Sculpture in Spain

by Albert Frederick Calvert

Granada, and especially the cathedral—in the bell tower of which building his studio was—owe much to these years of Cano’s residence. His activity seems to have been unwearying. But, indeed, it must be granted that the city possesses more works than Cano could possibly have accomplished in a period of eight years. It has been usual to attribute to him every good piece of polychrome statuary in Granada. This is not surprising, for it is often impossible to distinguish with certainty between his work and that of his pupils Josef de Mora and Pedro de Mena, who imitated his style and made copies of many of his works. And the confusion is increased by the habit which Cano had of himself working on the carvings of his assistants; were they in difficulty, he would finish their work with his own hand. Thus it is impossible to pronounce with certainty as to the authorship of many of the reputed Canos in Granada.

Among the statues in the cathedral that are ascribed to Cano, and are certainly his work, we may place first the Purissima, which is kept in the sacristy. It is a small and very beautiful statuette which has the qualities that belong to Cano’s paintings. Even more interesting is the group of the Virgin and Child, with Santa Ana, also in the cathedral, where it is hidden in the gloom of a dark side-chapel. Quite unknown, this beautiful statue is almost certainly Cano’s work; it has all the qualities that belong to his art. The Virgin, who is seated on the knee of Santa Ana, holds the Child Jesus. The figures are half life-size; the three faces and the hands are of exquisite delicacy. The Virgin resembles the Purissima in her sweetness. What a dainty fairness is here; with what exquisite taste the veil and the robe are arranged! The polychrome, too, is very beautiful, and fortunately it has not been restored. The Virgin wears a white tulle turban, which is black striped and gold fringed; her robe is light red, damasked in gold, and partly covered by a drapery of indigo blue, which is fastened with gold clasps at the shoulders and waist. Santa Ana’s robe is black, gold embroidered, while her cloak is a deeper shade of the same red-brown as the Virgin’s tunic.

In these two statues we see Cano’s power in expressing tender human emotions. It is the quality that marks his works—both his painting and his carvings—among the Spanish masters. His art never touches the passionate Conceptions of Ribera or Zurbaran in painting, or of Hernandez in sculpture: it is on a lower level than the ecstatic emotion of Murillo or the beautiful carvings of Montañés. Cano is mild and touching; he neither excites nor thrills us. His Virgin is the happy earthly Mother who takes sweet pleasure in her Child, not the Mater Dolorosa, suffering for the sorrows of her Divine Son. She has the fairness which he gives to all women. It was this understanding, so uncommon in Spanish art, whose object was “to persuade men to piety and to incline them to God,” of the joy of life with its human relationships, that was Cano’s special gift. He changed the dramatically serious religious compositions common to his country into scenes that speak charmingly of tender joyousness born of earthly love. To him alone, it would seem, it was given to find joy, and not sorrow, in the divine drama from which the Spanish artists drew their inspiration.

Other carvings in the cathedral that are ascribed to Cano, though his authorship in some of the pieces is disputed, are the colossal busts of Adam and Eve placed very high to the right and left of the entrance to the Capilla Mayor, and the heads of St. Paul and St. John the Baptist, which are hidden in the darkness of the Chapel of Nuestra Señora del Carmel. These carvings, and especially the bleeding heads of the saints, are subjects that do not properly belong to Cano’s art, but were undertaken by him to meet the popular taste of his day, and for this reason they are of less interest. Yet their importance is great on account of the excellence of the polychrome. The Adam and Eve, larger than life-size, are carved in oak, and harmoniously coloured with excellent care. Unfortunately the height at which they are placed makes it very difficult to see them. The head of St. Paul and that of the Baptist—if this is Cano’s work, and the skill of the craftsmanship points to its being so—must be classed with the similar head of St. John the Baptist in the Church of Santa Paula, which is also ascribed to Cano. This last piece seems to have been copied from the head of the Prophet sculptured by Montañés for the Church of Santa Clara. There is also a most excellent Head of St. John the Baptist in the Camarin of the Chapel of San Juan de Dios, which must certainly be Cano’s work (Plates 154-156). None but a master could have carved this head; it is the finest example in Spain of a polychrome of this subject. The livid face, which shows the death-marks, is surrounded with tumbled locks of black hair and a beard of the same colour. Both it and the bleeding neck are faithfully and splendidly rendered: there is beauty in the horror. The charger on which the head is placed is of gold, and forms a sort of aureole around it. At the top an eagle has seized it in its beak to carry the relic to heaven; the bird is painted a deep warm black with beautiful reflections.

