, is a very beautiful Purification of the Virgin. The charm and simple grace of the fair-haired maiden, who stands upon the left of the picture, contrasts vividly with the form of the beggar beneath. The half-length portraits of the Mariscal Don Pedro Cabellero and family, which also hang in the chapel, are individual and life-like. There is little trace of Italian influence in the rendering of these figures; they are all painted with Flemish carefulness. Other works ofCampaña may be seen in the Church of San Pedro and the Church of Santa Ana, at Triana. The individuality of Campaña can hardly be too strongly emphasised. His pictures possess many of the essential and distinctive attributes, which characterise the work of the greatest of the Sevillian artists.
Contemporary with Luis de Vargas and Pedro Campaña—the masters of the early Italian mannerists—worked a group of artists of lesser fame. Antonio de Arfian, 1537-1587, a native of Triana, painted frescoes for the parish church of St. Mary Magdalen. Juan Bautista Vasquez, in 1568, executed an altar-piece for the Church of Our Lady of the Pomegranate, in the Court of the Oranges; and other works since destroyed, for the Cathedral. Alonso Vasquez painted many pictures for the Cathedral and the Convents of St. Francis and St. Paul. The few of these works which remain may be seen in the Museo, where they hang neglected, fast rotting in their frames. These artists closely imitated the style of De Vargas.
More individuality is revealed in the works of Pedro Villegas Marmolego, 1520-1597, an artist whose pictures are extremely rare. The Virgin visiting Elizabeth, which hangs over theAltar de la Visitaciónin the Cathedral, is a good example of his work, and displays his charm as a colourist. The garments of both the Virgin and Elizabeth are beautiful with radiant harmony. The works of Francesco Frutet—like Campaña a Flemish artist trained in Italy, who came to Seville, about the year 1548—will be noticed in the account of the Museo.
Another foreigner, who worked in Seville during this period, was Sturmio, probably a German, who, in 1554, painted nine pictures on panel for theCap de los Evangelistas, in the Cathedral. These studies are important, for they afford the earliest instance of thefine brown tones distinctive of the Sevillian school. The central picture depicts St. Gregory saying Mass, while around him are grouped the fourteen evangelists, and the saints of the city. Santas Justa and Rufina, the holy maids, frequently portrayed by the artists of Seville, are among the best.
The work of all these artists, who may be classified as the early Italian mannerists, reveals a distinctive personality. The individuality of the artist constantly breaks forth, through the strong Italian bias, while traces are often revealed of the truthful expression of the early Hispano-Flemish mode.
As the sixteenth century drew to its close, the tendency to adopt a style of affected mannerism was largely augmented in the work of the artists of Andalusia, the result being a corresponding loss of national individuality. All that was essentially Spanish was for the time forgotten, submerged in an imported Italianism. The pictures of these later mannerists are dreary and almost entirely without interest. Their work may be readily identified by the conventional conceptions, the flat tones, the dry, hard colours, and the utter lack of that element of charm, so essential to all works of art.
Juan del Castillo, 1584-1640, and Francisco Pacheco, 1571-1654, may be regarded as types of this phase in the record of Andalusian art. Their reputation rests largely upon the renown of their pupils. Juan del Castillo was the master of Murillo and Alonso Cano, and the chief interests incited by the study of his work, rests in tracing the influence he may have exercised in moulding the work of the Sevillian favourite. His best picture is the Assumption, in the Museo, in which the figure of the Virgin has some merit.
Francisco Pacheco, the father-in-law and devotedteacher of Diego Velazquez, claims our attention as an individual, rather than as an artist. He painted innumerable pictures, which may still be viewed in the Cathedral, the churches and the Museo, but none rise above the level of mediocrity. They are carefully executed and rarely offend the rules of drawing, but they are all hopelessly 'mannered,' and entirely devoid of individual imagination.
