The monk's pardon : a historical romance of the time of Philip IV. of Spain ; from the French of Raoul de Navery

Contents

CHAPTER PAGE

I. The Studio 9

II. The Master 25

CHAPTER I. The Studio

The sun of a warm, glowing noontide fell in rich streams upon one of the finest studios in Madrid, and brought out its every detail in the fullest perfection. Students crowded eagerly to the luxurious dwelling of Alonso Cano, anxious to study and to perfect themselves in the various departments of art, all of which the great artist cultivated with equal success.

It was because of the versatility of his talents that the studio of Alonso Cano presented an aspect so different from those of his rivals in genius and in fame, Estaban Murillo and Velasquez. One end of the large room, well lighted from above, was entirely occupied by the retablo^ of an altar. Truly a magnificent one, such as is rarely seen outside of Spain or Flanders. Colossal in its proportions, it was executed with wonderful precision as to its merest details. The wood in the skilful hands of the artist formed an elaborate floral ornamentation, and, in an architectural point of view, the decorations were so exquisite that nothing of its kind had hitherto surpassed this work of Alonso Cano. Among floral

* Altar screen.

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bowers, graceful arcades, and groups of light, elegant pillars, statues of saints, figures of angels or processions of virgins seemed to wander, pausing to pray in Gothic chapels. Like the crown or complement of it all was the Madonna, with a face so living yet so divine in its expression, that the beholder felt inspired at once to pray. Painting had combined with sculpture to give life to these beautiful creations, and the warm sunlight of a spring day striking full upon this grand conception reflected thence a double radiance upon the studio. The walls were covered with holy epics rudely sketched. Easels displayed great unfinished canvases, awaiting the artist's hand. One of these represented Balaam's ass. It was a picture wonderful in the richness of its coloring, the exquisite grace of the angel, and the expression of the prophet's face. Alternating with these canvases were statues of marble, which, in their faultless precision of design, stood upon pedestals in all the perfection of that idea;p4fe, with which the art of the sculptor had endowed them.

Near these finished works were vague, half-defined forms of terra-cotta, wrapped in damp cloths, and images of wax ready for the final touches. The chisel, the pencil, the brush, and the mallet fraternized in the studio of Alonso Caho. Comparing the marble statues from his hand with his paintings, one might vainly ask in whicli of these arts, both of which he so successfully cultivated, did the genius of Alonso Cano most appear!

Great vases of flowers seemed to display their grace and beauty, as it were in contrast to the grandeur of all else around them. For this studio, in its sublimity, was like a temple. Here art heard as it were no sound but the light step of the Spanish Muse passing hither and thither among the disciples of the great master, encouraging them with merited praise, or dealing out needed

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II correction. The young men, all busy at their various tasks, usually worked with unflagging ardor, till the bell of a neighboring monastery warned them that the hour of rest had come. The silence which had hitherto reigned among them was then broken by a joyful movement. Each student put aside his palette, with a longdrawn sigh as of relief. He arose, shook hands with the others, and cordially, without the slightest jealousy, each inspected the other's work. One alone remained at his place. He was an Italian named Lello Lelli. He was apparently some twenty-five years of age, but in his face or manner there was none of that noble enthusiasm so delightful to behold in youth. The very suffering which was the predominant expression of his countenance had nothing noble or resigned about it; there was ill-concealed envy in his furtive glance, sarcasm in the corners of his thin lips, and a suggestion of torturing jealousy and ill-repressed rage in his deadly pallor. Fierce cupidity often shone in his eyes, which were yellow like those of a beast of prey, as he gazed upon purses filled with golden ducats, or the rich jewels of the court ladies who sat to his master. His mean, contracted forehead was surmounted by bristling red hair, whilst his dark brows, forming a straight black line over his eyes, lent a peculiar hardness to his expression. His long, nervous hands would have been beautiful, were it not for the form of the nails, and a habitual movement of the fingers, which constantly reminded one of the claws of a panther. His lithe, supple, willowy figure had something of the fatal attraction of the serpent in it. He stooped too low. In fact, he never seemed to confront any one boldly, but rather to glide, to insinuate himself into one's presence. He scarcely ever allowed his face to be seen. The daylight appeared to hurt his eyes. His voice sometimes changed from its habitual low,