The cathedral has other works which it owes to the years of Cano’s residence. The beautiful frescoes of the Capilla Mayor, illustrating scenes from the life of the Virgin, were his work. The lower stage of the west façade we owe largely to him. He designed and superintended the execution of two silver lamps for the principal chapel; he carved the elaborate lectern of the choir, formed of fine woods, bronze, and precious stones; and executed new portals for the sacristy. Two medallions on copper of great delicacy were wrought for the Chapel of the Trinity. Here the figures recall the Virgin in the group of Santa Ana and Virgin and Child. In addition several important pictures were painted for the dome of the Capilla Mayor, and others as altar-pieces for the chapels. Some of these canvases disappeared when Granada was stripped of so many of its treasures by the French. But a few fine pictures remain. The Trinity in the chapel of that name, the Way of the Cross in Nazareno Chapel, and the Virgen de la Soledad, which hangs over the altar of San Miguel, are the most important.

This last-named painting is especially interesting to us, for there are two pieces of sculpture certainly copied from it, one in the parish church of Santa Ana, the other in the Church of Santa Paula. Both are excellent. The Virgin has the delicacy and beauty that we expect from Cano. The polychrome is subdued; the flesh of the face and the beautiful folded hands are a dull pallor, befitting grief; the eyes and the tears are formed by crystals, after the custom used by Gregorio Hernandez and Juan de Juni. The dress, which is white, and the mantle, of bluish black, are perfectly harmonious. These colours are a repetition of the cathedral picture. And the question arises, are the sculptures also by Cano? That of Santa Paula has always been ascribed to Josef de Mora. If we accept this, we must account the Soledad of Santa Ana as the work of Cano, and the Santa Paula as a splendid copy. But both statues are so equally good, especially in the colouring, that the pupil’s work must have been touched by the hand of the master. It is impossible to believe that Josef de Mora could have achieved this masterpiece unaided.

The same difficulty of authorship between the master and the pupil confronts us in the two statues of St. Bruno, both in the Cartuja (Plate 158). One, life-size, is in the sacristy, and this work is reported to have been ordered from Josef de Mora; the other, a statuette, which is placed over the high altar, may with little question be ascribed to Cano. At least, if it is not his work, then it is a copy of a lost original. Josef de Mora could not by himself have designed so exquisite a work. The statuette exceeds the statue in beauty. Both the carving and colouring are equally fine; the latter is a triumph of polychrome. The monk’s pale face and hands, his white robe, and his scapular of the same colour, are perfectly transcribed, a richness being given to the white of the dress, in contrast to the pale flesh, by the device of the old damask workers of painting over a gold ground. This small work is another masterpiece which Cano achieved. It takes rank with the St. Anthony in San Nicolas of Murcia, a better known work, which belongs to an earlier period of Cano’s art. The Cartuja formerly contained a fine statue of the Magdalen, which is ascribed to Cano (Plate 159). It was taken away, with many works of art, during the invasion of the French.

There is almost hopeless uncertainty with regard to the remaining commissions carried out by Cano for the religious orders of Granada. Cean Bermudez catalogues many paintings and sculptures that have disappeared. For the Convent of the Angel we read that Cano carved in marble a figure of the Guardian Angel to be placed over the portal, and designed an elaborate altar-screen, which was carved by Pedro de Mena, though Cano chiselled several of the statues with his own hand. He also painted a picture of our Lord parting from the Virgin in the Via Dolorosa. Other pictures were painted for the Convent of San Diego, and a series of half-length figures of the Apostles were designed and executed for the Dominican Monastery of Sta. Catalina. Then Cano worked for private patrons. Palomino tells of a statue of St. Anthony of Padua, carved for the Auditor of the Chancery, which Cano, becoming enraged with his client about the payment of the work, dashed to pieces: a characteristic incident, which recalls the action of Torrigiano. Unfortunately the disappearance of many of these churches and monasteries with all their contents, and the change of the names of others, makes it impossible to estimate these works or to hazard an opinion as to their present whereabouts.

Cano closed his activity with a series of works for Malaga Cathedral. He designed the Capilla Mayor, and undertook to carve new stalls for the choir, but a dispute arising about the payment, he threw up the work with his usual impetuosity and returned to Granada. A group of important pictures were also painted in these last years.

Cano died in his house in the Albaicin quarter on the 5th October 1667; he was then sixty-six years old. His body rests in the Pantheon of the Canons beneath the choir of the cathedral.