The Story of Seville

by Walter M. Gallichan

In the nave are two pictures, both good and one of fine merit, executed by artists not belonging to the Sevillian school. La Sagrada Cena (The Last Supper), by Pablo de Céspedes, the artist of Córdoba, 1538-1608, hangs upon the end wall of the nave, near to the Martyrdom of St. Andrew. The colour is good, there is a slight confusion of detail, but the picture is not without charm. The portrait of himself, by Doménico Theotocópuli,[F] 1548-1625, better known as El Greco, the genius of Toledo, will be found near the door. It is a magnificent study and testifies to the power of the hand which executed it. Composition and technique alike, are above praise. The portrait is life-like in its reality; we grow to know the dark face of the artist, as he stands, with his brush and palette in his hand.

Three other rooms, of small size, complete the Museo. The pictures they contain are not of great importance, but there are a few interesting canvases in the old sacristy, leading from the south transept of the Salón. Among them are several compositions of the early fifteenth century, classified as belonging to the Escuela Flamenca, by artists whose names have not been preserved. The tones in many of these antique pictures are wonderful, and they are all painted with a naïve simplicity. The colour in the two compositions, El Señor Coronado de espinas (thorns), and La Anunciación de Nuestra Señora is especially good. The long lean figures and conventional grief depicted in El enterramiento del Señor, strongly resemble the similar picture by Sanchez de Castro, in the house of Murillo.

The works of Francisco Frutet will be found in this room. The finest, a grand triptych, entitled, Jesús en el camino (road) del Calvario, is a work of much beauty. The central picture of the Crucifixion is finely conceived, and Sir W. Stirling-Maxwell thinks that several of the figures bear a resemblance to the Spasimo de Sicilia of Raphael.

El Juicio Final, by Martin Vos, a Flemish painter, who worked in Seville during the early years of the sixteenth century, is a quaintly-conceived allegorical picture. This finest portion represents the hosts of the wicked. The drawing of the figures is good, but the canvas is much crowded.

The Statuary in the Museo.

Before studying Spanish statuary, it is well to remember that this branch of art never attained to the same level in the Peninsula as the sister art of painting. The reason of this lack of development is not difficult to appreciate, when we remember that statuary was executed, almost without exception, for the religious uses of the Catholic Church. The images were needed to increase the pious fervour of the populace; they were carried in the religious processions, and often they were credited with miracle-working powers. The one necessity for a Spanish statue was that it should be an exact imitation of life. The more realistic the illusion, the greater was the power of the statue to conform to the requirements of the Church.

It will readily be seen that marble—the substance most fitting for the artistic rendering of form, would not comply with these demands. Thus, in Spain, the classic marble was discarded, while wood and plaster were employed in its place. These substances could be readily coloured, or even covered with a canvas, like a skin, and then painted to counterfeit life. This barbaric custom—a relic of heathen days, did much to seal the doom of the art of sculpture in Spain. In seeking to imitate life the artists frequently rendered their statues grotesque. The ambition of art is not to be a deceptive imitation of nature. The true purpose of sculpture is to depict pure form; when it departs from this limitation it loses its distinguishing motive, the representation of repose, and becomes a degraded intermingling of the two arts of sculpture and painting.

Yet, in spite of these limitations, there are several Spanish sculptors whose works deserve praise, and two of the most famous lived and worked in Seville.

Pietro Torriggiano, of Florence, a roving soldier-sculptor, came to Spain, in the year 1520. He had journeyed in many lands, and to his skill we owe the fine tomb of Henry VII., in Westminster Abbey. He settled in Seville, and soon completed his great work, San Jerónimo penitente, now in the north transept of the Museo.