Sculpture in Spain

by Albert Frederick Calvert

It is worth noting that Cano died in poverty. His disposition was generous, and the old Spanish writers tell us that his gains, as soon as he won them, were divided among his friends and among the poor. We find numerous anecdotes of his life, and one story of his death is too good not to be recorded; moreover it helps to complete our knowledge of the man. The priest summoned to offer extreme unction to the dying Cano was accustomed to labour among penitent Jews, towards whom the artist had always displayed a curiously passionate antipathy. The sick man recognised the priest. “Go, Señor Licenciado,” he cried, “go with God and do not trouble to call again: the priest who administers the Sacraments to Jews shall not administer them to me.” A fresh priest was summoned. The new-comer placed an old-fashioned crucifix in the hands that had carved so many beautiful pieces. Impatiently Cano pushed it aside. “My son,” gently remonstrated the priest, “what dost thou mean? This is the Lord who redeemed thee and must save thee!” “I know that all very well,” was Cano’s answer, “but do you want to provoke me with this wretched ill-wrought thing in order to give me over to the devil?”

Cano was a gallant soul storming through life, who in spite of his violence and restlessness was loving and charitable, displaying boundless graciousness towards his friends and his pupils. No master ever took greater interest in his pupils; he gave freely to them of his knowledge and his work. These contradictions in Cano’s temperament explain his art.

Among Cano’s pupils special mention must be made of Josef de Mora and Pedro de Mena; both imitated their master so closely that, as we have seen, their works have been confused with his. This is perhaps the best praise that can be accorded to the pupils. Joseph de Mora was born at Majorca in 1638, where he passed his youth learning his art from his father. The fame of Cano brought him to Granada, and he at once became a pupil in the studio of the master. He acquired considerable skill as a carver, and a few years later he went to Madrid, where he was appointed sculptor to the king. But the climate of the capital being unsuited to his health, he returned to Granada. From this time Mora became wholly the imitator of Cano. He had a curious habit that is worth recording; no one ever saw him at work, for when in his studio with his model the door was always kept bolted. This explains perhaps why he was able to copy so successfully the carvings of Cano. We have pointed out the various statues in which confusion has arisen between the authorship of the master and that of the pupil. The St. Bruno of the Cartuja and the Virgen de la Soledad of Santa Ana cannot be given to Mora as wholly his own work; a Conception in the Cartuja, if it is by his hand, must also be considered as a copy of Cano. Fortunately for Mora’s personal reputation there is in the Church of Santa Ana a statue by him of St. Pantaleon, which reveals some individual characteristics. The figure of the young martyred saint was modelled from a woman, and the spiritual effect gained by this means is increased by the unusual device of placing the statue in a glass case. The figure is very graceful and delicate, which contrasts with the severity of the face. But there is a weakness in the modelling of the legs and feet, and also in the folds of the vestments, which the artist has striven to hide by the polychrome. This is good, in the style commended by Pacheco, made in subdued tones and with no gilding. The personal qualities of this statue make us regret the practice of imitation of his master in which Mora lost his own talent, which must have been considerable.

This is even more true of Pedro de Mena, Cano’s second pupil, who had much greater originality and talent. A native of Alpujaras, where, in collaboration with his father Alonso de Mena, he had established a considerable local reputation, like Mora he came to Granada, attracted by the renown of Cano. It is reported that when he saw the master’s works in the cathedral his enthusiasm was so great that he determined to do no more carving until he had become a pupil of Cano. He brought his family to Granada and at once entered the studio of the master. Cano recognised his talent, and passed over to him all the work which he did not wish personally to execute. Under these conditions Mena gained the commission, refused by Cano, to carve forty statues of the saints for the choir of Malaga Cathedral. The work occupied four years, 1658-1662, and for it Mena received payment of 40,000 reals. These statues prove the great talent of Mena. The figures are carved in cedar-wood and are not coloured. What is remarkable is the individuality which Mena has succeeded in giving to the different saints; each is a living character. Professor C. Justi says of these statuettes: “They are among the most singular and startling products of Spanish art, if not of all modern sculpture.” Mena had the Spanish gift of impressive rendering of character, and it is for this quality he claims recognition.

In 1667 Mena was appointed sculptor to the Chapter of Toledo. Probably it was at this time that he carved the statuette of St. Francis (Plate 160), now in the Cathedral Treasury, which has erroneously been ascribed to Cano. This ascetic figure, so Spanish in its conception, could never have been carved by Cano. The popularity of Mena increased, and on the death of Cano he took his place, fulfilling many commissions for the different religious orders. The city still contains several of his works. The equestrian statue of St. James and the praying statues of the Catholic Kings in the cathedral are the best known. But these works are of much less merit than the saints in the choir of Malaga. Certainly they have some individuality, but Mena here relies too much on what he had learnt from Cano; or perhaps popularity had made him careless.

But Mena’s fame spread, and he was called by Prince John of Austria to Madrid to execute a Virgen del Pilar with St. James at her feet. The success of this work gained a second commission, and Prince Doria ordered a Crucifixion which was sent to Italy, where it gained much praise—a rare honour for a Spanish sculptor.

Mena did not remain in Madrid, and after a period of residence in Cordova, Malaga, and Salamanca, where he carved a statuette of St. Francis which is still in the city, he returned to Granada, where he died in 1693.

The last years of the seventeenth century saw the death of the great sculptors of Spain, and with the opening of the eighteenth century we may say that the art of sculpture itself was dead. A corruption in taste had become general; it was evident in painting and in architecture as well as in sculpture. Churriguera was the great offender, but his contemporaries, following his lead, had sought by bad taste, displayed in excessive decoration and vivid colour, “to correct” the simplicity of art. The decline of sculpture in the South was more rapid and perhaps greater than in the Northern schools. Many of the old altar-screens were replaced by modern works of the new false art. A popular desire arose for works of the coarsest materialisation. The custom grew of dressing the statues in real garments. Then eyes of glass and real hair were in many instances added, and apparatus was invented for moving the head, mouth, eyes, and limbs of the statues. Many pieces of fine sculpture were actually destroyed to meet this degraded demand. The Virgins, and notably the las Doloras, were subjected to this treatment. One example of these “dressed images” is a Virgin in Seville Cathedral. The limbs of this carved doll move at the joints, while a contrivance in the body enables the head to turn to the right or the left. The body is covered with rose-coloured taffeta which is glued to the wood, the hair is of silk plaited with gold threads, and shoes of white kid encase the feet. Sometimes the figure sits, and sometimes stands, and the Child Jesus is placed in the arms or upon the knees according to the position of the mother.

There is little more to add. A dying tradition of art with no master to reanimate its life—that is the record of the eighteenth century.

One artist alone claims remembrance. Francisco Zarcello was the son of an unimportant Neapolitan artist, who had settled in Murcia at the close of the seventeenth century. It was from his father that Francisco Zarcello gained what training in art he had. It is said that he purposed going to Italy to study, but the project was not carried out. Probably Zarcello gained from thus pursuing his art alone, as he was saved from the error of imitation, especially baneful in this period of decadence. And though the renown he gained must be admitted to be in excess of the merit that his works claim, he did possess a considerable talent, with real feeling and something of the old Spanish religious sincerity. Had he lived in a different epoch, with conditions more favourable to art, he might have been a great artist.