The signal example of an individual personality, is that of Domenico Theotocopuli, popularly called El Greco from the fact that he was born in Crete. Since he will form the subject of another chapter, it is sufficient here to recall the fact that he reached Spain by way of Venice and Rome and settled in Toledo. His art bridges the last quarter of the sixteenth century and the first of the seventeenth, and, notwithstanding his foreign training, was deeply imbued with the Spanish spirit of his day.
Meanwhile, during the latter part of the sixteenth century a more direct infusion of Italian influence reached Spain through the artists whom Philip imported from Italy to decorate the Escoriál. During the first twenty-five years of his reign he had continued the patronage of Titian, commenced by his father, Charles V. The latter, after he had sat to the great Venetian, loaded him with marks of favor, including an order of nobility, and vowed that no other artist was worthy to paint Cæsar. Philip’s pride equally demanded the services of the artist who was accounted the greatest of his day, and Titian was willing to give them. “Is not my aim in life,” he wrote, “to refuse the services of other princes and to cling to that of your majesty?” The king’s commissions were for religious subjects, but Titian, knowing the other side of his patron’s nature, supplemented them with nudes and the so-called “poesies,” or subjects of more or less erotic significance. Hence the collection of over forty Titian’s which is one of the glories of the Prado Gallery.
Among the painters summoned from Italy by Philip II the best known are Frederico Zucchero, Pelegrino Tibaldi, Bartolomeo Carducho and Patricio Caxés. They were men of facile but inferior ability, whose work is of little interest in itself and has no part, except that of an interlude, in the development of native art. On the other hand a definite and distinguished rôle was played by the Flemish painter, Antony Mor or Moro. He had been portrait painter to Charles V in Flanders, and in 1552 came to Spain in the train of Cardinal Granvilla. During a prolonged stay at the Spanish Court he enriched his Flemish method by study of the portraits by Titian which the emperor had accumulated. Moro’s teaching and influence started the Castile School of portrait painting. His best pupil was Alonso Sánchez Coello, (?-1590) whose portraits are vital records of personality, although somewhat trivialized by the elaboration of meticulous detail.
CHAPTER IV
A PANORAMIC VIEW
Part II: Seventeenth Century to the Present Day.
THE seventeenth century was the golden age of Spanish art, as it was of the art of Holland; product in the one case of national decline, in the other of national growth. While Spain was neglecting her national resources, losing her morale and wasting money and men on a vain effort to enslave the Dutch, the latter, in their fight for liberty, built up their national character and developed the resources of their country. Yet, under conditions so different, the genius of each people was liberated, threw off the shackles of foreign influence and discovered its own racial expression in painting. Each of the great schools had its protagonist: Valencia, José Ribera (1588-1656); Andalusia, Murillo (1618-1682); Castile, Velasquez, (1599-1660). Meanwhile, as we have noted, the early part of the century was occupied by the great artist, El Greco.
As these will be discussed in separate chapters, it remains to note the most important of the lesser painters of the period under their respective schools.
In the School of Castile the vogue of portraiture at Court was perpetuated by Coello’s pupil, Juan Pantoja de la Cruz (1551-1610) and by Bartolomé Gonzáles (1564-1627). The former’s portraits are hard and dry in treatment and shallow in expression, while the latter’s, despite a tightness and triviality of detail, have a certain grandiose dignity of design. Witness the equestrian portraits of Philip III and his wife, Doña Margarita of Austria and that of Philip IV’s first wife, Doña Isabel de Borbón. In the Prado catalogue these are still assigned to Velasquez, but latest criticism confines the latter’s share in them to retouching of certain parts, particularly the horses, while giving the originals to Gonzáles. It is further believed that the landscapes in the Philip III and Queen Margarita were worked over by Velasquez’s pupil and son-in-law, Mazo. The handling of the figures is so different from that of the rest of the compositions, so evidently the reverse of Velasquez’s broad and pregnant style, that it is strange the canvases should ever have been assigned in their entirety to him; except for the reason that until recently it has been the custom, both in Madrid and elsewhere, to attribute to this master anything, however mediocre, which approached the appearance of his method.
We recall among the Italian painters invited to the Court of Philip II, Bartolomeo Carducho and Patricio Caxés. Each had a son who became a painter; Vicente Carducho (1585-1638) born in Italy, but educated and naturalised in Spain, and Eugenio Caxés (1577-1642), whose birthplace was Madrid. They were employed in decorating the palaces of the Prado and the Escoriál. Their work is mannered, with much technical proficiency and little inspiration. It is, however, handsome in design; wherein lies its chief interest to the student of Spanish painting, since it helped to foster that skill in the filling of a space which was brought to such perfection by Velasquez. In this connection we may mention Fray Juan Bautista Mayno (1594-1690), a Dominican monk, who had been drawing master to Philip IV before his accession and was retained by him afterwards as an adviser in matters of art. There is an “allegory” by him in the entrance hall of the Prado, representing The Pacification of the States of Flanders which in qualities of painting is quite uninteresting, yet, regarded as a decoration, has considerable merit, reminding one of Puvis de Chavannes’ flat patterns of full and empty spaces. Indeed, one may be disposed to feel that from the point of view of mural decoration it is even superior to Velasquez’s Surrender of Breda, which by comparison is a historical picture. It is interesting to note that Mayno was a native of Toledo and in consequence familiar with the work of El Greco, who, we shall find, was a master of decorative space-filling.
In 1603, during the reign of Philip III, Rubens, on a mission from the Duke of Mantua, visited the Spanish Court. One of the Duke’s intentions was that his emissary should copy some of the masterpieces of the Royal collection. Rubens’ copy of Titian’s Temptation of Adam and Eve now hangs in the Prado, not far from the original, and it is interesting to note how the young Flemish artist has corrected and improved the composition of the old Venetian. The orders given to Rubens included a provision that he should forward his work by employing the assistance of some of the Spanish painters. He writes, saying that he will adhere to these instructions, but, he adds, “I do not approve of it, considering the short time we have at our disposal, and the incredible inadequacy and idleness of these painters and their manners, (from which may God preserve me from any resemblance!) so absolutely different to mine.”
Such was Rubens impression of art in Madrid, preceding the appearance of Velasquez. In 1628 at the zenith of his fame, he paid another diplomatic visit. Philip IV was now king and appointed his favorite, Velasquez, escort to the Flemish artist. Of the latter’s impression of the younger man unfortunately no records exist.