Francisco Goya : a study of the work and personality of the eighteenth century Spanish painter and satirist  

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Francisco Goya : a study of the work and personality of the eighteenth century Spanish painter and satirist is a biography of Spanish painter Goya by Hugh Stokes.


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Full text of "Francisco Goya : a study of the work and personality of the eighteenth century Spanish painter and satirist"








A PRINCE OF PLEASURE. Philip of France and his Court, 1640-1701


About 1796

FRANCISCO GOYA Y LUCIENTES, PINTOR After tJte etched Jrontispiece in ' ' Los Caprichos." Plate i















WITH the exception of two short monographs by Mr. William Rothenstein and Mr. Albert F. Calvert, together with a translation of a slight critical essay by Dr. Richard Muther, no biography of Francisco Goya has yet appeared in English. The time seems ripe for a volume which attempts to show this fine genius in relation to the art of his own country, as well as to that of the other schools of painting in Europe. England has been comparatively late in its appreciation of Goya, but across the Channel a steady stream of critical exegesis has flowed from the day when Theophile Gautier returned to Paris after his voyage of discovery beyond the Pyrenees. The first biography of Goya, by Laurent Matheron, was published in France, and appropriately dedicated to Eugene Delacroix. Nine years later came' a more ambitious performance by Charles Yriarte. In the meanwhile the index of the Gazette des Beaux- Arts will reveal what an impression Goya's paintings and etchings had been creating in the French studios. Bürger-Thoré, Feuillet de Conches, F. Lagrange, Jacques Desrosiers, Paul Lefort, Charles Blanc, Philippe Burty, and a dozen other well-known critics of the Second Empire, continually quoted and alluded to Goya in their articles. Since then the published correspondence of poets, like Baudelaire, and of artists, like Manet, proves that Goya was a formative influence of the first importance upon the French art of the nineteenth century.

The biographies of Matheron and Yriarte have become the foundation of what may be called the French tra- dition regarding the personaUty of Goya. Both authors accepted the romantic anecdotes of his youth, and the scandalous legends of his behaviour at the Court of Charles IV. His attitude towards Church and State they considered a logical result of his admiration of the poUtical principles which governed the French Revolution. These biographical conclusions were fiercely controverted by Francisco Zapater, who published in 1868 a tiny booklet containing extracts from the correspondence between Goya and his father, Martin Zapater of Zaragoza. He could not have made use of the whole correspondence, which, if it has not been destroyed, may probably be a treasure for some future author. Writing for a CathoHc journal (his pages were first issued in La Perseverencia) he sketched the portrait of a hard-working youth, who certainly did not desert the God of his ancestors, had no desire to play skittles with the Ten Commandments, and was not only a good son, a truth which cannot be dis- puted, but a faithful husband — a statement open to considerable doubt.

Zapater's motive was praiseworthy, but he was an amateur historian who twisted his facts to suit his prejudices. The deeper we push our researches into Goya's career the less able are we to agree with his thesis. Laurent Matheron appears to have visited Madrid, and much of his material is vouched for by first-hand evidence.


He knew De Brugada, Goya's companion during the last years in Bordeaux, and cites him more than once as the source of his information. He was writing within thirty years of Goya's death, and his chapters were compiled with care and good taste. About the same time Valentin Carderera (who had written an article upon Goya in El A rtista of Madrid as early as 1835) was collaborating with Philippe Burty in the Gazette des Beaux- Arts, and his contributions in no way contradict Matheron's views. Charles Yriarte's Spanish quest in 1866-67 was exhaustive, and he was fortunate in gathering the final reminiscences of a bygone generation. He visited the Duke de Mont- pensier at San Telmo, and the Duke de Osuna at Alameda. The Duke de Alba opened the Palace of the Liria to him, and he was cordially assisted by Frederico de Madrazo, Zarco del Valle, Francisco Zapater, and Valentin Carderera. Many of the Goya family papers were placed at his disposal. Yet upon Yriarte has fallen the full brunt of a hostile attack, and a German bio- grapher, describing Goya as " a man of noble character, straightforward and religious, full of deep-rooted naive piety," gracefully refers to Yriarte's life of the artist as the work of "an imaginative Gascon."

The true Goya is not to be found in one or the other. He was neither the ferocious republican nor the pious Catholic. There was a diabolical side of his nature (to quote Mr. William Rothenstein) which cannot be lost sight of. On the other hand he was not the carrion- seeking hyena of Mr. P. G. Hamerton's excited brain. I have tried to draw a picture of a man who, despite his faults and eccentricities, was undoubtedly loved by those who knew him best. And the evidence of the sympathy


he inspired cannot be lightly set aside. Upon a full knowledge of his life and personality we are best able to judge his art.

Valerian von Loga's careful biography neglects to exhibit its subject in a proper frame. It is impossible to appreciate Goya, or to judge his actions, if we are ignorant of the age in which he lived. English readers know little of Spain during the eighteenth century. The names of Philip II. or Philip IV. come pat to our lips when we talk about Velazquez and his forerunners, and it is comparatively easy to form some opinion upon the Spanish decadence of the seventeenth century. But the reigns of Philip V., Ferdinand VI., Charles III., Charles IV., and Ferdinand VII., carry few associations. The social history of their Courts is an undiscovered continent. Yet, if we wish to understand Goya's position, we must learn something of the existence around him. We must at least attempt to breathe the atmosphere of Madrid during those days of transition, and to follow the tangled political situation which resulted in the Peninsula War. How can Hogarth's art be enjoyed if we refuse to glance at the London of the early Georgians ? French art of the eighteenth century cannot be disassociated from the history of Louis XV. Art, even more than literature, is the mirror of the life from which it springs.

This must be my apology for dealing somewhat fully with several aspects of Spanish art which naturally lead to a consideration of Goya's own work, as well as to the inclusion of some account of Spanish politics and Madrid life during the reign of Charles IV. Goya was described a few months ago as a dull artist who could only


interest dull people. Would it be too presumptuous to hope that this book will lead to a reconsideration of so sweeping a verdict ? In reality the art and personality of Goya are of an engrossing fascination. Unfortunately his pictures cannot be studied to any large extent outside Spain, and his position as an artist has suffered for that reason. A few works are scattered throughout the museums and private collections of Europe and America. But a visit to Madrid is as necessary for an examination of his career as it is for a full understanding of the genius of Velazquez.

Goya was a painter of most unequal standards. He must be judged upon his best work, and not upon the many unsatisfactory and dubious sketches which are so often exhibited under his name. His European celebrity, of a comparatively recent growth, is not likely to suffer from the criticism of the future. Goya is essentially a modern, and his finest work will not be injured by Time.

The biographical facts in this volume are based upon the works to be found in the Bibliography, most of which I have studied. No life of Goya can be written without a sense of obligation to predecessors, notably Charles Yriarte, Paul Lefort, the Count de Viiiaza, Valerian von Loga, and Paul Lafond. If I cannot accept all their conclusions I must bear witness to the extent of their labours in a difficult field. The list of pictures has been based upon the catalogues of Von Loga, Lafond, Yriarte, Vinaza, and recent exhibitions held during the past ten years. Several changes of ownership have been noted, as well as some new discoveries. But a perfect list of Goya's paintings is not yet possible, particularly


whilst so many examples are hidden in the private collections of Spain. With the etchings and lithographs there is not the same trouble. They have been so exhaustively catalogued by Paul Lefort and Julius Hofmann that I have not attempted to rival those authors in wealth of detail, and the lists in this volume must be taken simply as an indication and explana- tion of the various plates. Mr. Albert F. Calvert has generously placed at my disposal his unique collection of Spanish photographs, and has granted permission for the reproduction of six in his copyright. My thanks are also due to Mr. H. Granville Fell, who has given me the benefit of his expert knowledge. Lastly, to my fellow- traveller through Spain, whose unfailing sympathy and help has been more valuable than I can express, I offer this book in affection.

H. S. Nice, August, 1913.





The Death of Velazquez. Primitive Spain. The " Lady of Elche." Seventeenth-century Spanish Art. Velazquez and Rembrandt. Velazquez and Goya in Advance of their Time. The Church and Spanish Art. A Contrast between Spanish and Italian Artists. Lack of Imagination in Spanish Art. The Carvings of ValladoUd. Spanish Portrait-painting. El Greco. Zurbaran. Velazquez. Goya's Borrow- ings from the Past. Decadence of Spain. Juan del Mazo. Carrefio. Claudio Coello. Giordano. Phihp V. and the French Invasion. The Fire at the Alcazar. Stagnation of Native Art i



The School of Aragon. Richard Ford on the Different Schools of Spanish Painting. The Character of the Aragonese. Arrival in Zaragoza. Typical Independence and Love of Freedom of the Aragonese. A Composite Race. Moslem Influences. EI Pilar. La Seo. The Audiencia and its Guardians 29



The Village of Fuendetodos. Goya's Father and Mother. Goya's first Drawing. Don Felix Salzedo. The Pignatelli Family. Jos6 Luzan and his School. His Manner of Teaching. Goya's Youthful Friends. His Pleasures. Rehgious Animosities in 2^ragoza. Street Battles. The Inquisition decides to arrest Goya. His Flight to Madrid 4t



Little exact Information. Description of Madrid by Contemporary Travellers, Spanish Inns. The Insurrection of 1766. Active Foreign



Element. The Aristocracy in Madrid. Goya and Francisco Bayeu. Rafael Mengs. The Art Theories of Winckelmann. Goya studies the Old Masters. Mengs and Sir Joshua Re5Tiolds. His Appreciation of Velazquez. Goya devoted to Pleasure. He is found dangerously wounded. His Friends smuggle him out of the City. He is said to have joined the Bull-fighters. Goes to Rome 55



Goya's Arrival in 1769. A great Religious Procession. Carnival Scenes. The Spanish Colony of Artists. His Friendship with David dis- proved. An Invitation to Russia. Foolhardy Exploits. A Portrait of the Pope. Wins a Prize from the Academy of Parma. His Irregular life in Rome. Attempts to abduct a Nun. Under Sentence of Death. Is set free upon condition that he leaves the City. Re-appears in Zaragoza 74


ZARAGOZA, 1 772-1 774

Gojra returns to Zaragoza. His first Commission to decorate El Pilar, Did he visit Italy a second Time ? The Chartreuse of Aula Dei. Its Forgotten Frescoes. Doubts as to Goya's Authorship of the whole Series. Little exact Information as to his Employment. He courts Josefa Bayeu 88



Josefa Bayeu. Her Portrait. Distractions of Madrid. Church Work. The Holy Family. Rafael Mengs. The Tapestry Factory of Santa Barbara. Goya commissioned by Mengs. Description of the Cartoons. Goya and Hogarth. Increasing Reputation. Presented to the King, but refused a Royal Appointment. Other Paintings. The Crucifixion of San Pladdo. A Crucifixion by Velazquez. Goya elected a Member of the Academy of San Fernando 94



Philip Gilbert Hamerton on Goya. Interest of the early Etchings. The Flight into Egypt. Goya's first Etching. San Isidro and San Francisco. The Etchings after Velazquez. Studies for the Etchings. The Blind Street Singer. Hogarth and Goya 115



Goj^ neglected in Zaragoza. The Decorations of El Pilar. His Sim- plicify of Life. Further Work upon the Cathedral. The Quarrel



■with Francisco Bayeu. A Discussion with the Committee and Canon Allu6. The new Frescoes. Goya's Letter to the Committee. Prior Salzedo. Goya returns to Madrid. Family Affairs. A Commission for the Church of San Francisco el Grande. Trouble with Florida Blanca over the Payment. Goya's Friendship with the Infante Don Luis. He is again refused a Court Appointment. Elected Director of the Royal Academy of San Fernando. Two Portraits of the Artist 122



Go37a not a ferocious Revolutionary. Hamerton's Explanation of the Artist's Renown. Spain passing through an Age of Transition. Ferdinand VI. Charles III. His Portrait by Goya. The Plot against the Jesuits. The Count d'Aranda. Influence of the French Philo- sophers upon the Spanish Nobility. Moral as well as Political Changes. Bad Example of the Heir to the Throne. Maria Luisa of Parma. Accession of Charles IV. Goya appointed a Peiinter of the Chamber. His Portraits of Jovellanos and the Count de Florida Blanca. Commencement of his best Period of Portraiture 142



Goya's growing Success. His Household. New Blood required at the Tapestry Factory. The " Second Series." Criticism by P. G. Hamerton and Richard Muther. Description of the Designs. Genre Pictures for the Osuna Family. Goya and Gainsborough. Some Portraits belonging to this Period. The Marquesa de Pontejos. Goya's Prices. Rehgious Pictures 157



Character of Charles IV. His Amusements. Queen Maria Luisa. Her Independence and Extravagance. Goya's Portraits of the King and Queen. His Personal Friendship with the Royal Family. Letters to Zaragoza. Illness in his Household. His own bad Health. Visits to Valencia and Zaragoza 172



Goya's Political Opinions. His Success in Madrid Society. Popular Stories. His Acquaintance with the Duchess of Alba. Her Behaviour towards his Wife. Her Character. Various Portraits of the Duchess. Energetic Action of the Queen. The Journey to San Lucar. Goya's Deafness. Return to Madrid. The Maj'a vestida and the Maja desnuda. A Question of Identity. Their Artistic Value. Death of the Duchess. The Fciscination of these Portraits. Baudelaire's Admiration 182





The Foundation of Goya's Cosmopolitan Fame. In Progress from 1793 to 1798. Goya's l«,d Health. Origin of Los Caprichos. The Unpub- lished Preface. Popular Explanations of the Plates. Manuscript " keys." Satire of Social Life in Madrid. Doubts as to Personal Caricature. A new Harlot's Progress. Goya's Realism. Coarseness in Art. English Caricature of the Eighteenth Century. The Scenes of Witchcraft. Demonology in Art and Literature. Rusldn and Los Caprichos. Goya as Etcher and Aquatintist. Gautier's Appreciation of the Plates. Los Caprichos taken over by the State. Editions and Impressions 202



Five genre Pieces. The Carnival Scene. Portraits in 1794- 1796. A Royal Command. The Church of San Antonio de la Florida. Goya's Decorations. Various Criticisms upon these Frescoes. Royal Approval. Goya appointed First Painter of the Court. His Friendship with Charles IV. and Maria Luisa 222



A Portrait-painter's Prime. Goya's Slow Evolution and Lack of Uniformity. The Family of Charles IV. The Portrait of Godoy. General Urrutia. The French Ambassador Guillemardet. Leandro Moratin and his Portrait. Some other Portraits of Men. La Tirana. Dofia Antonia Zarate. A Portrait in the National Gallery. Portraits of Women. The so-called Charlotte Corday. The Bookseller's Daughter. Majos and Majas. The Majas on the Balcony. Goya as a Painter of Fops. His Portraits of Elderly Men. Portraits of Children. An Allegory. The Santa Justa and Santa Rufina ot Se\ille 231



Death of Goya's Wife. Spanish Politics. Napoleon and the Bourbons. Invasion of the Peninsula. Ferdinand VII. His Portrait by Goya. The " Dos de Mayo." Goya's two Great Pictures of the Revolt. His Attitude towards King Joseph Bonaparte. A Portrait of Palafox. The two Sieges of Zaragoza. Goya visits Aragon. Los Desastres de la Guerra. Goya's Portrait of the Duke of WelUngton. An Exciting Incident. The Restoration of Ferdinand VII. Goya goes into Hiding, but is pardoned by the King. Portrait of Juan Martin, " El Empe- cinado." Juan Martin's Reward. Goya contemplates a Voluntary Exile 255




y^y GOYA IN RETIREMENT, 1818-1823

Goya's Country House outside Madrid. Leocardia and Rosario Weiss. Two Portraits of the Artist. The Meeting of the Cortes. Portraits and Religious Subjects. The Portrait of Don Ramon Satud. The Tauro- tnaquia. Los Proverbios. The Prisoners. The Frescoes in his Country House. Indignant Criticism. Satan devouring his Children 273



Goya applies for Leave to go to Plombiferes. His Arrival in Bordeaux. Letters from Moratin. He reaches Paris, July, 1824. Meets Horace Vemet. Studies Contemporary French Art. Paints two Portraits. Returns to Bordeaux in September. His Household. Applies for an Extension of his " Leave." Work and Recreation in Bordeaux. His Restlessness. His Health in June, 1825. Financial Worries. A Letter to his Son. His " Adopted Daughter," Rosario Weiss. Her Artistic Gifts and Education. Her Career and Early Death 285



Goya experiments with Lithography in 1819. His first Lithographs. The Bull-fights of Bordeaux. Unsuccessful Attempts to sell the Litho- graphs in Paris. Correspondence with Ferrer. Goya on " Memory Drawing." His last Lithographs dated 1826 and 1827 299



Portrait-painting in Bordeaux. A Visit to Madrid. The Portrait of Goya by Vicente Lopez. Return to Bordeaux. The Portrait of Muguiro. His last Work. The Chocolate Shop in the Rue de la Petite-Taupe. His latest Drawings. Antonio Brugada. Physical Ailments. Letters to Madrid. A Visit from his Son. Goya's decreasing Strength. His Death, April 16, 1828. Burial at Bordeaux. Removal of the Body to Madrid in 1899. Goya's Son and Grandson 305



His Criticism of Academic Teaching. The three Masters. Goya and Constable. Delacroix and the Romantic Movement. Deterioration of French Art. The Spanish Reaction of 1859. Manet. Baudelaire. Henri Regnault. Bonnat. J. S. Sargent. Goya a Link between the Past and the Future. Eugenio Lucas and Vicente Lopez. The Modem Spanish School. Conclusion 318


Francisco Goya y Lucientes, Pintor Frontispiece

1796. After the etched frontispiece in " Los Caprichos." Plate I.

to face page Portrait of a Lady 8


The Bewitched 24

1798. Scene from a play, " El hechizado por fuerza," National Gallery, London.

The Swing 42

1787. In the collection of the Duque de Montellano, Madrid.

A Blind Man singing 56

After the etching in the British Museum.

A Carnival Scene 62

1793. The Burial of the Sardine. Prado, Madrid.

A Bull-Fight 72

Royal Academy of St. Ferdinand.

A Drawing 90

The figure possibly represents Goya himself. British Museum.

The Crockery-Seller 106

1778. " El Cacharrero." Tapestry Cartoon XIII. Prado, Madrid.

The Garotte 118

After the etching in the British Museum.

Francisco Bayeu y Subias 132

1786. Prado, Madrid.

Portrait of a Lady 152

Collection of Don R. Garcia.

The Vintage 164

1786. " La Vendimia." Tapestry Cartoon XXXIII. Prado, Madrid.

Doi5A Maria Ana Monino, Marquesa de Pontejos 168

About 1785. Collection of the Marquesa de Martorell y de Pontejos, Madrid.

La Romeria de San Isidro 170

1788. A popular feast on the outskirts of Madrid. Prado, Madrid.

Charles IV. 172

About 1790. Prado, Madrid.


to face fagb Maria Luisa, Queen of Spain 178

About 1790. Ptado, Madrid.

The Duchess of Alba 186

1795. Liria Palace, Madrid.

Goya and the Duchess of Alba 192

1793. Collection of the Marquis de la Romana, Madrid.

The Maja nude 196

1799. Prado, Madrid.

The Maja clothed 198

1799. Prado, Madrid.

" A Rough Night " 208

1796. Mala Noche. After the etching in " Los Caprichos." Plate 36.

" Poor little Things " 210

1796. Pobrecitas ! After the etching in " Los Caprichos." Plate 22.

" Nail-Trimming " 214

1796. Se repulen. After the etching in " Los Caprichos." Plate 51.

" Bon Voyage " 218

1796. Buen Viaje. After the etching in " Los Caprichos." Plate 64.

Dona Maria Francisca de Sales Portocarrero y Zuniga, Contesa del Monti JO, and her four daughters 234

Palacio de Liria, Madrid.

Charles IV. and his Family 236

1800. Prado, Madrid.

The Toreador Costillares 238

Collection of Sr. de Lazaro Galdeano.

The Poet Don Leandro Fernandez de Moratin 240

1799. Royal Academy of St. Ferdinand, Madrid.

La Tirana 242

1802. Royal Academy of St. Ferdinand, Madrid.

DoSa Isabel Corbo de Porcel 244

1806. National GaUery, London.

The Bookseller of the Calle de Carretas 246

About 1790. In a private collection, Madrid.

Dona Josefa Castilla Portugal de Garcini 248

1804. In the collection of Don Vicente Garcini.

An Allegory 252

1801. Collection of the Marquis de la Torrecilla.

A Combat between the Spanish and the Mamelukes of the French

Imperial Guard, Puerta del Sol, Madrid, May 2, 1808 262

About 1808-09. Prado, Madrid.

An Episode during the French Occupation of Madrid, May 3, 1808 264

About 1808-09. Prado, Madrid.



" Escaping through the Flames " 266

i8io. Escapan entre las llamas. From " Los Desastres de la Guerra." Plate 41.

" This is Worse " 268

1810. Esto es Peor. After the etching In " Los Desastres de la Guerra." Plate 37.

Arthur Wellesley, Duke of Wellington 270

1812. Drawing in red chalk. British Museum.

General Juan Martin, El Empecinado 272

Collection of the Marquis de Casa Torres, Madrid.

Portrait of the Artist 274

Collection of the Count de ViUagonzalo, Madrid.


About 1815. After the etching in " La Tauromaquia." Plate 20.

Mariano Ceballos in the Ring 280

About 1815. After the etching in " La Tauromaquia." Plate 23.

Satan devouring one of his Children 284

About 1810. One of the frescoes formerly on the walls of Goya's country house. Prado, Madrid.

Portrait of the Artist 288

1815. Prado, Madrid.

Head of a Dying Man : Fray Juan Fernanez 300

About 1812. Drawing in chalk on the back of the portrait of the Duke of Wellington. British Museum .

Francisco Goya 308

1827. Painted by Vicente Lopez y Portana. Prado, Madrid.

Arabs around a Camp Fire 320

Gouache drawing. British Museum.




goya's precursors

The Death of Velazquez. Primitive Spain. The " Lady of Elche." Seventeenth-century Spanish Art. Velazquez and Rembrandt. Velaz- quez and Goya in Advance of their Time. The Church and Spanish Art. A Contrast between Spanish and Italian Artists. Lack of Imagination in Spanish Art. The Carvings of ValladoHd. Spanish Portrait-painting. El Greco. Zurbaran. Velazquez. Goya's Borrowings from the Past. Decadence of Spain. Juan del Mazo. Carreiio. Claudio Coello. Gior- dano. Phihp V. and the French Invasion. The Fire at the Alcazar. Stagnation of Native Art.

VELAZQUEZ died August 6, 1660. The date may be accepted as roughly marking the close of the most brilliant period in the history of Spanish art. Like a colossus, Velazquez overshadowed his contemporaries, and the perfection of his genius extinguished the lesser men who sought to emulate his master-work. At his death a flame, which had touched the skies, flickered above a dying fire whose feeble rays made the gathering shadows even darker. The artistic impulse of the nation was exhausted. Generations were to elapse before Francisco Goya emerged from a crowd of mediocrities and revived the vigorous traditions of the past.

The painter who immortalised Philip IV. left no real



successor. During the forty remaining years of the seventeenth century, artists who had worked by his side, and pupils who had come under his direct personal influence, vanished one by one from the scene of their labours. The royal house which had so generously patronised them became extinct. The Bourbons imported new ideals, and encouraged men who were strangers to the land. The great days had ended, and the country neglected the claims of its art in grappling with the calls and necessities of a new dispensation. During those early years of the eighteenth century Europe was sleep- ing through a stupor, both spiritual and political. Then came the rebirth, more striking in its consequences than the revival of the old learning two centuries before. Fresh breezes swept across the Pyrenees into Spain, dissipating man}^ fogs of ignorance and superstition. But, " sow a wind, and reap a whirlwind," as the prophet Hosea said ages ago. The period closed in tempest and moral shipwreck, and Goya personifies in many respects Spain during a perilous transition.

Spain is two hundred years behind the rest of Europe, wrote Richard Ford. The fact was true long before he stated it, and is still apparent to the most casual visitor at the present day. Indeed, it forms one of the chief fascinations of the Peninsula to the modem mind, which is beginning to ask whether progress really is the law of life.* Many reasons, geographical and tempera-

  • Browning's Paracelsus :

" Progress is The law of life, man is not man as yet."

The idea is typically Victorian. Tennyson wrote in Locksley Hall that " the thoughts of men are widen'd with the process of the sirns," a statement open to considerable doubt. Shakespeare did not preach


mental, can be suggested for a characteristic, to be praised or blamed according to our own respective points of view. Spain is a land of pre-historic races whose individuality has not been wholly submerged by later barbarians. Along the slopes of the Pyrenees, as in the depths of the mountains of Auvergne, are descendants of the earliest inhabitants of Europe, a hardy people which appears to have lost little of its primaeval animal strength. The Basques are of neolithic origin ; the Visigoths a fascin- ating community revelling in imagination, romance, and adventure. The Moors brought as their contribu- tion to the common stock oriental indolence, a truly artistic appreciation of luxury, a sense of dignity and power, and that brooding spirit of the East which shrouds Spain from end to end. Men of whom history has lost proof, because they lived before history began, wandered across this land and left mysterious traces of their exist- ence. Outside the seigniorial houses of Avila strange beasts stand on guard, carved in the hardest granite. Their age no antiquary can guess at ; their species is not to be found in any modem natural history. Who was the sculptor of the fantastic toros scattered throughout Old Castile ? In the Louvre is that marvellous bust of the " Lady of Elche," unique relic of a lost Iberian art. Her smile is as tantalising and enigmatic as that of the lost Monna Lisa. Archaeologists say she was created five hundred years before the Christian era. It is easy to talk of Greek influences, or of impressions travelling across continents from farthest Ind ; they but partially

the " pushful " doctrine, either for men or nations, and in this forward, restless age we can fully sympathise with his " happiest youth," who, " viewing his progress through, what perils past, what crosses to ensue, would shut the book, and sit him down and die."


explain so supreme an effort of plastic beauty.* Yet in the veins of the peasants who sit in the shadow of the embattled walls of Avila, or labour in the fields of Valencia, flows the blood of those who carved the toros of Castile and were of kin to the woman of Elche.

The art of Spain is more truly individualistic than that of any other country in Europe. War and civil commotion, as well as a characteristic lethargy, hin- dered its development. Under the Emperor Charles V. the plant commenced to show signs of blossom, and then for a century burst into a flower of most extra- ordinary rarity. In the sixteenth century there were few native artists of any considerable importance. In the seventeenth century not only was Velazquez at work, but with him were Ribalta, Zurbaran, Cano, Murillo, Ribera — all men of outstanding genius. And it must be noted that they owed practically nothing to the foreign schools. The art of the seventeenth century was essen- tially Spanish. Aragon and the provinces of the eastern littoral were in touch with Italy. Jan van Eyck had passed through Castile on his way to Portugal. Political association with Flanders filled the Emperor's palaces

  • " In her enigmatic face, ideal and yet real, in her living eyes, on

her voluptuous lips, on her passive and severe forehead, are summed up all the nobility and austerity, the promises and the reticences, the charm and the mystery of woman. She is oriental by her luxurious jewels, and by a vague technical tradition which the sculptor has preserved in the modelling ; she is Greek, even Attic, by an inexpres- sible flower of genius which gives to her the same perfume as her sisters on the Acropolis ; she is above all Spanish, not only by the mitre and the great wheels that frame her deUcate head, but by the disturbing strangeness of her beauty. She is indeed more than Spanish ; she is Spain herself, Iberia arising still radiant with youth from the tomb in which she has been buried for more than twenty centuries." Quoted by Mr. Havelock Ellis in his Soul of Spain, from the Essai sur I' AH et I' Industrie de I'Espagne Primitive (1903), by Pierre Paris.


with those beautiful examples of Memlinc, Mabuse, Patinir, and Van der Weyden, which to-day overflow in the base- ment of the Prado. But the native painters were not greatly impressed by these exhibitions of foreign skill. Morales is said to have been influenced by Leonardo, but no one could ascribe his panels to a Florentine or Milanese source. Alonso Cano has been called an Italian in spirit, but his work is distinctively Spanish. There is a vitality in Spain which no disaster is able to crush. Logically, the seventeenth century, being a period of decadence, should only have produced bad art ; actually, with the exception of the Dutch school, the Spanish artists surpassed the whole world.

An atmosphere of detachment and repose is not un- healthy for characters of strength and originality. The search for experience often ends in an aimless pursuit of distraction. Great truths can more often be found in solitude. Perhaps this obvious thought explains the curious paradox that a nation always lagging in progress and endeavour has twice produced artists in advance of their age. The first was Velazquez, the second Goya.

Diego Velazquez was so modem a painter that his full influence did not make itself felt until two hundred years after his death, when he became the inspiration of the late nineteenth century. Comparing him with Rembrandt, whose career was practically coterminous, we find Velaz- quez a living force in the world of art, whilst Rembrandt has long been an extinct volcano. The technical in- fluence of Rembrandt ceased with the generation which followed his death. No man to-day tries to paint in the manner of Rembrandt, any more than he tries to paint


in the style of Turner.* But every young art-student of discernment and ability yearns for a ticket to Madrid. There is value in a comparison between Velazquez and Rembrandt, for Goya ardently admired and studied them both. Of the two men, Rembrandt was immeasur- ably greater, because his scope was so infinitely wide. He was interested in life itself, whereas Velazquez was only interested in some of the details of life. Velazquez was a craftsman of superb gifts — possibly the most consum- mate craftsman the world will ever see. But he was little more than a craftsman. He lacked the energy and perpetual striving which characterises the Amsterdam master. Rembrandt was an experimentalist ever seeking to extend his empire. He was a restless worker of tremendous output. Every medium of artistic endeavour came within his grasp — portraits, genre, landscape, drawings, etching. He never put aside the tools of his trade. His hand was as busy as his brain. Velazquez, on the contrary, apparently lacked this overpowering instinct to create. Although a rapid worker, like most Spanish artists, he did not leave behind an extraordinary number of canvases. His subjects were very limited. He seldom neglected his ordinary task to experiment. And he was able to drop his palette and engage in the prosaic routine of a methodical man of business. The mystery of his appointment as Aposentador Mayor cannot be adequately explained, but it affords a key to the tempera- ment of the artist. Rembrandt would never have under-

  • That Lenbach followed the methods of Rembrandt, whilst Ziem

and H, B. Brabazon worshipped Turner from very different points of view, may be advanced as a criticism of this remark. But these artists possessed a personality which prevented them from slavishly imitating their models.


taken such onerous duties. All he asked for were canvases, pigments, brushes, charcoal, copperplates, gravers. Life fascinated him, and his single aim was to translate the humanity he loved into art. Bankrupt, discredited, ruined, deserted, he painted and etched his own battered features, or made studies from such willing models as Hendrikje Stoffels and his son Titus. Velazquez appears never to have stepped outside the palace which con- tained his studio. When he mixed with the crowd it was not as an artist but as a court chamberlain over- whelmed with a multitude of official cares and respon- sibilities. He does not give us the slightest pictorial comment upon the picturesque life of Old Castile, its adventurers, its ecclesiastics, its gipsies and vagabonds, its country-folk. His work affords the slightest indication of his personality. vSerenely unconscious of the teeming world around him, he picked his way with eyes only for the King and his intimates. Despite his genius, we can but recognise that his outlook was narrow.

Technically, Francisco Goya cannot be classed with either Velazquez or Rembrandt. He lacked their super- lative skill. But in temperament he is more akin to Rembrandt than to his own countryman. He too was a born experimentalist, with that disdain for materials and methods which may sometimes be found in Rembrandt but never in Velazquez. He worked unceasingly, and his imagination was unusually active. Now Velazquez was stolidly unimaginative, and it is only his superb craftsmanship which saves Los Borrachos and the Forge of Vulcan from failure. In another respect the history of Goya follows that of Velazquez with curious exactness. His own practice anticipated a school of painting which


did not come into formal existence until fifty years after he had ceased to work. Madrid has always been remote from the world, and it needs a journey to the Prado to learn that Goya is the godparent of Manet. Bom in mediaevalism, educated amidst the classic revival, he was a Romantic before the leaders of that group were bom. For the second time Spain produced an artist destined to inspire the youth of other lands. The influence of Velazquez is possibly on the wane ; that of Goya has hardly commenced.*

The keynote of Spanish painting is truth. This factor is stamped upon the art of the Peninsula from the primitives of the fourteenth century to Zuloaga and Sorolla y Bastida. The traditions of the native school have always remained upon an exalted plane. The later artists of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries took their craft seriously, as indeed they were compelled, for their most valuable patron was the Church. " The chief end of the works of Christian art is to persuade men to piety, and to bring them to God," wrote Pacheco, the father-in-law of Velazquez. The remark was not a simple statement of personal opinion ; it was a dogma necessary for the salvation — body and soul — of his fellow-crafts- men. The solemn dignity of Spanish painting during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries can partly be accounted for by racial temperament, but the call of rehgion was an even stronger motive. Slowly the power

♦ Meaning the influence of Velazquez as a fashion. His position as a master can only increase. The curious cycles of Spanish influence upon European art may be repeated at no late date. Gradually we are succumbing to the fascinations of El Greco, who will probably father one of the schools of to-morrow. Unfortunately he can only be studied adequately at Toledo, which is rather out of the way.

rORTKAIT OK A LADY Louvre, Paris


of the Church weakened. Pacheco's own grand-daughter married an artist, Juan del Mazo, who alone amongst the painters of his age did not execute a single religious composition.* A century later appeared an artist who never ceased to ridicule the Church and all its works. Rather than incite his fellows to piety, and show them the path to God, he delighted in dancing an artistic can-can over all their most cherished convictions. Despite the assertions of Zapater, Francisco Goya was not a good child of the faith.

He lived in an hour of dawning freedom. Under the House of Austria there was no such liberty. The Church was omnipotent, and even defied and fought the Crown for the possession of unrestricted authority. Art and letters were controlled by an Inquisition whose unremit- ting censorship was strengthened by merciless punishment. The arts made a virtue of necessity, and became not only the servants but the slaves of their taskmaster. Since the expulsion of the Moors, secular buildings had practi- cally ceased to call for the skill of artists, and the decora- tion of churches was almost the sole employment of painters and carvers. Even the erection of the huge Escorial could have caused little perceptible activity. Externally, no sculptor was invited to break the severity of the barrack-like fa9ade. The era of flamboyant Gothic, when every inch was covered in flowing hne, had ended with the usual reaction to a simpler taste. Herrera's granite walls remain in much the same condition as when the masons stepped off their scaffold. The apartments of PhiHp n. are plain to bareness. Only in the vast church were the artists offered an opportunity, which,

  • My authority is Seiior de Beruete y Moret.


however, came too late to be of service to the native


Men who live gravely and under restraint can only

think seriously. There is not the slightest note of light-

heartedness in seventeenth-century Spanish painting,

not even a suggestion of that simple joy in life which

characterises so much Italian art. You will not find

amongst the innumerable lesser masters of Spain that

musical happiness in the

fitful sunshine-minutes, coming, going. As if earth turned from work in gamesome mood.

Wander amidst the interminable Crucifixions, Pietas, Torments, Martyrdoms, which convert most Spanish galleries into chambers of horror. Rarely will it be found that the artist turns from his death and butchery to note pictorially the

long blue solemn hours serenely flowing.

Marco Basaiti* painted a Virgin and Child, but was unable to resist calling the attention of the onlooker to the exqui- site world around him — a world even more wonderful and beautiful than the mother and her babe — the wide expanse of glorious sky, the sound of the plough as it turned up the sweet-smelling earth, the sun striking the white walls of the tiny town on the rising ground.