We owe a debt of gratitude to Pacheco for hisArte de la Pintura, a treatise upon the principles of art, and the lives of the artists of Spain, published in Seville in 1649. In style the work is pompous and prolix, and often very tedious, but as a record of the lives of the Sevillian artists it possesses great value. Pacheco was the Inquisitor of Art, or Familiar of the Inquisition. His authority under the Holy Office was great, and it was his duty to see that no indecorous or indecent pictures found their way into the churches. Here is a copy of the commission which was granted to him: 'We give him commission and charge him henceforward that he take particular care to inspect and visit all sacred subjects which may stand in shops or in public places; if he finds anything to object to in these he is to take the picture before the Lords, the Inquisitors.'
The degraded Italian taste was carried to its uttermost limits by Herrera El Mozo (the younger), 1622-1625, who, by a strange anomaly, was the son of the man, who was the first to break completely away from the trammels of the pseudo-Italian manner. His works may be viewed in the Cathedral and the Museo; they instance the degradation which had been brought upon the art of Seville, by the unintelligent adoption of an alien style.
It is a relief to revert to the work of those men, whose sturdy Spanish spirits refused to bend beneaththe yoke of conventional tradition. The work of the cleric, Juan de la Roelas, 1560-1625, bears little, or no, trace of the degenerate pseudo-Italianism, although his pictures are not exempt from foreign influence. They are Venetian in colour, soft, yet free, in their drawing. They exhibit many of the features, afterwards amplified in the work of Murillo. His finest composition is the Death of San Isidore, in the parish church, dedicated to that saint. The theme of the picture is the transit of the holy man, Archbishop of Seville, during Gothic days. Many figures fill the canvas, but with true artistic unity, the interest is centralised upon the dying saint, who rests upon the ground, clad in dark mantle and finely-painted pontifical robes. Subtle discernment is manifested in the grouping of the figures. The aged fathers are thrown into distinct relief, by the youthful bloom of the children who kneel beside them. The shadowy forms of the worshippers, as they kneel in the receding aisles of the church, lend atmosphere to the study. The heavens are depicted above, and in the midst of a blaze of glowing light, the Virgin awaits with Christ, the coming of the saint.
San Santiago, destroying the Moors in the battle of Clavigo, which hangs in the Cathedral, affords another fine instance of the work of Roelas. Three more of his pictures may be seen in the University—The Holy Family, The Nativity, and the Adoration of the Shepherds, while several hang in the Museo. A figure of a black-robed kneeling saint, in the Holy Family, is said to be the portrait of Roelas.
Francisco de Herrera, 1575-1656, termed, el Viego (the Elder) to distinguish him from his son, possessed a character of unusual vigour. The traditions which have survived, reveal the temper of the man. His methods were eccentric. He worked with a dashingpencil, and it was his custom to employ any implement, which presented itself as convenient. It is reported that upon one occasion, when short of a brush, he painted a picture with a spoon. His fame induced numerous artists—the young Velazquez being among them—to seek his studio; but his irascibility was so great that few of them remained. He broke many a maul-stick across their shoulders, and frequently he was left without a single pupil to execute his mandates.
It is said that one day, when this had occurred, he rushed into the kitchen, and insisted upon the serving-maid becoming his attendant; and amidst oaths and blows, he forced the trembling girl to prepare a canvas for the composition he desired to execute. His turbulent spirit led him into difficulties, and he was accused—whether falsely or not it is now impossible to say—of coining money. To escape punishment he sought sanctuary in the College of the Jesuits, where he painted the Legend of St. Hermingild, now in the Museo. In the year 1624 Philip III. came to Seville, and visited the college. In common with all the house of Austria, the King had a fine appreciation of art, and when he saw the work of Herrera, he at once recognised its merits, and desired to see the artist. Herrera knelt at the King's feet, and told the reason of his confinement in the convent. 'What need of silver and gold has a man gifted with a talent like yours? Go, you are free,' was the answer of the King.
Such was the nature of the man, whose cogent individuality re-established a national Spanish style. His pictures are distinguished for their vigorous force. Sir W. Stirling-Maxwell calls him 'the most remarkable of the painters, who learnt their art solely in Andalusia'; while Palomino, often termed the Spanish Vasari, says that the boldness of his manner conveys to his figures the appearance of being painted in relief.Several of his pictures are now in the Museo; the Cathedral possesses none, but there is one in the Church of San Bernardo, which, in spite of dirt and dim lighting, affords a fine instance of the power of Herrera. In the upper portion the Lord is shown with a band of attendant angels, while below St. Michael divides the sinful from the righteous. The canvas is overcrowded; a fault in which the majority of the compositions of Herrera share, and the form of St. Michael is somewhat uncouth, but the picture is full of power, and many of the figures, especially among the hosts of the wicked, are drawn with a fine freedom of handling.
