Distinctive as a creator, originator and master of technique, statements regarding El Greco’s artistic antecedents are debatable, as for example the relationship to other masters of Byzantinism which some profess to be able to discern in his pictures. But it remains clear that in his typical works he is above all the true interpreter of the Spain that was noble, pious and mystical, and the most sympathetic delineator of the spirit of the time in which he lived. We believe that it is correct to regard him as the adopted son of the Spain of his day.
Although his work has been discussed since the times of Philip II, to-day it ought to be regarded as consecrated. It is not only among painters that we should seek the true influence of El Greco. It is more extensive, and embraces diverse manifestations, therefore the causes which animate it are diverse. And so, in the studios of painters, in the studies of the cultured, among wise and refined critics, among literati, we may discover the most fervent and impassioned lovers of El Greco. There exists, without doubt, an invisible bond between this painter and the world of modern intellectualism, and this is owing in great part to the enthusiasm which his works arouse, to the peculiar mystery in which they are enveloped—which we do not find in any other painter—to the suggestive power which he wields, to something which impassions and completely subdues us. It is for this reason that disciples of El Greco, who in past years were scarce, are to-day a legion in number, and their pictures, once unknown and without value, are now celebrated and occupy prominent positions in museums and private collections.
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Neither Tristan, nor Mayno, nor Jorge Manuel Theotocopuli are figures sufficiently important to allow us to say that El Greco, their master, founded a school, much less that he formed with them the so-called Toledan school, which, in reality, had no existence and did not give rise to an output from that city possessing those marked characteristics which would place it in the category of a school.
It has to be recorded that in the last years of the sixteenth century Philip II brought from Italy several Italian decorative artists to paint in fresco the extensive walls of the Monastery of the Escurial. He may have wished to bring with him for the purpose some celebrated foreign masters, but this was not possible, for the most important epoch of the Italian Renaissance had come to an end; and instead of great masters, there came others, decadents, facile “hacks,” who in a short time covered these enormous wall-spaces with compositions of scanty inspiration. We mention the visit of these painters to Spain, not because of any importance it has in itself, but in order to show that Spanish painters, even those of standing, have in all times been lacking in the qualities which especially characterise the decorative painter. Philip II might have encouraged Spanish artists. But whom—Morales, El Greco, the artists of the Court, the lesser followers of El Greco in Toledo? No, none of these appear to have been qualified to bring such a task to a conclusion. This and nothing else was the cause of the coming of the Italians; and for the rest the King favoured the works of various Spaniards, placing many examples of their work in his palaces and in the religious houses he founded. And so Spanish painting remained in this particular position to the close of the sixteenth century and during the first years of the seventeenth, which is regarded as its golden century, when, in the midst of fruitful invention there arose four great figures, each to-day world-renowned—Ribera, Zurbarán, Velázquez and Murillo. What centres of artistic life did Spain possess at this time? Two, fundamentally; those two cities which have since produced the greatest number of painters and the most able—Seville, the capital of Andalusia, the open gate to the New World, and Valencia, a Mediterranean port exposed to the influences of that which had been the classical world, and in close and direct communication with Italy, which bequeathed to it the last sparks of the marvellous life of the Renaissance. In Valencia, Francisco Ribalta, a conscientious painter, who had studied in Italy, introduced a style of colouring after the manner of Ribera. In Seville, frequented by all the Andalusian intellectuals, Pacheco, a most cultured artist, came later on to be the master of Velázquez and Zurbarán. In the exhibition with which we are concerned Ribalta and Pacheco, more famous for the disciples they left than for the works they produced, were represented, the first by Saint Peter ([Plate VII.]) and his portrait of himself as Saint Luke painting the Virgin; and the second by the Portrait of a Knight of Santiago.
A disciple of Ribalta, the figure of Ribera rises suddenly like that of a great master, with all the distinction which the title implies. Going to Italy while yet very young, he passed the greater part of his life there, and was known as “Lo Spagnoletto” (the little Spaniard). The Italians have tried to appropriate this artist to themselves, but his truly Spanish character is so manifest that no one can entertain any doubt upon the point. On arriving in Italy, he studied the works of Raphael and Correggio, finding his true métier at last in the energy and the chiaroscuro of Caravaggio, who then opposed a realistic style to the pseudo-classicism so noticeable at this time. Ribera, whose work exhibits the attributes of Spanish technique, and who above all excelled in drawing, a quality which distinguished him while still very young, naturally found in Caravaggio, the master of the chiaroscuro, more inspiration than in others of the classical painters and those Bolognese eclectics who were afterwards his imitators and rivals. He went to Naples, where he quickly achieved a fame which spread throughout Italy and Spain, his native land, with which he had never lost the most intimate relations as an artist, and here, in Naples, flattered by fortune and with riches heaped upon him, he continued to produce his admirable canvases, until the seduction of his daughter, the most beautiful of all his models, by the second Don John of Austria, the natural son of Philip IV, hastened his end.
The frequency with which he represented tatterdemalions, beggars, martyrs, saints, scenes of violence, of torture, of asceticism, marks, as everyone knows, the style of Ribera in its more superficial sense, and there is scarcely a scene of horror nor a picture of exaggerated tenebrosity belonging to that period and of Spanish tendency, which has not been attributed to him by persons of slight experience, so typical of him are these qualities, in which, moreover, he has no equal. Quite as exceptional are his vigour, his skilful modelling—which has the appearance of sculpture—and the anatomical construction of his figures, the effects of lighting which he knows how to achieve, and the exact appearance of reality, accentuated, but never repugnant, which he accomplishes. Always in touch with reality, two styles are apparent in his work: one, in which he appears to have revelled in violence of contrast, seeking out scenes of grief, old age or death; and another, less frequent it is true, in which he represents the more serene and placid aspects of reality.
It is a pity that the London exhibition did not have a full and brilliant display of the work of this master, as thereby his fame, which to-day is, in our judgment, less than he merits, for reasons expressed above, might have been securely founded. It is necessary to mention among the Valencians of this period Espinosa and Orrente.
In Seville, as we have said, Pacheco was at the height of his fame, the master of all, the fount of culture. But the technique of this school at that time was under the influence of a man of a perplexing and stubborn genius, little suited by character as a guide for youth, but still animated by the Spanish spirit, subtle in technique and possessing a notable force of expression. The young men followed his style, which was in consonance with the progressive tendency of their years. We refer to Herrera el Viejo (the elder) one of the most remarkable painters Spain has ever produced. But it is a curious circumstance that those disciples who worked in the atelier of Herrera, unable to get much guidance from the master, soon betook themselves to the house of Pacheco, who, intelligent and comprehensive, did not attempt to misdirect the temperament and the inclinations of his young pupils, but set them to the task of faithfully interpreting nature.
Zurbarán and Velázquez, the most notable by far of all their contemporaries, protested against the conventionalisms of scholasticism. They did not seek to embellish the rude form, which the living model frequently presents to the eyes of the artist in search of a higher ideal, but to copy it as they beheld it, as it was presented to them, without distortion or falsity, was the purpose which they maintained faithfully all their lives. Pacheco appreciated the talent and outlook of these young men, he protected it as much as he could, and above all cultivated those qualities which seemed to him the most striking. Velázquez said to him: “I hold to the principle that nature ought to be the chief master and swear neither to draw nor to paint anything which is not before me”; and Pacheco, encouraged by the tendency towards a frankly naturalistic style which his disciple showed, and observing the qualities which he evinced, made Velázquez his son-in-law before he had arrived at the age of nineteen.