The hill-side's dew pearled ; The lark's on the wing ; The snail's on the thorn : God's in his heaven — ■ All's right with the world !

Bellini painted the murder of St. Peter Martyr in the

  • At least they call him Marco Basaiti to-day. I am referring to

the Madonna of the Meadoiv in the National Gallery (No. 599), which is often ascribed to Giovanni Bellini. Mr. Berenson says that Basaiti was a mediocrity. Would that art had no greater incompetents.


same spirit. Some pious ecclesiastic commissioned him to depict the saint " with twenty trenched gashes on his head." But all Bellini's enthusiasm is devoted to the copse in which the woodcutters are busy with their ringing axes. St. Peter Martyr may not be the greatest picture in the world, but it captures our heart because it was painted by a man who loved life and nature.

The Italians kept closely in touch with the open air ; the Spaniards worked in their studios. No Spanish master painted the northern mountains as Titian painted the blue hills of Cadore. The arid plains of the Peninsula did not invite landscape art. The only nature studies which can be definitely ascribed to Velazquez were painted in Rome.* With the exception of Murillo, and to a cer- tain extent Zurbaran, Goya was the first Spanish artist to be interested in the daily life of his own time. The art instincts of the race were totally divorced from the literary. The picaresque novel and the comedy of cap and sword were in no way reflected in Spanish painting, which remained cold, gloomy, and dignified, yet exces- sively realistic. When Cervantes endeavoured to des- troy the books of chivalry he helped to destroy idealism. With the Inquisition dominating the studios, imagination was a dangerous gift, and an insurmountable wall barred those truant excursions to the isles of fancy which were permitted by the more pagan rulers of Italy and France.

Spanish art was thus driven in, becoming introspective and morbid, terms which can never be applied to the sister Latin races. The plastic art can be quoted as an

  • The beautiful vistas in the gardens of the Villa Medici (Prado,

Nos. I2I0 and 1211). The fine views of Aranjuez I am inclined to agree are by del Mazo, as de Beruete suggests.


illustration. Had they been allowed a free exercise of their talents, Spanish sculptors might have raised their school to the level of the finest work of the Renaissance. Their carving in wood is more than remarkable, and a few scattered bronzes prove their power. In the Museum at Valladolid, a huge rambling warehouse, half palace, half monastery, gallery upon gallery is crammed with the accumulated loot of destroyed churches and dispersed convents. Battalions of carved figures (mostly life-size) posture in the various attitudes of the Passion. The realism is masterly, and overwhelming. Every attitude of human agony and suffering has been minutely dissected and reproduced. Like fiends the sculptors have gloated over the rebellion of soft, quivering, yielding flesh against cruel torment and unnatural strain. In striving to drive home the lesson of the Redemption they produce a bitter revolt of the spirit. Horror is crowded upon horror, until the eye grows dizzy and the brain swims. The visitor tries to escape from this nightmare. He rushes to the gates, overjoyed to escape into the courtyard, and almost astonished to find that the sun is still shining, that the pure air is fresh to breathe, that hfe was made for happiness and not for suffering.

On Tadda's fountain in the courtyard of the Palazzo Vecchio is a tiny child, of " golden-winged host," singing as he clasps the dolphin to his breast, not less heavenly because so frankly pagan. He has no brother in Spain, where every Holy Child has the shadow of the Cross above his brow.

The only secular commissions at the disposal of the artists were portraits, and here again imagination and grace were not desired. It has often been said that Goya


caricatured his sitters. On the contrary he painted them according to the Spanish manner, which is disconcerting but truthful. The portraits of the sixteenth and seven- teenth centuries are statements as matter-of-fact as a lawyer's bill. Antonio Moro (who influenced Spanish painting more than is generally credited) was a meticulous upholder of absolutely sincere detail. His rule was followed without flinching, and patrons never seem to have objected. There is no flattery in the portraits which hang on the walls of the palaces of Spain, In the Library of the Escorial we can see Philip II. not only as Pantoja de la Cruz painted him, but as he actually lived ; jaun- diced, bigoted, sensual, with heart as stony as the build- ing he raised, and mind as arid as the mountain slopes he selected for his home. In the National Gallery we have PhiUp IV. the man, certainly not Philip IV. the king. Our sense of amazement at Velazquez's art is increased by our wonder at his daring. In the Prado, Carreno's portrait of Charles II. is more than a decorative footnote to history, rather an historical document of the first importance. The House of Austria must plainly die ; this hydroce- phalous boy is doomed. A physiognomist could almost write the history of Spain from a portrait-gallery of its monarchs. The state portraits of Versailles, the master- pieces of Largilliere, Rigaud, Van Loo, are mere studies of clothes in comparison with the works of even the lesser Spanish masters. Surprise is often expressed at the harsh truth of Goya's official portraits, particularly of Charles IV. and the Queen Maria Luisa. He was simply following a fashion which had become a law. Spanish artists and their sitters lived in a palace of truth.

El Greco stands apart, both in his portraiture and his


large subject compositions. There is little doubt that he influenced Goya. He belonged to no circle, and, although he had a few pupils who endeavoured to imitate his fantasy, he founded no school. A Greek by family, Theotocopuli does not fail to remind us of the archaic Byzantines. At first his limited palette, his crudity, his angularity, excite repulsion. All his figures are muscularly distended, as if they had recently passed the ordeal of the rack. Gradually these very defects attract. There is a movement and passion in his pictures which can be found in very few purely Spanish works. These agitated patriarchs and apostles, with draperies caught by every wind of heaven, are almost demoniac. Nature herself assists, for each horizon in the background frowns with a gathering maelstrom of black thunderclouds. And yet, because El Greco could not resist bright colour, the inky skies are rifted with a patch of purest blue. Perhaps here we have the key to the artist's complex personality. Like so many of the Spanish artists, Goya included. El Greco was a man of passionate temper. Yet, if his paintings do not tend to convince us that " the blue of heaven is larger than the cloud " they certainly hold out hopes of heaven, which Goya's works never do.

Despite every sign of artistic eccentricity, El Greco frequently strikes a noble chord. There is a St. Peter in the sacristy of the Escorial which has the grandeur of an Apostle in the Sistine Chapel. Most Spanish palettes tend towards schemes of blacks and greys, and El Greco painted many of his portraits in a monochrome of nervous brush work which Goya did not forget. At other times his tonality is light, and he paints with loving care a white cope, trimmed with gold, and studded with


sparkling gems. His larger compositions have a spiritual exaltation, an overwhelming sense of the supernatural, which is entirely individual to this strange artist. Religious ecstasy is to be found in much Spanish art, from Morales to Murillo ; often it degenerates into a mystical sweetness, like a heavy perfume, and thus palls, because the call it makes is too direct an excitement of the senses. With less gifted masters it sinks still lower, becoming maudlin and unbalanced. Rarely is it purely an exaltation of the soul, rising " higher still and higher ... an unbodied joy."

El Greco was the Blake of Spain, a poet with that spiritual insight which is the rarest of gifts. If his technical powers had not been so curiously limited he would have ranked as a world-master. He remains one of the most original of artists, supremely captain of his soul, owning allegiance to no man. Goya was of materialistic temperament, but, during his visits to Toledo, he undoubtedly pondered over the lessons El Greco offered.

Zurbaran proves that naturalism was typical of the artists of his country, independently of the province from which they came. His Saint Lawrence (in the Hermitage) is the portrait of a comfortable parish priest, undisturbed by any premonition of the use to which the grid he is holding may be put. Our Lord after the Flagellation (Church of St. John the Baptist, Jadraque) is an excuse for the study of the nude. More typical is the large Adoration of the Shepherds, in the National Gallery, where the artist has selected his models from the peasantry amongst whom he was reared. There is no religious feeling, so-called. The Virgin's head is an


awkward copy of Morales. But the black-haired child, the tawny-skinned man, and the wrinkled beldame, who gaze at the smiling babe, can be found in any village in central Spain.* The Portrait of a Lady as Saint Margaret offers more than one problem, for it expresses a dawning sense of sex which is strangely absent from Spanish female portraiture until Goya painted the beauties of the Court of Charles IV. This is explained in part by the jealousy of husbands, and even Philip IV. issued an edict requiring ladies to veil their faces when in public. His reason was that his followers should be saved from the danger of their glances.

As we shall note, Goya studied the art of Velazquez very attentively, and to a certain extent founded his ideas of portraiture upon those of his great predecessor. The personality of Velazquez remains an enigma. We know as little about him as of Shakespeare. He repre- sents the uninspired man of genius. His deficiencies cannot be better studied than at the Prado, where he stands in the company of Titian, Tintoretto, Van Dyck, Rubens. Yet as a painter pure and simple he surpasses them all. His Christ in the House of Martha (in the National Gallery), one of the early bodegones, is the study of an untidy kitchen and an ill-featured scullery drudge. He does not rise to any of those charming domestic fancies which delighted the German painters.

Diirer had more invention in his little finger than Velaz- quez possessed in his whole body. Compare the prosaic

  • There is a repetition of this subject belonging to the Comtesse de

Paris, and now probably in the Chateau de Randan, near Aigueperse, Puy-de-dome. The Virgin and many of the details are the same, but angels appear in an open heaven. The National Gallery version is a better composition.


Topers, and its most ungodlike Bacchus, with Titian's golden Bacchanal only a few steps away. The complete lack of imaginative conviction in the Spanish picture is as typical of its school as Titian's exuberant revelry is representative of Venetian art at its apogee. Yet we can quite understand Wilkie spending hours in front of Los Borrachos, and at last rising from his seat with a sigh of despair. We can believe without question Rubens' legendary statement that Velazquez was the greatest painter in Europe. When he executed the por- trait of Philip IV. which established his favour at Court, Pacheco explicitly chronicled that " all was painted from Nature, even the landscape." Vicenzo Carducho, theTus- can, bitterly assailed Velazquez's naturalistic tendencies. In his essay upon painting (published in 1633) he refers to the genre studies which " injure Art without bringing any honour " to their authors. The reference is probably to Los Borrachos, which lacks the supreme touch of genius because it is so matter-of-fact. The Forge of Vulcan marked a development, although not a reversal of the old policy of minute and careful study of the model. Then came the visit to Italy. Velazquez allowed no theory to come between his unerring vision and nature. The slight climatic change was instantly noted, and he awoke to the beauty. of atmosphere.* The landscapes

  • To-day artists travel with ease from Ballinskellig to the Greek

Archipelago, and their genius changes with the thermometer. Turner was one of the earUest masters who methodically toured in search of a subject. His journeyings amphfied his talent, and we cannot imagine a Turner who had never crossed the Alps into Italy. Cosmopolitanism in art is not altogether an unmixed gain, but how fascinating would have been some of the results had Velazquez painted the mists of the Dutch canals, and Rembrandt caught the Madrid express to work on the scorched tablelands of Castile.



painted in the gardens of the Villa Medici have the soft charm of a Corot. A tiny sketch hanging on the walls of the Casa del Greco at Toledo (belonging to the Marquis de la Vega Inclan) is so exquisite in colour that I trust Senor de Beruete y Moret does not ascribe it to Juan del Mazo.

We cannot refrain from following the works of Velaz- quez with care, because they manifestly influenced the subject of this volume. Goya, like all great men, was very impressionable. In his youth, when at work on religious compositions, he borrowed freely from earlier Spanish masters. In his old age, when he decorated his country house with those fantastic imaginations which so annoyed Philip Gilbert Hamerton, he borrowed again from Rubens. At one stage in his career he painted in the manner of the Velazquez to whom we may attribute the magnificent Christ at the Column ; at another period he had transferred his allegiance to the later Velazquez — although he never captured the amazing tonality of Las Menihas or the shimmering beauty of Las Hilanderas.

The development of Velazquez's genius forms an engrossing study which can only be unravelled in these pages so far as it elucidates the genius of Goya. At his death Spanish art commenced to deteriorate. Velaz- quez's patron did not long survive his favourite artist. Phihp IV. died on September 17, 1665, leaving a child of four to inherit an entangled and bankrupt kingdom, whose government would have taxed the energies of the most keen-witted statesman. The seventeenth century had been glorious indeed for Spanish art, but fatal to Spanish pride. When Philip III. expelled the Moors in 161 o he sealed the ruin of his country. Under the rule


of Ferdinand and Isabella the population of Spain was estimated at some twelve millions. Under Charles III. it had fallen to less than six. Even the historian of art cannot afford to neglect such economic facts.* Had the fortunes of Spain been on the upward trend it is impossible not to believe that the great school of painting of the seventeenth century might have been succeeded by an even more virile group.

At the death of Velazquez three artists of importance were left working in Madrid. Mazo, Carreiio, and Coello, may be called the masters of the decadence, although there was slight decadence in their own work. In all

  • Francis Galton, in his Hereditary Genius, under the chapter-

heading, " Influences affecting the natural ability of nations," deals with this matter, which unquestionably affects any discussion of the tendencies of a national art. " The Church, having just captured all the gentle natures, and condemned them to celibacy, made another sweep of her huge nets, this time fishing in stirring waters, to catch those who were the most fearless, truth-seeking, and intelligent in their modes of thought, and therefore the most suitable parents of a high civilization, and put a strong check, if not a direct stop to their pro- geny. Those she reserved on these occasions to breed the generations of the future were the servile, the indifferent, and again the stupid. . . . The Spanish nation was drained of freethinkers at the rate of 1,000 persons annually for the three centuries between 1471 and 1781 ; an average of 100 persons having been executed and 900 imprisoned every 3'ear during that period. The actual data during those 300 years are 32,000 burnt, 17,000 persons burnt in efhgy (I presume they mostly died in prison or escaped from Spain) and 291,000 condemned to various terms of imprisonment and other penalties. It is impossible that any nation could stand a pohcy hke this without paying a heavy penalty in deterioration of its breed."

The steady emigration of the better-class yeomanry and peasantry from Great Britain is likely to have a marked result upon the art of the succeeding generations in our own country. Art, even more than literature, has found its brightest recruits in these sections of the community rather than in the higher ranks of society. Indeed the increasing mediocrity of English art may possibly be ascribed to the fact that most art-students of to-day belong to famihes of gentle birth and easy means.


histories of Spanish art it has become the fashion to exalt one master at the expense of nearly all his contemporaries. Had these three artists not lived in the shadow of Velaz- quez their rank would have been far higher, for they were no mere mediocrities.* Mazo died in 1667, Carrefio in 1685, and Coello in 1693. With the last, Spanish art died. The artistic instinct of the nation was extinguished and there were no native artists of sufficient strength to make headway against the introduction of strangers and the domination of a monarchy alien in thought and ideals. Juan Bautista Martinez del Mazof has only recently been restored to his rightful place in the history of Spanish painting by the valuable researches of Senor A. de Beruete y Moret. His position in respect to Velazquez was peculiarly intimate. He was the master's pupil, son-in- law, and assistant. " He aided his master," writes Seiior de Beruete, " or worked on his own account, using the same materials, living in the same atmosphere, copying the same models, and pressing on towards the same goal." J It is hardly a matter of surprise that Mazo's pictures should be confused with those of Velazquez. Palomino, who wrote only a few years after both were at work, said : " He was so skilled a copyist, especially with regard to the works of his master, that it is hardly possible to distin- guish the copies from the originals. I have seen some copies of his, after pictures by Tintoretto, Veronese,

  • We would admire Eugenio Caxes' large historical compositions

more highly if we could forget Velazquez's Surrender of Breda. Alonso Cano does not receive justice because, outside Spain, he is practically unknown.

I He was bom, either in Madrid or Cuenca, about 1612 ; married Doiia Francisca, the surviving daughter of Velazquez, in 1634, and died in Madrid, February 10, 1667.

X The School of Madrid, English edition, p. 56.


and Titian, which are now in the possession of his heirs ; if these copies were produced in Italy, where his talent is unknown, they would be taken, without any doubt, for originals." * The Spanish critic attributes to Mazo a number of works which have hitherto been ascribed to Velazquez, notably the Adrian Pulido Pareja, in the National Gallery, f the Prince Balthasar Carlos in the Prado, and the Philip IV. at Dulwich. Whether or no Goya ever differentiated between the respective work of Velazquez and his son-in-law cannot be said definitely, although studio gossip probably preserved some of the truth. In any case he studied the known works of Mazo, who must be cited as a distinct early influence. Goya was familiar with the masterly Doiia Mariana of Austria, I whilst the View of ZaragozaS by Velazquez and Mazo jointly, not only brought a flood of local reminiscence to his mind, but undoubtedly inspired his own delightful La Romeria de San Isidro.

Juan Carrefio de Miranda (1614-1685) is a more inter- esting painter because he did not merge his personality in that of a greater master. Of noble birth, he was par- ticularly successful with court portraits, and one anec- dote must have been often on Goya's lips. When he refused the Order of Santiago his friends told him that he should have accepted the decoration because of the honour it conferred upon painting. He replied :

  • See El Museo Pictorico y Escala Optica, Vol. III. El Parnaso

Espanol Pintorisco Laureado, Madrid, 1724.

t But the specific reasons Senor de Beniete advances for ascribing this work to Mazo apply with ahnost equal force to the full-length Philip IV. (No. 1129) on the opposite wall, which he accepts as a Velazquez.

+ Prado, No. 888.

§ Prado, No. 889.


" Painting has no need to receive honour from anyone ; she is capable of conferring it upon the whole world."

Carrefio's decorative works must have been carefully studied by Goya during his early residence in Madrid. The mythological compositions perished in the fire of 1734. But of the frescoes in the church of San Antonio de los Portugueses, Sefior de Beruete writes : " There is much that is very interesting in this ceiling. Of all the works in fresco which were executed by artists of the Spanish school, it is the most typical example, or perhaps it would be better to say that it is the work which best preserves the style of the school, uninfluenced by Italian art. The subject represented is Saint Anthony in ecstasy, adoring the Christ-child ; he is placed on a cloud, sur- rounded by angels. Carreno was obliged on this occasion to modify his realism ; nevertheless, the characteristics of the school, the striving to represent the truth, and the avoidance of foreign conventionalities, are very plainly shown in his treatment of the subject. We see it in the figures of the angels, in the saint, and in the Christ-child himself. With the angels we are already familiar ; we have seen the same figures with the same characteristics, in the openings of the heavens, and aloft amongst the clouds, in the many Assumptions, Conceptions, and other similar subjects which were produced at that time by the artists of the school of Madrid. . . . The artist shows in this painting that he could change his medium without changing his style. For this reason, the fresco is per- haps more interesting than any of those painted by Rizi and other painters of the day, whose only aim was to copy the Italian frescoes as closely as they could. The colour is moreover of great delicacy, and very harmonious."

Goya knew these frescoes well, and Carrefio's portraits


were equally familiar to him. They represented a dis- tinct change from the persistent imitation of Velazquez's manner, which prevailed towards the end of the seven- teenth century in Madrid. His colouring is richer and more briUiant than that of Velazquez. He came under the sway of Van Dyck, and the mellow, luscious glow of the Flemish artist pleased him better than Velazquez's harmonies of silvery grey. A few portraits by Carreiio in Madrid, and elsewhere, bid us proclaim him as indis- putably the greatest portrait-painter of the dying school. Only a man of talent, almost if not quite a genius, could have painted the child Charles II., the Queen-Mother Dona Mariana of Austria (in the Altes Pinakotek, Munich), and the magnificent Peter Ivanovitz Potemkin of the Prado. The latter directly inspired Goya both in treat- ment and colour. In Carreiio 's picture the bearded ambassador, who was also a priest — but more like one of the warrior-prelates of the middle ages than a man of peace — stands superbly upright on the canvas. His right hand holds a staff of office ; his left rests upon his girdle, significantly close to a dagger. His silk robe reaches his ankles, and his cloak is of richly patterned brocade. His conical cap is covered in fur. Carrefio's handling is of the boldest, and the fine depth and quality of his tone admirably support the mystery of this stranger from the cold north. How much Goya adapted of the method and the scheme can be immediately seen in his portrait of the General, Don Juan Martin, known as El Empecinado. During his youth Goya must have been in touch with the traditions of Carreno's studio, for Barto- lome Vicente, one of the master's many pupils, was a native of Zaragoza, and died in his native city.

Last of the trinity, Claudio Coello's influence is less


directly traceable. He decorated many of the churches and public buildings of Madrid, and these Goya must have known. In 1683 he was working in Zaragoza for the Archbishop upon the dome of the church of the Augus- tines, and the following year he painted his greatest work, the Sagrada Forma in the Sacristy of the Escorial, repre- senting Charles II. and his court assisting at a Celebration in the same chamber in which the picture hangs. The canvas is recessed over the altar, and when the visitor stands before it the effect is that of gazing into a mirror. The Sagrada Forma is the swan song of seventeenth- century Spanish art. Coello never rivalled its realistic perfection, and in some directions he inclines to the ex- aggerated baroque style which announced the decadence. Coello was the first martyr of the decadence.

Like all the princes of the House of Austria, Charles II. had marked artistic appreciations and tastes. The decoration of the vast palace, monastery, and church of the Escorial was still in spasmodic progress, and Charles did not neglect to continue the labours of his ancestors. Luca Giordano of Naples was commissioned to carry on the schemes of Cambiasi. In company with his pupils, Aniello Rossi and Matteo Pacelli, he proceeded to the conquest of Spain, and in a short while he not only de- livered some damaging blows against the native art but even killed its greatest living master.

Sefior de Beruete quotes an anecdote (from Palomino) which reveals Coello's apprehension when the royal invitation was sent to Italy.

" Giordano is coming to teach you how to make a great deal of money," remarked a friend, with the kindly atten- tion of which only friends are capable.

THE BKWITCHED Scene from a play, "E/ hecliizado por/uerza." National Gallery, London


" Yes," was the reply. " He will absolve us from our sins and faults, and take away our scruples."

Giordano was a painter of fatal ease. Paul Lefort says that he possessed " a deplorable facility, which brought him the admiration of the foolish,* and earned for him the surname of fa presto. Finally he reigned sovereign master of the school, which he perverted and dragged through the mud to its complete decadence."

The revulsion against Giordano has been so extreme that his merits are completely overlooked. For, despite la grande admiration des sots, and the danger of being included in the wilderness of fools, Giordano was an artist of great gifts. He was the Alexandre Dumas of painting. Facility is not invariably the sign of a lack of genius — on the contrary. Giordano had a passion, and a desire for applause. He said that the good painter is the one the public likes, and that the public is at- tracted more by colour than design. The first aphorism is a matter of opinion, the second indisputably true, for design only appeals to the educated taste, whereas most men and women have a natural instinct for colour. Giordano had passed through the usual Italian training. His master was Pietro da Cortona, and he copied the works of Raphael, Michael Angelo, and Julio Romano. He was certainly attracted by Veronese. When he com- menced an independent career his energy was terrific. His limpid brush skimmed over acres of canvas, and, even if we do not like his productions, we cannot fail to recognise his immense talent.

Giordano's favour at Court probably rankled in Coello's

  • " A la grande admiration des sots," writes the angry French

critic, in his Peiniure Espagnole, p. 254.


sensitive soul far more than the NeapoHtan's activity as an artist. Giordano had all those parlour tricks the dignified man cannot fight against. The stranger was famous for his conversational ability. He amused his patrons. The Queen of Spain once asked him about his wife. Whilst talking he painted upon the canvas at which he was working a portrait of the lady. Coello could not rival such extravagances. With one mighty effort he painted the Martyrdom of St. Stephen, which brought him the enthusiastic praise of the King and Giordano. Then he laid down the brush, died April 20, 1693, only a year after the arrival of Giordano, and was buried in Madrid.

" Carreno and Claudio Coello carried to the sepulchre the glorious traditions of Spanish painting, and it may be said that the fine painting of the Santa Forma was the testament of the national school," writes a Spanish critic* Coello seems to have left little money, for his widow received assistance from the royal treasury. But Luca Giordano returned to Naples, in the words of a biographer, " gorged with wealth."

The death of Coello marks the close of one of the most extraordinary periods of painting in the history of art. There were still many artists at work in Madrid, such as Teodoro Ardemans, Isidoro Arredondo, Antonio Palo- mino, and others. But after the glories of the seventeenth century their work is pitiable in its incompetence and weakness. With the death of Charles II. on November I, 1700, the House of Austria became extinct, and the succession passed to the Bourbons. Philip V. was a Frenchman by birth and temperament. He encouraged

  • Menendez y Pelayo : Esfeticas V. III. pt. 2.


the arts, but not the arts of Spain. His country retreat

was " a Httle Versailles." He admired the imitators of

Le Brun and imported his pupil, Rene Antoine Hovasse,

Jean Ranc, who had studied under Rigaud, and, towards

the end of his reign, Louis Michel Vanloo. " I like Michel

Vanloo," wrote Diderot, in one of his Salons. " But I like

truth better." For Michel could' vanlote as well as his uncle.

In the old days, Spanish painters only went to Italy

as accomplished masters of their craft. Now Philip V.

sent them to Rome as pupils and royal pensioners, where

they concocted feeble imitations of Maratti, Sacchi, and

the Naturalisti, following the precept of the Spanish proverb,

Cuaiido a Romo fuercs Haz como vieres.

    • When thou art at Rome do as thou shalt see." French

and Italian painters and sculptors invaded Spain. Van- vitelli, Conca, Olivieri, Procaccini, Solimena, Ventura, Lighi, Vaccaro, Mattei, Amigoni, Corrado, Fremin are names which mean nothing to-day. The only Spanish artist the King employed was Antonio Viladomat (1678- 1755), who did not entirely forget the traditions of the past. Philip V. was not altogether a philistine. He was an amateur of the arts, sketched with ease, bought the marbles collected by Queen Christina of Sweden, founded the institution which afterwards became the Royal Academy of San Fernando, and built royal palaces. " The loveliest spot within the bounds of Castile is de- graded by a mansion in the vile taste of France in the days of the Regency. How striking is the contrast pre- sented by the gaudy pavilions of the French King, and the solemn Escorial of Philip II." *

  • Stirling-Maxwell : Annals of the Artists of Spain, p, 1159.


On Christmas Day, 1734, the Alcazar of Madrid, the palace which contained the art accumulations of a dynasty, burst into flame. Happily much was saved, but treasures perished whose loss we can still weep over. The salvage was roughly stored in an old building belonging to the Archbishop of Toledo in the Street of the Holy Sacra- ment.* Apparently little interest was displayed in their safe custody until Juan Garcia de Miranda was chosen to examine them and repair the damage.

The stagnation was complete. No native artist ap- peared with the slightest claim to more than average ability. Not until Francisco Goya arose from the pro- vincial school of Aragon, a school relatively so unimpor- tant that some art-historians refuse to acknowledge its existence, did these dry bones move with life again.

  • F. Rousseau : Regne de Charles III.



The School of Aragon. Richard Ford on the Different Schools of Spanish Painting. The Character of the Aragonese. Arrival in Zaragoza. Typical Independence and Love of Freedom of the Aragonese. A Com- posite Race. Moslem Influences. El Pilar. La Seo. The Audiencia and its Guardians.

PAUL LEFORT, in the preface to his valuable hand- book upon Spanish painting,* protests energetic- ally against the sub-division of Spanish art into a series of local schools, composed of artists born or settled in the same common centre. Such a classifica- tion he considered arbitrary and misleading. In an aesthetic sense, the word " school " should imply the more or less prolonged existence of a group of artists possessing, if not a unity of manner, at least a community of tradi- tions, tendencies, sentiments, and even a certain frater- nity of executive methods. These conditions, he con- sidered, could not be applied with success to any of the local centres of Spain. At first the Spaniards imitated the Italian primitives and the early Flemish painters. Then, as the yeast of the Renaissance slowly penetrated Spain, its sons hastened to study the crafts in Rome, Florence, and Venice. Foreign artists settled in all the larger cities, and neither Seville, Valence, Toledo, Madrid,

  • La Peinture Espagnole, Paris, 1893, p. 5.


nor the provinces of Aragon and Catalonia, escaped a slight impression of exterior influences.

But the French critic does not sufficiently allow for an influence even stronger than that of the foreigner. Vol- taire said that three factors governed man's intelHgence — climate, government, and religion. He might have added that these very largely account for racial tempera- ment, which dominates art and artists to a supreme degree. To call Goya " the Spanish Hogarth " is as absurd a mis- nomer as to term Maeterlinck " the Belgian Shakespeare." There are almost greater racial differences between the various provinces of Spain than can be found between the citizens of Madrid and London. Environment is apt to play strange tricks with that very delicate plant we call art.

The individual characteristics of the three chief schools of Spanish painting, the schools of Seville, Val- encia, and Castile, are too strongly marked to be sub- merged in one common designation. Over half a century ago, a writer in the Quarterly Review pointed out that : " strictly speaking there were four schools ; the indepen- dent kingdom of Aragon possesses another of its own, in which a marked oriental type gave evidence of early communication between commercial Catalonia and the East ; but neither Head nor Stirling visited these pro- vinces, and though Ford did, he says little of their art — without doubt from its never having produced a master capable of setting on it an original and distinctive stamp." The qualifying reference to Ford's knowledge is somewhat extraordinary, for he himself was the author of the article in the Review*

  • Quarterly Review, June, 1848. See also the Letters of Richard

Ford (1935).


Despite his immense treasures of knowledge concerning the arts of Spain, Richard Ford closed his chapter of appreciation at the end of the seventeenth century, and basked in the glorious sun of the day before yesterday as contentedly as any Spaniard. His one short reference to Goya is somewhat contemptuous, although he could not but admit the artist's talent, and he was clearly of opinion that Aragon had failed to produce a master- genius. Yet Aragon contains works of art as interesting as any in Spain, and from that province came one of the most original and distinctive artists, not simply in Spain, but in all Europe. Francisco Goya was a son of Aragon, and a very typical Aragonese. Unfortunately he be- longed almost to Ford's own century, and the traveller — like so many other connoisseurs of taste — could enjoy the works of every age but his own.

Ford, however, drew attention to that marked indi- viduality of Aragonese art which seems to have escaped the notice of Lefort. Aragon possessed a school of paint- ing and the allied arts for nearly four hundred years. It was distinguished by an inherent originality, and no consideration of Goya and his place in the Spanish school can neglect the province which gave him birth, or the city in which he passed his youth. No visitor can walk through the streets of Zaragoza, the capital of Aragon, without recognising that if he is not in the most pictur- esque city of Spain, he has certainly discovered a com- munity of extreme individuality and attraction.

Railways have killed much of the romance of traveling. The dusty winding road, which suddenly revealed a vista of the promised Mecca, has given way to steel rails and the train de luxe. How many tourists to Italy gain


their first view of the Eternal City and the Seven Hills from that spot on the posting road which enraptured Byron and Shelley ? To-day we prefer to awake in our sleeping berth at the northern station, and if we want to see the famous view a glance through Turner's sketches of the Campagna will content us.

Zaragoza is not a city easily to be invested, as Napoleon's troops found to their cost. More than a century has elapsed since Lannes and Palafox battled round the walls of this isolated town, and to-day the means of entry, though easier, demand much endurance as well as a resolute heart. The visitor from Madrid or Barcelona will probably arrive in the early morning. It is a peculiarity of Spanish railway time-tables that they invariably conspire to drop the traveller at his destina- tion at some hour after midnight and before dawn, an arrangement far less reasonable than that enjoyed by France, where the entire service comes to a standstill at noon for the benefit of the buffet. But at Zaragoza the intrepid tourist will step on to the platform tired, sleepy, and dejected. Without protest he will allow his body and his baggage to be fought over by a dozen touts, and, governed by an attitude of resistance more passive than active, will at last find himself in a vehicle which apparently dates from the Wars of Independence.* By degrees the tiny box will fill until he has reason to congratulate himself upon his foresight in sitting by the door. The company in the hotel omnibus is always the same, a couple of nuns, too exhausted even to tell their

  • Not necessarily an exaggeration. When Charles IV. and his

Queen went to Napoleon at Bayonne in 1809 they travelled in the same state-coaches which had conveyed Philip V. to Spain in 1700. Bausset in his Memoirs refers to the astonishment of the French.


beads, a priest, a commercial traveller, an old lady, who, like old ladies all the world over, is encumbered by a multitude of parcels, and probably a small girl. At the last moment the complement is made up by a couple of nondescripts, who may belong to any rank of society, from higglers to Grandees of Spain.

The keen morning air cuts the face, and, after the warm heavy atmosphere of the railway carriage, the eyes smart unpleasantly. The coachman gives a wild cry, the mules shake their jingling harness, and the diligence uneasily sways across the cobbles towards the town.

The sun is lazily rising in a leaden sky. Nature herself seems sluggish, and unwilling to turn from a warm bed. For some distance the road skirts a sandy parade. In the centre three unhappy cavalry recruits are exercising under the eye of a sergeant. Round and round gallop the horsemen, in endless circle, like figures ona child's revolving toy. From time to time they advance in line, or drop into Indian file, but always reverting to the eternal circle. Dust flies in every direction. The dili- gence flings itself at a weather-beaten, dilapidated, and extremely narrow town-gate, and becomes involved in a maze of gloomy alleys. Glimpses of spires, domes, and towers cut the brightening horizon. A chambermaid, whose outlook upon life has been permanently soured by having to rise before she has had her first sleep, interns the traveller in a cell which has the discomforts of a prison without its conveniences. For the boxes of the com- mercial travellers are being heavily dragged along pas- sages as interminable as the nightmares of Piranesi. The traveller dreams that he is a luckless cavalry recruit, strapped upon a phantom horse whose hard bones search



out the tenderest parts of his anatomy. And amidst the penetrating dust he rides round and round and round, until at length he awakes from an unrefreshing and dis- turbed slumber.

Such is the first impression of Zaragoza, or of any other town in Northern Spain. But when the sun is declining and the streets are crowded, the city bears another aspect. The citizens are a first study. " To the gravity of the inhabitants of Catalonia is added the wide-awake air of the inhabitants of the Castiles, enlivened still more by an expression of pride which is peculiar to the Aragonese blood," wrote the Italian novelist Emondo de Amicis. And this hot, proud blood is the keynote of Goya's art.

" Aragon, a disagreeable province, is inhabited by a disagreeable people," wrote Richard Ford. The inhabi- tants have certain marked racial characteristics. They are obstinate and self-willed. " Donnez un clou a TAragonais, il I'enfoncera avec sa tete plutot qu'avec un marteau," said a Frenchman long ago. As a people they have no fear, and will suffer no contradiction. They have an inborn love of freedom. The General Privilege granted by Pedro III. in 1283 to the Cortes of Zaragoza declared that absolute power never was nor shall be the constitution of Aragon.* But in many respects the

  • The political institutions of Aragon in the fourteenth century were

the most liberal that existed in any country of mediaeval Europe. The King, escorted by twelve peers of the realm, knelt down before the Chief Justice as he swore to maintain the laws which were made by the representatives of burghers and nobles, assembled in annual or special Councils, which consisted of the Great Lords, the Lesser Knights, the Clergy and the Commons. The veto of a single member sufficed to defeat or postpone any measure introduced and supported by the most powerful majority in the Chamber. See A History of Spain, by Uhck Ralph Burke, Vol. L, p. 235.