Francisco de Zurbaran, a peasant, born in Estremadura, in the year 1598, was the veritable follower of Herrera. His work more fully than that of any other artist typifies the genius of Spain. Lord Leighton speaks of him 'as a man of powerful personality, in whom more than any of his contemporaries, the various essential characteristics of his race were gathered up—its defiant temper, its dramatic bent, its indifference to beauty, its love of fact, its imaginative force, its gloomy fervour, its poetry, in fact, and its prose.'
He was the pupil of Juan de las Roelas, but his work soon eclipsed that of his master. From the very first he cast from him all mannered tradition, and determined unflinchingly to follow natural methods. He copied all objects directly from Nature, and while still a lad working in the studio of Roelas, he refused to paint drapery, without having it placed upon a lay figure to represent the living model. He has been termed the Spanish Caravaggio from his strict adherence to Nature, and his delight in breadth and strong contrasts of light and shadow. As he saw Nature thus he painted her, without desire to soften or toidealise. His one purpose was to portray conscientiously the exact impression of the objects he beheld. And for this reason he may be designated the herald of Velazquez. His pictures lack the facility, the charm and the impelling force of the great master; but in their adherence to Nature and strict nationality of style they are in nowise inferior. The Adoration of the Shepherds, the fine picture in our National Gallery, formerly ascribed to Velazquez, is now held to be the work of Zurbaran. His colour is above all praise; his tints, although sombre, have at times, as Sir W. Stirling-Maxwell justly remarks, 'the depth and brilliancy of Rembrandt.'
His earliest work was a series of pictures, illustrative of the life of the Apostle Peter, which he painted for the Chapter of the Cathedral. They may still be inspected in theCap de San Pedro, but unfortunately the deficiency of light renders it well-nigh impossible to see them.
The celebrated Death of St. Thomas Aquinas, and the remarkable series of pictures, painted for the Chartreuse monks of Santa Maria de las Cuevas, are now in the Museo.
For the Church of the Hospital del Sangre he painted eight small pictures of female saints. They are portraits of the beauties who reigned in the city during the life of Zurbaran, and are among the most charming of the pictures of women to be found in Seville. Especially mark Santa Matilda in her crimson robe, embroidered with gold and pearls, Santa Dorotea in lilac, and Santa Iñes in purple, and bearing a lamb in her arms.
The fame of Zurbaran was overshadowed by Murillo, who became the central figure in the artistic life of Seville, during the latter half of the seventeenth century.
The position Murillo occupies in the record of Andalusian art is so significant, that it appears fitting to notice his work, and that of his brilliant contemporary Velazquez, in a separate chapter; and to conclude this brief chronicle of the Sevillian artist with two names—Alonso Cano and Juan de Valdés Leal, the last painters of Andalusia, whose work is worthy of special note.
Alonso Cano, 1601-1667, was not born in Seville, but came to the city, when quite young, to receive instruction from Pacheco and Juan de Castillo. He painted pictures for the Carthusians, and the other convents and churches, but a duel, fought with a brother artist, in 1639, drove him from the city. The finest instance of his work in Seville is Our Lady of Bethlehem, in the Cathedral. It was painted in Malaga for Señor D. Andres Cascentes, who presented it to Seville. The light is dim, and it can only be seen by the glow from the tapers which burn upon the altar. It is somewhat conventional in treatment, and bears distinct traces of Italian mannerism. Yet the picture is not without charm, and the Spanish national note is not entirely absent. The hands and feet are painted with extreme care, and the crimson robe and dark-blue mantle of the Virgin are exquisite in colour. The picture may be regarded as typical of his work. One of his chief faults was repetition, and he was frequently accused by his contemporaries of copying from the works of other masters; a charge which he is said to have challenged, with the following answer: 'Do the same thing, with the same effect as I do, and all the world will pardon you.' His power as an artist has been somewhat over-estimated, and his claim to be called 'the Michelangelo of Spain' rests solely upon the fact that he was sculptor and architect as well as painter.
