In the exhibition at Burlington House Velázquez was not adequately represented. But there were reasons for this. The undoubted pictures from his brush which are privately owned in England, and to some of which we have already alluded, are well-known and have figured in recent exhibitions of Spanish art, so that it was not deemed necessary to expose them again; while of those in Spain, the greater part is housed in the Prado Museum (and could not of course be sent to England), and those belonging to private persons are very scarce.
The examples from English collections were the magnificent portrait of Juán de Pareja, the Painter, from Longford Castle; the bust of A Spanish Gentleman, the property of the Duke of Wellington; Calabacillas, the Buffoon ([Plate IX.]) which has recently passed into Sir Herbert Cook’s collection; The Kitchen Maid, in Sir Otto Beit’s collection—all representative of a period of the artist—as well as the portrait of Don Baltasar Carlos, Infante of Spain, which His Majesty the King of England lent from Buckingham Palace.
Of this last special mention must be made. In our judgment it is an undoubted Velázquez and, moreover, a most beautiful example. Every part of the armour, of the legs, of the body, and, above all, the adjustment of the figure and the design are typical of Velázquez. How has it come to be regarded in England as a work of Mazo, where the master is so justly esteemed and where, owing, doubtless to enthusiasm for Velázquez, nearly all the pictures of Mazo are attributed to Velázquez? Or is it that some have arrived at false conclusions concerning Mazo and Velázquez, and when they are confronted by an original and undoubted Velázquez, are dubious of it because it does not appear sufficiently typical of Mazo? It has not, to the best of our belief, elsewhere been observed that the head of this portrait is somewhat faint and flat.
From Spain there were sent The Hand of an Ecclesiastic, lent by His Majesty the King of Spain, a fragment, without doubt, from a portrait of which the remainder was lost in the burning of the Alcazar of Madrid. The special interest of the said fragment is that the hand holds a paper on which is the signature of Velázquez, assuredly, one of the three authentic signatures of this artist which remain to us, the others being found on the portrait of Philip IV, in the National Gallery, London, and that of Pope Innocent X, in the Doria Gallery at Rome. Concerning the portrait of Pulido Pareja in the National Gallery, London, we have already written at some length on another occasion, with the intention of proving that this portrait is by Mazo, and that the signature is consequently apocryphal. The Portrait of the Artist, from the Fine Art Museum, Valencia, is a beautiful example, if somewhat damaged and blackened, and the other three works shown have been more frequently exhibited and studied than those which are of undoubted authenticity. Among others of outstanding interest is the Head of a Cleric, the property of the Count of Fuenclara, which, although its attribution is not unquestioned, is remembered above all as a beautiful piece of work.
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We must now commence the rather complex study of those paintings which compose the Madrid School. We say complex, because, composed as it was of painters who came from one or the other part of the Peninsula, it does not possess a precise and regional character, but is the resultant of the work of many artists whose names we must not forget, as, for example, Carducho, Caxes and Nardi, of Italian origin, who, or perhaps their fathers, were brought to Spain as decorative painters. It seems natural that they should have had imitators or disciples, as it was precisely in the country of their adoption that artists of this genre were awanting. But, on the contrary, they were absorbed by the environment, and produced and achieved a sober and realistic style, forgetful of the circumstances of their apprenticeship, and, we may say, hispanicised.
Velázquez was the chief representative of the Madrid school, its creator, and, more, its prototype, marking the apogee of Spanish painting. His aim was always to simplify, a purpose which is clearly obvious from the methods he employed from his youth to his last work, constantly simplifying his technique and, consequently, his palette. To the study of his palette alone we have dedicated a work of a purely technical character (of which The Studio of November 1920 printed an extract) which space does not permit us to reproduce here, but which we take occasion to refer to since the simplification of the palette of this artist, the creator of a school, must be regarded as of exceptional importance, as characteristic of almost all later Spanish artistic achievement, endowing it with great individuality and distinguishing it from all other schools. This circumstance is worthy of recognition by all who wish to arrive at the true significance of Spanish painting, so far as its outward manifestations are concerned.
Before dealing with the continuators of Velázquez, we must briefly refer to painting in Andalusia, where Murillo appears as a great force in Seville, years after Velázquez had been so in Madrid. Murillo, at first a disciple of his kinsman Castillo, was soon afterwards a follower of Pedro Moya. The painter passed during his youth through a whole gamut of influences, that of Van Dyck especially, alternating at times with that of Ribera. At twenty-four he was in Madrid, where Velázquez worked and taught, though only for a short time. When he returned to Seville he did not forget the lessons of Velázquez, and from this period date those popular figures, full of character, which began to bring him fame. Later, Murillo altered his methods, and for the rest of his life employed a style suave and soft as the Andalusian accent, graceful and suggestive. His religious works, his Virgins, and, above all, his Conceptions were soon famous, and, an incessant worker, he left a multitude of paintings which bear a personal and unmistakable stamp, and reveal an adequate technique, ample in treatment, in a tonality of varying greys, warm and glowing and without exaggeration.
But in truth the art of Murillo is of less interest than formerly, owing to present-day preferences, which seek spirituality in art, a force and even a restlessness which we do not find in the work of this artist. But his fame in his own day was very great, and for a long time he was considered as the foremost of Spanish painters. What gave him such a great reputation? The illustrious Spanish critic, Señor Cossío, has asked the same question regarding the causes underlying a style so direct and simple. Murillo’s subject-matter, says Señor Cossío, in the background as in the thing portrayed, represents always the soft and agreeable side of life. In the sphere of spontaneous creation, in that which does not require profundity, nor reflection, Murillo always exerts an irresistible attraction. His Conceptions are beautiful but superficial. There is in them no more skilful groundwork, dramatic impulse, nor exaltation than appears at first sight. To comprehend and enjoy them it is not necessary to think, their contemplation leaves the beholder tranquil, they do not possess the power to distract, they have no warmth, nor that distinction which makes a work unique, and as they hold just that degree of cultured mediocrity which in thought and feeling is the patrimony of the majority of people, they are able to please accordingly. If there be added to this a pious and poetic sentiment and the celestial and suave expression of his figures, it is easy to understand the great, indisputable and just popularity which Murillo has enjoyed. Velázquez thought profoundly, but with ideality; Murillo has not idealism, nor is he profound. Both are realists, and if one represents the masculine feeling in Spanish painting, the other shows at its highest the feminine tendency.
At the Royal Academy seven pictures of Murillo, some of real importance, were shown. Amongst these religious subjects predominated, San Leandro and San Buenaventura, from the Museum of Seville, and The Triumph of the Holy Eucharist, lent by Lord Faringdon. Among the portraits were that of the artist, the property of Earl Spencer; Gabriel Esteban Murillo, sent by the Duke of Alba and Berwick; and Don Diego Félix de Esquivel y Aldama, from a private collection in Madrid.