Aragonese differed from their Catalonian neighbours, who incHned towards repubHcanism. The Aragonese boasted that they were a free and law-abiding people ruled by a free and law-abiding king. Each law had to receive the assent of the four classes of the community, the clergy, the aristocracy, the rich who were not noble, and the people. The monarch was forbidden to inter- fere in questions of finance and personal liberty. Law and equity were represented by an official called Justicia,. who stood between the king and the people. The early kings were little more than hereditary presidents. Such an ideal state could not have long existed in a period of centralised government. Aragon was an independent state until Ferdinand, its heir apparent, married Isabella, in 1479, and his kingdom became eventually swallowed up in the vast empire of his grandson, Charles V. Liberty was lost when, at the close of the sixteenth century, Philip IL hanged the Justicia in front of his own court. The Aragonese, however, never forgot their old tradi- tions, and, if they lost political freedom, preserved a private freedom of religious thought which was very remarkable. In the fifteenth century there was a popular rising in Zaragoza against the Inquisition, and the Chief Inquisitor, Pedro de Arbues, was murdered before the altar of El Seo. The whole province asserted its right of the liberty of personal thought. At Villanueva, in Aragon, was born Michael Servet, the doctor, philo- sopher, and free-thinker, " precursor of Spinoza and Strauss," who was burnt for heresy at Geneva in 1553, Two centuries and a half later another famous Aragonese, J. A. Llorente, wrote a history of the Inquisition, which book is still a battlefield. Goya and Llorente were


acquainted, and the artist contested the power of the Holy Office as hotly in his drawings as Llorente did in print.

The race is of composite stock. There must still be a trace of the blood of the forgotten Iberians in their veins. Then came the Berbers, followed by the early Goths. The very name of Zaragoza is in itself a history of the people who inhabit the town. The Celtic-Iberian Salduba gave way to Csesarea Augusta under the Roman dominion. This was modified by the Arabs into Sara- kostah, becoming, in modern language, Zaragoza. The climate is hard, and has made the inhabitants spartan. Although the valleys of the Ebro are fertile, the province is swept by the cold winds which blow down from the Pyrenees. The Aragonese believe in themselves and hate the stranger. In the Fueros it was stipulated that the aid of foreigners might be accepted, but they were never to be rewarded by a share in the conquests. There is a rugged harshness, a self-sufficiency, a turbulent passion, a desire for liberty, in the typical Aragonese which explains many of the characteristics of Francisco Goya.

" Some people will have it that Zaragoza is a trading city. I saw no appearance of any such thing. The inhabitants were all lounging about with arms folded ; the warehouses were empty ; and not a single skiff could be seen on the Ebro.'* Thus wrote the Marquis de Langle in 1786,* and the description applies with

  • Precise biographers suggest that the Marquis de Langle never

troubled to visit Spain before writing his account of that country. In some respects, however, his descriptions are so true to fact that he must have based his adventures upon actual experiences. A Senti- mental Journey through Spain (English edition, 1786).


equal truth at the present time. Doubtless municipal statistics prove increasing prosperity. Zaragoza has a comfortable air. But for a greater part of the day the only movement in the broad street crossing the city is created by the little bustling noisy tram, without which no self-respecting continental town can exist unashamed. As the stranger wanders haphazard along its winding alleys, he cannot fail to remember that Zaragoza has been the scene of continual warfare, from the days when Childebert and the Merovingians besieged its already his- toric walls, to the fierce assaults of the Moors in the eighth century, the recapture by the Christians in 11 18, innumer- able fights during the middle ages, the campaign of the Duke of Orleans in 1707, and the sanguinary combats when Napoleon's army invested the city in 1808 and 1809. That intrepid woman Madame Dieulafoy has recently told us that Zaragoza instantly reminded her of a Persian town. The ordinary tourist has not usually penetrated so far east, but when he gazes upon the fantastic roof -line, broken by innumerable towers, domes, and spires, his fancy cannot fail to travel to the orient. Zaragoza was too long under the rule of the Moors ever to throw off their influence. And when the Moors were defeated and the city became nominally Christian the atmosphere did not change. Moslem, Jew, and Christian lived side by side in peace and amity, and artists and craftsmen of Moorish descent stamped the architecture of Zaragoza with an exotic individuality time itself cannot wholly eradicate. The belfry of the Magdalena, built in the fifteenth century, the belfries of San Paolo and San Miguel de los Navarros, in the Jewish quarter, are almost purely Moorish in design and decoration. The Leaning


Tower (destroyed in 1887) was one of the wonders of Spain. There still exists a facade of the parish church forming part of the old cathedral of La Seo which " might be a wall in an old mosque of Ispahan." * Gothic builders have chipped and defaced it, opening ogive windows, and otherwise defacing the deHcate tracery and the lustre of the exquisite faience. Here, as in many other cities of Spain, art and history go hand in hand. Even in comparatively modern days the Cross seems to have been unable to resist the Crescent. Late in the seventeenth century the Zaragozans decided to commemo- rate the miracle of Our Lady of the Pillar by the erection of a great cathedral on the banks of the Ebro. The architecture was to rival that of St. Peter's at Rome. El Pilar was to be not only the largest church in Aragon but in all Spain. Unfortunately El Pilar was conceived at a moment of decadence fatal to good composition. Francisco Herrera el Mozo, and his successor, Ventura Rodriguez, hardly did justice to themselves. The church is grandiose, but wearily so ; lacking in expression and grace, coldly pedantic, unpleasantly rococo. Zaragoza is supremely proud of El Pilar, proud of the tawdry votive banners which cover its discoloured walls, offer- ings from every city of Spain and Latin America. In a dark crypt stands the sacred image which has conse- crated this most holy of spots. But the interior, with its classical pretension, is frankly disappointing. Far other- wise is the curious and bizarre building when viewed from the massive bridge which spans the Ebro.f Its cupolas

  • J. Dieulafoy : Aragon et Valence, 1901.

f The Puente de Piedra, of unknown age, and suggesting in rough strength the hands of the Roman bridge-builders. Somewhere hidden in the Ebro is Don Quixote's Island of Barataria, over which Sancho


and pinnacles cast a thousand reflections in the rippling water, and throw the strangest shadows. The sun plays across a broken roof, tiled in outlandish patterns of green, blue, yellow, and white. The scheme is Slavonic, and suggests the Kremlin of Moscow on a smaller scale, until we reahse that only the Crescent can crown these minarets. As the sun drops from high heaven a mirage passes over the scene. No longer does the angelus bell fitfully toll from these belfries. From each tower a Moslem priest bows to the East, and with an appealing cry of " Allah ! Allah ! " bids every true believer sink upon his praying mat in silent adoration. And in this dream we find the true Zaragoza.

The twin-cathedral, on the other side of the Arch- bishop's palace, belongs to another age — or it might be said, to another country. La Seo is one of those magni- ficent Gothic churches which are the chief glory of north- eastern Spain. It ranks in style with Barcelona and Gerona. Here the exterior is unimpressive, and the baroque belfry, with flying apostles supporting a clock, can hardly escape ridicule. But pushing aside the leather curtain across the portal we enter another world, as still, dark, and cold as the sepulchre. A few lost rays of sunshine penetrate the glass ; the slender pillars of the nave and aisles rise higher and higher until they become lost in the impenetrable gloom of the roof. Every chapel recalls the dead, every stone is a tomb. An old sacristan of parchment face, in black gown and white ruff — a portrait by El Greco come to life again —

Panza was appointed perpetual governor. It has been identified as Alcala del Ebro, a village near Pedrola, on a peninsula formed by a bend of the Ebro.


wanders like a lost soul from altar to altar, as if striving to discover his forgotten resting-place. A tiny child enters, and drops on his knee. But the icy chill pene- trates his soul, he is overwhelmed by black oppression, the church is crowded by a million dreadful spirits. In fear, he flies to the door. La Seo is not a church for children, but a church for the dead, for those who have lost hope, and chng in despairing anguish to a faith which bids them live — and suffer.

There are many other great buildings in Zaragoza. The Lonja, or Merchants' Hall, Goya painted in the back- ground of a tapestry cartoon. A huge brick pile, Hke an Italian palazzo, it stands crumbling and deserted at the entrance to the city. The home of the famous Luna family, which gave a Pope to the Church,* fronts the Cosso. Life has not deserted it, for the building is used as the Audiencia. On each side of the entrance gate stand semi-nude figures of colossal ogres, in menacing posture, with uplifted clubs. Their attitude is typical of the old Aragon spirit, fiercely independent, and ever ready to fell its enemies to the ground. The boy Goya must often have gazed at these forbidding statues, and pondered over their significance. Character is largely based upon the early impressions of youth, and the moral of the stone giants who guard the Audiencia may perhaps be found in the story of the artist's life. But in any case, a visit to Zaragoza and a study of its conflicting influences, Moslem, Christian, political, religious, Gothic, rococo, reveal many of the hidden sources of the art of Goya.

♦ Or rather an anti-pope, Benedict XIII., who reigned at Avignon. Another member of the same family turns up in Verdi's opera 11 Trovatore, the action of which passes in Zaragoza.


goya's birth and early life in zaragoza, 1746-1765

The Village of Fuendetodos. Goya's Father and Mother. Goya's first Drawing. Don Felix Salzedo. The Pignatelli Family. Jose Luzan and his School. His Manner of Teaching. Goya's Youthful Friends. His Pleasures. Rehgious Animosities in Zaragoza. Street Battles. The Inquisition decides to arrest Goya. His Flight to Madrid.

THE tiny village of Fuendetodos boasts a popula- tion of some few hundred souls. Situated upon the banks of a sluggish stream called Huerba, the straggling hamlet nestles at the foot of mountains black with pine trees rising from tangled undergrowths of heath. The ruins of a Moorish strong- hold dominate the landscape, and across the fields of a vast plain the passing breeze fitfully carries the sound of bells in Zaragoza.

Fuendetodos is about six leagues from the capital of Aragon. Here, in a humble farmhouse now converted into an inn,* Francisco Jose Goya y Lucientes was born on March 30, 1746. f Of his father's occupation there are conflicting reports. Francisco Zapater, in his Noticias hiogrdficas,X describes Jose Goya as a lahrador,

  • Francisco Zapater : Noticias hiogrdficas (1868), p. 6. No. 18, Calle

de la Alf6ndiga, in the lower part of the village. The house formerly belonged to the Goya family, but, when Zapater wrote in 1868, it had passed into the hands of the Count de Fuentes.

f Sometimes wrongly given as March 31, 1756.

J Noticias biogrdficas, p. 7.


a term which generally means a tiller of the soil, and includes farmers employing labourers as well as those who dig their own land or work for others.* Sancho Panza, according to Cervantes, was a lahrador, and typical of his class. Other biographers have followed Zapater's lead, and Jos6 Goya is usually said to have been a small farmer, who, shortly after his son's birth, settled in Zara- goza as a gilder. But the Count de la Viiiaza, in his recent additions to Cean Bermudez's dictionary,! corrects his previous statement that the parents of the artist were agriculturists who possessed " scarcely more than the fruits of their labour." % Jose Goya, he asserts on the authority of Don Mario de la Sala, left his family in Fuendetodos early in life, and, settling in Zaragoza, became a tradesman before the birth of his son, and not after. His choice of a trade suggests a slight inclination towards the arts. His progress could not have been unsuccessful, for, in 1749, he was able to buy his own house.

On the paternal side Francisco Goya undoubtedly came from peasant stock. His mother, Gracia Lucientes, was of gentler birth.§ She too belonged to the neighbour- hood of Fuendetodos, which was probably the reason why the child first breathed the pure air of the country rather than the foul miasma of a crowded alley in Zara- goza. The Lucientes family held a certain position in the neighbourhood. Francisco Zapater classes them with

  • See J. Fitzmaurice Kelly's edition of Don Quixote, Vol. I., p. 35.

t Conde de la Vinaza : Adiciones al Diccionario hisforico de los mas illustres profesores de las bellas artes en Espana de Don Juan Angustin Cean Bermudez {1894), article " Goya."

X Vinaza : Goya (1887), p. 15.

§ Noticias biogrdficas, p. 7.


Photo. Calvert

THE SWING In the collection 0/ the Ditque dc Montellano, Madrid


other clans, the Salvadores, the Grasas, the Aznarez, and relates that their arms were yet to be seen crumbling above the doorways of ancestral dwellings.* They were of hidalgo rank, and when Francisco Goya was created a royal painter, and placed upon the establishment of the Court of Spain, he did not forget this fact in the prepara- tion of his genealogical tree.

The day after his birth the child was baptised in the parish church of Fuendetodos. He received his Christian name from his godmother Francisca Grasa, whose family name appears in the list cited by Zapater. The entry of the baptism still exists, f and was prepared with such careful detail as to suggest that the head of the Goya y Lucientes household was something more than a penniless tradesman or simple farm-hand. After the baptism comes a long gap in the story of Francisco's youth which can only be filled by surmise. According to Vifiaza Jos6 Goya was living at Zaragoza in the Calle de la Moreria Cerrada from 1746 to 1760. He and his wife sold their house in the latter year, and removed to the Calle de Rufas.J Zapater says that the boy Francisco did not leave his birthplace until 1760. § Probability asks us to

• Noticias hiogrdficas, p. 9.

t " En trienta y uno de Marzo de mil settecientos cuarenta y seis, Bautice yo el infrascripto Vic° un Nino que nacio el dia antecedente inniediato, hijo legitime de Jph Goya y de Gracia Lucientes Legitim** casados habitantes en esta Parroquia y vecinos de Zaragoza : se le puso por nombre Francisco Joseph Goya : fue su Madrina francisca Grasa desta Parroquia, 4 la qual adverti el Parentesco espiritual que abia contraido con el Bautizado y la obligacion de ensenarle la doctrina Christiana en defecto de sus Padres, y por la verdad hago y firmo la Presente en fuendetodos dho dia mes y aiio ut supra etc. Licenciado Jph Ximeno, Vic°."

X Vinaza : Adiciones al Diccionario histcrico.

§ Zapater : Noticias hiogrdficas, p. 7.


believe that he was reared in Zaragoza, for there were brothers and sisters in this domestic circle. Fuendetodos is not far from Zaragoza, and maybe the young family lived in the country, whilst the father worked in the town.

Vasari's charming anecdote of Cimabue discovering the youthful Giotto sketching the flock he was supposed to be tending has been demolished by the modern his- torian. Possibly a like fate awaits the legends which sur- round the early years of Goya. Contradictory in detail, they agree in one chief fact — that a passing stranger recog- nised the child's dormant talent and promptly rescued him from impending servitude as a journeyman gilder or a daily husbandman. One story relates that a monk, walking through Fuendetodos, found the boy roughly outlining on a white-washed wall the features of the village bhnd man. Mat heron gives practically the same tale.* Jose Goya sent his son to the mill with a sack of flour. A priest on the road to Zaragoza watched him drawing a pig on a barn wall.

    • Who is your teacher ? " he asked.

" I haven't one, your reverence," replied the child.

  • ' I have always been trying to do it."

" If you like to come with me to Zaragoza, I will find you a master, and you will become a great artist."

"Go to Zaragoza ! Of course, if my father will give his consent."

This picturesque conversation need not be vouched for,

but there is general agreement that a priest did rescue

Goya from the slavery of uncongenial toil. Don Felix

Salzedo, prior of the Chartreuse of Aula Dei, not far

  • Laurent Matheron : Goya (1858), chap. II.


from the gates of Zaragoza, was Goya's earliest admirer, and lived long enough to see the success of his protege. With the approbation of Jose and Gracia he brought the case to the notice of the Count of Fuentes, who was seigneur of Fuendetodos and the most influential noble- man of the district. The Count de la Vifiaza writes that there was no necessity for protection and financial help from the Count of Fuentes, as Goya's parents were in a position to support their son.* But this need not neces- sarily rule out the protection of the Pignatelli family. Of Neapolitan extraction, its power in Aragon was almost kingly, and its members accepted their feudal responsi- bilities in a proud spirit. Not the least of their activities was a whole-hearted support of the fine arts. In the eighteenth century a man of wealth encouraged artists ; to-day he patronises art-dealers, and the result is not altogether satisfactory. The art-loving Pignatellis fol- lowed the wiser path.f

Don Salzedo carried his point and placed Francisco under the care of one of the most celebrated masters of Zaragoza. WTiether or no the boy was added to the already innumerable pensioners of the Pignatelli household it is now impossible to say. We do not even know the exact

  • Vifiaza : Adiciones al Diccionario historico.

f In The S-panish Journal of Elizabeth, Lady Holland, edited by the Earl of Ilchester, is a reference to this family which shows that half a century later it had lost Uttle position. Under the date November 12, 1802, Lady Holland chronicles a visit to the theatre with the wife of the Danish minister. " Afterwards we went to Conde de Fuentes . . . one of the most powerful men in Spain in point of wealth and influence ... his possessions are in many provinces, also countries, Naples, Flanders, France, Germany. He is the son of Count Egmont, and grandson of the Mardchal de Richelieu. His family name is Pignatelli. His revenue hundred thousand pounds a year ; his expendi- ture double." Goya's Count was possibly an uncle to this young man.


date of his entry as a formally adopted student into the world of art. Francisco Zapater, writing in the capital of Aragon almost a century after the event, asserts that the boy went to Zaragoza in 1760.* Charles Yriarte, upon the authority of Valentin Carder era, f says that Goya became an art-student in 1758 at the age of twelve. { The Count de la Vinaza reminds us that Goya's parents had been living in Zaragoza since I749,§ which clashes with the earlier pages of Zapater's pamphlet, despite the fact that Martin Zapater and Francisco Goya had grown up side by side in the mediaeval city.

The name of Don Jose Luzan y Martinez has been rescued from oblivion by the fame of his pupil. Luzan was about fifty years of age when Goya entered his studio. Bom in Zaragoza in 1710, he had been educated as an artist at the cost of the Pignatelli.|j This tends to support the assertion that the boy was also cared for by the same noble house, and was thus naturally placed under the tuition of an earlier pensioner. In 1730 Luzan made the usual foreign tour of all Spanish artists of the eighteenth century. He travelled through Italy, visiting Florence, Venice, and Rome, finally resting in Naples, where he con- tinued his studies under MastroleolF. Returning to Spain in 1735, he settled in Zaragoza and speedily gained a lucra-

  • Zapater : Noticias biogrdficas, p. 8.

t Gazette des Beaux-Arts, i860, Vol. VII., p. 216. I Charles Yriarte : Goya, Fans, 1867, p. 12. § Vinaza : Adiciones al Diccionario histCrico.

1! Ihid.

il Mastroleo, who died in 1744, gained some fame in his time as an historical painter. He had formerly worked in the atelier of Paolo de Matteis (1662-1728), a pupil of Luca Giordano who had acquired his master's rapidity of execution. Thus Luzan to some extent inherited the Giordano tradition.


live reputation amongst the ecclesiastical authorities of the northern provinces. In 1741 we find him busily engaged upon portraits, altar-pieces, and frescoes. To such a degree did he please the Church that he was created artistic censor to the Inquisition, and the honour was followed, in 1744, bj^ an appointment as one of the Court painters to Philip V. This took him for a short while to Madrid, but he speedily returned to his native city, where he resided until his death.

Luzan was by no means a great artist. To this day the Prado, the national museum of Spain, has not troubled to add to its collection an example of the work of Goya's first teacher. However, the student can readily make good this deficiency in his knowledge when he reaches Aragon. Like most of the members of the school of Aragon, Luzan had been carefully trained. His drawing was good, and his Italian journey had given him some feeling for decoration and harmony of colour. In Rome and Naples he had copied Luca Giordano and Pietro de Cortona. Tiepolo had undoubtedly influenced his brush. He never rose to any height of inspiration, and his gifts were hardly superior to those of hundreds of fellow- craftsmen who were scattered throughout the cities and towns of Italy and Spain. But he took his art seriously, and in one respect his record was a very honour- able one. His talent as an instructor was pre-eminent. He was to Goya, suggests Paul Lafond, what Otto Vcenius was to Rubens, and Quentin Varin to Poussin.* The Count de Vinaza selects an apter parallel from the art histor}^ of his own land, and describes Luzan as an Aragonese Pacheco.f Francisco Pacheco was cultured,

  • Paul Lafond : Goya, p. 13. f Vinaza : Goya, Madrid, 1887, p. 17.


but slow and infinitely painstaking. These characteristics seem to form part of the individuality of Luzan. In the art circles of Seville and Zaragoza the two men occupied almost analogous positions. But Vifiaza will not admit that Luzan's abilities were equal to those of Velazquez's master and father-in-law, and declares the Aragonese to be *' a very decadent Pacheco."

This judgment is in several respects unduly harsh, for Luzan did most valuable work as a teacher, if not as a creator. Like most of the Spanish artists of the eighteenth century, his methods were scrupulously exact ; unHke them, he did not wholly renounce nature. His artistic principles were straightforward, and no better mentor could be found for youth. Like all born teachers, he loved teaching, and soon after his return from Italy and settle- ment in Zaragoza he opened an atelier for pupils. He had a saying, which he was always ready to impress upon his friends, that the best way to reach perfection in art was to teach it. The fine spirit of the man can be judged from the fact that he refused to accept any payment from his pupils.

Such a centre of enthusiasm naturally attracted the brightest students in Zaragoza, which had already pos- sessed good teaching facilities for nearly half a century. In 1755 Luzan opened a public academy of the fine arts with a regularly constituted staff.* The building was given by the Pignatelli family, never backward in any movement affecting the arts. Many of the Aragonese artists gathered to support Luzan's venture. Amongst the professors were Luzan's father-in-law, Juan Zabalo,

  • Zapater : Apuntes historico-hiogrdficas de la Escuela Aragonesa

de Piniura. Madrid, 1863.


Pablo Raviella, and Jose Ramirez, the sculptor, whose father, Juan Ramirez, had founded an earlier school. Juan Ramirez held classes in the principles of design and for the study of the nude model until his death in 1740. Jose then opened an atelier in his own house, and con- tinued his father's work until Luzan's more important scheme probably led to the amalgamation of their forces.*

The new academy did not depart from the principles upon which Luzan had founded his original school. Instruction was still given without charge. Pupils came in considerable numbers. Of most we hear no more, but a few deserve their place in the archives of the local school, and to a lesser extent in the not too glorious history of Spanish eighteenth-century art. The three brothers Bayeu, Jos6 Herat on, who died as success opened its gates to him, Tomas Vallespin, and Antonio Martinez come under the second category. But Francisco Goya ultimately surpassed them all, to find his niche in the European Valhalla.

Luzan's method of teaching was old-fashioned, but thorough. The pupil was first set to copy engravings with the most painstaking exactitude. The idea is despised nowadays, but many famous artists have commenced in the same manner. As a child, G. F. Watts copied engravings in the way Luzan taught Goya to copy, and, judging from the reproductions in Mrs. Watts's volume, the English boy was very faithful to his exemplars. When Luzan's pupils had gained a certain amount of facility, together with a control over their tools, the master put them in front of the plaster cast, and here they spent laborious days saturated in the atmosphere of the antique. ♦ Zapater : AputUes historico-biogrdjicas.



Finally they were allowed to draw from the living model.

This was an excellent training for those able to profit by it, and Goya's masterly ease with the pencil was the result of Luzan's teaching. In the studios of Zaragoza the youthful Goya must have spent some of the happiest hours of his life. He foimd several congenial companions. Jose Beraton was a lad of his own age. Francisco Bayeu y Subias, the eldest of the three brothers, was an older man, having been bom in Zaragoza in 1734. He was soon off to Rome, and Goya could have seen little of him. Ramon Bayeu, however, like Beraton and Goya, was bom in 1746. Vallespin was about the same age, as also Antonio Martinez, destined to become a goldsmith. A third Bayeu was studying art and preparing for the priesthood at the same time. This fact, coupled with Luzan's ecclesiastical patrons and official connection with the Inquisition, suggests that his workshop may have had an air of pious if not prudish restraint. But, if popular tradition is to be beHeved, the tale was a different one when the students left the peaceful ateher for the crowded streets of Zaragoza.

In his monograph upon Velazquez, the late R. A. M. Stevenson draws upon his youthful recollections to illustrate one phase of Spanish life. " Many old men, reared in the puritanical and hypocritical Edinburgh of the past, could tell you the private, reactionary effect of that Hfe of repression and humbug upon a decent, genuine man. That you may not think at all, or act for yourself, is to add the zest of piracy to experiment in life and originality in thought. Where public profession is manifestly a He, and pubUc manners a formal exaggera-


lion, life becomes a chest with a false bottom, which opens into a refuge for the kindlier, wiser, and more ardent among human beings. As much as Spain, the Court, and the priest, asked of man in those days, so much you may be sure did the courageous individual repay himself in the freedom of private life, and in the audacity of private thought." These sentences are so truthfully put that they form in many respects a master-key to the discussion of Goya's character. The harsh creed of Scottish Calvinism was not less onerous to the bohemian soul than the strict rule of the Catholic Church in Spain to the lawlessly disposed artist. The brilliant critic was able to explain with some personal feeling an atmosphere of repression which is foreign to English life.

It is easy to believe that the young art-student, like Byron's Childe Harold, chased the glowing hours with flying feet. There was plenty of amusement in Zaragoza. To this day, the old city, although shorn of all its privi- leges, and deteriorated from the capital of a kingdom to the chief town of a province, is far from dull. When the burning sun has disappeared, and the citizens stroll out in the cool night air, the streets quickly become crowded, the cafes are densely packed, and the lively rhythms of piano and guitar ring from the open windows. Zaragoza has not forgotten the habits of its Moorish conquerors, and still retains many of the customs of the orient. Joy grows with the night, and the city does not sink to rest until long after midnight.

In Zaragoza Goya became a clever musician. There were also sterner pleasures, and he appears to have added swordsmanship to his other accomplishments. The city was militantly religious, and animated by the fiercest


sectional rivalries. The partizans of the two cathedrals. La Seo and El Pilar, were so tenacious of their respective rights that the only solution was to share alternately the predominance for periods of six months. Then each parish fought for supremacy with its neighbours. Each church had its special festivals, which could only be celebrated by public procession.* The religiously inclined trailed their piety, like an Irish coat, through the streets of the city, and days of holy excitement ended in sanguinary encounters. Tradition says that Goya was more often than not engaged in defending the glory of his parish. Francisco Zapater contradicted these stories, f which he asserts were invented by the French biographers, Mather on and Yriarte. The latter writes that Goya captained the battle on behalf of the partizans of the cathedral church of Our Lady of the Pillar : the opposing band represented the parish of San Luis, and the fight took place by the Ebro on the lower side of the town. Many were wounded, and three bodies were left on the field of honour. J Francisco Zapater appears to base his denial upon the fact that the parish of San Luis did not exist at the time.§ But we must recognise that many of his statements are inexact, and undoubtedly savage conflicts did take place in Zaragoza. In August, 1792,

  • These religious processions were famous. " In October, crowds

come to pay their respects to the Madonna. Their processions are very singular ; the women appear in masquerade dresses ; the men on horseback ; the children naked." So writes the Marquis de Langle, and I believe that, though he wrote from hearsay and gossip, many of his facts are not far from the truth.

t Zapater : Noticias hiogrdficas, p. 8.

X Yriarte : Goya, p. 13.

§ Zapater : Noticias hiogrdficas, p. 8.


the fight was so severe that seven combatants were slaughtered.*

The tradition that Goya fled from his native city because of his active participation in these murderous feuds is too strong to be swept aside. The Holy Office was moved to action, for the affair had become a scandal to the city and a blot upon its religious life. The young art-student was marked as a notorious ringleader, and this distinc- tion agrees with all we know of Goya's hot and impulsive temper. Through his master Luzan, who was officially connected with the avenging powers, the culprit probably received early warning of his fate. There was small chance of appeal against so influential a body. Con el Rey y con la Inquisicion, chiton, says the Spanish proverb. " With regard to the King and the Inquisition be silent." Goya slipped through the hands of the familiars, and reached Madrid.

He had lived six years in the capital of Aragon, if we may believe Zapater's testimony, f Perhaps six years of active studentship would be a more correct description, if Vinaza's researches are accepted as exact. Zapater cites the recollections of three old inhabitants of Zaragoza, Cenon Grasa and his wife Vicenta, and Thomas Goya's niece, to support his contention that Goya left Zaragoza in the normal course of his studies. J These reminiscences are so colourless that they mean very little. Mas mal hay en el Aldeguela del que se suena, is one of the proverbs of Spain which applies to the discussion. " There's more mis- chief in the village than comes to one's ears." Matheron

♦ Yriarte : Goya, p. 13.

t Zapater : Noticias hiogrdficas, p. 11.

X Zapater : Noticias hiogrdficas, p. 10.


records that Jos6 Goya gave the boy twenty pounds, with the words, " My son, if you are wise this money will take you to Madrid and Rome." * The Count de Vifiaza also suggests that the parents sold some of their property to aid their son's career. f

From a sad-faced childj he had developed into a bold- tempered and strongly built youth, who looked the world in the face without fear, and possessed an undeniable gift of personal attraction. He was nineteen years of age, had made many friends (notably Martin Zapater), and his removal to the capital could not have been long de- layed in any case. Of his professional attainments we know nothing, and this suggests that he had gained little reputation amongst his companions. In 1808, during one of his periodical visits to Zaragoza, an obliging friend brought out one of his earliest efforts, an altar- piece dealing with the miracle of the Virgin of the Pillar. The artist looked at it with no kindly eyes.

" Don't tell anyone that I did that," was his disgusted comment.§

  • Matheron : Goya, chap. III.

•f Vifiaza : Adiciones al Diccionario historico. X Zapater : Noticias biogrdficas, p. 10. § Zapater : Noticias biogrdficas, p. 11.


GOYA'S first visit to MADRID, I765-I769

Little exact Information. Description of Madrid by Contemporary Travellers. Spanish Inns. The Insurrection of 1766. Active Foreign Element. The Aristocracy in Madrid. Goya and Francisco Bayeu. Rafael Mengs. The Art Theories of Winckelmann. Goya studies the Old Masters. Mengs and Sir Joshua Reynolds. His Appreciation of Velaz- quez. Goya devoted to Pleasure. He is foimd dangerously wounded. His Friends smuggle him out of the City. He is said to have joined the Bull-fighters. Goes to Rome.

GOYA'S first residence in Madrid lasted some three or four years. So little is known about his doings that we cannot state whether or no he remained in the capital the whole time. His genius was of slow growth, and he did not reveal any sign of future cele- brity. None of his work is to be dated so early, and to some extent it may be surmised that he was an idle appren- tice. We can only attempt to recreate the atmosphere in which his art and individuality were gradually evolved.

To this day Madrid appears remote from the rest of the world. It is not on the travellers' high road from one country to another. It does not offer the social delights of Paris, or the historical attractions which make the cities of Italy so fascinating to the tourist. Indeed, the lover of antiquity will deem it the last city of Spain to visit rather than the first. Arbitrarily selected by Charles V. as a seat of government because the air suited his gouty


disposition, it has never become pre-eminently the business centre of the nation, and its supremacy has been chal- lenged more than once by towns of greater commercial importance and richer historical tradition. Unhealthy, and difficult of access, Madrid has retained its position as the chief city of Spain because it has continued to be the most important home of the monarch, and the centre of administrative power. Of natural advantages it pos- sesses few. Even the river upon which it stands requires a careful voyage of discovery.* Until recent years, with the exception of the palace, the pubHc buildings did not rise above provincial mediocrity. It is easy to agree with Stirling-Maxwell that " the royal residence at Madrid is perhaps the finest existing example of a Bourbon palace . . . Rising proudly, in a grand white mass, from its airy terraces, the new palace is the chief object which arrests the eye on approaching Madrid, and invests it with somewhat of the dignity of a metropolitan city." But it is by no means distinctively Spanish. " In the sentiment which it awakens, and in the style of its decora- tions, both without and within, it belongs to that Italian architecture, embellished according to the florid taste of France, which arose at Versailles, and overspread Europe in the last century." Sachetti's huge pile was ever before the eyes of the young Goya. Upon every side the arts were under the bonds of foreign influence. Native artists forgot the glories of Spanish art during the seventeenth century, and were only happy when imitating

  • The Manzanares may be in flood sometimes. All the writer saw

was the merest trickle. The size of this stream has always been a joke. The inhabitants of Madrid were nicknamed the Ballenatos, or whalemen, from the story that they mistook a mule's saddle floating along their river, when in flood, for a whale.

A BMND MAN' SINGING After the etching in the British Museum


the lesser masters of the Watteau school, or the sprawhng monsters of the decadence in Italy. Goya was the first to set aside these weaknesses, and, although he failed to establish a new school, he remains the one distinctively national painter of his age. To appreciate his work we must know a little about the world which surrounded him.

The truest impressions of Madrid in the late eighteenth century can be obtained from the memoirs of the few English and French travellers who crossed the Pyrenees, either as diplomatic representatives, or, more rarely still, searchers after the strange. When the first Lord Malmesbury (then James Harris, a commoner) journeyed south to join the British embassy in 1768, he made every effort to reach Madrid without delay. But although he rested only twenty-four hours at Bordeaux, and hardly so long at Bayonne, the voyage from Paris to Madrid occupied exactly twenty-six days. Such painful travelling did not invite visitors. The roads were bad, often mere bridle tracks which could only be safely traversed by the sure feet of mules. " Except at the Carolina in the Sierra Morena, and for a few leagues about Madrid, I have never seen any made roads," writes one traveller. The accom- modation of the inns was atrocious, and became a by- word throughout Europe. Major Dalrymple gives a vivid impression of a country posada. " Our apartment, which had a flagged floor, was furnished with two broken chairs, a small table, and a picture of our Saviour on the Cross. There was a square hole cut out of the wall, that served to let in the light and air ; there were two pieces of old deal put together, and intended for a shutter, but did not cover half the space. This sumptuous lodging.


together with the use of a few kitchen utensils, and straw for the cattle, were all the comforts we had to expect in the posada. We had brought a ham along with us, and the village afforded a few eggs, a light white wine, with barley for our cattle." * The major was lucky to have his ham, and his travels contain some weird descriptions of the old Spanish cuisine. As Sancho Panza explained to Doctor Pedro Recio Aguero of Tirteafuera, " I am accustomed to goat, cow, bacon, hung beef, turnips, and onions. Serve me with oUa podrida, and the rottener it is the better it smells. And let the cook put into it whatever he Ukes, so long as it is good to eat." Major Dalrymple complains that his salads were made with lamp oil. He was fortunate to find a salad. When Don Quixote and Sancho Panza were travelling to Zaragoza they rested at an inn, and Sancho commanded supper.

  • ' What have you ? " asked he.

" Your mouth is the measure," repHed the landlord. " Ask what you will. The inn is provided with the birds of the air, and the fowls of the earth, and the fish of the sea."

" A couple of chickens ? " suggested Sancho.

The landlord was sorry. The hawks had stolen all the chickens.

" Roast a pullet ? "

" Pullet ! I sent more than fifty to the city yesterday. But saving pullets, ask what you will."

" Have you any veal or goat ? "

" At the moment it's all finished. But next week there will be enough and to spare."

  • Travels through Spain and Portugal in 1774, by Major William

Dalrymple. London, 1777, p. 94.


    • Bacon and eggs ? " cried Sancho.

" You must be precious dull. If I have neither pullets nor hens how can I give you eggs ? Talk of other dainties if you please, but don't ask for hens again."

" Body o' me, let's settle the matter. Say at once what you have got, and let us have no more words about it."

" In truth and earnest, senor guest, all I have is a couple of cow-heels like calves' feet, or a couple of calves' feet like cow-heels. They are boiled with chick-peas, onion, and bacon, and at this moment they are crying, * Come eat me, come eat me ! ' "

Sancho marked them for his own. " I don't care a pin whether they are feet or heels." The landlord explained that persons of quality brought their own cook and larder, not surprising news. Away from the towns the Spain of Cervantes was little different from the Spain of Goya, and this miniature of a Spanish inn helps us to realise the daily adventures of the artist. For Goya mixed with every condition of man, and had a decided partiality for company which may be " low " but is always curiously fascinating.