Juan de Valdés Leal, 1630-1691, lived until thetime when Andalusian art was fast approaching its decline. His early life was embittered by jealousy of Murillo, and much of his energy was expended in useless quarrels with his brother artists. His pictures are mannered, but the best are vigorous, and their main defects are due to hasty execution. He appears to have had no power to finish his work; when he tried to be careful he became weak. The Museo contains many of his pictures. The Virgin bestowing the Chasuble on San Ildefonso in theCap de San Francisco, in the Cathedral, is one of his finest works. The two pictures in the Hospital de la Caridad were painted to illustrate the vanity of worldly grandeur. They are theatrical, and have little 'literary' attraction, but the execution exhibits a certain power. In one of them a hand holds a pair of scales, in which the sins of the world—represented by bats, peacocks, serpents and other objects—are weighed against the emblems of Christ's Passion; in the other, which is the finer composition, Death, with a coffin under one arm, extinguishes a taper, which lights a table spread with crowns, jewels and all the gewgaws of earthly pomp. The wordsIn Ictu Oculicircle the gleaming light of the taper, while upon the ground rests an open coffin, dimly revealing the corpse within.
It was this picture which caused Murillo to remark that it was something to be looked at with the nostrils closed. To which rather uncertain praise Leal is reported to have replied, 'Ah, my compeer, it is not my fault, you have taken all the sweet fruit out of the basket and left me only the rotten.'
With the death of Valdés Leal, at the close of the seventeenth century, the long chain of artists, who had made the name of Seville famous, terminates. He left behind him no painter of specific merit. The artists who remained were dreary conventionalists,without originality, mere copyists of those who had preceded them. The study of their work yields neither pleasure nor profit. It is better to leave the record of the artists of Seville, while the memory of her greatest masters is still vivid, than to trace the slow decay of her art into feeble mediocrity.
Note.—In order to facilitate the finding of the works of the artists mentioned in this chapter, this list is appended, naming their chief pictures, and the places where they may be found.
'The more the artist studies Nature, the nearer he approaches to the true and perfect idea of art.'—SirJ. Reynolds.
'The more the artist studies Nature, the nearer he approaches to the true and perfect idea of art.'—SirJ. Reynolds.
ON the 15th of June, in the year 1599, Diego Rodriguez de Silva y Velazquez was born in Seville. Eighteen years later affords the record of birth of Murillo. Contemporary, or nearly so, they began their lives in the same environment, yet from their earliest youth they tended to develop upon divergent lines. The young Velazquez, at the age of thirteen, became the pupil of the vigorous Herrera, while Murillo entered the school of the academic Juan de Castillo.
It was reserved for Velazquez to break away from the traditional limitations of the Sevillian school, while the work of Murillo was to develop them to their fairest fruition.
The national manner, begun by Herrera and developed by Zurbaran, was, by the genius of Velazquez, carried to perfect fulfilment.
The grave and truthful simplicity of his pictures is unsurpassed among the artistic records of any nation. His supreme effort was directed to the portrayal of Nature. With unerring judgment he selected the essential details of a composition, and painted them with unflinching fidelity. He depicted each colour precisely as the lighting of his canvas revealed it to him. He is the master of chiaroscuro, by the perfectunity of his tones. His style is wholly personal, his pictures bear pre-eminently the mark of individual expression. From his earliest youth this was his method of work. 'He kept,' Pacheco tells us, in the account he gives of his pupil and son-in-law, in hisArte de la Pintura, 'a peasant lad, as an apprentice, who served him as a study in different actions and postures—sometimes crying, sometimes laughing—till he had grappled with every difficulty of expression; and from him he executed an infinite variety of heads, in charcoal and chalk on blue paper, by which he arrived at certainty in taking likeness.' In this way did Velazquez train his power; and we are able to comprehend the wonderful portraits, which have rendered the House of Austria familiar to the world, when we picture the youth drawing his slave, again and yet again, in different attitudes and ever varied changes of expression.