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morose sound to a shrill, piercing treble when he was excited. This peculiarity of voice had the same effect as his look; it gave one an uneasy feeling, for it too was treacherous. Certainly Lello Lelli seemed aware of his defects, for he avoided as much as possible all intercourse with his comrades, and if any of them forced him to speak, they usually regret4:e3 a conversation, which nearly always ended in bitter taunts or biting sarcasms. Too proud to admit his comparative failure as an artist, Lelli avenged himself by cordially hating all that was great and beautiful and pure. He never discovered the ideal side of a work, but quickly pointed out its defective one. His bitter sarcasms were translated by strokes of his pencil more cruel than any words. In this way he certainly had talent — nay, as a caricaturist, in making travesties of the thoughts of others, he had genius.

The poverty of his appearance formed a complete contrast to the elegance displayed in the costumes of his companions. Whilst they set off their handsome faces by doublets of rich stuffs, embroideries, Spanish laces, or rufifies edged with costly guipure, and arranged their hair with a careless and becoming grace, Lelli wore a thin reddish coat and a sober-colored, short cloak. A leathern belt encircled his waist, whence hung a stiletto with a very plain hilt, but a finely tempered blade, which had no doubt given many a cruel wound. The motives which had brought Lelli from Italy to Spain always remained a mystery. He himself maintained the deepest silence upon this subject. It seemed not improbable that it was an affair in which the poniard had played an important part.

Hearing Lelli extol the Count de Ribera in the grandiloquent terms peculiar to him, and dwell upon his talents and his munificence, the thought naturally occurred to one that he had belonged to the band of

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ruffians and cut-throats that Lo Spagnoletto kept in his pay. One thing which undoubtedly contributed to sour Lelli's disposition was his want of artistic power.

Placed among a number of ardent young men, who were one and all fanatics in art and devoted to its highest cultivation, Lelli, limited to mere copying, felt it a double humiliation. But if creative genius were denied him, if his talent consisted in a purely mechanical reproduction of the work which he was set to copy, he was gifted as a compensation with a critical sense which none ever ventured to dispute. This being his only incontestable superiority, he never lost an opportunity of displaying it and making it a means of revenge. What wrong did he want to avenge ? He could scarcely have defined it himself. His ugliness, his deficiencies as to talent, his own vicious nature, perhaps remorse and the hidden crimes of his past life, were all so many grievances, for which he would fain have held his companions responsible — those companions whose noble pride and unblemished honor involuntarily exacted his respect.

In spite of themselves, the latter often allowed their dislike of Lelli to appear. Their master vainly tried to overcome this dislike^ and to smooth away the frequent difficulties which arose from the disposition of the copyist. Not that he felt any personal attachment for this enigmatical being, whose antecedents no less than his future plans remained a mystery, but he gave Lelli credit for the scrupulous fidelity with which he performed the task allotted him. Besides, at this period everything Italian was held in the highest esteem. Artistic Spain, not having yet reached her culminating point, openly admitted that all her sympathies were with Rome, Naples, or Florence.

Of all the painters of Spain, Alonso Cano was certainly the least Spanish, and his canvases belong rather to the

Lombard school than to that severer one, so full of austerity and of archaism, which owes its origin to Sanchez de Castro,* who painted at Seville in 1454. This style of art continued until Vargas f found himself beaten in the breach by those ardent young spirits, who sought to overthrow that tradition of coldness. Juan de las Roelas,J Herrera el Viejol Pacheco,|| who in this new path surpassed even Velasquez, Zurbaran,^ and at length, Alonso Cano, who was, so to say, the last expression of the artistic genius of Spain.

Now Lello Lelli was an Italian, and was thoroughly versed in all the Italian schools: in the greatest as in the least studios he had painted and copied, becoming initiated into a style of composition of which he had mastered the theory.

* In or about 1450 Juan Sanchez de Castro founded the earliest school at Seville, whence came some of the most renowned artists of Spain. The style of his art has been intimated above.

f Luis de Vargas, studied at Rome, and brought into his own country the true method of oil and fresco painting. It was he who substituted the Renaissance art for the Gothic, One of his greatest pictures is the famous Callede Amargura (" Way of Bitterness"). He died about 1568. ^

X Juan de las Roelas made himself famous for his use of the rich Venetian coloring which he studied under Titian, and afterwards brought into Spain.