The first view of Madrid in the days of Charles III. and his successor was far from inspiriting. Major William Dalrymple, who toured through Spain from Gibraltar in 1774, speaks of the capital as " surrounded with a kind of mud wall, with gates at different avenues ; it is enclosed, with a view to prevent the introduction of the various articles of subsistence, etc., without paying the impost." Madrid, with its " kind of mud wall," compared unfavourably with the glories of Seville, the unbroken and frowning bastions of Avila, which father all the legends


of Old Castile, or the fortified heights of Toledo, that town of fantasy. Yet the comparison seems to place Madrid in its typical position amongst the cities of Spain. The capital was as devoid of character as the Bourbon kings who ruled over it. If any suggestion was made for im- provement, the answer came pat : " Quiere V. M. com- poner el mundo ? " " Do you wish to reform the world ? "

Major Dalrymple gives some valuable descriptions of Madrid at this period of Goya's life in the capital. " The houses here are chiefly brick. Those of the nobility are plastered and painted on the outside. The vestiges of jealousy are still to be seen ; rejas, or large iron grates, are placed at every window. Some of the houses are very lofty, five, six, or seven stories, particularly in the plaza major, which is a large square, where the royal bull- fights are held. The middling people live on separate floors, as at Edinburgh, which renders the one common entrance to many families very dirty and disagreeable. The portals are the receptacles for every kind of filth." The inhabitants had retained many Moorish habits, neither picturesque nor sanitary. In dress they had partially followed French fashions, although in the country the old habits continued. The women wore mantillas, but since an insurrection which took place in 1766 no man was allowed to wear a flapped hat.*

Did Goya take part in this mimic revolution ? If he was living in Madrid at the time we may be sure that his ardent soul pushed him to the front of the battle. The cause of the dispute was quite parochial, and ostensibly

  • They were supposed to favour crime and assassination. For the

full history of the rising see Coxe's Memoirs of the Kings of Spain, Vol. IV., chap. 64.


concerned the paving and lighting of the streets, and the decree forbidding flapped hats and long coats. The palace was besieged with all the etiquette of war. " At the time of that commotion the mob regularly took their siesta, and then returned to their different places of rendezvous. Government was so sleepy that it also did the same, so that there seemed to be a convention between administration and the people for a few hours every day. "

This rising provoked considerable comment, and Lord Malmesbury also refers to it. But it is difficult to take seriously a revolution in which both sides, with dignified courtesy, forbear to irritate their enemies during the heat of the day.*

Dalrymple noted, and the fact is valuable in any sur- vey of Spanish art at this period, that the chief activity of the city was confined to the foreign element. "This town swarms with French and Italian manufacturers and shopkeepers. If one hears of an artist, one is sure to find him a foreigner, for the arts have made but little progress amongst the natives." Indeed the Madrilenos were rather an idle race. " The part of their character we are most deceived in is of their being serious," wrote the ambassador, Malmesbury. " I never met a nation more fond of amusements, and which pursues them with more avidity. The people are gay beyond conception." The town supported a bull-ring and two theatres. During the carnival the masquerades were crowded. Charles III., an essentially pious man, set his face against bull- fighting and public dancing, but both amusements

  • Turenne once took advantage of this national characteristic, and,

by moving his troops during the siesta of his Spanish adversaries, won a battle. But it was hardly a sportsmanlike action.


flourished. During Lent the whole aspect of the city changed, for forty days the playhouses were shut, and the only recreations officially recognised were puppet- shows, acrobats, and rope-dancers. Lord Malmesbury, writing in 1768, tells us what the streets were like when Goya walked abroad. " During Holy Week, those of the Court and of the better sort dress themselves in black velvet, with flame-coloured waistcoats, and sleeves trimmed with gold. The ladies also are clothed in the same manner. The bourgeoisie, supposed to be occupied in acts of devotion, leave their shops and work, and pass the whole week in the streets.

" From Friday to Sunday no coaches are allowed to be used ; the grandee-men go on horseback, and the grandee- women in sedan chairs. The parade both of the one and the other does not carry with it an air of humiliation. They are generally attended, the one by led horses, ecuyers, grooms, etc., the other, by numberless pages and footmen." * Major Dalrymple adds some curious details. " Not a woman gets into a coach to go a hundred yards, nor a postiUion on his horse, without crossing themselves ; even the tops of tavern bills, and the directions of letters, are marked with crosses. There are eternal processions in the streets, which the people are very fond of, and the clergy take care to encourage." These years marked the close of the old mediaeval life which surrounded the boy- hood of Goya. The Irish traveller saw signs of change. " Though the clergy must have considerable power in this, as well as every other country, yet it has been much reduced of late years." Charles III., essentially a respecter of the Church and a good Christian, realised the necessity

  • Diaries and Correspondence of the 1st Earl of Malmesbury.

Pholo. Lacostc

A CARNIVAL SCENE The burial of the Sardine. Prado, Madrid


for change and was steadily endeavouring to recapture for the State much of the temporal power which had been usurped by the Church. At this period it was computed that Spain contained about 54,000 friars, 34,000 nuns, and 20,000 secular clergy. The whole population of the kingdom was not much more than 10,000,000.*

The Academy of San Fernando had been founded in June, 1752, and Goya may have worked with its pupils. But there is no documentary evidence of his enrolment, and, when he settled in Rome, he was not counted amongst the pupils who received a subvention from the State. Probably he assisted Francisco Bayeu y Subias, who, after leaving Zaragoza, had worked in Rome, and then returned to Madrid, where he was soon attached in an official capacity to the Court. Francisco Bayeu was considerably older than Goya, and already a man of some importance in the artistic life of the city. To him Goya probably owed his introduction to Rafael Mengs, who ruled the art world of Madrid as Pompeo Battoni con- trolled the same circles of Rome.

Fame has dealt harshly with this son of Bohemia, who was educated in Dresden. Anton Rafael Mengs was a man of an extreme talent which nearly approached genius. In 1 741, at the age of fourteen, he went to Rome, and, like many another painter, his art suffered. He became the slave of theories rather than the student of nature. To adopt Richard Muther's tellmg phrase, he was " poisoned " by Winckelmann, that pedant who had laid down as indisputable dogma the statement : " The sole means for us to become — ay, if possible, inimitably great — is the imitation of the ancients." This had been

  • The census of 1787 returned a population of 10,268,150.


published by Winckelmann in his Thoughts upon the Imitation of Greek Works, issued about 1755. In his History of Ancient Art (1764) he compared the tendencies of the art around him to the masterpieces of Athens and Rome. " If Holbein had studied, and been able to imitate the works of the ancients, he might even have become as great as Raphael, Correggio, and Titian ; yes, he might have surpassed them." The Dutch were ignoble, and " aped mean nature." Rembrandt he detested ; Watteau was an ugly " realist." Gerard de Lairesse was one of the greatest painters of all time, that Gerard of Liege who —

showed our sky Traversed by flying shapes, earth stocked with brood Of monsters, — centaurs bestial, sat5TS lewd, — Not without much Olympian glory, shapes Of god and goddess in their gay escapes From the severe serene : or haply placed The antique ways, god-counselled, nymph-embraced.*

And Winckelmann delighted in the archaeological detail of the pictures by this " Olympian glory." In describing one, he writes : " The face of Seleucus is taken from profiles of the best heads on the medals, the vases are devised after the best works of antiquity, the trestle before the bed he makes, like Homer, of ivory, the back- ground represents a splendid Greek temple, the sphynxes on the bed are an allegory of medical research." And, as Richard Muther points out, Winckelmann had a crowd of disciples, who believed with their master that the Greek statues were the ideal study for the painter. " In Greek sculpture the painter can attain to the most sublime con- ception of beauty, and learn what he must lend to nature

  • Robert Browning : Parleyings with certain people of importance in

their day. " With Gerard de Lairesse."


in order to give dignity and propriety to his imitation," wrote Solomon Gesner in 1759. And in 1762, Hagedom, who also came from Dresden, deplored in his Treatise on Painting that " Terburg and Metsu never showed us fair Andromache amongst her industrious women, instead of Dutch sempstresses."

Mengs, although eleven years younger than Winckel- mann, had been in the closest friendship with that archaeo- logist and historian, and his remarkable technical powers allowed him to carry out his mentor's theories in practice. His skill over his material was probably equal to that of any of his contemporaries — and he lived during the age of Reynolds and Gainsborough in England, of Boucher and Fragonard in France. Few bo3^s of sixteen have ever rivalled his extraordinary facility. Before he came under the sway of Winckelmann and the Greek revival his personal sympathies must have tended towards the Baroque, a style which raged through early eighteenth- century Germany like a pestilence. Mengs spent the best years of his life in Rome, and during a journey to Naples was presented to the reigning monarch of that house, who afterwards ascended the throne of Spain as Charles III. An invitation to Madrid quickly followed his patron's accession, and Mengs became a pontiff from whose decrees there was no appeal.

The young Goya spent much of his leisure amongst the royal pictures. To-day the masterpieces collected by Philip II. and his successors have been brought to- gether under one roof in the Prado. A century and a half ago they were scattered throughout the palaces, the Escorial, Aranjuez, the Casa del Campo. Through the Court influence of Bayeu, Goya was undoubtedly free to



examine them. In no city in Europe could he have found such a collection of chefs-d'oeuvre, and in the twentieth century the Prado is certainly still one of the most fascinating museums on the continent. The palaces were crowded with examples of the Flemish and Dutch schools, and assuredly some of the masters appealed to Goya's taste. " Hell " Brueghel attracted him in subject rather than in style. David Teniers had a potent influence upon the mind of a youth who was to conceive so many scenes of sorcery and devil-worship. Jeronimo Bosch's fantastic inventions were not forgotten when the caprices came to be etched upon the copper. The portraits of the German and Flemish schools were clearly studied with much attention. The influence of the two magnifi- cent Diirers is less apparent in the portrait work of Goya than that of the marvellous Old man by Holbein. The Italian schools were supremely represented. Ra- phael's Pearl, the Holy Family which passed from the collection of Charles I. of England to the Monastery of the Escorial, was less appealing than the portraits of Andrea Navagero and the Cardinal Alidorio. Religious art never appealed strongly to Goya. Then were to be seen the magnificent succession of Tintorettos which had escaped the fire in the Alcazar in 1734. There are thirty- four examples of Tintoretto now in the Prado, and most of them were then housed in Madrid. The Titians, brought together by the three Philips, included the equestrian Charles V., the Bacchanal, which sums up the whole spirit of Italy, and the glorious Offering to the Goddess of Love, The works of Veronese covered the walls of all the royal palaces. Indeed, out of Venice, the Venetian school could — and can — be best studied in Madrid.


The last of the great Venetians, Gian Battista Tiepolo, was actually at work in the royal palace from 1762 to 1770, and some of his most brilliant decorations adorn Sachetti's building. The influence of Tiepolo upon Goya may be more fitly discussed when we come to the frescoes of San Antonio de Florida. Lastly, amongst the treasures of the palaces, were the canvases of the Spanish school. That Goya was a humble pupil of Velazquez is evident in all his work. Charles Yriarte says that at this moment of his career he copied the Menippus and the Socrates, and that his copies were decidedly bad.* Probably he studied Velazquez more searchingly upon his return from Rome, when he com- menced to etch the subjects.

Meanwhile every young artist who wished to succeed had to cultivate the goodwill of Rafael Mengs. The Bohemian was not a man to suffer argument or contra- diction. Sir Joshua Reynolds refers to him in the sixth Academy discourse, delivered December 10, 1774. " I remember, several years ago, to have conversed at Rome with an artist of great fame throughout Europe ; he was not without a considerable degree of abilities, but those abilities were by no means equal to his own opinion of them. From the reputation he had acquired, he too fondly concluded that he stood in the same rank when compared with his predecessors, as he held with regard to his miserable contemporary rivals. In conversation about some particulars of the works of Raffaelle, he seemed to have, or to affect to have, a very obscure memory of them. He told me that he had not set his foot in the Vatican for fifteen years together ; that he

  • Yriarte : Goya, p. 14.


had been in treaty to copy a capital picture of Raffaelle, but that the business had gone off ; however, if the agree- ment had held, his copy would have greatly exceeded the original." And Sir Joshua did not hide his own opinion of Mengs (for this paragraph can only apply to him) : " the merit of this artist, however great we may suppose it, I am sure would have been far greater, and his presumption would have been far less, if he had visited the Vatican, as in reason he ought to have done, at least once every month of his life."

Sir Joshua advocated a careful study of nature in conjunction with the works of the great masters.* But

  • Whether or no Sir Joshua practised his own doctrine is another

matter. Mr. William Rothenstein in his little volume on Goya, pub- Hshed in 1900, refers to Reynolds' study of nature, and the passage is too interesting to omit. " A general tendency amongst English painters has been, I think, with few notable exceptions, to seek inspiration from pictures rather than from Nature. The influence Hogarth might have exercised was quickly overridden by that of Sir Joshua Reynolds, whose erudition and passion for pictures, and genuine dishke of all he did not consider to be sufficiently sublime in life, whose high stan- dard of excellence, and distinguished personality, earned for him a position no artist had hitherto held in England. The veriest hint from Nature sufficed him for his pictures, and if he was a little too familiar with beauty, it was at least this lack of himiility which enabled him to hand down to posterity a host of beautiful women and distinguished gentlemen, with ghmpses of poetic scenery behind them." In the thirteenth edition of the Catalogue of the Wallace Collec- tion (1913) — the most readable and engrossing catalogue of any public gallery in Europe — there is a curious note about a portrait of Don Baltasar Carlos, after Velazquez, which came from the Reynolds col- lection. Quoting Rej'nolds' pupil, Northcote (p. iSq of his Life), we are told : " It was a particular pleasure to Sir Joshua when he got into his hands any damaged pictures by some eminent old master ; and he has very frequently worked upon them with great advantage^ and has often made them, both in effect and colour, vastly superior to what they had ever been in their original state. For instance, with respect to one picture by Velazquez, a full-length portrait of Philip IV. of Spain when a boy [an obvious mistake for Prince


he did not forget to add that even the masters were to be studied with suspicion, for great men were sometimes exempt from great thoughts. Goya knew httle of Reynolds or his work ; and the Discourses hardly pene- trated to Madrid. Mengs's writings, on the contrary, were translated into most European languages, and as the young Aragonese was able to listen to Mengs's conver- sation we know exactly what he heard. Art was divided methodically into sections, and labelled as the sublime, the beautiful, the graceful, the expressive, the natural, the vitiated, and the easy. Examples of the sublime were to be found in the Apollo Belvidere, the paintings of Raphael and Michel Angelo, Annibale Carraci, and Dominici Zampieri ; the beautiful was to be found in Raphael, Annibale, Albani, and Guido ; the graceful in- cluded Correggio and Parmegiano, with a passing reference to the " inelegancy " of Raphael, who was, however, cited

Baltasar Carlos], I well remember, when I entered his painting room one day, and saw this picture, he said to me : ' See, there is a fine picture by ^'elazquez.' I looked at it and greatly admired it, and with much simplicity said : ' Indeed it is very fine ; and how exactly it is in your own manner. Sir Joshua ! ' Yet it never entered into my mind that he had touched upon it, which was really the fact, and particularly on the face." The writer of the catalogue adds that an examination of the picture (No. 4, in Gallery XVI.) confirms the story, though the repainting affects the face less than some other parts. The shadow round the jaws has been worked upon the forehead and the hair, which his lost its form ; the left hand is now pure Reynolds ; but it is chiefly on the background, as the cracks alone would prove, that he has repainted. To the right of the original was a table with a black hat upon it, and beyond that a gray piece of wall. Reynolds seems to have taken the dark patch of the hat as defining the shape of the table in a curve ; has made the wall a sort of mantelpiece with a little book lying on it, and has broken a second curtain across it. Sir Joshua objected to Mengs improving Raphael, but did not scruple to put Velazquez through the same process. But then Velazquez was not a sacrosanct Old Master in the eighteenth century.


as a perfect model for the expressive style. The natural style gave Mengs more trouble. One paragraph displays, amidst some crudities of thought, an appreciation of the greatest genius of Spanish art which even Reynolds did not share. In speaking of the " natural style," Mengs said : " Though painting in general is intended to give us an idea of nature, I distinguish under this arrangement of styles, those works in which the artist only proposes to himself that simple and sole idea, without any alteration or preference, of the most exquisite objects of nature itself. Thus, I mean, to be understood in speaking of painters, who attach themselves to simple nature, not having had the talent to enrich the object before them, or giving preference to its best objects, but have only imitated such objects as casually occurred to them, or may be found and observed every day.

" I think I may compare this manner of the art with that of poetry, respecting the comic muse, who avails herself of poetic numbers, without the aid of poetic ideas ; some Dutchmen and Flemings have excelled in this line, such as Rembrandt, Gerard Dou, Teniers, and others ; but the best examples of it may be produced from the works of Velazquez, and if Titian was superior to this last in colouring, Velazquez had greatly the advantage of him in his disposition of light and shade, as well as aerial perspective, which are principal requisites in this style of painting, since these convey very just ideas of the reality ; as no natural objects can be supposed to exist without some bulk and distance from each other, but they may have a more or less brilliant colour. WHiosoever wishes to find a more perfect solution of this truth than is to be observed in the works of Velazquez may see it in


nature herself ; but its principal parts he will always meet in the works of this great master." * This is one of the earliest critical appreciations of Velazquez ; and although the Bohemian and the Spaniard looked at art from vastly different standpoints, their likes and dislikes were much the same. Velazquez told Salvator Rosa : " Raphael, to be plain with you, for I prefer to be candid and outspoken, does not please me at all. . . It is Titian that bears the banner." Indeed the criticism of Rafael Mengs approaches that of R. A. M. Stevenson. " Velaz- quez uses tone as an important element in his composition; that, in fact, he utilises the expression of space as well as the expression of form to give character to his picture." And again : " Velazquez relies on tone, on the magic of true light, on delicate adjustments of proportion between masses ... he gives a sense of intimacy by gradations of tone rather than by fixed contours. "f Mengs proved his critical discrimination in his admiration of Velazquez, but his practice failed because he placed Nature second — if not third or fourth — rather than first. " Painting never existed as an art in any country prior to its estab- lishment under the Greeks, nor ever rose to a higher pitch than it did amongst those people." The painter who could write such nonsense was hopeless, despite his occasional acumen.

These pages are valuable because they give some idea of the conversations in the studios of Madrid when Goya was a youth. That he took his part in the debates we may feel sure : he was always keenly interested in every

  • Quoted from the English translation of Mengs's critical works

published in 1796.

t R. A. M. Stevenson : Velazquez, 1900.


aspect of his art. His celebrity, however, as an artist was not so great as his notoriety in other respects. Al- though Yriarte's statements are traversed by Zapater, we believe the French biographer to be near the truth when he asserts that Goya had, to some extent, the re- putation of a roystering bully who was always ready for a fight or a dissipation, who was not insensible to the charms of a sparkling eye and a red lip, and did not fear the dangers which surrounded a too ardent admiration. Goya was an expert swordsman, and as willing to display his skill as any member of the forty-five musketeers. He was also a fine musician, a gift as acceptable in the boudoir as in the studio. " He resuscitated the tradi- tions of the Renaissance, and became the leader of the young Aragonese colony in Madrid, which later supported the Count d'Aranda. Already he had gained popularity by his vivacity, his character, and his audacity." *

Audacity is not always successful. One night Goya was picked from the ground by his Aragonese followers with a dagger in his back. Again he had given cause for scandal, and the Inquisition issued an order for his arrest. Where he recovered from his wound we do not know, but his friends evidently got him safely out of Madrid. It was time he went to Rome, but he had little or no money, and could count upon no official protection. Tradition, based upon the anecdotes handed down by the Spanish students in Rome, comes to our aid. Goya is said to have made his way through the south of Spain as a bull-fighter. His passion for the ring was equalled by

  • Yriarte : Goya, p. 15. Aranda, of course, was from Aragon.

Rich and poor, the natives of that province appear to have kept close company, and they firmly helped each other.



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his knowledge of its laws, and how deep that was we can tell from the plates of the Tauromaquia. In a letter cited by Zapater he signed his name Francisco de los Toros. There is every reason to believe that Goya shared the delights, and the dangers, of the handerillas and the toreadors, before he left Spain for Italy. Some bio- graphers say that by these exploits in the arena he earned the money to pay his passage to the Eternal City.



Goya's Arrival in 1769. A great Religious Procession. Carnival Scenes. The Spanish Colony of Artists. His Friendship with David dis- proved. An Invitation to Russia. Foolhardy Exploits. A Portrait of the Pope. Wins a Prize from the Academy of Parma. His Irregular Life in Rome. Attempts to abduct a Nim. Under Sentence of Death. Is set free upon condition that he leaves the City. Re-appears in Zaragoza.

OF Goya's life and work in Italy we have little exact information. He appears to have arrived in 1769, probably early in the year. Zapater disposes of the whole journey in a short paragraph,* upon which Yriarte bases a statement that the artist did not return to Spain until 1774.! But Valerian von Loga quotes letters clearly proving that Goya was resident in Zaragoza in the autumn of 1771. t The archives of the cathedral of El Pilar, published by the Count de Viiiaza, show that the artist was in his home in October, 1771. We are told that the sea voyage was so trying that upon his arrival in Rome he fell dangerously ill. His attraction of manner (one can hardly call it charm) came to his aid. He fell into the hands of an old woman,

  • Zapater : Noiicias hiogrdficas, p. 12.

t Yriarte : Goya, p. 18.

X Von Loga : Goya, Berlin, 1906, p. 15, quoted from Vinaza's life where the text is given in the Appendix.


who cared for him so well that he quickly recovered.* Some biographers say that Goya was a man of robust health ; yet we find throughout his career periods of sudden, and in some cases prolonged, incapacity. That he had great powers of endurance, as well as much physical strength, need not be questioned, but there is more than a suspicion that during the active part of his life he was subject to nervous breakdown.

Rome in the middle of the eighteenth century was the undisputed capital of the arts, and for the first time in his life the young Spaniard realised what art really meant in the social life of the community. Zaragoza, and even Madrid, must have seemed in retrospect sadly provincial. Rome was the first city in the world, and its citizens were proudly conscious of the advantages they had to offer. Society was brilliantly cosmopolitan, and the peculiar conditions of the Papal States intensi- fied an atmosphere of culture and luxury to which Europe could show no equal.

Pope Clement XIII. died on February 2, 1769. His successor, the monk Ganganelli, was conducted in state to the Lateran basilica on November 26th following, under the title of Clement XIV. Thus the opening of Goya's residence in the Eternal Cit} was distinguished by a succession of public processions and parades which must have delighted the eyes of the excited artist. His native city was celebrated for its religious functions, but these were insignificant when compared to the triumphal progress from the Quirinale to the Lateran of the newly- elected successor to St. Peter. That Goya took full advantage of such sights cannot be questioned for a

  • Matheron : Goya, chap III.


moment. He must have fought for his place in the huge crowds which filled the narrow streets by the SS. Apostoli and Gesu and the Campidoglio, by the Aracoeli, or in the Forum. David Silvagni draws a vivid picture of the scene. The balconies filled with ladies whose beauty was thought to be enhanced by powder and patches ; the facades of every palace on the route covered with price- less tapestries and carpets of the most exquisite textures ; the Palazzo Colonna decorated with trophies of arms captured in past days from the Turks ; the banner of the northern republic flying above the Palazzo Venezia ; the houses of the Doria, the Asti, the Cenci, the Malatesta, and a score of like noble names, enriched with hangings of red damask and gold lace. Then, as the gun on the ramparts of San Angelo gave the signal to the expectant cit}^ the horsemen of the " Guardia di nostro Signore " opened a passage through the throng for a pageant of priests, noblemen, and high dignities of the Church, valigieri in scarlet cloaks, cavalry in crimson velvet, monsignori in purple, chamberlains in black, the Roman nobility in gala attire, the glory of which no pigment could dare to rival, Swiss Guards in yellow and black uniforms half-covered by steel cuirasses. And behind the pontifical cross rode Clement XIV. upon a white palfrey, attended by twenty-four pages in cloth of silver, followed by cardinals, patriarchs, and bishops, on mules harnessed in gold and purple.

This was the magnificence of the official life of the city on the hills. Social manners and customs were equally fascinating. Goya witnessed one if not two carni- vals, when masqueraders scrambled up and down the Corso, triumphal cars were pulled along upon which the


most beautiful women of the aristocracy postured in the scantiest costumes, every cry ceasing at the hour of Ave Maria on the Vigil of Ash Wednesday, when thousands of tiny candles burst into flame. Amidst wild shouts of " Abbasso il moccolo ! " or " Sia ammazzato ! " the lights were extinguished, and if the revelry was con- tinued it was behind barricaded shutters. For Lent had commenced and the police of the Inquisition were ready to arrest the contumacious. " Next morning," to quote Silvagni, " the gay ladies who had figured as Venus, or Pallas, or Psyche, might have been seen in sable habili- ments, and covered with huge black cloaks, making their way to church, hearing mass, and confessing their sins with every orthodox sign of penitence." *

Such was the society into which Goya had been thrown. He must have had a little money, although he was not amongst the Spanish students who received small pensions from their home government. Vinaza is convinced that Jose Goya sold his house in Zaragoza to support his son in Rome.f We are more inclined to believe \\'ith Matheron that the gilder sent the boy a few pounds, and told him to shift for himself with all the wisdom of which he was capable. { Besides, it is doubtful if Goya was ever able to keep money in his purse. Life had too ardent a call for him. The ducats must quickly have vanished in those streets of forbidding character between the Piazza di Spagna and the Corso, inhabited by artists' models and the attractive riff-raff of a cosmopolitan and wicked city.

  • Silvagni : La Corie e la Society Romana net secoli XVIII. e XIX.

Florence, 1882-85.

t Vinaza : Adiciones al Diccionario historico. X Matheron : Goya, chap. II.


Charles Yriarte's description of Goya's life in Rome should be near the truth, for the French critic had many of his facts from Don Jos6 de Madrazo, who knew Goya towards the close of his life. The pupils of the newly- established Academy of San Fernando of Madrid had hardly the status of the French students gathered together in the Villa Medici, and Goya had no official place of any description in the Spanish art colony. But he was a fellow-townsman of Bayeu, and probably worked in his studio and amongst his friends. Yriarte mentions other young Spaniards in Rome at this time, but their names mean little to the stranger. Zacharias Velazquez and Antonio Ribera are responsible for some of the traditions of Goya's residence in the city, but they could not have worked with him, for the first was born in 1767 and the second twelve years later.* It is reasonable to believe that Goya saw much of the French art-students and very little of those from England. The latter sup- ported their national reputation upon the Continent for phlegm, and were rather a dull community if we accept contemporary evidence. Samuel Sharp wrote in 1766 : " It is with great pleasure I can tell you that the English students here, both in painting and sculpture, have great merit, and are a remarkable set of sober, modest men, who, by their decorum, and friendly manner of living amongst one another, do credit to their profession. "f Baretti angrily criticised the truthfulness of Sharp's observations, and probably that somewhat self-satisfied and highly moral traveller was himself the cause of restraint in the English studios he visited.

♦ Von Loga : Goya, p. 12.

t Letters from Italy. London, 1767.


Goya refused to submit to discipline, rule, or control whilst in Italy. He was a free-lance, and followed his own inclinations. He had not to justify his existence by evidence of work, as had the students of the Villa Medici or San Fernando. During the first year of his stay he did little painting. According to Yriarte he studied the quality of the Old Masters, rather than their form or design. He wandered from gallery to gallery, and pro- duced practically nothing.* Other art-students who follow the same course of instruction have been called idle, but it is more pleasant to agree with Yriarte, and imagine that Goya — being a genius — was busiest even when most inactive.

He does not appear to have made any fresh friends. Matheron writes : "Of all the men he had known in Italy, Goya spoke in his old age chiefly of the painter David. For a short while they were in close intimacy."f I am more disposed to credit some of the statements in Matheron's tiny volume than many of Goya's later biographers. Like Yriarte, Matheron must have known Madrazo, and he wrote within thirty years of Goya's death. But in this instance the old painter's conversa- tion must have been misreported. He could not possibly have met David in Rome, and it is difficult to suggest where he could have studied that artist's work. J

Louis David competed for the Prix de Rome at the age of twenty-three, and failed four successive times. At

  • Yriarte : Goya, p. 16.

t Matheron : Goya, chap. III.

X Viiiaza also says that Goya made the acquaintance of Loms David, and that in his old age his only remembrance of Italy was his friend- ship with the French artist. Did Viiiaza base this on Matheron, or did Goya's tongue wander in his old age ?


the fifth attempt, in 1775, he took the prize and, as his master Vien was appointed director of the French Aca- demy at Rome the same summer, they travelled together to Italy, leaving Paris on October 2, 1775.* It is more than probable that Goya left Italy four years previously, and we can only accept Yriarte's and Lafond's statement that he remained until 1774 or 1775 upon the supposition of a second visit. This idea can scarcely be entertained, and does not explain an acquaintanceship with David, for Goya was certainly in Madrid during March, 1775, f and wrote a letter from the same capital to Martin Zapater dated September 6, 1775. Half a century later, when Goya visited Paris, David was in semi-exile in Brussels. The two men probably had a sympathy for each other, and had passed under similar influences. Although Matheron's sentence is so explicit it cannot be supported, and Goya must have been a personal stranger to the creator of the Rape of the Sahines and the Coronation of the Emperor. This destroys an elaborate structure of critical dissertation upon the influence of the French Conventional upon the Spanish sceptic. Goya's ad- vanced political tendencies can be explained in a sim- pler and more truthful fashion.

But at Rome he was little more than a boy, and more interested in the wave of classicism which had swept south from Germany, than in the rights and wrongs of monarch- ism and the democracy. Maybe there was wild talk at the Villa Medici, and much denunciation of Louis XV. and his mistresses, who were devouring the wealth of France. The French students were always a source of

  • C. Saunier : Louis David, p. 15.

f Zapater : Noticias biogrdjicas, p. 12.


trouble to the Papal authorities.* With regard to the Spaniards the case was different. No such scandals sur- rounded the Court of Madrid, and Charles III., although a Bourbon, led an existence free from the slightest moral stain. He endeavoured to deal with the. abuses of the administration of which he was titular head, as Clement XIV. attempted to reform the Church. Both grappled with the Jesuits, and perhaps Charles III. had the greater success, for he died a natural death, which was not the fate of the Pontiff, f Goya's free-thought was symp- tomatic of the intellectual unrest of his time. The late eighteenth century was a period of transition, or rather upheaval, in every department of life. Dogmas that had become sacred more through tradition than belief were now critically examined and discarded.

The storm had not yet gathered, and Goya's days in Rome were free from anxiety. He painted canvases representative of scenes of Spanish life, which found a ready sale amongst the visitors who flocked upon the seven hills. They attracted the attention of the Russian ambassador, probably Count Ivan Schuwalow, who had

  • E. J. Delecluze : David, p. 145. This was particularly so during

the time of the Revolution, when the students conducted an active republican campaign and the leaders were obliged to fly across the papal frontier to preserve their lives.

t Cardinal de Bemis wrote to his master, Louis XV. : " The nature of the Pope's illness, and all the circumstances attending his death, make everyone beUeve that it could not be natural." Three years later he referred to a private conversation with Pius VI. " The Pope has occasional moments of frankness, when he shows his real sentiments, I shall never forget one or two expressions he has allowed to escape in my hearing, from which I can guess that he is well acquainted with the unhappy end of his predecessor, and that he has no desire to run any risk of a similar fate." These rumours must have been well known to Goya, and account in some measure for his attitude towards the clergy.



been commissioned by Catherine II. to send artists of talent to St. Petersburg to assist in her schemes for the improvement of Russian taste.* Proposals were made to Goya, but he was a child of the sun, and rejected any suggestion of settling in the bleak north, f With Charles Yriarte, we find it hard to imagine the sarcastic author of the Caprices becoming the courtier of a despotic Empress, and quietly submitting to the iron will of the Court on the Neva.

Matheron writes that Goya's life at this period was solitary, J a statement unsupported by the traditions which have come down from other Spanish students in Italy. He seems to have been proud, vainglorious, and foolhardy. One day he crawled round the crumbling cornice of the Tomb of Cecilia Metella in the Campagna,

... A stern round tower of other days. Firm as a fortress, with its fence of stone, . . . Standing with half its battlements alone, And with two thousand years of ivy grown.

The boyish feat commended itself to him and his com- panions by reason of its aimless danger. Perhaps it was this same monument he clambered up to cut his name above that of Vanloo. " What a Frenchman can do, a Spaniard ought also to do," was his boast. § Vanloo as Court painter to Philip V. could have been but a name to him, but the ill-feeling of this foreign appointment still rankled amongst Spanish artists. Upon a third occasion he climbed up the lantern of the dome of St. Peter's to

  • Yriarte, p. i6. Von Loga, p. ii.

f Matheron says he gave up the idea at the request of his parents, who did not wish to be parted from him for so long. X Matheron : Goya, chap. III. § Yriarte : Goya, pp. 17, 18.


cut his name upon a stone no man had reached since the builders had struck their scaffolding. There was a story that Poussin had tried to perform the same deed, and Goya, full of patriotism, wished to surpass him. The feat was perhaps rendered less perilous by the little iron foot supports for the use of the workmen who decor- ated the dome at Easter, but their task was always recognised as one of extreme danger. There was an emulous spirit abroad at this period, when every young soul aspired to the skies. Von Loga draws a parallel between Goya at Rome and Goethe scaling the steeple at Strasburg, almost in the same year.

Tradition relates that, amongst other works, Goya painted a portrait of Pope Benedict XIV. Valerian von Loga disposes of this statement by drawing attention to the fact that Benedict XIV. died in 1758, eleven years before Goya arrived in Rome.* Clement XIII., who died in February, 1769, must be excluded for the same reason, and the only possible name can be that of Clement XIV., who suppressed the order of the Jesuits. Von Loga refuses to accept that suggestion, as there is no trace in the Vatican of any portrait of this pope which can be ascribed to Goya. Although on account of his youth it seems unlikely that Goya received such a privilege, it is not impossible, for the Spanish ambassador, the celebrated Count of Florida Blanca, had much influence at the Vatican, and the portrait may yet be found in Spain.

Paul Mantz,in turning over the pages of the Moniteur de

France, found under the date of January, 1772, the only

document which relates to Goya's Italian years. f " On

  • Von Loga : Goya, p. 12.

t V. Carderera. Gazette des Beaux-Arts, i860, Vol. VII., p. 216, where the paragraph is quoted.


the 27th June last, the Royal Academy of Fine Arts of Parma held a public conference for the distribution of prizes. The subject of the painting [for competition] was

  • The Conqueror Hannibal looking upon the plains of

Italy from the heights of the Alps.' The first prize for painting has been accorded to the canvas with the device Monies fregit aceto, by Monsieur Paul Borroni.