This, then, was the divergence between the methods of Velazquez and Murillo. The one painted Nature as she was; the other depicted men and women as they never could be, but in the guise of saints, according to the desires of the Catholic Church. It is in this dis-similarity of their aims, that we shall find the explanation of the fact, which cannot fail to impress the visitor to Seville, that, while the city abounds in the works of Murillo, no single picture from the hand of Velazquez is to be found in Cathedral, Church or Museo. The city of his birth is destitute of any commemoration of his genius, if we exclude a few pictures, of very doubtful authenticity, to be found in some of the private collections.
The art of Seville was maintained by the munificence of the Church. Painting was the handmaid of the Catholic religion. Pictures were painted for the glory of God; they were valued as aids in the due performanceof religious observance rather than as works of art. For the artist whose supreme desire was to follow truth Seville was no home. Realism was opposed to the very essence of the Catholic mind. The mediæval spirit did not exist in Velazquez, the most modern of all the old masters; he yearned for a freer and wider scope for the development of his genius.
In March, 1621, Philip III. died, and was succeeded by his young son, Philip IV., who at once began to collect about the throne the literary and artistic genius of the day.
Accompanied by Pacheco, Velazquez went to Madrid and craved an audience of the King. The favour was denied, and after some months of waiting, the young artist returned to Seville. Next year he again sought the metropolis. One of the Canons of Seville Cathedral, Don Juan Fonseca, had obtained a post in the King's service; Velazquez painted his portrait. It was carried to the palace before it was dry, and in an hour the whole court had seen it. 'It excited the admiration of the capital,' writes Pacheco, exulting in the success of his favourite, 'and the envy of those of the profession, of which I can bear witness.' Velazquez's position was assured. He was formally received into the King's service, and became a member of the royal household. His genius was lost to Seville. He is classed among the artists of Castile, and to study his works it is necessary to visit, not Seville, but the Prado Museo, at Madrid.
Of the pictures he painted in his youth none remain in Seville. The most famous are The Water Carrier, or Aguador, now in the collection of the Duke of Wellington, at Apsley House; The Omelet belonging to the late Sir Francis Cook; St. John in Patmos and The Woman and the Dragon, the propertyof Sir Bartle Frere; The Epiphany in the Prado Museo; and The Adoration of the Shepherds in the National Gallery.
The Water Carrier and The Omelet are studies of street life, finished with great care; a class of picture known asbodegones, often painted by the Spanish artists. The former is the finer work. It is a magnificent instance of Velazquez's power during his student days.
Either a study for this picture, executed by Velazquez himself, or a copy by one of his pupils, can be seen in the house of Murillo. The courteous owner, Señor Don López Cepero, is always willing to show his valuable collection of pictures. He believes the work to be a genuine Velazquez, and it is just possible that it may be so, and in any case it is a study of much interest. The Corsican water-seller, clad in his brown frock, a well-known figure in the streets of Seville, hands a glass of water to a boy, while in the distance another figure is dimly discerned, with his face buried in an earthenware mug. The background is very dark; the figures alone stand in the light. There is no scenery, and the accessories are painted with absolute truth.
While the art of Velazquez was unsuited to the city of his birth, the works of Murillo breathed the very spirit of the life around him. His pictures represent the religious emotion of his period; they may fittingly be termed, 'the embodied expression of Spanish Catholicism, during the seventeenth century.'
This fact in a large measure accounts for the popularity of Murillo, and the rapid recognition which his merits received at the hands of his countrymen. His art appealed pointedly to the hearts of the people; the expression of his genius was comprehensible to themall. He speedily became the favourite artist in Spain, and his fame gradually extended throughout Europe.
Murillo's artistic career may be divided into four periods. During the first he was needy and unrecognised, gaining a precarious livelihood by painting rude pictures for the Feria, a weekly fair, held every Thursday at the northern end of the Old Alameda, in front of the Church of All Saints. The artistic training he had received was slight. Juan de Castillo, who, as a relative of the family, had taught the boy free of charge, left Seville, and the young Murillo was too poor to enter the schools of Herrera, Pacheco, or Zurbaran. He was obliged to toil with strenuous effort to support himself and his sister, who was dependent upon him.