§ Herrera el Viejo was among the first and most noted of the Andalusian school. He is said to have possessed " the true science of art besides correctness of drawing, profound and varied expression, and grandeur in strength." His style was fiery, with a certain coarseness and harshness, yet breadth and freedom of expression.

II Pacheco, another light of the Andalusian school, and one of the masters of Velasquez, was distinguished, on the contrary, by a cold correctness without passion or life.

Zurbaran has been called the Spanish Caravaggio, not because he resembled him in fire or passion, for his works are colder, more reserved, nobler, but from the bkiish tint which both so much employed. His greatest work is a St. Thomas Aquinas.

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A fluent talker, and possessed of a rich store of curious facts and interesting anecdotes, his society was often beneficial to Alonso Cano, whose disposition tended somewhat towards melancholy. So quick was he to seize upon and comprehend his master's thoughts that it almost seemed as if he spied upon him for the purpose of being able to anticipate them. Poor and wretched in appearance though he was he was naturally arrogant and even insolent; yet he was always ready to gratify Alonso's slightest wish, or the merest caprice of Mercedes, the artist's wife. He played very well upon the viol, declaimed Tasso with great facility and considerable taste, and improvised verses at will. Without actually descending to the role of a buffoon, he was always ready to lend himself to the amusement of others. Friends, and amongst them Velasquez himself, often asked Alonso why he kept about him this repulsive stranger, who inspired such antipathy in every one.

" He copies with wonderful precision," would Alonso reply, " and in his interpretation of my work puts a certain suggestion of the Grecian which pleases me mightily. His poverty is made a reproach against him, but I do not see how he can help it, nor I either, since he earns so little. He works very slowly. He is, besides, very amusing, and then people hate him so cordially that-^ I feel myself bound to take his part."

As the subject seemed displeasing to Alonso no one ever went farther than this, yet every one agreed in distrusting Lelli.

On the day upon which our story opens, when the bell of the neighboring monastery had sounded noon, the pupils threw aside their brushes, and after indulging in a prolonged stretching of their limbs, they rose and formed into friendly groups, or went about looking at each other's work. Lelli, as usual, was the last to leave his i6

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place. But when he had left it, he strolled over carelessly to a picture just sketched by Pedro Castello, and representing Prometheus chained to the rock. Pedro had certainly put considerable power into the composition; the figure of the conquered one was at once pathetic and terrible.

''Well," cried Castello to Lelli, ''art thou about to sharpen thy wit on my Prometheus?"

" Heaven forbid," answered the copyist; " thou knowest my contempt for insipid pictures; thine is glorious as a specimen of the terrible. Every one follows his own bent. It would be impossible for thee to create the lovely faces, which come quite naturally from the master's pencil. Thou shouldst study at Naples, Pedro, and not at Madrid."

"Wherefore?"

" Because there is but one master who would understand thee."

" What master dost thou mean?"

" A man so pale, emaciated, and miserable looking, so unprepossessing altogether in appearance, that out of respect for Spain, the first nation of the world, they do not call him the Spaniard, but Lo Spagnoletto, the little Spaniard. I myself have seen him going about in his misery from place to place, scarcely earning bread to keep himself alive, and yet already dreaming of wonderful works, the realization of which was to make known to the world all the sufferings and the agony of Ribera, poor. Now that he is rich as a duke and powerful as a king, having about him his train of poets, flatterers, and train-bearers, he does not forget those evil days when he wandered about the streets of Naples. His painting is the reflex of his life. He lays bare his lacerated heart upon his canvases. Gall is mingled with the colors, which give so wonderful a life to his pictures; havin.ec

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suffered in body and mind, and heart perhaps, he has made himself, and must remain, the painter of interior anguish and of physical torture. He reveals the secret of his character in his startling effects of darkness and sudden light. He can neither create a head of Christ nor paint a divine Madonna. He must needs astonish, strike, overcome, terrify, by a sanguinary spectacle of torn and palpitating flesh. He is only himself when he represents the struggles of Ixion upon the eternal wheel, Hunger preying upon the vitals of Tantalus, the Martyrdom of St. Lawrence on the gridiron, or of St. Bartholomew, where morsels of jagged flesh show that he was flayed alive. Thou art of his school; why dost thou stay with Alonso Cano ?"