" The second prize for painting has been taken by Mr. Frangois Goya, Roman, pupil of Mr. Vajeu, painter to the King of Spain. The Academy has noted in the second picture the beautiful management of the brush, and the depth of expression in the face of Hannibal, as well as the individuality and grandeur in the attitude of this general. If Mr. Goya had not been so slight in the com- position of the subject, and if his colouring had been more truthful, he would have divided the votes for the first prize." This paragraph is extremely valuable in adding to our knowledge of the painter's studentship. He was an acknowledged pupil of Bayeu, who returned to Madrid. The canvas was probably a small one, little more than a rough sketch executed in a hurry. We know for certain that Goya was in Rome in 1771 . Whether or no he travelled to Parma to receive his prize is doubtful. There was a connection between that city and Madrid, for the heir to the Spanish throne had found a bride in Maria Luisa of Bourbon, daughter of the Duke of Parma. Both Prince and Princess were to enter into Goya's future career, but in 1772 they were but names to him. A more impor- tant witness to his northern journey is the evidence that Correggio's frescoes strongly influenced his coming work in the same medium. The decoration of the cupolas of the Benedictine church at Parma are the most remark-


able of their kind in Italy, and Goya would have a very natural wish to examine them closely. Some biographers assert that he closed his residence in Italy with a prolonged tour which included Florence and Venice. From these cities it was easy to continue the journey to Spain. There are, however, other traditions too strong to be lightly disregarded.*

His life in Madrid had been irregular. In Rome he did not change his habits, for he found greater freedom and greater temptation. More than once he escaped from the shirri who attempted to regulate the disorderly life of the city. Amongst the Trasteverini he found much to remind him of his own province of Aragon. The men were hasty, passionate, and revengeful, but a stronger and more vigorous people than the inhabitants of the other quarters of Rome. They were ever ready to gamble over mora, and to hold competitions of running and other athletics. They were satirical, appreciated poetry and music. Love formed an essential part of their light- hearted existence. Ready to quarrel upon the slightest provocation, they were quick to use their fists and their knives. The most curious of their amusements was the famous stone-throwing matches, when the residents of the Monti upon the Forum were challenged to combat. The opposing factions faced each other, armed with the rough munition so prodigally scattered over the battlefield. At a given signal volleys of stones darkened the air, and finally either Trasteverini or Monticiani were compelled

  • Vifiaza considers that the picture of Hannibal was painted, and

the prize won, before the artist went to Italy. This seems very im- probable, unless Goya visited Rome more than once, of which we have no proof.


to seek safety in flight. Sometimes mounted cavalry and sbirri were able to interfere with effect, but, as a rule, after the wounded had been removed to the hospital the sport recommenced. This was a game to Goya's own heart, for it brought many recollections of the parochial fights of Zaragoza.

Indeed, during his residence the social condition of Rome was perhaps at its worst, and we are told that in 1774 the state of anarchy and confusion had reached such a height that the gravest crimes were committed with impunity by people of every class. At nights the streets were in darkness, the only light a tiny lamp before a comer shrine, or a smoking torch at the gate of a palace. Few men were brave enough to cross the city without an armed guard. Robberies and murders were of almost daily occurrence, and the police patrols were outwitted by the lurking assassins so frequently hired by princes, ambassadors, and cardinals.

Goya was an adventurous youth, willing to pass the time of day with the biggest scoundrel. Even if the tradition of his life in Rome is false, his character tells us that he was ready to mix in any brawl, prepared to use his knife without fear of consequences. The story runs that one black night he scaled the walls of a convent in order to abduct a young and charming nun. Unfortunately his usual luck deserted him, he was caught, and delivered into the hands of the sbirri, who interned him in a Roman prison.*

The crime was unpardonable, and is given special pro- minence in Cardinal Valenti's criminal code, which was drawn up whilst he was Secretary of State to Benedict,

  • Yriarte : Goya, p. 18.


not being abrogated until 1833. In the article ** con- cerning the Violation of Nunneries " it is set forth : *' And because all sacred places, but above all nunneries, deserve every respect, his Eminence orders and desires that if anyone, in any way whatsoever, seeks to enter a nun- nery without official permission, whether by night or day, he shall incur the penalty of death ; even if he have not committed any special fault. And all who have in any way aided or abetted him shall incur the like penalty."* These laws were carried out with a savage ferocity, and Goya had most assuredly rendered himself liable to the final penalty. But he was no longer an unknown art- student, and had many influential friends amongst the Spanish colony. The ambassador made representations to the Holy Seat which carried weight. Goya was par- doned and liberated, upon the condition that he at once left the Papal States.

The story is probably true, for it agrees with the indi- viduality of this stormy petrel of art, and it does not contradict the suggestion that Goya returned to Spain by way of northern Italy. But we have few actual facts to deal with in tracing his student days in Italy,, and we cannot even be sure how long he remained out of Spain. Certainly he had returned long before 1775, and the correct date is more probably 1771 when he reappeared in Zaragoza.

♦ Silvagni : La Corte e la Societd Rontana.



Goya returns to Zaragoza. His first Commission to decorate El Pilar. Did he visit Italy a second Time ? The Chartreuse of Aula Dei. Its forgotten Frescoes. Doubts as to Goya's Authorship of the whole Series. Little exact Information as to his Employment. He courts Josefa Bayeu.

THE troubles which compelled Goya to fly from his native city had been discreetly forgotten by the ecclesiastical authorities of Zaragoza. Indeed, it was a proposed commission for the church which brought the young painter home. The cathedral of El Pilar, which had commenced building in 1684, was now at a stage when its internal decoration had to be considered. Rodri- quez Ventura, the architect in charge, had drastically altered the original design of Herrerra. Although the author of a volume which laid down the severest laws of style for other architects, he considered himself bound by no similar rules, and many of his architectural fancies are based upon the merest caprice. Von Loga describes the church as " one of the purest examples of the style of Louis XVI." In reality the huge building is a piece of meretricious classicism, lacking all true inspiration, and in many details an offence to the cultured eye.

Goya's invitation to prepare a scheme for the decoration of part of the church probably came through Luzan and


the elder Bayeu. With the Bayeu family, as will be seen, he was evidently on terms of the closest affection. On October 21, 1771, he submitted to the Building Committee sketches for the decoration of the vault of the chapel of the Sacrament. The committee solemnly deliberated, and some while elapsed before the members arrived at a decision. Goya was a young and untried artist ; although twenty-five years of age he had registered no success, and could show very little completed work. The committee consisted largely of priests, who must have been influenced by the not too favourable personal reputation of the young man. He had left Zaragoza under a cloud, had been smuggled away from Madrid, and then finally expelled from the dominions of the Sovereign Pontiff for a most heinous crime. These facts did not affect his skill as an artist, but they were unquestionably discussed, for corporate bodies are nothing if not highly moral. However, it was desirable to have the decoration in hand as early as possible, and the committee appealed to Canon Mathias Allue for expert advice. The worthy canon's qualifications for the task are not recorded, and the scope of his enquiries is unknown. On February II, 1772, he reported that Goya had proved his ability in the technique of fresco, and was prepared to undertake his scheme for 15,000 reals (about £150), the artist pro- viding labour and materials. As Antonio Velazquez, the only other competitor, demanded 25,000 reals, the com- mittee did not waste any more time. Although Goya's designs had been sent to Madrid, and submitted to the Royal Academy of San Fernando, the committee did not even wait for the official verdict. The commission was given to Goya on January 27, 1772, two weeks before


Canon Allue's report was formally received. On the first day of the following June the work appears to have been completed, for the scaffolding was then being taken down from the roof.

Goya's earliest decorations in the cathedral of El Pilar do not require detailed consideration. The vault is lofty, and the light far from good, whilst there has been consid- erable discoloration of the original pigments. There is no more distinction or individuality in Goya's work than in any of the surrounding walls by contemporary but now justly forgotten artists. It is good church decoration of mediocre abihty, although one cannot wholly agree with Von Loga that Goya's paintings betray the inexperience of a beginner. If the visitor to the cathedral is not searching for traces of Goya's brush he will hardly give these decorations a second glance. As far as can be judged at the present day the young Goya had a sympathy for rather crude reds and yellows, and was liable to over-accentuate his lights and shadows. This may have been due to a remembrance of the character- istics of El Greco, but was more probably due to the artist's own immaturity. The Count de Viiiaza asserts that Goya's visit to Rome was made after the decorations of El Pilar, and that in fact the balance of the 15,000 reals provided the necessary funds for the journey.* Cer- tainly these frescoes do not show signs of a deep study of Correggio ; if they reveal the impression of any other artist it is that of Tiepolo, but even that very slightly. It is easy to read many factors into such featureless designs.

  • Vinaza's biography is so careful that all his suggestions must

receive consideration. But it is most unlikely that the Parma picture was painted out of Rome.

A DRAWING The figure possibly represents Goya hiviself. British jMusciiiii


Von Loga discovers an attempt to imitate the inferior productions of Murillo.

At the end of July the committee was discussing with the elder Bayeu the advisability of decorating several of the smaller cupolas. That Goya's work was received with satisfaction is doubtful, for he was not given a second commission. Here we are stopped in our investi- gations by a considerable gap in his history, which, according to Vifiaza, was occupied by the visit to Rome. Another suggestion is that he made a second visit to Italy, although we have no documentary or traditional evidence to support the idea. More probably he was engaged from 1772 to 1774 upon minor church work in Aragon,* and also upon a series of frescoes chiefly devoted to incidents in the life of the Virgin, which are to be found in the chartreuse of the Aula Dei, an institution dating from the fifteenth century, some ten kilometres north of Zaragoza on the left bank of the Ebro. The authority cited is that of Don Tomas Lopez, a Carthusian monk. It will be remembered that Goya's earliest patron was Don Felix Salzedo, prior of this same cartuja, the priest who had first appreciated the boy's dawning talent, so it is not unHkely that early work of his should be found in the chartreuse.

This monastery suffered so severely during the French occupation of the country around Zaragoza, that many of the frescoes were utterly ruined. The whole work was

  • We know that he painted an altar-piece dealing with the miracle

of the Virgin of the Pillar, which was placed in the parish church of Fuendetodos, where he had been baptised, and shortly after his marriage he was working on a processional banner with St. Christopher as its subject.


forgotten.* " Finally," writes Von Loga, " the building was sold, and became dilapidated and deserted. In our own time, monks, driven from France, have taken pos- session of the ruins, and have endeavoured with much industiy to restore the damaged house. For over half a century these frescoes remained under a roof which had been partially burnt away, and was open to all weathers. Without adequate protection many of these paintings have been almost wholly destroyed, but the remainder (more than half), untouched by the hands of restorers, shine with an unusual freshness. Goya's hand cannot be doubted." As in the decorations of El Pilar, there is the same bright red and evident love for yellows. Von Loga considers the drawing, full of energy and decision, reminiscent of Tiepolo's masterly originality of concep- tion. The same biographer is also reminded of the Sistine Chapel in Rome, which hardly supports Vinaza's belief of a later visit to Italy. Goya was certainly impressed at one period in his life by the grandeur of Michel Angelo.

Above the entrance is a composition depicting Jacob's sacrifice. In extremely bad condition, it contains the remains of the figure of an angel, of " monumental grace." f Another subject is the journey of the Three Kings, which the same critic calls " a tasteful compo- sition." Certainly Go37a never painted in after life such a number of scriptural subjects, and we are almost inclined to doubt his authorship of all the frescoes in

  • I regret that I was not able to visit the cartuja during my stay in

Zaragoza. Valerian von Loga is the only biographer who appears to have seen these frescoes.

t Von Loga, p. 17.


the Aula Dei. " Monumental grace " is hardly to be discovered in other works from his brush. Had these frescoes been wholly his, we ought to find more evidence relating to their execution. He had many admirers in Zaragoza, and frequently visited the city, both before and after the French invasion. It is strange that not the slightest mention is made of the monastery in Zapater's biography, and that his own letters to Martin Zapater do not refer to what is evidently a very con- siderable work. And, in the argument which afterwards arose with the authorities of El Pilar, he might well have referred them to the frescoes of the cartuja.

The whole disposition of his time during these early years bristles with difficulties. The first commission in the cathedral proves him to have been a rapid worker, and this is corroborated by his later life in Madrid. Could he have spent two years over the decorations of the cartuja, and could the monks have afforded to pay him for so large a slice of his life ? The best suggestion that can be offered is that he was not only busily painting the chartreuse, but also equally active courting Josefa Bayeu, the only sister of his three old friends.



Josefa Bayeu. Her Portrait. Distractions of Madrid. Church Work. The Holy Family. Rafael Mengs. The Tapestry Factory of Santa Barbara. Goya commissioned by Mengs. Description of the Cartoons. Goj^ and Hogarth. Increasing Reputation. Presented to the King, but refused a Royal Appointment. Other Paintings. The Crucifixion of San Placido. A Crucifixion by Velazquez. Goya elected a Member of the Academy of San Fernando.

OF Goya's family life we know very little, and can only partially reconstruct it by means of a few disconnected references in his letters to Zapater at Zaragoza. In March, 1775, he wrote from Madrid to the committee which had charge of the decoration of the Cathedral El Pilar, referring to Francisco Bayeu as his brother-in-law. We may therefore assume that Goya married Josefa Bayeu either shortly before this date, or during the following summer.

Although Josefa Bayeu y Goya came of a family of artists, she does not appear to have had any artistic aptitude herself. Her portrait (now in the Prado) was probably painted at the time of her marriage, and is therefore one of the first in the series which brought her husband fame. Of remarkable merit, it draws attention to the fact that Goya was only at his best as a portrait- painter when in sympathy with his model. This he realised in later life, and would not accept every casual client who wished to join the fashionable throng of his


sitters.* But the portraits of the members of his family are always of the highest quality, and it is odd that an artist who had a reputation for being a good son has not left us portraits of his father and mother.

The features of Dona Josefa are not of classical beauty. The mouth is too big, and the nose too prominent. Yet the portrait has much charm, and is a masterly piece of characterisation. A few wandering curls fall across a wide forehead. The chin is firm, the cheeks well pro- portioned. The neck has the same proportions of that of the Venus of Milo. A light scarf is thrown airily across the shoulders, and the only technical flaw is a somewhat clumsily modelled left arm and hand. The chief fas- cination of the portrait rests in the large brilliant eyes, sparkling with life and vivacity. Josefa Bayeu was a true Aragonese, quick, energetic, excitable, self-willed. The lips are a trifle pinched, and support the tradition that she had not only a will but a temper of her own. Such a woman would not endure in patience, and Goya's temperament was not wholly angelic. f

A recent German biographer asserts that Goya changed in disposition from the day of his marriage. He set aside his youthful love of travel and excitement, gave up his participation in the national recreation of bull- fighting, and developed into the hard-working father of a household, devoted to his work, and overflowing with a hitherto unsuspected energy.

Such a miracle is hardly human, and, unless we brush

♦ Matheron, chap. V.

I In a short footnote to Carderera's article on Goya {Gazette des Beaux- Arts, i860, Vol. VII., p. 216) Philippe Burty says that Josefa was ten years older than her husband. The statement is not made by any other biographer, and I am inclined to disbelieve it.


away all the traditions enveloping Goya's name, can be scarcely credited. Undoubtedly the artist attacked his canvases in a new spirit of determination. Practically no easel pictures executed before his marriage are in existence, though probably he destroyed a good many early attempts. His disgust when shown one of his first altar-pieces is symptomatic of his maturer judgment. Before now artists have purchased their own work to feed a critical bonfire. But Von Loga fails to prove that Goya suddenly reformed. He still remained passionately devoted to pleasure. Such a mixture of toil and dissi- pation is not impossible. No painter worked harder than Boucher, yet no man dallied more frequently along the primrose path. " No profit grows where is no pleasure ta'en," was the motto of Goya, and had there been less pleasure there might not have been greater profit. But, as Renan says, man finds salvation in more than one way.

Madrid offered innumerable distractions to the artist, and many of these recreations Doiia Josefa could hardly share. Goya loved to mix with the rougher elements of the city, the bull-fighters, the professional swordsmen, the gipsies, the musicians, the dancing girls, perhaps also the thieves and the murderers, of whom there were many. This attraction towards the pothouse is not a sign of innate depravity. Goya was no Tony Lumpkin, or even, to take an apter example, a George Morland. The Spaniards are one of the most abstemious races in Europe, and call for water before they call for wine. This curious underworld fascinated Goya by reason of its picturesqueness, its freedom from restraint, its reaHsm and its actuality.


He was also welcomed in the most intimate circles of the Court and the aristocracy, and here again his wife could not follow him. With the growing age of Charles HI. the earlier restraint of manners slowly vanished. Society was dominated by Maria Luisa of Parma, who set a moral standard which was new to the Court. There was little difference between the freedom of the gitanas in the lowest quarters of the town, and the behaviour of the men and women who, laden with official distinctions and honour, tried to kill time in the palaces of the capital.

Goya had a real affection for his wife ; that he faith- fully respected his marriage vows cannot be said. Von Loga suggests that when, in 1781, husband and wife were at variance, the discord had been caused by the easy morals of the artist. There is scanty information to be gathered concerning Josefa, but she seems to have been a very good wife, and to have forgiven much. In later years Goya and Bayeu bitterly quarrelled, but whether the cause was professional jealousy or ill-treatment of Josefa cannot be stated. At any rate, in 1775, and for some years after, no clouds overshadowed the young household.

During the summer of 1775 Goya endeavoured to obtain commissions from the Church. He was in negotiation with the authorities of El Pilar at Zaragoza, and, from a letter dated September 6, 1775, he appears to have been engaged upon a processional banner bearing St. Christopher on one side, with the Mater Dolorosa on the other. Valerian von Loga dates the Holy Family in the Prado about this period, which is not unlikely, although there are reasons for ascribing it to the years 1776-1777. But when the German biographer



likens this uninteresting work to that ot Correggio, it is impossible to agree with him. Goya followed the methods of Mengs, rather than any of the Italian masters, and in this, his first important canvas, he based the lines of his composition upon his remembrances of the Raphael Madonnas he had studied in Rome. No previous bio- grapher has realised that the models for the Holy Family were probably found in the artist's own home, and that the radiant Mother is Josef a Goya, whilst the Holy Babe and the tiny St. John are the two children of the artist. The face of Josef a has been slightly ideal- ised, but, after comparing the features of the Madonna with the portrait of Dona Josef a, there cannot be much doubt as to the identity of the model. The children are delightfully painted, the St. John being a charm- ing figure. Here again Goya was naturally interested in his task. As a whole the colour is poor, and Goya evidently painted to catch a popular fashion. The artist was probably the first to reaHse that he would never attain the success his ambition craved for with sub- jects selected from Holy Writ.

There is no documentary evidence of a personal relationship between Rafael Mengs and the young Ara- gonese, but there must have been a strong friendship, for Mengs furthered Goya's career very considerably. Doubtless Goya was ready to admit the technical excellence of Mengs's work. Although Anton Rafael Mengs was no great master, he hardly merits the dis- paragement he has received from art-historians during the last century. Mengs based his style upon Raphael and Correggio, and, had his brush not been frozen by the classical ideals of Winckelmann, his place in the history


of his craft would have been more exalted. Only one modern critic, Dr. Richard Muther, has had the courage to admit the skill of Mengs. " There is nothing insipid or affected, none of that simpering affability that his successors brought into vogue," writes Muther of the early Dresden portraits. Of the later work he remarks : " The better ones are distinctly classic ; very noble in their clear, subtle gray tone, strikingly alive, and withal of an extraordinary independence, which shows no lean- ing upon any other master whatever. Mengs belongs to those portrait-painters who look into the souls of their sitters, and he ranks, hke his portrait of himself in the Munich Gallery, amongst the best portrait-painters of the eighteenth century." Goya had only to see the portraits in the royal collections (many of which are now preserved in the Prado) to discover that Mengs was greater than his theories. His classical decorations, and compositions like the Mount Parnassus, did not influence Goya in the slightest. Mengs, said Azara, was " a philosopher who painted for philosophers," whilst Goya was essentially a man of action, and, as his later history proved, a true " painter's painter." But Mengs and Goya must have had sympathies in common, Mengs was too successful a man to go out of his way to patronise a young artist he was not interested in, and Goya never dissembled his feelings, or truckled to success in order to gain a job. To Mengs Goya owed his first important commission, which was to bring him before the notice of the Court in a particularly favour- able manner.

Philip V. (probably in imitation of the Gobelins work- shops on the banks of the Bievre in Paris) had founded in


Madrid, in 1720, the royal tapestry factory of Santa Barbara. Under the management of Jacob Van der Goten and his sons from Antwerp, the factory speedily built up a local reputation. Copies were made after Wouwerman and Teniers, and original cartoons were designed by Giordano, Andre Procaccini, Hovasse, and other Frenchmen resident in Madrid. Antoine Lenger, a French craftsman, lent valuable aid, and in 1730 the factory produced with much success a copy of Raphael's Pearl* one of the treasures of the royal collection. At the death of Van der Goten the management passed into the hands of his son Francisco, and the manufacture continued to flourish.

Then followed a gradual loss in skill, and the pro- ductions ceased to be regarded with favour. Charles III. took much interest in ai:t, although his critical judgment was not of the purest. He decided to resuscitate the fortunes of the royal tapestry, and was helped by his consort, a Saxon Princess who had an inclination towards the hobbies of a connoisseur, for she was an enthusiastic collector of Capo di Monte ware.

Mengs was then at the summit of his fortune. A few Spaniards attempted to destroy his influence, notably Don Gregorio Mayans, who afterwards expressed his views in a pamphlet El Arte de Pintar, published in 1776. But Mengs was securely entrenched behind the royal approbation, and the King turned to him for advice as to the reorganisation of the tapestry factory. From 1762 he was responsible for its artistic control. When Major Dalrymple visited Madrid twelve years later, the establishment was of sufiicient importance to be included

  • Eugene Muntz : La Tapisserie,


in his description of the capital. " There is a manufacture of tapestry that was founded by Ferdinand VI., where there are about twenty looms going. There is also a porcelain manufactory, but no one is admitted to see it. These fabrics have been imitatively established, through a puerile vanity, whilst those of more real utility are never thought of. They are kept up at a considerable expense by royal munificence, for their produce cannot be purchased but by the opulent. Indeed, they serve to draw some of the wealth from the clutches of the Prince, which is distributed among those who would otherwise most probably be in want of employment." Dairy mple's view is of that strictly utilitarian character which may be still heard in councils and other deliberative assemblies where they talk. In his opinion, the sustenance of mere artists was no duty of the state. Apart from the labour employed at the china factory, the designing of car- toons for tapestry kept quite a number of artists alive. Amongst them were Andrea de Calleja, Jose del Castillo, Salvador Maella, Antonio Gonzalez, and an artist who had now taken an important place in the art circles of Madrid, Francisco Bayeu. It will be noted that Mengs made use of native talent.

Goya's name is mentioned for the first time in con- nection with Mengs and the tapestry cartoons on June i8, 1776. Working with characteristic energy, the young artist appears to have delivered his commission by October 30 of the same year. Mengs had formerly employed artists at a fixed salary, but difficulties had arisen which are not hard to imagine, and henceforth each cartoon was paid for separately upon delivery, after it had passed the scrutiny of a committee of painters


attached to the Court. Goya's cartoons were inspected and approved of by his brother-in-law Francisco Bayeu, and Mariano Salvador Maella. He was paid 7,000 reals, or about £75.*

During the succeeding four years he continued to work for the factory without intermission, the only break in the steady production of designs being occasioned by one of his mysterious illnesses in April, 1777. By January,

1778, he had delivered ten cartoons of various sizes, mostly intended for the decoration of the dining-room of the children of the royal family. For these he was paid 46,000 reals (about £478). Before April 27, 1778, he had delivered seven more for the bedroom of the Princess of the Asturias at El Pardo. On January 5,

1779, an additional seven had been completed for the bedroom of the Prince of the Asturias, and, by January 27, 1780, twenty cartoons had been done. In all, he was responsible for thirty, of which four have been lost.f No other artist in the employ of the factory worked so hard. His younger brother-in-law, Ramon Bayeu, was responsible for twenty, Antonio Velazquez did twenty-three, and Jose del Castillo, who always admired Goya's cartoons, but sixteen. Goya's cartoons brought him an almost immediate celebrity, not only amongst the aristocracy, but also with the lower classes.

  • The chief authority upon Goya's connection with the Santa Barbara

factory is G. Cruzada Villaamil's Los tapices de Goya, Madrid, 1870.

f A missing cartoon from the second series of tapestry designs (see chapter XI.) appears to have turned up at the Nemes sale, held in Paris, June 18, 1913. " At the close of the sale," writes The Times correspondent, " the announcement was made that the Spanish government had lodged a protest against the sale of Goya's Las Gigan- tillas . . . The Spanish government alleges that it was stolen in 1869 from the tapestry gallery of the Prado Museum."


Their success is simple to explain. They are frankly nationalist, and nationality in art is always a sure card for even a moderately gifted artist to play.

These large cartoons are now preserved in the base- ment galleries of the Prado. For years they rotted away in a forgotten garret until Carderera rescued them in 1869. Age and neglect have toned their crudities, and this is no drawback to an appreciation of their merits. But the rooms do not form an ideal gallery, and the cartoons deserve a better resting-place. Yet in every way they justify the abundant commissions Mengs showered upon Goya, and they prove that Mengs was ready to set aside his own prejudices and recognise a man of talent, even one who neglected to follow the dogmas of Winckelmann and the example of the antique.

Mengs's greatest decorative effort was the dull and sedate Parnassus which Goya must have seen in the Aldobranini Palace at Rome. Apollo stands with his lyre in the centre of the stage like an actor-manager basking in the limelight. Round him pose attendant deities. The stiffness of the composition at first sight recalls a Roman pavement mosaic, and the figures awake more than one reminiscence of the statues in the Vatican gallery. It is interesting to compare this staid decoration with the gorgeous imaginative fancies of G. B. Tiepolo, who was engaged upon the ceilings of the royal palace in Madrid from 1762 to 1770. Twenty years later Tiepolo profoundly influenced Goya's frescoes, but in the tapestry cartoons there is no sign that the young Aragonese had even seen the wonderful work of the last great Venetian.

Had Goya been given a free hand in the selection of his subjects it is probable that he would have compounded


a dish of the stale mythology which had so well served Lebrun and all his imitators in Spain. Fate, however, was kind to him. Charles III. desired the compositions to deal with the daily life of the country over which he ruled with a truly paternal affection. Spain was begin- ning to awake from her long slumber, and the old King himself was largely responsible for the reviving spirit of nationalism. Strange chance placed the commission in the hands of one of the most nationalist artists of the entire school of Spanish painting.

Goya had never succumbed to the decadent styles which, coming from Bologna, Naples, and Rome, com- pleted the ruin of Spanish art. His earliest cartoon reveals a decided analogy to the frescoes of the Floren- tines. In more senses than one he was a real Pre- Raphaelite. La merienda (" A picnic on the banks of the Manzanares "), the first of the tapestries, was executed in 1776, and is therefore one of the earliest canvases we can definitely date. The artist was not restrained by any consideration for the material into which his brushwork was to be translated. He simply put together an easel picture of size sufficient to cover the large space required. This picnic party is somewhat confused in composition. Had Goya travelled in France during his wanderjahre we would say that his youthful eye had nebulously remembered the fetes champetres of Watteau and his school. These cartoons are often called Wat- teauesque, but Goya could only have received his impressions at second-hand. There are two small Watteaus in the Prado, but whether or no he saw them when they were in the royal collection is doubtful, and they are hardly of sufficient importance to influence his


design. But there were several French decorators at work in Madrid, who had been steeped in the traditions of the French school of the early eighteenth century, and Goya, as a young artist seeking a safe path, would not un- naturally turn to them for inspiration.

In La merienda considerable attention was given to the landscape, and the trees and foliage are set down with a care which cannot fail to recall the methods of the earUer Italian masters. But this background was unsuitable for tapestry. The colour is too black, and tends to absorb the figures. In the succeeding car- toons this defect was remedied, and the figures are generally sharply silhouetted against a light sky. The Dance at San Antonio de la Florida ('^777) shows a tremendous advance as a piece of decoration. The river and landscape background are only sHghtly in- dicated, being broadly placed upon the canvas with a dawning sense of atmospheric effect. Instead of loading the single tree with a blotch of dark foliage, the almost naked branches are revealed in their exquisite pattern. Goya concentrated all his skill upon the four men and women, who, in old Spanish costume, tread a stately dance to the music of the sequedeilla. In the same year came a scene outside a village inn, to a certain degree conventional, but with much life and character, and also the very dehghtful Andalusia, in which the five principal figures are treated with considerable dexterity. This is indeed a true Watteau subject as seen by Spanish eyes, and the subtle intermingling of the distinctive characteristics of the two great Latin races is a fascinating problem to disentangle. The scene is evidently an interlude in a bal masque. In one of


those groves that Watteau loved, a maja in lace and silks is laughing with a surly individual who appears to have stepped out of Beaumarchais' most celebrated comedy. He boasts a portentous cocked hat, and owns the most wonderful legs encased in white stockings. The conversa- tion galante arouses the jealousy of other cavaliers. But such impeccable calves would arouse the dormant envy of a saint. On the left, a cloaked hildago glares at the couple from beneath a huge white sombrero. In the background are two more masqueraders, who con- template the little coquette with equal displeasure. It is an interlude of melodrama. " Love gilds the scene, and woman guides the plot." This is the earliest com- position in which Goya revealed his dramatic gifts, that innate faculty for telling a story to be seen at its best in the etchings and some of the historical paintings. In 1778 followed in rapid succession the Blind beggar, the Crockery market, the Promenade, and La acerolea. The Blind beggar was the most popular, and Goya etched the subject shortly after, but the Crockery-seller {El cacharrero) has a charm not fully appreciated in his own day, perhaps because it represented a daily sight in the Madrid streets which did not interest the crowd because it lacked a sentimental appeal. Goya found his subject in a comer of the public market. One of the huge, springless coaches used by the nobility occupies the centre of the canvas. Three magnificent footmen, in liveries and powdered wigs, hang on to the rear of the carriage, and an equally gorgeous coachman holds the reins. The edge of the frame cuts off our view of the horses, and thus Go5^a eluded his usual difficulty. The enormous wheels of the coach give an air of move-


Pholo, Andtrson

THE CROCKERY SELLER " El Cacharrero." Tapestry Cartoon A'l I/. Pra<io, Madrid.


ment to a composition which radiates from their spokes, and the tiny procession moves forward with an air of triumph. In the foreground the market-women squat on the pavement, with an attendant man, a sleeping dog, and a large stock of earthenware, painted with all the fidelity of an old Dutch master or a bodegone by Velazquez. In many respects the Crockery-seller re- minds the English student of Hogarth, although it must be admitted that Goya was technically in advance of the English artist. Both used that peculiarly nervous brushwork with accentuated high lights which may probably be traced home to the later Venetians. Indeed, we find it in all mid-eighteenth century work, particu- larly with Guardi, Longhi, and in the sketches of Tiepolo. Hogarth, however, was too ready to point a moral, and thus did not always adorn his tale. He found his types in the lower circles of the metropolis, and his good men are sanctimonious whilst his rogues are degraded. He was perfectly able to paint a handsome figure or a pretty woman, but he did not search for beauty, only dealing with good looks when they casually passed his way. Had Hogarth travelled through Italy to Rome his art might have lost in individuality but probably would have gained in beauty of colour and form. As it is, his fine natural genius is too exclusively insular. Goya, in his tapestry cartoons, had a simpler aim which did not result in compositions so ruthlessly overcrowded as those of Hogarth. The first ideal of the Spanish artist was to provide an acceptable wall decoration for a royal palace. By chance he was allowed or commanded to select his subjects from the life which appealed to him most. As a decorative artist he was practically untrained, and


it was only gradually that he learned that large flat masses were more important than accumulations of detail. In order to meet the demands of the material for which he was designing, he exaggerated his colour schemes, and this was an advantage, for throughout his life his palette was inclined to a sombre and low key. In all these tapestry cartoons there is an evident effort to extract the utmost value from the play of light on silk and satin. Some critics have called his work crude, but the real crudity is in the tapestries themselves,* and not in the cartoons. As a whole the tones are dark. The handling varies ; in some cartoons it is meticulously careful, in others we can note a feverish and hurried brush. Many of these cartoons are experi- ments. As Von Loga points out, Goya understood at last that a strong contrast, although often producing a harsh and rough colour, was a considerable help to the looms. f

  • Now hanging in the palace of the Escorial,

t Mr. Thomas Cole, the well-known wood-engraver, writes in his Old Spanish Masters : " While a few of the cartoons possess great charm and brilliancy of tone, the majority are harsh and crude in colouring, owing possibly to the commercialism of the time, which may have demanded something gay and catching. Certain it is that in black and white they have greater dignity and simplicity. Know- ing them only from reproductions in this medium, I could not help marvelling, on seeing the originals, that the artist should have spoiled the nobility and repose of his works by staining them with hard and spotty colours. Their unnaturally bright hues are accounted for by the fact that they were done for copjang in tapestry, as though it were the nature of the texture of tapestry to soften them. But in fact the reproductions, instead of ameliorating the tints of the originals, have accentuated their defects, and this so deplorably that they present a garish spectacle of pigments, ill-suited to the quiet, unobtrusive flatness so becoming to the walls of an interior." Whilst not agreeing wholly with Mr. Cole's criticism (for commercialism had little to do with the Santa Barbara factory) his remarks about the hardness of some of the cartoons is perfectly correct. There have probably been many chemical changes in the pigments, for Goya was careless about the permanency of his palette.


As Goya advanced with the series he endeavoured more and more successfully to fulfil the requirements of the material into which his designs were translated. To those who have seen the tapestries in the private apartments of the royal family, it is a matter of some surprise that these charming domestic scenes are not better known and more widely appreciated. Their rococo fancy harmonises well with a setting of white and gold. The compositions suffer from a certain sameness of invention. The motive of a leafless trunk on the right or left of the scene is continually repeated. But the little groups of Madrilefias live and move with an enchanting vivacity. The large Game of pelota {1779) outside the walls of a city (probably Madrid) is a surprising contrast to the artificial combinations of the fashionable school which derived from Lebrun. In the Washerwomen (1779), and the Game of pelota {1779) we have scenes of low life, but painted with much grace, and without Hogarth's brutality and coarseness. The figures in the Promenade and the Fair of Madrid (1778) are beautifully drawn. Most of the figures in the cartoons it must be mentioned, are life-size. In La novillada (177 ()) Goya used as his background the Lonja, or Market Hall, of Zaragoza.

Artistically the tapestry cartoons furthered Goya's reputation. He painted with more vivacity than any of his companions, and his popular subjects appealed to a dawning national spirit. Financially the cartoons placed him beyond any feeling of poverty, for, at the time of his marriage, Goya must have been an extremely poor man. Socially they introduced him to the most exalted circles. Early in January, 1779, he was


presented to the King and the heir apparent, and kissed hands. He wrote to Zapater, describing the incident in the most enthusiastic terms. " I tell you that I have nothing more to wish for. They were extremely pleased with my pictures, and expressed great satisfaction — not only the King, but the Prince as well. Neither I nor my works deserve such recognition." * This is hardly the language of a revolutionary, and indeed Goya's republicanism exists largely in the imagination of some of his later biographers. He was like most of the Spaniards of his time, intensely democratic,! but with an inherited veneration for the crown. This is an aspect of his character which must be discussed later.

Besides, as a young painter with his career to make, he could not shut his eyes to the advantages of royal patronage. There is much evidence that he invited the support of the privileged classes. On July 24, 1779, he petitioned the King for an appointment as one of the Court painters. He recapitulated his work in Zaragoza, laying stress on the fact that he travelled to Rome at his own expense, and citing the name of Mengs as a man who had encouraged him. His petition was refused, and it is easy to give a reason. His association with the royal family had not been of long duration.