We can picture the future genius of Seville, standing in the market of the Feria, exposing his pictures for sale. He would often paint them while he waited, or would alter each composition to suit the fancy of an intending purchaser. Ambitious dreams fired his imagination. Pedro de Moya, an artist friend, had been to Rome, and had returned imbued with the glories of the metropolis of art. Murillo aspired to visit Italy, and with this hope he toiled, until he had saved a sufficient sum to take him to Madrid. He at once sought the counsel and protection of his old friend Velazquez. The court artist received him with the utmost kindness. He gave him lodging in his own apartments, and obtained permission for him to work in the Royal Galleries. A new world was revealed to the young Murillo. For two years he worked, then Velazquez advised him to go to Italy, to continue his studies in Rome, or Florence. He offered him letters of introduction, and did all in his power to induce him to undertake the journey, but for somereason Murillo declined his offer and returned to Seville.
His earliest work was to paint a series of studies of the Legend of St. Francis, for the Franciscan Convent, formerly situated behind the Casa del Ayuntamiento. They at once assured his fame; the unknown artist became the most popular painter in opulent Seville. The only person who failed to acknowledge his genius was Francisco Pacheco. Jealous for the fame of Velazquez, and unable to forgive the lack of appreciation which Seville had tended to his favourite, he makes no mention of Murillo or his works, in hisArte de la Pintura; a curious omission only to be accounted for by private enmity.
None of the Franciscan cycle of pictures are in Seville, and only two, The Heavenly Violinist, and The Charity of St. Diego, are in Spain. They were carried away by the French during the War of Independence.
The influence of the two years Murillo had spent in Madrid can readily be traced in these early paintings. The outlines are distinct and in some cases hard; while the tone of the shadows, and the treatment of the lights follows the method of the realists, and affords little or no sign of the melting indecision of outline, the manner so prevalent in his later work. The pictures belonging to this period are said to be painted in theEstilo Frio, or cold style. The best instance in Seville, is La Anunciación de Nuestra Señora, in the Museo.
In his later work Murillo abandoned the influence of Ribera, Zurbaran, Velazquez and the Spanish realists; he developed a manner more personal, and more in harmony with the mystic trend of his emotions. His outlines became softer, and his forms rounder, while his colour began to assume tones ofmelting transparency. A Spaniard writing of his work at this period remarks that his flesh tints seem to be painted 'con sangre y leche' (with blood and milk).
The first picture painted in this manner, which is known as theEstilo Calédo(warm style), is Nuestra Señora de la Concepción, executed for the brotherhood of the True Cross, in 1655, for the sum of 2500reals. To this period belong the fine portraits of St. Leander and St. Isidore, in theSacristía Mayor, of the Cathedral; the Nativity, which formerly hung behind the high altar, until it was carried away by Soult; and the celebrated St. Anthony of Padua, receiving the infant Christ, still to be seen in theCap del Bautistero.
The portraits of St. Leander and St. Isidore are among the finest instances of the powers of Murillo. All the accessories are painted with the utmost care, and perhaps the only criticism which can be offered is that the figures are rather short. These portraits must be classified with Murillo's finegenrestudies—those charming representations of gipsy life and beggar boys, by which he is largely known in this country, but of which Seville unfortunately possesses not a single example.
The Nativity of the Virgin was received by Seville with a burst of enthusiasm. The St. Anthony was painted in 1565, the Chapter paying for it the sum of 10,000reals. The light in the dim chapel renders it very obscure. A brown-frocked monk kneels at a table, and gazes at the Heavenly Child, who descends towards him. Upon the table rests a vase of lilies, and the story runs that they were so life-like that the birds, flying around the Cathedral, used to come and peck at them, while Murillo was engaged in painting them. The picture was restored, and almost repaintedin 1833, which has doubtless done much to destroy its charm.
Shortly after this time Murillo adopted his third and last manner, known as "el Vaporoso," in which the outlines are entirely lost, obliterated in a misty effect of light and shade.