"Because I admire his genius."

" Yes, but so did Lo Spagnoletto admire Correggio.* Canst comprehend that ? Correggio, the painter of Angels and of Virgins. Ribera, however, understood the character and scope of his own genius too well to follow Correggio. He felt that such an influence must destroy

* Josef de Ribera, surnamed " Lo Spagnoletto," the little Spaniard, was born at Hativa, near Valencia. He made his way to Rome, where he at first led a life of great poverty, though he afterwards became rich, honored, and independent. His first step in life was Ovving to the charity of a cardinal, who gave him the means of pursuing his art. His works, as intimated above, belong to the rude, savage, yet fiery and powerful school of Caravaggio. Led astray for a time by his admiration for Correggio, he attempted some imitations of his softness and delicacy, which did not, however, succeed. Ribera is purely Spanish in his style, despite his Italian training, and may be said to be among the first of realistic painters. He is noted for his exaggerated contrasts of light and shatie, and for his frequent selection of wild, terrible, or hideous subjects. His jealousy of others amounted to ferocity, and led him, together with his faction, to drive from Naples all artists not of his school, such as Guido, Carracci, and others.

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him irrevocably, and he soon returned to the rude school of Caravaggio.'"*

" God preserve me from being like Lo Spagnoletto," cried Castello, " even while I might well envy him his fame."

"Art sure he has not been calumniated?'' asked Lelli.

" It is certain that he embittered the life of Domenichino," said Castello.

"He did not prevent him from painting," said Lelli.

" He caused an attempt to be made upon the life of Guido Reni," continued Pedro.

Here Lelli visibly shuddered.

"That accusation was never proved," he said hoarse-

ly-

"Was not Guido so terrified as to be obliged to leave Naples ?" questioned Pedro.

" He might safely have remained there," said Lelli.

"No, no," cried Pedro. "Never will I follow the school of such a master. He takes no pupils, for he will tolerate no rivals. Death and terror forever surround him. He can count more bravoes than friends, and all the admiration which he excites is not worth the least part of the esteem which our kings and our people give to our own great men. Ribera would have done well to have remained in his birthplace, Spain, which he renounced, as he did her school when he became a Neapolitan."

" And yet," cried Lelli, "thy work is after the manner of Ribera. Oh, thou needst not turn pale with anger, thou hast the same elements of success, thou art fantastic, impetuous, violent, yet with an indisputable power

*Correggio, mentioned in a former paragraph, whose real name was Antonio Allegri, was amonj^ the first of Italian painters. His works are remarkable for their wonderful chiaro-oscuro, for a movement, variety, grace, and deHcacy peculiar to himself.

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in the greater effects of light and shadow. Thy figures cannot be very well distinguished from the darkness whence they emerge. There is something unreal and visionary mingling with reality upon thy canvases. Thy Prometheus is superb, and yet he is like one seen in a dream. This reproach in part at least is often addressed to Ribera himself; certain parts of the work are magnificent, for thy power approaches the power of the scalpel."

''That is to say," cried Pedro, "that what I do is not original."

"It is borrowed from Lo Spagnoletto, that is all. Thou needst not blush for the nature of thy talent, and God grant that thou attainest either the fortune or the reputation of that great master. He who, once half starved and ragged in the streets of Naples, has now lackeys in magnificent liveries, and the costliest equipages in the town. An ensign-bearer to hold his brushes and let him know the hour stands like a living clock forever at his side. His studio is the resort of painters, poets, and great lords. Consider my criticism therefore as the highest praise, and persevere in thine own way till thou hast given a second Ribera to Spain."

Pedro sat down discontentedly before his easel.

"The master will not be pleased," thought he.