  • Zapater : Noticias hiogrdficas, p. 14.

t That Spain is in reality a democratic country has been noted by two travellers so very different in ideals as Chateaubriand and George Borrow. The author of Rene said : " This nation has no servile airs, none of those phrases which stand for abject thoughts and degraded souls. The great lord and the peasant speak the same language. Their salutations, their compliments, their habits, and their manners, are the same." Borrow was more direct. " One of the few countries in Europe where poverty is not treated with contempt, and, I may add, where the wealthy are not blindly idolised."


The natural resistance of two successful artists like Mengs and Bayeu to foster the growth of one who prom- ised to be their most powerful rival may have had some effect upon the King's councillors. Lastly, Goya's tem- perament must not be forgotten. He was naturally iras- cible, and sharp-tongued. Although he could rapidly make good friends, it was even quicker to make enemies.

From June 1776 to the early spring of 1780 Goya executed ten panels. Six large cartoons and four panels brought him 46,000 reals, and he was actively at work in other directions. He accepted commissions for por- traits in 1777, he was etching plates after Velazquez, and he was also travelling to and fro between Madrid and Zaragoza in connection with decorations he had undertaken for the cathedral El Pilar. In three years he is said to have earned 114,000 reals (about £1,200), a not inconsiderable income for an artist of little over thirty. His early etchings did not count for much in this total, and must be dealt with in another chapter. His troubles at Zaragoza also require separate mention.

In addition to the tapestry cartoons, the portraits, and the etchings, some of his smaller genre compositions must also be dated about this period. Mr. Rothenstein attributes the five small canvases in the Academy of San Fernando to a year shortly after Goya's return from Italy.* But the " delicate and silvery key, with ex- quisite lightness of touch," which fascinated the English artist, t the " grande deUcatesse de ton " which Charles

♦ They have all been moved to the Prado, and may be identified as the Little bullfight, The madhouse, A tribunal of the Inquisition, The flagellants, and The burial of the sardine.

t Wilham Rothenstein : Goya, p. 6.


Yriarte* could not refrain from noting thirty-three years earlier, point to a maturer development of Goya's genius. During the period under discussion he painted in a hard and tight manner. In the collection of Sir John Murray-Scott was a small canvas entitled Spaniards dancing a bolero, not unlike the large Dance amongst the tapestry cartoons. Many of its motives can be found in the first or second series of cartoons, and its date is perhaps about 1778. There is plenty of grip and movement in this little piece, and a suspicion of indecision in the handling suggests that here we have one of those lost studies of national life which sold so readily to the foreign visitors in Rome.f Cer- tainly the silvery tones of the pictures from the Academy of San Fernando are not visible.

Goya was also executing church works. The Cruci- fixion and a St. Francis for the church of S. Francisco el Grande brought great applause. The Crucifixion is now in the Prado, and, although like all Spanish subjects of a similar nature, most realistically and painfully drawn, does not alter our conviction that Goya's talent was not at its best when employed upon religious subjects. In this case his inspiration can be clearly traced. The Crucifixion is a direct challenge to Velazquez's wonderful Crucifixion of San Placido, and a comparison of the two works is not to Goya's advantage. Velazquez's figure is described by Thore-Burger in one word — " terrible." The body is emaciated, the muscles are knotted and

  • Yriarte : Goya, p. 131.

f This interesting canvas was originally in the collection of Sir Richard Wallace, but whether he acquired it, or the Marquis of Hert- ford, cannot be stated. At the sale of the Murray-Scott collection, June 27, 1913, at Christie's, it changed hands for 250 guineas.


distorted in agony.* The Crucifixion of San Placido, and the Christ at the column, in the National Gallery, prove that Velazquez's sluggish temperament was sometimes touched by the flame of religious ecstasy. The intense quivering humanity of this Christ could only have been reaUsed by an artist whose soul vibrated in sympathy with the tragedy of the redemption. Goya lacked the spirituality of the old Spanish masters. They were mystics, surrounded by an invisible world. Goya could not escape the inherited tendencies of untold centuries. Aragon is a land of soothsayers and witches. He fought against superstitions which he could not wholly reject. He turned his back upon Heaven, and was haunted by Hell. There is no celestial peace in anything he produced. The Crucifixion of San Francisco el Grande is the repre- sentation of the body of a well-nourished model, better fitted to sustain the role of a youthful St. Sebastian. There is no trace of physical pain. In Velazquez's painting the head of the Christ has dropped. Goya follows the example of the older master line by Une, but raises the head, and gives the features a conventional expression. With Velazquez the tortured body actually hangs on the Cross ; with Goya, the model calmly stands on a sustaining pedestal. The Crucifixion of San Fran- cisco is good studio painting, and shows that Goya could draw the human figure with a skill that certainly surpassed his contemporaries. More than that cannot be said.

  • " I suspect the Spaniards of finding pleasure in the sight of the

sufferings of Christ," says Maurice Barres (quoted by Havelock Ellis). Some of Goya's etchings certainly suggest that Goya was interested in purely human suffering, which he draws with as little emotion as the Spanish crowd watches the most dreadful incidents of a bull-fight.



Probably these technical merits accounted for its success, despite the absence of feeling. Goya had not been led away into the wilderness of classicism by the plastic theories of Winckelmann. He painted his figure in a slightly reahstic manner from the living model, and did not treat it as a piece of carved stone dug from some ruin of antiquity. His skill was appreciated by the members of his own profession, and on May 7, 1780, he was elected a member of the Royal Academy of San Fernando, this Crucifixion being cited as his qualifying work. Although he was always ready to scoff at the academical, he was proud of the distinction, which he frequently referred to in his subsequent dispute with the authorities of El Pilar. He still suffered from the King's refusal to create him a member of the Court. Academical recognition helped to heal the wound, and he was eager to make use of its commercial value to the utmost advantage. Self-confidence in his owti abilities he had never lacked.



Philip Gilbert Hamerton on Goya, Interest of the early Etchings. The Flight into Egypt. Goya's first Etching. San Isidrod.n^ San Francisco. The Etchings after Velazquez. Studies for the Etchings. The Blind Street Singer. Hogarth and Goya.

THE early etchings by Goya are interesting chiefly because they reveal the endeavours of his ardent spirit to conquer a new field of artistic energy. They are experiments, and must not be regarded in any other light. Goya himself was dissatisfied with them, and destroyed many of the plates. If we were to judge his skill as an etcher merely from the ability displayed in the copies after Velazquez we should be compelled to agree with Phihp Gilbert Hamerton 's curious verdict. That authority on etching wrote that Goya " never felt the real pleasures of an etcher," using the etching needle

  • ' without any idea of the artistic capabilities of the

instrument and the art." *

Had Hamerton based these remarks upon Goya's first attempts he might be excused, but apparently he never saw the early plates, and gave the slightest heed

  • The Portfolio, 1879, and reprinted in Portfolio Papers. As an alert

journalist Hamerton noted that Goya's pictures in the Paris Exhibition of 1878 attracted considerable attention. Being a good editor it was necessary to refer to them in his magazine, but unfortunately he wrote the article himself, and an odd piece of criticism it is.


to the Caprices, the Disasters of War, and the Tauroma- quia. Prints from the original plates of the Proverbs were appearing in that line French periodical L'Art, and he honestly disliked them. Hamerton approached Goya without sympathy, and, although he disclaimed political feeling, evidently considered the Spaniard as a wicked radical who was trying to pose as a great artist. Of his paintings he admitted he knew little, and his criticism of Goya will fall more properly into place when we consider those extraordinary works of imagination which Baron Erlanger rescued and gave to the Prado.

An almost complete set of the early etchings can be studied in the Print Room of the British Museum. Other examples will be found in the chalcographical collections of Paris, Berlin, and Madrid. Valerian von Loga has reproduced the rarest, and the worst, in a hand- some volume wholly devoted to the etchings, and further facsimiles will be found in Hofmann's catalogue.* The trouble was hardly worth taking. But they form a link in the development of the talent of a great artist, as, for instance, Turner's crude drawings of Folly Bridge and Nuneham Harcourt are essential in any comprehensive survey of that genius. They are useful for purposes of comparison. In themselves. Folly Bridge or an early etching by Goya are equally worthless.

Goya's first etching was probably the Flight into Egypt, which must have been done somewhere about 1775. In those days every painter etched, or tried to etch, and if the result was not always a masterpiece,

  • Valerian von Loga : Francisco de Goya, Meister der Graphik,

Band IV., and also Goya's seltene Radierungen und Lithographien. Berlin, 1907.


it was at least a reduplication of personality which popularised his art and gave pleasure to his admirers. Modem artists, with a few notable exceptions, seem afraid to etch. If the rank and file seek for immortaUty let them start at once. Their pictures may be forgotten, but their etchings will wander from portfolio to portfolio for eternity.

A chance remark by Carderera may be accepted as the reason Goya picked up the etching needle. The Flight into Egypt, he suggests, was drawn for exchange.* Maella, his colleague in the tapestry factory, did a Repose in Egypt, Bayeu a Holy Family, and other members of the Madrid School added to the common stock. Their engravings are lost to fame, and, if Goya had done nothing else, the Flight into Egypt would have suffered the same fate. Von Loga talks about Tiepolo and the Venetian idea in reference to this extremely slight sketch. f Actually there is very little idea in the Flight. The ass is badly drawn — Goya never was happy with his animals. The Virgin and the Child are uncomfort- ably perched upon the beast in an attitude which por- tends disaster. Naturally St. Joseph looks ill at ease. The drawing is poor, although the etched line is firm and incisive.

The next prints are more ambitious failures. Of San Isidro praying but a single copy exists in the National Library of Madrid. The Saint is typically Spanish, but the draughtsmanship is far from good, and the proof shows that Goya lost control of the plate. The " biting "

  • Gazette des Beaux-Arts, September, 1863, p. 239.

f Von Loga : Goya, Meister der Graphik, p. 3. The etching is re- produced, together with the San Isidro and many of the Velazquez subjects.


did not succeed, and the work was left unfinished. Per- haps it would have been better if the one copy had perished. With the San Isidro may be mentioned the San Francisco de Paula, of which the plate belongs to the Royal Chalcography of Madrid, and recent prints have been taken.* Goya was never disheartened by failures. He was closely studying the Velazquez portraits, and he decided to etch them. In 1778 he completed eleven large plates. During the same year he delivered fourteen of the tapestry cartoons, so that his energy must have been terrific.

They show no sign of haste, and must have been undertaken as a pleasure. Goya may have received some vague promise of state support. The multiplication of these masterpieces was a patriotic duty, and Godoy did well to buy the plates. But this purchase did not take place until 1793, so that Goya's labour must have had little financial result in 1778. f But as reproductions of Velazquez these etchings are not only singularly ineffective, but at times absolutely false. The equestrian Philip IV. is executed with a niggling delicacy which Goya rarely attempted in his painting. The etched line is scratchy and uncertain. In the later plates the line is deeper and richer, but in no case is it quite happy. A comparison of Velazquez's ^sop with the etching shows how strangely Goya lost the exquisite gradation of tone in the original, whilst the features lack the serene dignity of Velazquez's peasant philosopher and deteriorate

  • See Lefort's catalogue, p. 116.

f Carderera states that Goya presented these plates to the King in I77p. Another version asserts that they were purchased in 1793, which possibly was the date of payment. Otherwise it is difficult to reconcile the facts.

i y .

THE GAROTTE After the etching in the British Museum


into the furrows and wrinkles of an ill-tempered old man. Goya was certainly aware of the deficiencies of his in- terpretation, for he did not trouble to carry the plate to an advanced stage, and probably looked upon his work as little more than an exercise in craftsmanship. Don Sebastian de Morra, one of the famous dwarfs, is more successful, but it compares feebly with the original. The Alcade RonquiUo (after a lost portrait) reveals an increasing mastery of the technique of etching, and the plate is almost overworked by the needle. Las Meninas,* although it lacks all depth and beauty of tone, is a gallant attempt at a reproduction of the silvery atmosphere of an artist's studio in the old palace. The labour is conscientious, and Goya must have spent many hours over the plate. Some of the detail is most dehcately set down, and it is interesting to reflect that the artist turned from the flowing brushwork of the tapestry car- toons to these minute exercises. Goya tried to strengthen the plate with aquatint, but the result was so displeas- ing that he destroyed the copper. But this, as Von Loga suggests, could not have been in 1778, at the time of the original etching, but about I79i.t

The whole series hardly requires a detailed commen- tary. There is a Bacchus, the Cardinal Infante Ferdinand, the most indifferent of the set, a Don Juan of Austria (after Carrefio) better in drawing, and a Barbarossa. Some of the early proofs were pulled in a brownish- red ink, and several of the plates were strengthened with aquatint. For most of the etchings careful pre- liminary studies were made in red chalk. Eight of

  • See Carderera, Gazette des Beaux- Arts, 1863, Vol. XV., p. 246.

t Von Loga : Goya, Meister der Graphik, p. 9.


these drawings are now in Hamburg,* many of the others being • probably intentionally destroyed, f A sketch of the Alcade is in the collection of the Marquis de Casa Torres, and is probably the one referred to by Cean Bermudez.J

The largest plate Goya ever attempted was the Blind street singer, which dates from the early part of 1779. The subject has a close relationship to the tapestry cartoons, being a version of one of the large cartoons now in the Prado, and possesses a popular and sentimen- tal interest which gave it a certain vogue. A crowd is grouped in pyramidical form, the apex being formed by a man on horseback. Various types of Spanish citizens — from the rich merchant to the black water-carrier — stand and listen to the blind man singing to the music of the guitar. On the left a drover leads a yoke of oxen ; on the right is a small group of market people which recalls the crockery sellers in the tapestry cartoon. The background is only faintly indicated. A huge brick building may be a remembrance of one of the brick palaces of Zaragoza. As the representation of a city scene it may be placed by the side of one of Hogarth's London plates, and at once it must be noted that a close comparison of Hogarth and Goya is hard to draw. Both were keen observers, both were satirists with a not overwhelming beHef in the ideal. Goya was the better painter, and had a richer imagination than Hogarth, who can hardly be called an imaginative painter, so exactly

  • Von Loga : p. 7.

I Cean Bermudez : Diccionario historico, V., p. 178.

X An interesting speculation as to whether Velazquez etched any plates after his portraits will be found in the Jahrbuch der KonigUch Preuszischen Kunstsammlungen, Vol. XXI., p. 177.


did he reproduce the life around them. In many respects their temperaments were akin, although their work was different. They found the world rather gross and earthy. Mercilessly they castigated their contemporaries, making fun of poor humanity's weaknesses, blunders, hypocrisies, and sins. They so concentrated their attention upon the coarser aspects of life, that their efforts arouse a suspicion that Dryden was not far from the truth when he declared that " none but the base in baseness do delight." In turning over the leaves of Hogarth's Rake's progress, or the seventy-six plates of Goya's Caprices, which we have yet to consider, it is difficult to dismiss the feeling that sometimes the satirist is lower than the creature he flays.



Goya neglected in Zaragoza. The Decorations of El Pilar. His Sim- plicity of Life. Further Work upon the Cathedral. The Quarrel with Francisco Bayeu. A Discussion with the Committee and Canon Allue. The new Frescoes. Goya's Letter to the Committee. Prior Salzedo. Goya returns to Madrid. Family Affairs. A Commission for the Church of San Francisco el Grande. Trouble with Florida Blanca over the Payment. Goya's Friendship with the Infante Don Luis. He is again refused a Court Appointment. Elected Director of the Royal Academy of San Fernando. Two Portraits of the Artist.

THAT a prophet hath Httle honour amongst his own kindred is a proverb of eternal and cosmo- poUtan apphcation. Goya loved Zaragoza. Throughout his life he was always ready to revisit his family home, and he remained in unbroken correspon- dence with Martin Zapater. But that Zaragoza displayed any pride at the growing renown of her talented son there is not the slightest evidence. In the earlier years of his fight for success the citizens seem to have used him rather badly.

He had already been employed upon the internal de- coration of the new cathedral on the banks of the Ebro. In April, 1774, negotiations were resumed, and the com- mittee in charge of the building decided to commission him to paint two of the domes and the four smaller cupolas. Goya was in residence at Madrid in the spring of 1775, and before he could start the work his name


had to be ratified by certain authorities in the capital. He commenced his task in May, maldng himself respon- sible for workmen and scaffolding. Part of the com- mission — a Coronation of the Virgin — was completed in February, 1776, and received general commendation. He was paid the agreed sum of 5,500 reals, and in March returned to Madrid. Probably the chance of employment by Rafael Mengs in the tapestry factory offered a better prospect than remaining in Zaragoza to decorate El Pilar. Even the brightest provincial centre cannot offer such opportunities to the ambitious man as a capital city with a royal court in residence. Besides, the works at El Pilar were intermittent, and largely depended upon the funds under the control of the committee. During the next few years Goya was invited back to Zaragoza, but he refused these appeals with the apology that he was busy with numerous commissions in Madrid and Toledo.

Not until 1780 was the artist ready to continue the decorative scheme of the cathedral. In the summer of that year a chance note proves that he was about to settle in Zaragoza. It is a characteristic letter. He tells his correspondent that he requires very little furni- ture, merely a table, five chairs, some crockery, a lamp, a little wine, a violin, and a draught-board. Everything else is superfluous, and the painter is revealed as a wholehearted adherent to the simple life. Most artists love to gather round them objects of beauty, arms, china, drawings by the great masters, rich carpets, fine furniture. Rembrandt's house in the Breestraat must have been a veritable museum — pictures and drawings by all the old masters, Roman statuary, armour, rare


Chinese porcelain, Japanese and Indian vases, furniture in cedar and mahogany, portfohos of engravings, brocaded curtains, elaborate musical instruments. But we never read that Goya collected anything, and the fact agrees with what we know of his temperament. He was a terrific worker, and he earned large sums of money, but he sought recreation outside the practice of his art. When the leisure hour came he did not meditatively dream through a portfolio, or argue with a friend over the merits of a canvas. Instead, he threw himself into fresh action, dived in the pot-houses of Madrid, crossed foils with the latest maitre d'epee from Paris or Rome, sought an adventure in the groves of the Prado, spent scented hours in an aristocratic boudoir, or fraternised with the gipsies who camped on the outskirts of the town. Goya was essentially a man of action.

In October, 1780, he was busily engaged on the sketches for the frescoes, and appears to have been working in conjunction with his younger brother-in-law, Ramon Bayeu. The sketches were submitted to the committee, October 5, 1780, and the members approved of them with the remark that they were executed with much good taste.

These worthy men, however, were not wholly free agents. They were acting under the advice of Francisco Bayeu. The position is somewhat difficult to unravel, for Bayeu had undoubtedly brought Goya's name to the notice of the committee, and had spoken very highly of his talents. But many events had happened in the interval since Goya's first commission. He had found a certain amount of popular success in Madrid, and he was still smarting at the King's refusal to appoint him a


Court painter. Probably Bayeu was not altogether unresponsible for that failure. In Zaragoza, Goya and Bayeu were soon at loggerheads. A recent biographer states the true source of the trouble when he sug- gests that the committee refused to accept Goya at his own valuation.* He wished to be treated as Bayeu's superior, although Bayeu was the older man with an acknowledged official position. But how were provincial ecclesiastics to know that one was a genius and the other a mediocrity ? Goya had realised the worth of his own powers whilst working at the tapestry cartoons. In Zaragoza he had not only to listen to the captious criticism of his brother-in-law, but was compelled to submit to it.

Open revolt quickly followed. On December 14 Bayeu complained that Goya refused to recognise his authority as artistic adviser to the committee and director of the decorations. He accordingly asked the committee to reheve him of any responsibility with regard to Goya's designs, f No request was more calculated to throw the committee into dismay. The members had little taste, which is a rare enough quality in any case, although the most ignorant fool deems himself fully competent to pass judgment upon a work of art. But the committee had charge of one of the most famous churches in northern Spain, and could be called to account by their fellow citizens. Bayeu was their artistic sheet- anchor, and if they followed his lead they could not go far wrong. Bayeu's complaint was solemnly discussed, and the deliberations summed up in a minute. " The

  • Calvert : Goya, p. 36.

t Vinaza : Goya, p. 37.


Committee, taking into account that Goya had come to paint owing in a great measure to the pressure and eulogy of Bayeu's letters, agreed that Canon AUue, the director of the building, should frequently see the artist and his work, and should also mention any defects he might notice, and should impress upon Goya how grateful he ought to be for the good offices of Don Francisco Bayeu in engaging him as his assistant."

No more unfortunate resolution could have been passed. Canon AUue, in his efforts to make peace between Josefa's husband and brother, probably never conveyed to the passionate artist the full terms of the committee's recommendation. In the meanwhile, Goya, relieved of all brotherly control, continued to work, and in February completed the dome. He tlien at once prepared his designs for the four pendentives, the subjects being Faith, Courage, Charity, and Patience.* His courage was unquestionable, but faith and patience he con- spicuously lacked.

He had frankly not endeavoured to harmonise his frescoes with those of Francisco and Ramon Bayeu. To those who enter the cathedral El Pilar with a recollection of the glowing phrases of some of his biographers these decorations will be found disappointing. Goya undoubt- edly worked under the influence of Correggio. He had not forgotten his ItaUan wanderings. Tiepolo too had crossed his path, but not the Tiepolo who inspired the coquettish crowds which gaze from the roof of the church of San Antonio de la Florida. There is a blight upon the decorations of El Pilar, and, although Goya proves himself more skilful and more modem than his

  • Vinaza, p. 38.


associates, a visitor to Zaragoza's holiest spot must con- fess to a feeling of weariness. But the very qualities which give them the slight interest they possess to-day were their undoing in 1780. The committee and the townsfolk condemned them for this spirit of modernity, and praised the feeble excellence of the frescoes by the brothers Bayeu. They told Goya that his colours were too dark, which was probably true, for his palette was always incHned to be heavy. Their prudish minds were disturbed by the insufficient drapery on his saints and angels. The committee, with the bright sketches in front of them, " fearing to expose themselves to fresh censure and an accusation of negligence and want of care, put this matter, by reason of the confidence he had won from the committee and the whole Chapter, under the direc- tion and in the hands of Don Francisco Bayeu, hoping that he will take the trouble to see these studies, and say whether the observations of the committee are just in deciding that the pendentives be painted in such a way that they may be shown to the public without fear of criticism." * In other words, the worthy Chapter, un- certain of its own taste, and quaking with the fear of the outside public, threw over Goya, and again attempted to saddle Bayeu with the responsibility.

Baj'^eu was too clever a man to accept the risk. Considering himself offended, he refused to undertake the recommendation. Canon Allue tried to calm the storm by asking Goya to see "if there be any way of arranging the matter, knowing that the committee desire harmony, and do not wish to expose their conduct to censure,but wish only that the work be skilful and perfect." • Calvert : Goya, p. 39, Vinaza : pp. 37-40.


Goya's reply is dated from Zaragoza, March 17, 1781. Written with considerable skill, in the earlier pages the artist endeavoured not to get angry. But although he says that at the beginning of his work at El Pilar there was no motive for resentment against Francisco Bayeu, he becomes warmer as he proceeds, and makes definite charges of malice against his brother-in-law. He opens by complaining that the criticisms against the frescoes recently unveiled had been prompted by principles other than those of justice, and that the verdict was not governed by the authorised rules of art. Flattering the rectitude of the committee he assures them that honour is a very delicate thing for an artist. ** He is sustained by opinion, his whole subsistence depends upon his reputation. When that is obscured, even by the lightest of shadows, his future is gone."

The letter then recapitulates the conditions upon which he undertook the commission. He admits that the invitation came originally from Bayeu, but denies any implied control, citing his membership of the Academy of San Fernando, his reputation in Madrid, and the work he had done for the King. Holding such qualifi- cations, submission to another artist would be detrimental to his honour.

However, wishing to be on terms of good-fellowship with Bayeu, he showed his sketches to his brother-in-law, who entirely approved of them. In one detail he sub- mitted to Bayeu's judgment, and the completed work was simply an enlargement of the sketches Bayeu had seen and the committee passed. Goya denied that in any way he had lacked the respect due to his senior. '* There are those who think so, because, when the work


was well in hand they wished to make me understand that the agreement with Bayeu was that he might inter- fere as much as he liked with the work, and that I must obey him, as a subordinate, in execution, com- position, style, colour, and so forth — in a word I was to be a mere assistant." This was a humiliation he would not suffer. " Don Francisco Bayeu's warning that he would not be responsible for my part of the work only shows that his object was to create a want of confidence that should cause coercion to be exercised."

Underground intrigues are revealed. " Things were artfully circulated against the conduct of the expositor (Goya), concerning his temper, proceedings, and dealings with Bayeu, he being accused of hauteur, pride, and stubbornness. Malice prepared the long premeditated blow, by first creating personal disaffection with his work." Goya refers to his patience whilst Bayeu went about impairing his credit " with insinuating words," and repeats that Bayeu approved of the sketches when they were submitted to him in Madrid, by Goya, " as an act of condescension arising from a desire for peace." He accuses Bayeu of working against him, with a deliberate motive of arousing public censure, and depriving the artist of any of the merit to be won from the frescoes. The letter clearly shows that the quarrel did not begin with the decorations for El Pilar. Goya told the com- mittee that he had given way to make peace, and indeed had paid many visits to his brother-in-law's house. These visits were not returned. Bayeu had also been offered every facihty to inspect the work in progress.

Then Goya opened the flood-gates of his wrath, drawing the attention of the committee to the " torrent of



provocation, insulting to his honour and his fame . . . the only object of his enemies is to do him harm." He had endured calumny, slights, and contempt. Now he was told that some of his figures in the decoration of the dome must be altered. This was more than any artist could endure. The Chapter were masters in their own church, but, before they suffered any dauber to distort the frescoes Goya begged them to take the opinion of an expert in art whose verdict would be impartial. " When his criticism detects unskilfulness and error, or testifies to sufficiency and skill, then he (Goya) will watch with in- difference the mutilations that may be executed." For arbitrators the letter named two members of the Academy of San Fernando, Mariano Maella or Antonio Velazquez. Goya offered to pay all the expenses of their investi- gation.

The closing paragraphs of this remarkable letter* exhibit such deep feeling that they prove the quarrel to be one of long standing, and that the differences over the decorations of El Pilar were merely a pretext for open hostihty. Canon Allue was evidently sick of the affair, and he turned for help to Father Salzedo, who may be identified as the priest who first set Goya's steps on the road of art.

Prior Salzedo was probably one of the few men who had any personal influence over Goya. On March 30, 1781, he wrote a long letter to the artist,t in which he begged him to exercise his judgment, and to recollect the humility of his Saviour, drawing a vivid picture of

  • A translation of the whole letter will be found in Calvert's Goya,

and the original is reprinted in Vifiaza. t Vifiaza : p. 40.


the troubles that might follow from an open quarrel with the committee of El Pilar. " With all generosity and Christian charity submit your studies to Bayeu's opinion, please God with your humility, edify the public, and give pleasure to your friends . . . My advice, as your greatest admirer, is that you submit to the demands of the committee, have your sketches taken to your brother's house, and say to him in the best possible manner, ' This is required by the Chapter. Here they are. Examine them to your satisfaction, and put your opinion in writing, doing as God and your conscience shall dictate.' Then await the result."

Goya was a man of hot and impulsive temper, but he took the unpalatable advice of Salzedo without hesitation. A letter, dated April 6, was sent to Canon Allue, in which he announced his intention of preparing a fresh set of sketches in conjunction with Bayeu, and at the same time he begged Allue 's pardon for all the trouble which had been caused. On April 17 the sketches had been passed by Bayeu and the committee, and the work recommenced.

Peace did not last for long. Within a month enmity again broke out between Goya and Bayeu, and the first declared that he was sullying his honour as an artist. To remain in Zaragoza was impossible, and he asked for im- mediate permission to return to Madrid. The committee received the news with considerable irritation. Goya, they considered, had not only been discourteous to Canon Allue, but to them also. They requested him to send in his ac- counts for settlement. The latter part of their resolution was calculated to affront and wound the irritable artist in the most galKng manner. " Under no circumstances would he be permitted to continue to paint any more


in the church, but this was not to deter the Director from giving some medals to his wife, in virtue of her being the sister of Don Francisco Bayeu, a man so worthy of this and other considerations from the com- mittee, by reason of his skilful work in the church." *

This was an insult, and Goya shook the dust of Zara- goza from off his feet, arriving in Madrid before June was out. He received payment for what he had done, and his wife was bemedalled as a reward for having such a brother. An undated letter from Jovellanos to the Pater Fray Manuel Bayeu, youngest of the three brothers, refers to the incident, but throws no light upon the dispute. f Valerian von Loga suggests that Goya's irregular private Hfe had led to this family squabble, and that Bayeu was upholding the cause of an injured sister. This sounds unlikely, for Bayeu was not helping his sister by destroying her husband's professional reputation. Other biographers assert that Goya had no real cause to disagree with his brother-in-law. Fran- cisco Bayeu had undoubtedly done his utmost to advance Goya's interests both in Madrid and Zaragoza, and a theory more reconcilable to the few known facts is that the growing importance of the younger man imperilled his own career. Jealousy was the root of the trouble, a jealousy of which Goya was again conscious when he was denied admission into the select circle of Painters to the Court. Five years later, in 1786, the feud was ended, if not healed, and Goya painted the portrait now in the Valence Museum, and, a little later, that masterly portrait of his brother-in-law in the Prado. He reveals

  • Resolution dated May 28, 1781. Vifiaza : p. 40.

t Jovellanos : Obras (Barcelona, 1840), Vol. V.,*pp. 242, 244.


Photo^ Anderson



Bayeu as a person of cold and severely critical character, with a strong undercurrent of querulous irascibility. It is a great portrait of a personality which has no attraction. Bayeu had a strong individuality, and in this respect was akin to Goya. But two such tempera- ments could not possibly live in agreement. Subjects of conflict were bound to arise at every meeting. Bayeu doubtless presumed upon his age and position to lecture a young relation. Goya did not take advice from any man, particularly from an artist whose talent was so inferior to his own.

Josef a's part in the discussion is not clear. She ought to have spumed the medal from El Pilar if she agreed with her husband's standpoint. Yet she received the gift as a sister of Bayeu, and then returned with Goya to Madrid. The affair rankled in Goya's mind. " Don't remind me of it," he wrote to Zapater. " It has given me too much cause for grief. I smile at your care of my interests, but I don't want to hear anything more about the business." In another letter he says : " When I think of Zaragoza, and the decorations, my face bums." This sense of injustice was probably the initial cause of the continual bad health which racked him from 1780 to 1790. He developed a nervous and morbid state of mind which looked for opposition from every point of the compass, with Bayeu at the head of his innumerable enemies. His brother the priest Camillo (for whom he had begged and obtained a benefice at Chinchon*) wrote to Zapater, October 18, 1783 : " God has given him luck and capacity, but he loses all patience." f

  • Vinaza : p. 41.

t Zapater : p. 26.


The death of his father broke up the paternal home in Zaragoza, soon after the unfortunate quarrel. The son was so upset that he refused food. Jose Goya died December 17, 1781, and was buried in his parish church of San Miguel de los Navarros. He left no will because he possessed no goods. In November, 1782, Goya's sister died. " I find consolation in the fact that she did nothing but good, and will surely have her place in the Eternal Glory. We who lead a vagabond existence must try to improve our lives during the short time that remains to us." In September, 1783, the widowed mother joined her son in Madrid, but she could not rest in the capital. Probably she did not agree with Josefa, although there was plenty to be occupied with, for the house was full of young and evidently ailing children. She soon returned to Zaragoza, and Goya paid her an annuity for the rest of her life.

His mood did not alter, and he suffered from the deepest depression. On June 2, 1784, he wrote : ** I have lost all strength, and work very little. . . . Pray to the Madonna that she may give me pleasure in my work." When a man of Goya's ardent temperament loses interest in his work the outlook is ominous. And there was plenty of work waiting to be done.

One reason why he had precipitately left Zaragoza after the quarrel with the committee was the knowledge that important commissions were being shared amongst the artists of Madrid. Ventura Rodriquez, chief of the architects of his age, was building the church of San Francisco el Grande. Pictures would be required for the seven altars, and, as a member of the Academy, with his Crucifixion still fresh in the memory of the public.


it was hardly possible that the strongest opposition could exclude him. Although he left Zaragoza in June he was able to send good news to his friend Zapater in August. " It has pleased God to comfort me," he writes with a slightly smug self-satisfaction.* There was a kind of competition for the work, and the Mengs clique was not forgotten. Goya was too passionate a spirit to remain in any circle, and he now — like Ibsen's strongest man — was standing alone, f His commission came practi- cally from the royal family through the Count de Florida Blanca. After the wounds of El Pilar it acted like a heahng balm. In the following autumn his sketches were ready, and the work was in position during the summer of 1784. On December 8, 1784, the altar-pieces were ceremoniously unveiled in the presence of the King and his Court. { The church was crowded with the society of Madrid, and Francisco Bayeu, to whom had been allotted the high altar, travelled from Toledo to be present. The other artists were Goya, Mariano Maella, Gregorio Farro, Antonio Velazquez, Jose del Castillo, and Andrea Calleja. Goya had taken for his subject St. Bernardino de Siena,§ crucifix in hand, preaching from a rock, by the light of a star, to King Alfonso of Aragon and his courtiers. Goya's success may be chronicled in his own words, December 11, 1784 : " I have had luck with my St. Bernardino, not only with the experts, but with the public as well. Without any reservation, everyone is on my side. The King

  • The royal order came tlirough Florida Blanca, July 20.

] An Enemy of the People. " The strongest man is he who .stands alone." The last words of Dr. Stockmann, % Vinaza : p. 42. § Vinaza gives a detailed description of these altar-pieces, p. 42.


expressed his satisfaction before the whole Court." The joy of the artist was almost childish — but the true artist has usually much of the child in his nature.

When a question of payment arose, however, all manner of difficulties were set in the way. On April 25, 1785, three of the artists, Goya, Farro, and Castillo, petitioned the Count de Florida Blanca. The work had engaged them for two years. Their livelihood depended upon their exertions. " They possessed no fixed income, as did those artists who have the happiness to work for the King." Goya had not forgotten his previous rebuff over the coveted Court appointment. When the petition was sent to the minister, with it was taken a covering letter from Antonio Ponz, the secretary of the Roj^al Academy of San Fernando, who laid stress upon the difficulties of the artists, and asked for a favourable reply " so that these poor men may not lose heart, and that reward shall inspire them to fresh efforts." Florida Blanca's reply was grudging. After three months' delay the sum of 6,000 reals was paid on account, and a later marginal note on the memorial reads, in far from flattering language : " Pay another 4,000 reals to each. The pictures are not of great value, but these three are not the worst." *

Despite his continued nervous ailment, Goya's life was exceedingly busy. He had been commissioned to paint several devotional subjects for a college at Sala- manca, and Jovellanos was asked to tell the artist how singularly satisfied the patron was at the care and dili- gence with which he had finished the paintings, and also

  • Vifiaza : p. 44.


at their eminent merit.* Portrait commissions com- menced to come to his studio in increasing numbers, and as a result of his acquaintance with Florida Blanca he was introduced to the Infante Don Luis, brother of the King, and husband of the beautiful Maria Teresa Vallabriga. Don Luis was a man of unconventional character, noted for his easy temper, his easier morals, and his artistic tastes. Jovellanos truly called him " a benefactor of art and artists." f In Goya he found a sympathetic soul. Maria Teresa came from Aragon, and her romantic history was common property. The artist was invited to the palace of Arenas de San Pedro, in the province of Avila, where he painted portraits of the Prince and his family and also spent much time hunting with his host. For Goya was not only a musician, a fine swordsman, and, if not a toreador, at any rate an enthusiast in all questions of tauromachia, but also a keen sportsman. During the period 1780-1785 he found the surest relaxation for his overtaxed nerves in hunting in the environs of Madrid.