The first pictures painted in this method were executed for the Church of Santa Maria la Blanca, to illustrate the legend of our Lady of the Snow. They were carried away by the French and placed in the Louvre; but were rescued, and are now in the Académia de Belles Artes, at Madrid. The Virgin, appearing to the wife of a Roman senator, and telling her where she will find the patch of snow upon which to erect a church to her honour, is one of the loveliest of Murillo's conceptions.
The great cycle of pictures for the Hospital de la Caridad were painted about this time, being completed between the years 1660 and 1674. Three of the pictures stand in their original position, Moses striking the Rock, The Miracle of the Loaves and Fishes, and the Charity of St. Juan de Dios. The figure of the Prophet, in Moses striking the Rock, Sir W. Stirling-Maxwell says, 'is one of impressive dignity.' Clad in pale yellow robe and violet mantle, he occupies the central position in the picture. Behind him stands Aaron, with mystic breastplate, and robe of subdued white. Around the two prophets are grouped numerous figures, men, women and children, all quenching their thirst with feverish eagerness. This has given the picture its name of La Sed (the thirst). The figures bear no resemblance to the men and women of Palestine, they are ordinary Spanish peasants, such as Murillo would see in the streets around him. This custom of introducing common types into his scriptural compositions, Professor CarlJusti considers as one proof of Murillo's genius. The personality of Christ, in the Miracle of the Loaves and Fishes, lacks the force of the ancient prophet, and the work as a whole is inferior to its companion picture. The Angel appearing to St. Juan de Dios, as he sinks under the burden of a sick man, well represents the later manner of Murillo. In colour this picture is good, the tones are finer than in either of the other works. The five remaining pictures, which completed this great series, were carried away by Soult. The finest, St. Elizabeth of Hungary washing the Feet of Beggars, is now at Madrid. The Return of the Prodigal is in the collection of the Duke of Sutherland. Two others, The Healing of the Paralytic, and Abraham with the Angels, are in England, while the last, St. Peter released from Prison, is in St. Petersburg.
THE GUARDIAN ANGEL MurilloTHE GUARDIAN ANGELMurillo
The final work of importance undertaken by Murillo, was the execution of a series of twenty pictures for the Capuchin Convent of the Franciscans. The convent was destroyed in 1835, when its treasures were scattered. The greater number of the pictures are now in the Museo; the immense altar-piece of the Porciuncula is in Madrid; while the Angel de la Guarda is in theSacristía de los Cálices, having been presented to the Cathedral, by the Franciscans, in 1814. There is great beauty in this composition; which was founded upon the text, Matthew xviii. 10.
An angel, in a rich yellow robe and royal purple mantle, points with one hand to heaven, while with the other she tenderly leads a lovely child. It is painted with great lightness of touch; the diaphanous drapery of the child's dress has a transparency of texture rarely seen in Spanish pictures.
The life of Murillo was nearing its completion. Heworked until its very close; and devotion to the art he loved was the immediate cause of his death. In 1678 he painted for the Hospital de los Venerables a very fine Conception, which has since been lost; he also executed two pictures for the Augustine Convent, now in the Museo. In 1681 he was summoned to Cadiz to paint an altar-piece for the Capuchins of that city. The work was nearly completed, when he fell from the scaffolding, upon which he was standing in order to reach upper portions of the picture. He received an internal injury, and returned to Seville to die, on April 3, 1682.
The whole city sorrowed for his loss. His obsequies were conducted with great magnificence. His bier was carried by four marquesses and four knights. He was buried in the Church of Santa Cruz, beneath his favourite picture, The Descent from the Cross, by Pedro Campaña. The spot was marked by a simple marble slab, upon which was engraved, according to his own desire, his name, the figure of a skeleton, and the words 'Vive Meritorus.'
The position Murillo occupies in the heart of Andalusia is almost unprecedented. To this day a picture of great merit is in Seville termed a 'Murillo.' What Cervantes was in literature Murillo was in art. Sir David Wilkie justly remarks, in his comparison of Velazquez and Murillo, 'Velazquez by his high technical excellence is the delight of all artists; Murillo, adapting the higher subjects of art to the commonest understanding of the people, seems, of all painters, the most universal favourite.'