" Ho, ho !" cried Lelli, stopping before a nearly finished picture of Bartholomeo Roman, " here we have, by our Lady del Pilar, a Saint Catherine dressed in brocade like an infanta. Were it not for the wheel peeping out from behind the folds of her dress, or the golden circlet which forms her aureola, one would have mistaken her for a great Spanish lady just putting the last touches to her toilette. God be praised, these are rare stuffs, heavy as Hungarian leather, and bravely loaded over with gold. Where didst find these Moorish-skinned

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angels, Bartholomeo, and with such haughty mien? I could fancy them grandees from Paradise."

"Always mocking, Lello," cried Bartholomeo.

^'Mocking? I? Where dost thou find any mockery in my words ? Has not the same been said of Zurbaran himself, and the Saint Cecilias, Saint Lucys, and Saint Ursulas which he exposes in our churches are as haughty as Castilian dames ?"

" That does not prevent — "

" Does not prevent Philip IV. from calling Zurbaran 'the painter of kings and the king of painters.' I am of his opinion, but thou wilt permit me to prefer Zurbaran's monks to his figures of martyrs."

"Ah!" cried Pablo as Lelli approached him, " it is my turn now,"

" Not yet," said Lelli, with a sardonic smile, " it would be very hard to praise or blame what does not yet exist."

" But the sketch ?"

" Reminds me of the anecdote told of Herrera el Viejo."

" What was that ?" asked Pablo.

"To economize his time, which had become very precious, when orders were pouring in to his studio, he had his canvases prepared by his old servant. She covered the ground with colors, haphazard, rubbed them in with a tow-brush, and out of this horrible chaos Herrera brought forth figures and draperies."*

"What then?" asked Pablo.

"Thou art still at the tow-brush stage of the work," said Lelli.

Pablo bit his lips till the blood came.

As the Neapolitan was about to approach a canvas representing an Ascension, the pupil who was working thereupon promptly threw a curtain over it.

*Such an anecdote is really told of this great painter, Herrera.

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" Ah," cried Lelli, " thou wilt not let me see it." " No," said Miguel, in a voice so cold that it was ;)lmost hard.

" May I know why ?"

" Because, even if thy criticism is just, its effect is bad. Thy very praise leaves an involuntary discouragement behind it. There is something perfidious in thy counsel. Poor Roman is quite disturbed, and yet his composition is good, well posed, and the heads superb. Pedro Castello, whom thou didst honor by comparing him to Ribera, is not charmed by the comparison. And I, who carry my devotion to art to the length of fanaticism, fear a word of severe blame or of exaggerated praise. Thou, who art content to copy the works of our master, canst never understand what quiet of mind, what inspiration, and what fervor it needs to create and invent. Let me have Alonso alone for my guide, and I will gladly give thee all the merit due thee of being a skilful critic."

"Oh, thou never failest to taunt me with my mediocrity," cried Lelli bitterly, ''and the little that I am, a copyist. Do ye not all among yourselves call me ' the beggar ' ? What harm does that do me ? dost think that thy contempt humiliates me, Miguel ? Thou art mistaken; and I would rather know at once that thou hatest me."

" I do not hate, I distrust thee," answered Miguel.

" Did I ever do harm to any one here ?" asked Lelli.

"Yes," replied Miguel, "and what at first seemed to me unjust on my own part is yet as certain as the existence of the sun. Thou seemest to be surrounded by a ■fatal atmosphere and bringest misfortune whether thou wilt or no. One proof of this is that thou never excitest in us one elevated sentiment; discouragement is sure to follow from contact with thee, just as certain poisons flow j^om certain barks. Thou seemest to wither and dry

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up all that approaches thee. But if thou wert not what I have described, thou wouldst be an artist, and a true artist. It simply is, that God has refused thee the two mainsprings of genius, faith and kindness. Thou must be sterile, because thou hast never loved anything in the world. Many people's punishment lies in their impotence to create, and this impotence is infectious. The manchineel tree kills all plants that grow in its shadow. Thou killest inspiration and faith in the souls of all who hear and are tempted to believe thee."

Proud and arrogant being that thou art," cried Lello."