  • October 11, 1784.

t Don Luis was the last son of Philip V. and Elisabeth Farnese. In 1735, when he was barely ten years of age, he was created a cardinal, but he later renounced all his ecclesiastical dignities and lived with his mother at San Ildefonse. Charles III. allowed him to marry the Dona Maria Teresa Vallabriga y Rozas, a young woman of great beauty who belonged to a noble family of Aragon. The marriage took place June 27, 1776, but the ceremony was not allowed at the Court. The Infante was conducted in the royal carriages as far as the Tagus. When he crossed the river he relinquished his royal privileges, and was met by his own servants in gray livery with red facings and silver lace. He lived as a private gentleman at Las Arenas. After his death, August 23, 1785, his wife was forbidden to live in Madrid, in the provincial capitals, or at the royal residences, although her family boasted its descent from the ancient Kings of Navarre. One daughter married Manuel Godoy, the other the Duke of San Fernando. The son, known as the Cardinal de Bourbon, became Archbishop of Toledo.


Goya's visit to Don Luis was one of the most note- worthy events of the earHer portion of his hfe. In writing to Zaragoza, he described the Prince's famity as

  • ' simply angelic." He hunted almost every day with

the Infante, and the game they shot he commemorated in several very clever studies of still-life. After a month host and guest reluctantly parted. Goya was given a handsome present, and a costly brocade dress was despatched to his wife. Don Luis and Maria Teresa made him promise to return the following year, and so careful were they of his personal comfort that they sent him home to Madrid by a special courier. Unfortunately the friendship was not destined to grow old. The Infante made a yearly visit to his brother the King in Madrid, but Goya kissed the hand of his patron for the last time early in 1785. At Las Arenas he painted many family portraits, which are described as being dry in colour and not well composed. He also executed life-sized portraits of the children, and Court portraits of the Infante. These were afterwards removed to Boadilla del Monte, a palace built b} Rodriguez near Puerta Segovia, where they filled a gallery on one of the upper floors.

Upon the success of his altar-piece at San Francisco el Grande he built great hopes. The death of Andrea Calleja again opened the path to Court favour. On January 14, 1785, in writing to Zapater, he referred to " a public secret in the palace, yet I must speak only about the accomplished fact." But Goya was not to receive the coveted appointment. The old King, Charles III., remained obdurate, and Goya was not made a painter to the Court during his reign, having to wait


an additional four years. No reason can be advanced for the second refusal, for Goya's own friends were eager to do him honour. Calleja's death left vacant the directorship of the Academy of San Fernando, and Goya was elected to the office of the president. " Little profit but much honour," he told Zapater in one of his letters, the salary being merely twenty-five doubloons. However, it practically created him one of the most important artists in Madrid, and official head of the art world. Ponz's reference to him as one of the " poor men " could hardly have been justified by the facts, for Goya's fortune must have been rapidly growing.

With his fortieth year he entered upon the most brilliant period of his career. He had quickly consolidated his position, for up to the age of twenty-five he had done nothing. Of his personal appearance about this time we can obtain a good impression from two portraits repro- duced in Charles Yriarte's biography.* In the first he is dressed in the height of fashion. His face glows with a wilful obstinacy, a passionate energy. If there be any truth in the laws of Lavater we have here a man ready to enjoy life's pleasures to the uttermost. In a portrait, painted by himself, at the age of thirty-two, he stands in front of his easel, and gazes from the canvas in a posi- tion almost identical with that of Hogarth in the portrait of the English artist and his dog in the National Gallery. If we reverse the Hogarth portrait we can compare the lines of the face, feature by feature, to those of Goya. There is a striking physical resemblance between the two men. They possess the same heavy cheeks, clean

♦ Yriarte: Goya (1867). The first portrait is on p. 11, "after a miniature " ; the second, on p. 27, in the collection of F. de Madrazo.


shaven, full-blooded, with strongly marked chins — perhaps Hogarth's is the more determined, but there is little to choose — the eyes are equally alert, the two fore- heads high but square. There is no idealism in these men. Their outlook is cynical. They do not believe very much in the nobler attributes of human nature. We must not accuse Hogarth of vulgarity,* yet there is always the strident echo of the London guttersnipe lurking in his moralities. This is absent from Goya, who, though a townsman, was country bred. Hogarth was coarse, because he belonged to a coarse age. Goya was coarse for the same reason. But Goya was a sceptic in an age of free-thinkers, whilst Hogarth, although a latitudi- narian in a century of Trullibers, was sound at the core.

The portrait of Goya at the age of thirty-five, after a miniature, repays our study. The features have changed very little, but the dress is more distinguished, with fine linen ruffles round the neck. The hair has been care- fully curled, and tied at the back in a ribbon — ^it is difficult to say from the wood-engraving whether or no powder has been used, but it is probable. As a whole the miniature carries a look of greater determina- tion, the eyes have an ardent fire, not to be found in the earlier portrait. Goya now has the confidence of success, the joy of a granted ambition. His position is secure. His patrons are the rulers of the land. His closest friends are to be found in the salons of the capital.

  • Charles Lamb refers to the critics who term Hogarth inferior and

vulgar. " These persons seem to me to confound the painting of subjects in common or vulgar life with the being a vulgar artist. The quantity of thought which Hogarth crowds into every picture would alone unvulgarise every subject he might choose."


The artist has fought his way through every obstacle, and reached his desire.

Like Rembrandt he loved to paint his portrait, and a number of these miniatures and canvases still exist. They form a running commentary upon his life. With this drawing before us we need no other help to recon- struct the personaUty of the artist at his period of success.



Goya not a ferocious Revolutionary. Hamerton's Explanation of the Artist's Renown. Spain passing through an Age of Transition. Ferdinand VI. Charles III. His Portrait by Goya. The Plot against the Jesuits. The Count d'Aranda. Influence of the French Philosophers upon the Spanish Nobility. Moral as well as Political Changes. Bad Example of the Heir to the Throne. Maria Luisa of Parma. Accession of Charles IV. Goya appointed a Painter of the Chamber. His Portraits of Jovellanos and the Count de Florida Blanca. Commence- ment of his best Period of Portraiture.

IN most biographies of Francisco Goya it is usual to depict him as a ferocious revolutionary, who fawned upon the members of a monarchy he sought to destroy. Historians of conservative and monarchical views have gloated over the story of this artist-republican, who was always ready to set aside his most cherished beliefs immediately his pocket was imperilled ; this libertine who rebelled against all the laws of human morality, and preached equality whilst he made love to duchesses ; this atheist who willingly accepted com- missions to paint altar-pieces and decorate churches; this patriot and nationalist who was one of the first to greet Joseph Bonaparte upon his usurpation of the throne of Spain. Such a many-sided temperament lends itself to those rapid contrasts of light and shade which delight the biographer. French critics have


revelled in the picture of a man who flattered France by embracing the free-thinking teaching of the Encyclo- paedists, and was converted by David himself to those political theories which heralded the great revolution. Spanish authors have felt it necessary to protest against this point of view. They would have us believe that the artist lived a quiet life in the midst of a happy family, was a good son of Mother Church, and seldom allowed his heart to be disturbed by the flutter of a petticoat. One English art critic, who failed to appreciate Goya as an artist, elaborated a most amazing theory that his renown as a painter was almost wholly political. " The celebrity of the artist is in great part political, and not artistic, in its origin ; it is also partly a protestation against religious tyranny, which Goya hated and resisted in his own way with considerable effect in Spain. In a word, Goya, besides being an artist, was a great Spanish Liberal. . . . The friends of liberty, both in Spain and France, are therefore strongly prejudiced in his favour, and it is a most powerful element of success, even in a.rt, to get an active and growing political influence on the side of one's private reputation. . . . Goya was on the side of the Revolution, an audacious enemy of tyranny, hypocrisy, stupidity, and superstition ; consequently he was a great painter, and one of the most accomplished etchers who ever lived ! " * Only one comment is necessary upon this extraordinary verdict. Political activity has never immortalised the work of a single mediocre artist. To this fact there is not a single exception, for art can only live through the ages upon its own inherent merit.

  • P. G. Hamerton : Portfolio Papers — Goya, p. 126.


The truth about Goya is not to be arrived at by conscientiously following the pictures drawn by Zapater, Matheron, Vinaza, Yriarte, or even Hamerton. Goya's fame is based upon his art, and his art alone. His private life was possibly not so free as the French writers would have us believe, but it was certainly not so staid as Zapater asserts. Goya was no Benvenuto Cellini ; neither was he a Fra Angelico. He was more akin to Lippo Lippi, whose example he followed when he broke into the Roman convent. Immorality alone never leads to celebrity. Men like Aretino, Casanova, Cellini, de Sade, and fifty others, gained their notoriety more from their literary and artistic works than from their deeds however much the latter appealed to popular fancy. When Goya's political ideas are calmly considered, we find that there is little novelty in them. He was a child of Aragon, a province distinguished for its equal love of liberty and respect towards the crown.* These qualities were engrained in Goya's blood. He could not have thrown them off had he so desired. There is no evidence that he ever had such a wish.

The secret is to be found in the history of the period.

It was an age of transition. His interest in politics

was probably not greater than that of any ordinary

intelligent Spaniard who loved his country and longed

to see it better governed. But he could not escape

♦ The address to Charles III. from the nobihty of Aragon after the campaign of 1762 forms inspiring reading. " The nobihty of your kingdoms attached to the throne of Aragon suppHcate your majesty to intrust to their zeal the defence of the coasts. . . . We have little concern in regard to the quality of the posts which your majesty may assign us, less for the climate whither we may be sent, and none for pay. ... He is not a gentleman who has not acquired his title by illustrious deeds in defence of his country."


influences which were working on every side. Almost for the first time in Spain men were beginning to think for themselves and were free to express their unguarded opinions without mental reservation. Under the House of Austria, with a government so centralised that Philip II. was able to control the machine of state to its minutest detail, personal liberty of thought and action was practically suppressed. Whilst admitting the value of the Inquisition as a censor of morals, the power of the Holy Office was directly opposed to intel- lectual development which did not proceed upon lines agreeable to its policy. Individuality was dangerous ; only the weaklings and time-servers could rely upon an unchallenged personal peace. When Charles II., last of his House, died, and Philip V., grandson of Louis XIV., ascended the throne, the old order was bound to decay. The Bourbons did not encourage criticism any more than the Hapsburgs, but there is an inherent logic in the Gallic race they could never suppress, and it crossed the Pyrenees in their train. The change did not come at once. In some respects it was antagonistic to the spirit of southern Spain, and Philip V., who had learnt the art of government as elaborated by Louis XIV., knew his duties too well to allow much scope for an educative liberalism.

His successor, Ferdinand VI., only surviving son of Philip by Maria Luisa of Savoy, was just and benevolent. Little more can be said of him. His constitution was delicate, his temper placid — although he was subject to those sudden fits of violent passion which were almost a family inheritance. Extremely parsimonious, he was at the same time noted for his punctilious truthfulness.



After the fashion of another historical character, and probably in more strict accordance with historical fact, he was never known to tell a lie. Like his father he was hypochondriacal, and lived in the perpetual fear of death. The minutiae of government he deputed to his ministers ; hunting and music formed his only distractions. He was indolent and incapable, and his solitarj^ virtue was that he recognised and admitted his faults. Complimented on his prowess as a sportsman, he answered : "It would be extraordinary if I could not do one thing well." During his reign Spain enjoyed a longer period of in- ternal peace than had occurred since the days of Philip II., and at least one of his ministers endeavoured to en- courage the arts and sciences of the land.* The school of painting, sculpture and architecture, founded by Philip v., was erected into a royal academy, and endowed with funds for sending the most promising students to Italy. The death of his Queen in 1758 drove Ferdinand into a despair which was not far removed from madness, and the Enghsh ambassador reported that " the monarch, besides great indispositions of body, is in some sort disordered in mind." On August 10, 1759, his melancholy ended in death, and his half-brother crossed the sea from his kingdom of the Two Sicilies, and ascended the Spanish throne.

Amongst the royal portraits in the Prado is one by Goya of Charles III., painted towards the end of his reign. The touch has all the hardness of some of the tapestry cartoons, and the composition is obviously based upon Velazquez's portrait of Philip IV. Indeed,

  • Don Zeno Somo de Villa, Marquis de la Ensenada, a man of humble

origin, who, hke Colbert, started life as a bank clerk.


the attitude of the two figures is almost exactly the same, and both sovereigns are shown in hunting costume. But the later Bourbons never possessed the absorbing personal fascination which enveloped every member of the House of Austria. The eighteenth-century Bourbons were a dull and bored race, though some — amongst them Charles III. — endeavoured to carry out their kingly duties with earnestness and sincerity. The Earl of Bristol, British ambassador at Madrid, wrote to Pitt that the Catholic King " has good talents, a happy memory, and an uncommon command of himself on all occasions. His having been often deceived renders him suspicious." The description adds to our appreciation of Goya's skill in the delineation of personality. For suspicion lurks in the great black eyes of this old and disillusioned monarch, who, in a most dignified cocked hat and wig, peers forth from the canvas as if the very animals he is about to slaughter with his gun are waiting to take advantage of him. Goya's portrait also tallies with the vivid description of Major Dairy mple. " The King has a very odd appearance in person and dress. He is of diminutive stature, with a complexion of the colour of mahogany. He has not been measured for a coat these thirty years, so that it sits upon him like a sack ; his waistcoat and breeches are generally leather, with a pair of cloth spatterdashes on his legs. . . . He goes out a-sporting every day of the year, rain or blow, whilst at Madrid, once a day, in the afternoon ; but in the country, at the sitios, morning and evening ; he often drives six or seven leagues out, and back again, as hard as the horses can go." Dalrymple added that life was rough for the royal attendants, who often received falls


from their horses, resulting in dislocated shoulders, broken arms and legs, and numberless contusions. The whole of the country around the palaces was enclosed for sport, so that, in painting him in hunting costume, Goya seized a more characteristic pose than if the King had stood in imperial robes.

The Earl of Rochford wrote to the Earl of HaHfax, January 13, 1764, saying : " With regard to his Catholic Majesty, who has been often, I know, represented as a weak prince, he is, in my opinion, very far from it. If he would deprive himself a little more of his darling passion of shooting, and give himself time to look into the national affairs, he would, I am persuaded, manage them more wisely and better than any of his present ministers."

This description is hardly true from every point of view. Charles III. was heavy, and, though virtuous, far from brilliant. But he beUeved in the sacredness of his office, and devoted much of his day to the affairs of state. Unlike his brother, he refused to delegate his authority to his ministers as he grew older, and scrupulously attempted to fulfil a task for which he had insufficient ability.

In other respects Rochford's judgment of Charles' character was a tribute to the ambassador's gifts of intuition, for the King carried out a coup d'etat which made Spain rock. Goya is accused by some authors, and praised by others, for his anti-clerical views. But there was an active movement in the highest circles for h mi ting many of the excessive powers of the Church. Even under Ferdinand VI., dominated as he was by Father Ravago, his Jesuit confessor, a Concordat was concluded with Benedict XIV.,* foreshadowing a

  • January 11, 1755.


change of policy towards the Church, and commencing by abolishing a bad system of ecclesiastical patronage which transferred vast sums of Spanish money to Rome. Charles III. went much further. The members of the Society of Jesus had been attacked in Portugal and expelled from France, but it was almost impossible to believe that Spain would turn against the wonderful organisation which had been bom on its soil. The Jesuits were not loved by any state. " Their spirit of intrigue, dangerous maxims, bond of union, and persever- ing ambition, had long rendered them an object of fear and jealousy to many of the European govern- ments, and there was scarcely a political intrigue, or public commotion, in which they were not actually im- phcated, or supposed to be engaged." * Whether it was true or no that they promoted the Madrid insurrection in 1765, and (according to the despatch of the English ambassador) " formed a design on the Thursday of the Holy Week to exterminate his Catholic Majesty and "all his family," cannot be proved and is hardly possible to credit. We have already suggested that the youthful Goya was interested in that emeute, although certainly not as a partizan of the Jesuits. But Charles un- doubtedly had suspicions based on exact information. Besides, he belonged to the Franciscans, a rival order. In conjunction with his minister the Count d'Aranda, he plotted against the watchful order with such skill and secrecy that on March 31, 1767, the six colleges of the Jesuits in Madrid were surrounded at midnight, and the inmates conveyed under escort upon a journey to the coast, before the inhabitants of the capital were awake.

  • William Coxe : Memoirs of the Kings of Spain, Vol. IV., p. 351.


Every college in Spain and her colonies was treated in the same manner, and the unfortunate Jesuits despatched to Civita Vecchia and the papal dominions under conditions of extreme barbarity. The edict which ordered their expulsion also notified that if any Spaniard should presume to publish a pamphlet apologetic or otherwise, either for or against the dreaded order, he should be punished as if guilty of high treason.

With the aid of the King, Aranda had struck the blow almost single-handed, and there was the slightest protest from the country. The minister led the anti-clerical party. " His administration is marked by a series of salutary regulations which form a memorable era in the history and government of his country ; as well from the diffusion of new and more liberal principles, as from the attempts to confine the overgrown power of the Church, and to naturalise a spirit of toleration hitherto unknown in Spain."* The ecclesiastical courts, which decided both criminal and civil causes in which the regular clergy were concerned, were abolished. Many of the religious processions and feasts were suppressed. Rights of sanctuary were restricted. Regulations were enacted to reform the scandalous abuses of the monastic bodies. Aranda was able to deprive the Inquisition of its control over the press, and forbade the Holy Office to interfere in the proceedings of the civil courts. He warned that powerful body that it must confine its activities to its proper functions, the prosecution of heresy and apostasy, and must imprison no subject of the Crown without the clearest proofs of guilt.

Aranda was a statesman of outstanding talent, whose

  • Coxe : Memoirs of the Kings of Spain, Vol. IV., p, 404.


personality and views directly appealed to Goya. They both came from the same province, and, when Goya first arrived in Madrid, the young artist had attached himself to the Aragonese band of which Aranda was the titular leader. Aranda's history explains many aspects of Goya's character, and cannot be omitted from any consideration of the painter's career. He had lived in France, and " imbibed that freedom of sentiment which then began to be fashionable," * The case can be stated in far stronger terms. Aranda had travelled extensively through Europe, had met most of the philosophers who were shaping the thought of his time, and his own ideas were based upon their political and social theories. He had talked in the Parisian salons of Madame Du Deffand and Mdlle. de Lespinasse, and visited Femey to interview Voltaire. In Paris he mixed with the Encyclopaedists, and formed a close friendship with Alembert. The nobility of Spain at this moment were separating into two distinct classes. On the one hand, a large number were devoting their otherwise idle days to bull-fighting and sport, under the leadership of the herculean Prince of the Asturias. The more thoughtful were breaking through the old restraints. Many travelled to Paris and London, and remained in correspondence with their new acquaintances. One of Goya's sitters, the Duke de Villahermosa, who was closely related to the Aragonese Count deJFuentes, followed Aranda's example, and called at Femey upon Voltaire, where he was warmly welcomed by the old poet. Letters have been preserved addressed to the Secretary of the Spanish embassy in London asking for books of philosophy which were ♦ Coxe : Memoirs of the Kings of Spain.


forbidden in Spain. Hobbes, Spinoza, Voltaire, Diderot, Alembert, and Rousseau — although on the Index — were freely passed from hand to hand amongst the cultured nobility.* The change was coming from above and not from below, and Goya was in the thick of a movement which he could not resist.

Aranda's passion for reform was reinforced by typical Aragonese obstinacy. " You are more obstinate than an Aragonese mule," his master once told him. When the minister went out of office, and retired to Paris, the Inquisition, in a last flutter of dying power, seized Olavide, who had actively engineered Aranda's schemes of education. Accusing him of heresy, one of the

  • Diderot's writings on Art must have been familiar to Goya, who

can be exactly described by Diderot's own phrase : " Les esprits sup6rieiirs sont toujours curieux." Diderot was associated with D'Alembert from 1748 to 1772, and lived long enough to be on friendly terms with David. Like Rousseau he preached the doctrine of a return to Nature, he rebelled against the classical school, and called Winckelmann a fanatic. " The antique should be studied to teach us how to observe Nature." In another essay he writes : "I have been tempted a hundred times to say to the students whom I passed on their way to the Louvre, with their portfolios under their arms, ' How long have you been studying there ? ' ' Two years ! ' ' Well, that is quite long enough. Give up all that artificial work. Go to Chartreux, and there you will see the real attitudes of devotion and repentance. To-morrow go to the wineshop, and you will see the true gestures of an angry man. Frequent public places. Observe what passes in the streets, in gardens, in markets, in houses, and you will thus learn what are the real gestures in the actions of daily life. Just look at those two companions of yours who are quarrelling. See how their quarrel places them, without their knowledge, in certain attitudes. Examine them carefully, and you will be ashamed of the teaching of your insipid professor, and you will despise the imitation of your vapid model." Of course Leonardo da Vinci said much the same, but his manuscripts were unknown to either Diderot or Goya. We can easily imagine the young Spaniard reading the famous Salons, overjoyed to find his ideas of artistic education and development upheld by the famous French critic.

Photo. Calvtrt

PORTRAIT OF A LADY Collection of Don R. Garcia


charges being the possession of a letter from Voltaire, Olavide was sentenced to eight years' confinement with monastic discipline. Under another monarch the pri- soner would have been committed to the flames. But in a few years Spain had thrown off the shackles of centuries, and we require no other explanation of the Liberal tendencies of Goya, for they were the aspira- tions of every educated man of his time. To call them revolutionary is an exaggeration of terms.

With this intellectual and political transition coincided a vast social change. The circles of Ferdinand VI. and Charles III. had been exceedingly staid. The orgies of Louis XV. at Versailles were not repeated in Madrid or Aranjuez. Charles III . expressed considerable indignation and disgust at the personal iniquities of his royal cousin. His own private life set an example which he expected his courtiers to follow. Towards the end of his reign his influence weakened. His wife had been dead for years, and he was unable to control the younger men and women who surrounded the Prince of the Asturias and Maria Luisa of Parma. Their standards of decorum were lower, and the tone of the Court rapidly degenerated. " Gallantry and intrigue are terms too refined for this period," wrote Major Dairy mple in 1776.

Charles III. was a martinet who insisted that his courtiers should perform their duty to the country, and behave with decency, at least in public. He attached the greatest importance to form, ceremony, and prece- dence. Charles IV. was a weak-minded but amiable fool, with the instincts and inclinations of a stableman. Maria Luisa can be described in Richard Muther's racy but truthful phrase as " a courtesan seated on the throne


of Spain." Until the death of her father-in-law she had been compelled to submit to his will. She protested in vain. One of the recurring sources of argument between Charles III. and the Italian Princess was his methodical journey from one palace to another throughout the year, on dates fixed with the regularity of a clock which neither weather nor illness could alter.* A royal progress through a winter storm hastened the death of the well- meaning but self-willed monarch.

Although Charles III. admired the tapestry cartoons, Goya was probably not in the good graces of the old King, who could not have listened to the current gossip con- cerning the artist's disorderly existence with any degree of leniency. The Prince of the Asturias was two years younger than Goya, and owned many tastes in common with the artist. Maria Luisa had considerably more dignity. But she was even freer from moral scruples than might be expected from a Parmese Bourbon. When Charles IV. ascended the throne in 1788, Goya was immediately received into the royal favour, with a hearty welcome to the Court and freedom to behave as he wished. Upon the death of Cornelius van der Goten he was appointed a painter of the Chamber with a

  • " On the 26th [July, 1774] the Court set out for San Ildephonso.

The troops were under arms, lining the road from the palace, as far as they could reach ; exclusive of the horse and foot guards, there were three regiments of infantry, and one of cavalry. The coaches were attended by the guardia de corps, and drove as hard as they could go. The Court resides from the middle of January, till a little before the Holy Week, at the Pardo ; then at Madrid till after Easter, assisting at the religious ceremonies of the Holy Week ; at Aranjuez till the middle of June ; again at Madrid for three weeks or a month ; at San Ildephonso till October ; at the Escorial till December ; once more at Madrid till January, and so on annually." Major Dalrymple's Voyage {1776).


salary of 15,000 reals, and thus his chief ambition was attained.

Goya had already visited members of the royal family, although the Infante Don Luis was not allowed to assume an official position out of Madrid. With one of that Prince's friends he entered into warm friendship. Jovellanos, the author and politician, was a few years younger than the painter, over whom he soon com- menced to exercise much influence with a stimulating and healthy effect. The portrait of Jovellanos may be dated between the years 1780 and 1790. The goodwill of the philosopher brought a commission which Goya regarded with considerable pride. On January 12, 1783, Goya wrote triumphantly to Zaragoza, stating that he had a secret he could only share with his wife Josefa and his friend Martin Zapater. He had been asked to paint a portrait of the Count of Florida Blanca, the prime minister, who had already seen him and displayed a gratifying friendliness.

Florida Blanca was the most important man in Spain after the King, and the power he exercised was infinitely greater. Not until April 26 was he able to find time for the first sitting. Goya's charm of manner produced its usual effect. Artist and minister became so engrossed that they talked for hours, to the jealousy and anger of the sycophants who surrounded the statesman. The portrait was not completed until January, 1784, and received much praise. The paint is thinly laid on, the impression being cold and unsatisfactory. Though Goya was in sympathy with Florida Blanca the portrait cannot rank with his masterpieces. That Florida Blanca was pleased is uncertain. Perhaps the delay in payment was due to his financial embarrassments, for, like all honest


men, he found political life far from a monetary success. A second portrait shows him holding a document relating to the foundation of the Banco de San Carlos. This is happier, and led to commissions from several of the directors of the bank, notably Don Jose y Zambrano and the Marquis de Tolosa. The praise of the Infante Don Luis paved the way for the portrait of Charles III., which has already been spoken of.

In these relationships with some of the brightest spirits of the land there is no sign of that ardent republican and revolutionary spirit with which Goya has generally been credited. When Richard Muther writes that " to cleanse the augean stable of Spain became the great aim of Goya's life," he advances a supposition for which there is not the slightest foundation in fact. Far better history is the German author's statement that Goya not only painted Rococo but lived to the full the wild life of that rococo period, which may be said to commence about the years 1785-86. Portrait -painting had now become his most important professional activity. His earliest dated portrait is that of the Count de la Miranda, which can be assigned to the year 1777, and in quality much sur- passes some of his later examples. It must not be forgotten that throughout his career Goya was an artist of unequal standards and varying technique, which makes it exceedingly difficult to date many of his canvases. A portrait of Cornelius van der Goten, the director of the tapestry manufactory, belongs to 1782, and Von Loga ascribes to the same time a charming sketch of a boy dressed in red, belonging to Madame Bernstein of Paris. Earlier examples, such as the portrait of Josef a Goya y Bayeu, have already been cited. But the period of fine portraits did not actually commence until 1786.




Goya's growing Success. His Household. New Blood required at the Tapestry Factory, The " Second Series." Criticism by P. G. Hamerton and Richard Muther. Description of the Designs. Ganre Pictures for the Osuna Family. Goya and Gainsborough. Some Portraits belong ing to this Period. The Marquesa de Pontejos. Goya's Prices. Re- ligious Pictures.

cc -ifc. -r OTWITHSTANDING all my work, I receive no more from my Bank shares, and from the Academy, than an income of 12,000 or 13,000 reals a year. With this sum I am the most contented, and the happiest man in the world." *

Goya wrote these Hnes March 11, 1786,! and they indicate that he was not only successful but happy. The family quarrel had ended. In this year he painted the first portrait of Bayeu, now at Valence. His domestic life seems to have resulted in a compromise, for he was in every respect self-indulgent to his vices. For the coming ten years scandal made free with his name, although doubtless some of the exploits with which he was credited are mythical. Josefa Bayeu probably recognised that her husband must be allowed to follow his inclinations.

  • This must be a reference to his fixed income only, apart from his

professional earnings, for 12,000 reales vellon does not amount to much more than £125.

t Zapater, p. 37.


Besides, she was busy rearing the twenty children of which she was the mother, only one of whom reached adult age.

Whatever time Goya spent in dissipation was not stolen from his working hours. During the thirteen years 1787-1800 his production was so incessant that it is difficult to know which activity first to chronicle. He was painting innumerable portraits, accepting commis- sions for charming little genre compositions as well as church altar-pieces, and he also renewed his engagements at the tapestry factory. He had not'set aside the etching needle, for he was preparing the seventy plates of the caprichos, for which he made a large number of drawings. Outside his studio he was building up that legendary reputation which credits him as being the most dangerous Don Juan in modem Spain, the terror of all husbands.

His work for the tapestry factory may be taken before more important matters. When Cornelius van der Goten died in 1786 it was decided to employ native artists almost exclusively. Livinio Stuik, a cousin of Van der Goten, was appointed technical director, but Francisco Bayeu, now senior Court painter, appears to have taken an active part in the management. In a letter dated April 17, 1786, to the minister Lerena, based upon a report made by Castello, Bayeu suggested that the establishment needed fresh blood, and a few days later he proposed that two or three clever artists should be invited to work upon a fixed salary for the factory. He proposed his brother, Ramon Bayeu, his brother-in-law, Goya, and Jose del Castello. It is noteworthy that although he praises Ramon very highly, he has not a single word of commendation in his letter for Goya. Without disparaging Bayeu's good faith, he could not easily have made any recommendation


which omitted Goya's name. Maella also mentioned the names of Ramon Bayeu and Goya, and considered that they should be asked to prepare sketches of biblical and patriotic scenes. In June the appointments were made, and Goya announces himself to his friends as Pintor del Rey, although actually he had no right to that distinctive title.* He boasted that he had done nothing to gain the unexpected honour, which can be well believed, and that he could calculate his income at about 28,000 reals. " More I do not want, thank the Lord," he added rather hypocritically. The tapestry appointment seems to have been the subject of some intrigue. Maella coveted one of the posts, but Bayeu is said to have secured it for his brother-in-law, if Goya did not receive it mainly on account of his own high favour at Court.

Goya entered into his new duties with characteristic energy. His health had been completely re-established, although a fall from a carriage had torn the sinews of his right leg. During the summer he worked upon a series of cartoons for tapestry to decorate the bedroom of the Infante Don Gabriel Anton, the fourth and most gifted son of the King, who in 1785 had married Dona Victoria of Braganza. Both Prince and Princess died, within a month of each other, in 1788.

His work upon the factory cartoons was continually interrupted by more pressing commissions from the Court, the Church, and the nobility, and|his working hours must have been charged with unremitting toil. In a letter dated April 13, i79i,t Livinio Stuik complained that the

♦ In a letter to Martin Zapater, quoted by Francisco Zapater in his Noticias hiograficds, p. 37. f Quoted by Cmzada Villaarail.


factory of Santa Barbara was deteriorating into a hopeless condition. The workmen were in want, and had been discharged owing to lack of employment, and he laid the blame upon the artists who drew their salary but neglected to supply cartoons for the looms. Ramon Bayeu was as busy in other directions as Goya. There was some excuse for their conduct. Mengs, Maella, and Francisco Bayeu drew their Court salaries without pledging work in exchange. Probably they considered their emoluments in the nature of retaining fees. When the factory demanded cartoons, Goya advanced the plea of his duties as Court painter and the numerous com- missions he had in hand for the royal family.

The ministers did not agree with the artist's point of view ; pressure was exerted, and gradually cartoons were delivered. In 1791 four were ready for the King's study in the state rooms of the Escorial, but Goya's health gradually collapsed, and after this date he does not appear to have added to what may be called the second or later series of cartoons for tapestry. They are usually classed with the earlier commissions, but in style they are thoroughly distinct.

The second series of cartoons contains examples of some of the most charming fancies Goya ever created. In P. G. Hamerton's essay the critic affirms that the Spanish artist was coarse-minded and essentially vulgar. Hamerton admitted that he had seen very few of Goya's paintings, and he condemned his work chiefly upon a study of the decorations of his country house on the out- skirts of Madrid. Had he been able to examine, even from photographs or the roughest drawings, this second series of tapestry cartoons, he could never have applied such


terms as " coarse " or " vulgar." At times Goya rises to a light-hearted grace which no other decorative artist of the eighteenth century surpassed, and, with Mr. Rothen- stein, it is " difficult to understand why they should not have commanded more interest outside Spain." * They are usually compared to Watteau and his school. " In point of style these works are very different from those of the Frenchmen, for they have all the local colour of the Peninsula. We miss that tender, delicate colouring, those dainty, capricious gestures which we have learnt to admire in the work of Watteau and Lancret. Boldly, almost coarsely, Goya paints side by side the strongest reds and yellows ; with brutal realism he depicts the rouge on his ladies' cheeks and the dark pencilling of their eyebrows. The stiff material of the dress conceals all the beauties of the form, and the black mantilla cuts off every pos- sible grace or piquancy of movement ; and through this essentially Spanish note Goya's works resemble far more those of his modem compatriot, Zuloaga, than those of his French contemporaries. ' ' f Muther 's clever description is only partially true. There is an exceeding grace in these cartoons, which in some respects recall the spirituelle elegance of Fragonard.

In the earlier series Goya's hand was occasionally heavy, almost to clumsiness, and the designs were not well-suited for the material into which they were to be translated. The workers in the factory declared that the figures were " dandies and girls with so much decoration of coifs, ribbons, fal-lals, gauzes, etc., that much time and patience is wasted on them, and the work is unpro-

♦ W. Rothenstein : Goya, p. lo, f R. Muther : Goya, p. i8.



ductive." * In the second series Goya changed his methods, his chief aim being to mass his figures so as to silhouette them against a hght and often empty back- ground. His success was complete, and in many cases the result is one of exquisite refinement.

Hidden in the basement of the Prado, where the light plays odd tricks round the dark comers of the gloomy rooms, these cartoons are not well placed for a close examination. They were painted with extreme rapidity. Goya, like Turner, bent his material to his will, and was not always careful with regard to the permanency of his palette. In many cases the colours are sadly missing, and the cartoons remain but ghosts of their former brilliance. In the palaces hang the actual tapestries, which suffer from a certain crudity of tone.f The artist was greater than the craftsmen who carried out his designs. Yet both tapestries and cartoons are a monument of Spanish rococo style of the eighteenth century. " Le cri pousse par Goya est le cri national," wrote Charles Yriarte, alluding more particularly to the patriotic and satirical etchings. Goya, however, is quite as nationahst in spirit in these decorative schemes, which, in dignity and grace, are essentially Spanish.

The subjects deal chiefly with rural life and the sea- sons. The Summer (1786) is one of the least satisfactory, with its conventional pyramidical composition of hay- makers, and its hasty, almost scamped, workmanship. A street scene (1787) reminds the English visitor of

  • A. F. Calvert : Goya, p. 26.

t The factory of Santa Barbara was weaving tapestries from the cartoons up to 1802. Queen Isabella presented examples of the tapestries to Leopold I. of Belgium. In 1832 some of the designs had been reproduced four times.


Hogarth, and is more an easel picture than a scheme for decorative tapestry. Other panels, such as the Water- carriers (Las mozas del cdntaro) (1787), are interesting, but quite hasty and slight. The painter's accomplish- ment varies, a striking characteristic of Goya's work. The Stilt-walkers (1788), the Dance (1791) and the Game of pelota, are exceedingly clever, but the attraction is mainly in the subject rather than the treatment. But when Goya paints childhood he picks up the brush Murillo dropped. The Boys climbing a tree {1791), and particularly El hehedor, could only have been painted by an artist soaked in the Murillo tradition. A couple of boys blowing bubbles recall the work of the lesser masters of the contemporary English school — Opie, for instance — but painted with a yielding softness only the great men of the north, such as Reynolds and Gains- borough, ever attained.* In turning over Goya's draw- ings we find sketches of children which indicate that he had all the qualities necessary for a successful portrayer of childhood. Several of the portraits of his own grand- children are exceedingly charming.