"Proud," cried Miguel, "I cannot be proud as yet of what I am, for I am nothing. I am proud perhaps of the possibilities within me, my pure and noble aims, proud of having Spain for my country, Heaven for my hope, and Philip IV. for my master; proud that I study under Alonso Cano; proud in the hope that my name may one day be associated with those, who are the glory of our country. If such pride and such hope seem paltry to thee thou alone art to be pitied, and the blame is not mine."

" Miguel," said Lelli, in a tone of intense bitterness, ''what thou now sayest aloud thou hast, I doubt me, long thought."

" Perchance," said Miguel.

"Why didst thou wait so long to let me know it?"

" Because thou didst never before undertake to mock at me and my companions. Because I never so well understood the fatal influence that thou wieldst upon us."

" It would have been more frank to speak out at once," said Lelli.

" But more respectful to be silent," answered Miguel. "Why ?" acked Lelli.

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"Because thou a^t under our master's protection," said Miguel.

"Dost insinuate that I screen myself behind him?" cried Lelli.

" I state facts, I do not assign motives," said Miguel.

"And if it depended upon thee?" asked Lelli.

" Thou wouldst not remain an hour longer in the studio," replied Miguel.

"So at last thou hast thrown off the mask," cried Lelli.

"To be silent is not hypocrisy," responded Miguel.

"After what thou hast just said," cried Lelli, "friendship or communication of any sort is impossible between us. I am a restraint upon thee, and know once for all that I hate thee."

"What follows?" said Miguel.

That both of us are too many here."

Miguel turned pale.

"Go on," he said, "what wouldst thou suggest?"

"That thou givest place to me or that thou takest thy chance of being killed."

"A duel !" cried Miguel.

"Yes, a duel here and at once," cried Lello.

"After the Italian fashion?" said MigUvl, .with bitter irony.

" Italian or Spanish," cried Lelli, furiously, " provided that it end in the death of one of us."

"Miguel! Miguel!" cried Bartholomeo Roman, "what wouldst thou do ?"

" Rid you of this man, who has been too great a friend of Ribera not to have used his sword in his service,"

Lelli in a fury snatched the stiletto from his belt

" When I cry ready!" said Miguel.

Pedro Castello threw himself between them.

" Away!" cried Lelli, " I must kill him."

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" Fairly, at least," cried Bartholomeo.

He took down, as he spoke, two swords from the panoply which decorated one of the panels of the studio, and offered one to each of the adversaries.

Miguel rested his hand upon the hilt of one, the while Lelli tried the metal of the other, making the fine blade hiss like a snake.

"On guard!" cried Miguel.

Lelli threw himself on the defensive, the swords clashed. Just then the door of the studio opened.

" The master!" cried Bartholomeo in a stiffled voice. Alonso Cano stood upon the threshold!*

* Alonso Cano is usually termed the Spanish Michael Angelo, partly because he practised the three arts of painting, sculpture, and architecture. He was even more of a sculptor than painter. As an architect he principally devoted himself to retablos, for which he made all the ornaments himself. The principal character of his works is softness and gentleness. He was remarkable for his execution of hands and feet, and distinguished in that way above all the painters of his country. His style is correct, elegant, and full of grace, and he undoubtedly ranks with Velasquez and Murillo among the first of Spanish artists. Of these latter we shall give an account farther on.

THE MASTER.

CHAPTER II. The Master

At sight of Alonso Cano the combatants hastily separated. Miguel looked at his master with an expression of sorrowful respect, whilst Lello muttered an imprecation.

Alonso advanced towards them, as pale as a corpse. " Unhappy that ye are," cried he, " what could have led you to attempt each other's life ? Is not human existence a sacred thing? How dare ye for a word or gesture spill the blood of a fellow being like miserable assassins ? Yes, I repeat the word, assassins! Every skilful duelist is a murderer, and believe me sooner or later the curse of Heaven must fall upon his head."

Miguel bowed his head, but Lello stood looking the artist straight in the face with a mocking intensity.

" Who began the quarrel ?" asked Alonso, abruptly. All the pupils at once cried:

"Lello, Lello!"

The Italian started as if stung by a viper.

" No," cried he, " ye lie, all of you! I never insulted any one. Ye hate me here in this studio, and ye rejoice in the thought that the severity of the master will rid you forever of a disagreeable companion."