He was an artist of many talents and varying aspects. Simply for grace and beauty, two of these cartoons are unapproachable in contemporary art. The first is El quitasol (The parasol), the second. La vendimia (The vintage). Both were painted in 1786. El quitasol pos- sesses a refinement which we associate with the best age of French eighteenth-century art. If we take the dictionary

  • Amongst the pictures in the Osuna collection was a portrait-

composition of the children of the ninth Duke by Sir William Beechey, But when Beechey painted it, and how it got to Alameda, are puzzles difficult to explain. See Catalogo des los cttadros . . . de la antiqua casa ducal de Osuna (1896), p. 6.


meaning of the term '* rococo "to be that appHed to an excessively or tastelessly florid or ornate art, then the word cannot be applied to Goya's designs for tapestry, or in fact for any of his work. But rococo is a descrip- tion which it is useful to apply to the period into which the cartoons naturally fall, and El quitasol is indubitably rococo. A girl in a rich costume of silk or satin is stretched on the sward. Behind, an effeminate youth shades her with a parasol. The background is a suggestion of those fairy glades which Fragonard loved. The perspective of the parasol might be truer ; the arm of the young lady is slightly wooden. Yet the whole composition breathes a happy ease which reveals Goya's genius in a new light. In drawing, and the massing of colour, the scheme irresistibly recalls a Japanese colour print by Hokusai or Utamaro. More than once an atmosphere of the east seems to surround the work of Goya. His ladies in mantillas have a suggestion of the figures of the Persian draughtsmen. An ethnologist would point to the dormant influence of some far-back Arabic ancestor in Zaragoza. A more probable explanation is that the basic inspirations of fine art are the same in all quarters of the globe.

The Vintage is a frank appeal to popular national sentiment. The seated youth in satin, fine laces, and diamond buckles, the lady with the grapes, the little boy, form a reminiscence of Goya's visit to Las Arenas or Alameda. These puppets are playing at Strephon and Chloe, in the picturesque costume of the Spanish peasant. The scene has no realistic actuality, but the people in bulk have never encouraged reahsm either in pictorial art or the drama, the only two forms of art

Photo. Anderson


"/,« Fcuiiiiitia." Tapestry Cartoon XXXI II. Pr ado, Madrid


they take the shghtest interest in. No peasant cares to look at the works of Bastien-Lepage or L'hermitte, reproductions of a painful actuality carrying a thousand unhappy memories. Realism is only acceptable to self- conscious youth. Age will have none of it, and tries to drown its past in idealism, or, more probably, senti- mentalism. Goya painted a canvas which was untrue, insincere, false, and conventional. But it has a fascinating delicacy, the delicacy of Dresden or a piece of old Chelsea. And the landscape, the mountains, the swelling plains, are indicated with a most successful simplicity. This is rococo because it is artificial in essence. Goya could paint with the rudest strength. In these tapestry car- toons he found many of his themes in the exalted society which welcomed him as a guest.

Goya's friendship with the ducal house of Osuna com- menced about 1785. The Duchess had married her cousin the ninth Duke, and brought considerable pro- perty to an already important family. She was celebrated for her good taste, as well as her enormous wealth, and she was undoubtedly attracted by the personal charm of the artist. Her name has not escaped the scandalous gossip which besmudged every patrician lady who entered Goya's studio, but there appears to be less truth in this legend than in most of the others. She gave Goya innumerable commissions, which extended over fourteen years, the first being a portrait of herself and her husband.

The country estate of the Osuna family was at Alameda, south of Aranjuez. The portraits can hardly be accepted as the best of Goya's work in that direction. As a portrait-painter his genius did not burst into full blossom


until 1800. But from the opening of his career he had been executing small genre works of a wonderful subtlety of tone and atmosphere. It is difficult to beheve that the Madhouse or the Bull-fight (formerly in the Academy of San Fernando, and now in the Prado) were painted so soon after his return from Italy as some critics state. The twenty subjects for the Duke and Duchess of Osuna can be dated more accurately. Seven were undoubtedly painted shortly before the spring of 1787, and eleven years later the Duchess again commissioned her favour- ite. The works he then delivered were evidently on hand during the whole of the intervening time. Some are painted on wood, others on metal. The brush work is decidedly fresh, and the sparkling key of the colour is in remarkable contrast to the monotonous gloom of his later palette.

It is impossible to refrain from comparing the Duke of Osuna and his family, in the Prado, with Gains- borough's magnificent Baillie family, in the National Gallery. The two subjects are so similar that one natur- ally calls the other to mind. Both were painted within a few years, but Gainsborough was nearly twenty years older than Goya, and the superiority in accomplishment of the Baillie family is manifest. Goya's family groups were rarely wholly successful, and the Family of the Countess de Monti jo is one of the best. The group of Charles IV. and the royal family, finished in 1800, is a striking exception.

Both the Osuna family and the Baillie family are made up of six figures, in each case the parents and four children. The costumes are almost identical in fashion. But Goya fails where Gainsborough achieves his greatest


triumph. The masteriy composition of the Baillie family is an example of that art which conceals its artifice. The effect created is absolutely natural. James Baillie leans against his wife's chair in the easiest of attitudes, and the two girls on the left rank with the most consummate figures Gainsborough ever breathed upon canvas. The Osuna group has received far more praise than it deserves. There are many of those clumsy awkwardnesses Goya was never able to free himself from. The Duke leans against the chair in an uncom- fortable manner, as if he were about to fall. The position in which he holds the child's arm is angular, and the bend is repeated without reason in the right arm of the Duchess. The children are happier, but far inferior in grace to the delightful ease of the Baillie sons and daughters. The Osuna faces are extremely feebly mod- elled, although the Duchess has an air of aristocratic distinction which the Duke singularly misses. It is in such a portrait as that of the poet Moratin (1799) that Goya more nearly approaches Gainsborough's feathery touch, and, in the Bayeu of the Prado, and the Dr. Petal of the National Gallery, the sheen of material recalls strongly the characteristics of the great Enghsh genius. The two state portraits of the Duke and Duchess (now respectively in the possession of Don Aureliano de Beruete and M. Gust a v Bauer) belong to a formal school which based its methods on the portrait technique of Mengs. They were both painted in 1785. The Duke is a chubby-faced aristocrat, obviously well pleased with him- self, and of evident kindly disposition. The Duchess ap- pears less sympathetic than in the larger group. Both portraits reveal a steady advance in skill, and are


pleasing. But they cannot be called noteworthy. Goya's best period was not yet, although his portraits are of out- standing excellence. The portrait of his brother-in-law, in the Prado, dating from 1790, was a triumph in the new style towards which he was tending. The exquisite Marquesa de Pontejos, sister-in-law to the minister Florida Blanca, is a trifle earlier, and reverts to the Mengs tradition. It breathes the coquettish grace Goya had already incorporated in the second series of the tapestry cartoons, and remains the high-water mark of rococo art in Europe.

One may search the galleries of Europe and not find a more perfect specimen of this style. The Marquesa de Pontejos is the personification of the grande dame who endeavoured to be in the fashion when Rousseau preached a return to Nature, and Marie An- toinette played at rusticity in the gardens of the Trianon. This young Marquesa, tightly laced, fluttering with furbelows, frills, and ribbons, a mass of vapid but engaging extravagance, chaperoned by a tiny pug which shakes the silver bells jingling from his collar, stares from the artist's canvas with a gaze half insolence, half challenge. Her eyes are beautiful, but they reveal the littleness of her soul and the poverty of her mind. In her left hand she nonchalantly holds a flower, and she slowly advances as if to dance — not a fandango, but a formal minuet in the manner of Versailles. The Mar- quesa de Pontejos represents the influence of French fashion over the wealthier circles of Spanish society, exactty as her brother was moulded by the philosophy of D'Alembert and the intellectual life of Paris.

There are so many female portraits by Goya which

About I

Photo. T.acoste

DONA MARIA ANA MONINO, MARQUESA DE PONTEJOS Collection of the Marquesa de Martot ell y de Pontejos, Madrid


date from 1785 to the end of the century that it is unnecessary to recapitulate them individually. They vary in accomplishment, and they follow a somewhat formal type. Forming part of the social history of the reigns of Charles III. and Charles IV., they are of more interest as historical documents, although they do not lack value as works of art. The Sehora de Cean Ber- mudez (belonging to the Marques de Casa Torres) is a good example, and the fine portrait of an unknown lady, in the collection of Don R. Garcia, is perhaps the best of its class. How closely Goya followed Mengs can only be realised by studying such portraits by the older painter as those of the Queen Maria Carolina, in the Prado, and the Marquesa del Llano, in the Academy of San Fernando. The bust of the Countess and Duchess of Benavenfe-Ossuna (No. 743 in the Prado) heralds a change of aim. The portrait is pleasing, but the modelling of the features is so undecided that Goya must have stayed his hand for fear of an over-accent- uated elaboration.

The Osuna gallery, which was broken up in 1896, has now been scattered across Europe. Connoisseurs who do not know the Spanish collections are too apt to base their judgment of Goya upon the Osuna subjects. But they form only one aspect of his many-sided genius, and though exceedingly attractive are not fully charac- teristic. Many went to the Prado, two. La merienda, and the Bewitched, to the London National Gallery. The technique of these small panels varies considerably. Some are broadly painted, others with an attention to detail which is more akin to Meissonier than any other modem master. The best example of this style is the


remarkable La romeria de San Isidro, now in the Prado, the canvas only measuring 0*44 by 0*94. Goya him- self complained to Zapater that this work had occu- pied too much time, and that he did not intend in future to paint with such finish.

Amongst the archives of the Osuna family are preserved accounts which give the prices Goya received for these dehghtful compositions. The sums range from 2,500 to 4,000 reales vellon. Taking the real as worth approxi- mately 2\d. of English money, these figures represent from £26 to £41, which cannot be called extravagant. In May, 1788, Goya receipted an account for 22,000 reals (about £230), and he continued at intervals to deliver commissions to the palace of Alameda well into the new century.*

The religious canvases of this period must be men- tioned, although they are the least attractive portion of GojT^a's output. About this time he painted an Assumption for the church at Chinchon, where his brother Camillo was priest. In 1784 he received the commission for the altar-pieces at Salamanca, through the agency of Jovellanos. These were delivered in October. Several of these paintings have been lost. One, sent to the church of Monte de Torrero, by Zara- goza, disappeared after the siege of 1808. Others, intended for Valladolid and South America, cannot be traced. In January, 1787, he promised to paint a Madonna for Zapater. " I am painting you a very fine Virgin," he wrote to his friend. But it was long delayed,

  • See the Catalogo de los cuadros, escuUuras, grabados, de la antigua

casa ducal de Osuna, Madrid, 1896 : also La Pintura en Madrid by D. Narciso Sentenach y Cabanas, p. 209.


and he made many excuses. In June, 1787, he was commissioned by the King for work which was to be dehvered by the end of the next month. He laboured so assiduously that he finished three important altar-pieces in less than eight weeks, and he appears to have done everything with his own hand, for it is not suggested that he had any pupils. On June 6 he wrote to Zapater : " Although I have not yet commenced the work it must be ready according to the King's command." Yet the pictures we can see to-day reveal no signs of haste. A Saint Anne at Valladolid has been described as sober and plain in colour, with little to distinguish it from an adjoining canvas by Ramon Bayeu. But the magni- ficent unfinished church of Valladolid does not show its decorations to advantage. Von Loga considers the Kiss of Judas (1788) at Toledo cathedral an improve- ment upon the Saint Anne, Gautier thought it as fine as a Rembrandt. To the impartial observer there is little distinction between any of Goya's ecclesiasti- cal commissions. They were honest " pot-boilers," they could not have been congenial, and they do not show the slightest trace of inspiration. That Goya prided himself on his energy for the Church is clear. " God let us live for His holy service," he wrote to Zapater, May 31, 1788 ; but some of his activities were not very commendable.



Character of Charles IV. His Amusements. Queen Maria Luisa. Her Independence and Extravagance. Goya's Portraits of the King and Queen. His Personal Friendship with the Royal Family. Letters to Zaragoza. Illness in his Household. His own bad Health. Visits to Valencia and Zaragoza.

THE death of the old King during the last month of 1788, the result of his obstinacy in moving from one palace to another according to custom and despite the weather, led to many changes in the social life of Madrid. The new monarch, bom in 1748, had few of the qualities of his father. His intelli- gence was extremely limited. Educated by German Jesuits, even those famous instructors of youth failed to impart in him more than the vaguest notions of geography and mathematics. For drawing and music he had some aptitude, although he never attained to more than mediocre accomplishment. His chief delight was in open-air exercise. As a hunter he surpassed the endurance of his sire, and he admitted that it was his main interest in hfe.

Many years later, at Bayonne, he told Napoleon, with pathetic frankness, how he governed Spain. " Every day, no matter what the weather might be, summer and winter, I arose from breakfast, heard Mass, and then

About 1790

Photo. LacosU

CHARLES IV Preido, Maiirid


went hunting until one o'clock. After dinner, I returned to the chase until sunset. In the evening, Manuel (Godoy) told me whether matters were going on well or ill. Then I went to bed, and began again next morn- ing, unless some important ceremony compelled me to rest." * No wonder the Emperor decided to supplant such a King by one of his own virile blood.

As a young man Charles IV. found his happiness in the royal stables. Of immense physical strength, he excelled in all bodily exercises. He was a clever boxer. At night he sallied forth from the royal palace to seek distraction in the streets of Madrid, and when his more or less undignified adventures landed him in unpleasant situations his powerful fists cleared a passage to the door. Like most of the members of the House of Bourbon he had a terrific appetite.

Such a man was bom to be amongst the governed, and not amongst the governors. Quite incapable ot acting with any decision as head of the realm, he was completely dominated by his wife, who, if three years his junior, was in every other respect his elder and superior. The character of Maria Luisa was an extra- ordinary mixture of good and bad. She was a woman of remarkable will, and might have been of invaluable service to her adopted country had she exercised her gifts with more regard for the rules which control human conduct. But her vices were stronger than her virtues. Her pride was overbearing, and she exacted every deference due to a Princess of such exalted rank. At Parma, no sooner was she betrothed to the Prince of the

  • L. F. J. de Bausset : Memoires de Napoleon (Paris, 1829), Vol. I.,

pp. 223, 224.


Asturias (the bridegroom being under seventeen, and the bride only thirteen years of age) than she compelled her own family to give her precedence. The vexed question led to interminable quarrels with her brother.

" I will teach you to respect me," she cried, " for one day I shall be Queen of Spain, and you can never be more than Duke of Parma."

The boy retahated by slapping her face. " At least I can boast that I have struck the Queen of Spain," was his not unnatural retort.

She arrived in Madrid to undergo a severe educational course to fit her for her duties, and this girl who had barely left the nursery found herself the first lady of the Court. Charles III. had long been a widower ; and the entreaties of his ministers to enter the marriage state for a second time were useless. Against the rocks of his obstinacy dashed the self-will of his daughter-in-law from Parma. In the two characters there was not a single point of common sympathy. Charles III. was a man of pure morals, bigoted (although not bigoted enough to endure the Jesuits), and reactionary. He had, how- ever, a stem sense of the duty he owed to the kingdom he governed, a quality which had not distinguished many Spanish princes. Like his ancestor, Louis XIV., of whom one of his secretaries said that no matter where the King might be his actions could be ascertained by looking at the clock, Charles III. was a martinet for order and precision. Maria Luisa's pleasure-loving tempera- ment was not to be checked by any such salutary regula- tion. She lived in an atmosphere of opposition and pro- test. At the age of fifteen she threw off the strict super- vision the King had ordained, and walked the streets of


the capital unguarded and unattended. In asking for liberty she encouraged licence. When she ascended the throne she was already responsible in no small degree for the steady deterioration of the morals of the Court she ruled.

There is no need to enter into the story of her relation- ship with Manuel Godoy, the handsome young lieutenant of the royal guards, who, under her patronage, became the most important man in the realm. The scandal was public throughout Spain, and only one person re- mained in ignorance. Charles IV. was either very stupid or most contemptible. His own people judged him, and decided that their monarch was a fool rather than a rogue. Goya's portraits confirm this decision, and agree in every respect with the character history has written for us.

Coarse and hot-tempered, a King who got so angry with his ministers as to strike them across the face, or threaten them with his sword, he smiles from the painter's canvases with an air of inane fatuity. As he became older, increasing corpulence, added to asthma, weakened his activity and diminished his will-power. He was a weak, rather than a bad, man, and hardly deserves the abuse showered on him by various commentators. Richard Muther describes him as " a Moloch, an evil god who battened upon the life-blood of his people ! " The description is fantastic and inaccurate, and does not even apply to the equestrian portrait which Muther had particularly in mind : " A figure of serene stupidity, such as Wilke would draw to-day for the ' Simplicissimus ' journal . . . asthmatic and fat, upon his fat asthmatic horse, and with his fat asthmatic dog." Charles IV. was no Moloch, but merely a dull-witted individual


bom to a position for which he was unfitted. And Goya, it must be insisted, was no caricaturist, but an artist of genius who was able to set upon his canvas not only the body but the innermost soul of his model.

The magnificent portrait of Queen Maria Luisa, in the Prado, is a masterpiece which would rank as one of the world's great pictures if the subject were not so repulsive. Other Court painters had been confronted with the same problem, although not to such an unenviable degree as Goya. Rubens, when he drew Marie de Medicis, had to depict a Queen who was unlovely in life. Yet, if the Queen of France was not actually beautiful, she was far from ill-looking, and the clever Fleming gave his canvas a specious attractiveness. Velazquez had the trouble to contend against when he was commanded to paint the portrait of Maria of Austria. Both Rubens and Velaz- quez glossed the truth, as so many of their fellow crafts- men have also done. Goya painted what he saw, painted it without exaggeration and without caricature. The result is not pretty, but it is a human document of great importance.

The finest portrait was painted in 1790, when the Queen was about thirty-nine years of age. She might be sixty. Her cold eyes are deep in their sockets. Across her painted cheeks are the slightest suspicions of ominous hollows and wrinkles. Her chin is hard and tight. Her lips are compressed like a vice. It is a masterful and unholy face. Over the head is thrown the light gauze of a black mantilla, and in her hand is a tiny fan. Most visitors to the Prado pass the canvas hurriedly, for it repels at first sight. Study it attentively, and the face will be found full of intelligence and dignity. Maria


Luisa is a queen, a woman to command, and to be obeyed. Goya refused to flatter her, but his acute intuition caught the better side of her tortuous personahty. It is easy to read into this portrait more than it contains. Muther's description is extremely clever, and extremely false. He refers to the Queen's " ugliness, false hair, and false teeth." The ugliness is unquestionable, the false hair and false teeth are open to doubt. In any case they are problems for a coiffeur or a dentist to settle, rather than an art-historian. But when he tells us that Goya gives " the very accent of the courtesan in every line of his portrait," he goes too far. " She stands there in a deeply dicolletee dress, her mantilla drawn coquettishly over the one shoulder, a huge hat, such as a Parisian cocotte might wear, set upon the thick wig, her gaze as direct, as keenly piercing, as that of a bird of prey eager for his quarry. No caricaturist of that age or this, no Rowlandson, or Daumier, or Leandre, ever set pen to a more venomous satire than this. . . . Goya sets right before us the Messalina, the creature insatiable in her appetite for passion." Maria Luisa probably merits the comparison, but Goya, with superb skill, eludes all temptation towards exaggeration and carica- ture, and to compare this portrait with the work of Rowlandson, or Daumier, or Leandre, is an error of critical judgment. Muther's pen is so brilliant that his description will probably create a precedent for less gifted authors, although he ascribes to Goya qualities which in this case the artist carefully suppressed.

With the exception of the portrait in the mantilla, these representations of Queen Maria Luisa are not amongst Goya's happiest efforts. There is a stiffness



of pose about most of his official portraits. The artist did not possess the ordered talent of Largilliere, Rigaud, or even of that younger Van Loo who commemorated the features of earlier members of the Spanish royal family. It is only necessary to compare the portraits of Queen Maria Luisa and Charles IV. in the ministries and private collections of Madrid with contemporary portraits of Louis XVI., Marie Antoinette, or George III. and Queen Charlotte, to recognise that Goya's standard was variable, and that he was not always at his best.

Both monarchs endeavoured to cultivate and encourage the fine arts. At a meeting of the Academy of St. Ferdinand in 1794, Charles IV. attended in person, and brought some paintings by himself and the Queen. " They are of small value," he explained, with much truth. " But they may be of some use as proving our interest in the Academy." *

The artist was kept busy for a considerable time with the royal portraits. Numerous replicas were commis- sioned, but they were probably executed by assistants, for some are so poor in quality that they can hardly be ascribed to Goya's own brush. The equestrian portraits of the King and Queen, now in the Prado, have received enthusiastic praise, but they are weak imitations of Velazquez's portraits of Philip IV. and his French wife. When Goya painted animals he courted disaster.

In 1790 he was working on the portraits destined for Capo di Monte, and during the sittings Charles IV. talked to the artist about the conditions of agricultural life in Aragon.f These portraits are the most successful of

  • Gazette des Beaux-Arts, Vol. XIX., p. 426,

f Zapater : Noticias biogrdficas, p. 50.

Photo. Andtrson



the series, and were the King's favourites. In the same year Charles IV. was portrayed in his most comfortable hunting suit, with his favourite dog. Again Goya followed the inspiration of Velazquez, and, probably because he too was an ardent sportsman, the picture reveals a more complete sympathy between painter and sitter. But Goya's personal friendship with Charles IV. dated from 1779, when he submitted tapestry designs for the approbation of the Prince of the Asturias. The artist was extremely proud of the King's enthusiastic praise of his work, which he is said to have written down in a notebook — a pardonable vanity. " It appears to me, from what I have recently seen, that the King takes notice of me, and wishes to see me more frequently, notwithstanding what other people may say," he told Zapater.

During this active period many letters passed between Goya and Martin Zapater, and friends in Zaragoza were kept well acquainted with his progress and well-being. He kept a small carriage with one horse, and, after he injured his leg through a fall, he travelled about in a car with two mules.

At one moment he writes philosophically. "As I am working for the public, I must continue to amuse them," he told Zapater confidentially.* Besides being a man of genius he was also a man of common sense. Whether artists should amuse the beast which gives them bread, or whether they should adopt the more exalted but less remunerative position of educating the world, is a question still fiercely debated — especially by those who lack talent.

♦ Zapater: Noticias biogrdficas, p. 58.


" The few days that remain to me in this world must be Hved according to my own incHnation," he wrote in another letter, unconscious that he still had nearly forty years of unremitting toil before him. In February, 1790, a request to borrow money arouses his quick protest. " My position is entirely different from what the majority of the public imagine," he wrote energetically. " I want a great deal, firstly because my position entails expendi- ture, and secondly because I like it. Being a very well- known man I cannot reduce my expenses as other people do. I was about to ask for an increase of salary, but the conditions are so unfavourable that I must set the idea aside." * When he wrote this he was engaged in a struggle with the authorities over his salary as a member of the artistic staff attached to the tapestry factory. His re- quest for a higher salary at the moment he was contend- ing that his salary carried no duties was hardly hkely to be entertained with any chance of success. Possibly this argument was the reason of a pensive thought in a letter dated June 3, 1791. " I often pray to God that He will take away that feeling of pride which comes over me upon such occasions. And, if I check myself, and do not fly about, my actions for the remainder of my life will not be much worse." f

His health was bad. " I am old, and have many wrinkles, and you alone would be able to recognise me by my nose and weak eyes. "J He was worried in his home. " I am walking about as in a dream. My wife is ill, and my child still worse. Even the cook is laid up

  • Zapater : Noticias hiogrdficas, p. 50.

f Quoted by Cnizada Villaamil. % Zapater, p. 45.


with fever." * In August, 1790, Dona Josefawas ordered to take sea air, and he accompanied his wife to Valencia. His own leisure was occupied in hunting, but he did not neglect his easel, presenting two large canvases to the Academy of St. Charles of Valencia, which, in return, elected him an honorary member. At the end of the year he was in Zaragoza painting a highly successful portrait of Ramon, a member of the Pignatelli family, his old patrons, and another of his friend Martin Zapater. Then he went back to Madrid, but in October, 1791, was again in Zaragoza taking a two months' holiday. These feverish journeys from place to place may be accepted as indications of broken health, for the distances were long, and travelling hard.

In 1792 we have no dated pictures and no correspond- ence.! We are told that during this year the artist was very ill, and that his malady resulted in total deafness. In January, 1793, it is briefly chronicled by some bio- graphers that Goya went for convalescence to Andalusia.} There is another explanation for his silence in 1792, and for his travel to San Lucar. The romance of Goya's life centres round this year, the period of his infatuation for the Duchess of Alba. It is perhaps characteristic of the man that, although he told much in his letters to Martin Zapater, his artistic successes, his royal patron- age, his monetary earnings, his varying health, and the illnesses of his family, he gave by no means a complete picture of his life in Madrid. In Zaragoza he must have appeared as the great artist. In Madrid he did not disdain to play the part of a man of fashion.

  • Zapater, p. 51. f Valerian von Loga : Goya, p. 71.

{ Chiefly based upon Zapater,



Goya's Political Opinions. His Success in Madrid Society. Popular Stories. His Acquaintance with the Duchess of Alba. Her Behaviour towards his Wife. Her Character. Various Portraits of the Duchess. Energetic Action of the Queen. The Journey to San Lucar. Goya's Deafness, Return to Madrid. The Maja vesti'da and the Maja desnuda. A Question of Identity. Their Artistic Value. Death of the Duchess. The Fascination of these Portraits. Baudelaire's Admiration.

THE peasant boy of Fuendetodos had now become one of the famous men of Spain, and a very notable figure in the daily life of the capital. By the obstinacy of his genius he had gradually climbed to the highest rung of the social ladder. His temper was awkward and self-willed, he refused to cringe, or meet his patrons cap in hand ; yet he was welcomed everywhere. He enjoyed a success which does not seem to have filled his mind with conceit, and freely mixed with every degree of the community. But there is no evidence to prove that he actively assisted in any scheme of protest against the established order of society.

Goya's republicanism is not only suspect, but may almost be classed as a myth. On the other side of the Pyrenees, men and women of fashion were pirouetting on the edge of a precipice into which they ultimately fell. A few of the more intellectual members of the Spanish


aristocracy had trifled with the ideas of the French Encyclopaedists and basked in the promise of their philosophy. Immediately the Revolution reared its head, the Spanish ministers brushed aside all inclinations towards a liberal policy, and became intensely reactionary. And their action was evidently in accord with the feeling of the country. Even Aranda, the former friend of Voltaire, lost his earlier sympathies with the godfathers of the French upheaval, and exerted his utmost power fighting against the extension of the new thought. The only newspaper published in Madrid rigidly excluded all information from France. The circulation of foreign newspapers was forbidden. Minister succeeded minister, but the prohibitions were not removed. Florida Blanca ordered military officers to abstain from discussing French politics. The beginning of the attack upon Louis XVI. aroused disgust in Spain, and revived national support for the Spanish throne. The Cortes which met in 1789 was particularly marked for its attitude of servility towards the Crown. As a whole there does not appear to have been the slightest desire on the part of the Madrilefios to imitate the excesses of the Parisian mob. In fact, it may almost be said that the success of the French republicans killed liberalism in Spain.

Francisco Goya was intimate with all the authors and artists who had settled in Madrid. But, in the midst of an excessive professional activity, he must have spent much of his leisure with more aristocratic friends. A few names have been handed down to us. The Marquesa de Santa Cruz was noted for her artistic accomphshments, the Duchess de San Carlos had the voice of an angel, good humour and gallant adventures were associated with


the name of the Marquesa de Alcafiices,* the Countess del Monti jo possessed a reputation for piety, Madame Brunetti had attractions which have not been chronicled in detail. These ladies, as well as many others, leaders of the world of Madrid, opened the doors of their salons. Many of them have been immortalised by his brush, but not all. Goya was a difficult man to persuade. He re- quired delicate blandishments before he would grant an appointment. " I had established an enviable scheme of life," he wrote to Zapater. " I refused to dance atten- dance in the ante-chambers of the great. If anyone wanted something from me he had to ask. I was much run after, but if the person was not of rank, or a friend, I worked for nobody." Scandalous anecdotes were whispered concerning the painter and his fair sitters.

A young lady of rank and fashion had vainly implored Goya to exert his skill in transferring her beautiful features to canvas. Even her husband was not able to extract a favourable reply. One day husband and wife entered the artist's studio. Goya was alone. The Marquis had a sudden inspiration. Other means having proved useless, he determined to use force. Rushing from the studio, he double-locked the door. Then, through the keyhole, he shouted his commands :

" Now, Goya, you are my prisoner. I shall not allow you to come out until you have painted the portrait of the Marquesa. And I give you two hours ! "

He left them. The lady was as gracious as she was beautiful, says the narrator of this story. When the Marquis returned the canvas stood on the easel, a marvellous chef-d'oeuvre.

  • Vinaza, p. 57.


" Ah, Marquis," cried Goya maliciously, " how can one refuse to do as you wish ? "

" Quite right," replied the rash husband. " I am delighted with the result of my violence."

According to Matheron, Goya remained on amiable terms with this lady for many j^ears, and other anecdotes also link their names together. Her husband was once compelled to leave Madrid in order to join the Court at Aranjuez. The duty of the Marquesa was naturally to scorn the dehghts of the capital, and follow her lord. She asked Goya to invent a sufficient excuse. He picked up his brush, and painted on her naked foot an appalling bruise. The Marquis was in despair when his attention was drawn to the wound. He called in a physician. Sangrado examined the injured limb, declared the case one of gravity, and prescribed dressings, bandages, and, above all, the most absolute rest. Very troubled, the Marquis proceeded alone to Aranjuez. This nobleman is said to be represented in plate 40 of Los Caprichos as the solemn ass feeling the pulse of an unfortunate invalid. The donkey, however, has also been identified as Doctor Galinsoya, a physician attached to the household of the Prince of Peace, and also as Godoy himself.*

These and other anecdotes have been questioned by modem biographers. Von Loga states them to be absolutely untrue. Spanish authors describe them as idle and malicious inventions which have only been kept alive by French writers. Yet there is sufficient evidence of their authenticity. Matheron preserved several of these tales, and he gained his information from a Spanish

  • Matheron, chap. V., and note in Appendix. See also Lefort,

Essai d'un catalogue, p. 54 (note).


artist called De Brugada, who, during the 'fifties of the last century, was living in Madrid. Brunet adds to our knowledge, and also refers to De Brugada as a young man who lived in Bordeaux during the residence of Goya, and was acquainted with the master. The stories are very characteristic of Goya's impulsive and satirical character, and, if they do not give added lustre to his fame, certainly form part of any study of his career. Evidence of his advanced political opinions is difficult to find, but there is abundant justification for the legends which surround his private life.

Of his intimate friendship with one great lady there can be little doubt. " When Goya's compositions reveal a shm figure elegantly dressed, with burning eyes, and arched eyebrows, connoisseurs will recognise this patri- cian," wrote Brunet, one of the earliest biographers. Her face haunts us as we turn over any collection of Goya's works. He painted her portrait at least a dozen times, and throughout his etchings and drawings we find reminis- cences of her striking personality. The Duchess of Alba remained Goya's ideal to the end of his life.

Doiia Maria Theresa Cayetana de Silva y Alvarez de Toledo was the thirteenth Duchess of Alba in her own right, and a leader of fashion at the Court of Charles IV. and Maria Luisa. Of her husband, as is usual with the husbands of such interesting individualities, it is difficult to learn anything except that he loved music. Her position at Court was not easy. The Queen was jealous of her charms, as well she might be, for Maria Luisa was far from being a beauty. Others conducted campaigns of active hostility against the Alba salon and the palace of the Liria. Her chief rival in beauty, as well as in

photo, Lacoste

THE DUCHESS OF ALBA Liria Palace, Madrid


less attractive attributes, was the Duchess of Osuna. In 1789 gossip reported that the two Duchesses disputed the patronage of Costillares and Romero, the most celebrated bull-fighters of Spain.* Their despicable dissoluteness, writes one historian, was of public notoriety. High and low, at Court and in the town, all spoke of the affair. It was the theme of daily conversation. The episodes, the bursts of passion and generosity of each rival, were related with full details. But no one was shocked at the immorality, the insolence, and the scandal of this struggle.

Goya probably met the Duchess for the first time about this period. As a prominent supporter of the bull-ring he knew Costillares and Romero intimately. Their portraits are to be found amongst his best works, and indeed the portrait of Costillares is one of his master- pieces. That he made an immediate impression upon the susceptible Duchess is evident. More curious is the statement that she extended her goodwill to the whole of the artist's family. From the kitchen of the Liria food was sent to Goya's house, and a compliment was paid to its mistress in a peculiarly Spanish fashion. The dishes were of silver, and the pride of a great family forbade their return. f It is unfortunate that we know so httle

  • See Godoy's Memoirs ; also Lady Holland's Spanish Jovrnal, p. 107.

f The house of Alba was exceedingly wealthy. Major Dalr\ mple gives some curious details of the life of the Spanish nobility about this period. " The predecessor of the present Duke of Medina Coeli had on the death of his father an income of £84,000 a year, with six millions of hard dollars in ready money. In the course of twenty-five years he spent the cash and mortgaged as much as he could of the estate. There is a story told of him that a comedy girl he kept complaining to him in the winter of the cold, he sent her a silver brasero (a round vessel of metal containing fire, usually placed in the middle of rooms during the winter) filled with gold crowns. The present Duke pursues a


of the character of Josefa Bayeu. Her name is inter- mittently mentioned in the letters to Zapater, and the allusions are invariably made with evident affection. Clearly she had no jealousy of Dona Maria Theresa, for we are not told that she threw the silver plates at the heads of the servants in the Alba livery. On the contrary, she appears to have added them to her household store. Perhaps the key to this apparent lack of feeling may be found in her domestic anxieties. She was ill, and her children were ill. As Goya remarked to Zapater, even

different system, yet the establishment of his family is very considerable. All these great families have pages, who are gentlemen, for whom they provide sometimes in the army, etc. The custom of keeping buffoons prevails still in this part of the world. I often saw the Duke of Alba's covered with ribbons of various orders, a satire on such baubles ! He attends his master in the morning, and the instant he awakes is obliged to relate some facetious story, to put his Grace in good humour. The Duke requires so much wit from him that he is eternally upon the scamper in search of it.

"It is hardly possible to divine how these people can spend such amazing fortunes as some of them possess. But residing at the Court, never visiting their estates, and, in general, thinking it beneath them to examine or even enquire into their affairs, their stewards enrich themselves to their ruin. Besides, they are confiscated by horses, mules, servants, and dependants. I was told that the Duke of In- fantado's expense for attendants and pensioners amounts to ;f 12,000 a year. When once a servant is admitted into a family it is certain maintenance for him during life, if he commit not some glaring crime, and even his descendants are taken care of.

" Women are another considerable expense. The conjugal bed is not held very sacred by the men of fashion, and since the Bourbon family has been seated on the throne jealousy has lost its sting. The ladies are not behindhand with their husbands. Every dame has one cortejo at least, and often more. The cadets of the guards are employed in this agreeable office. They are generally necessitous, and are sup- plied by the fair with means for their extravagance. Amongst the people of rank gratification is their object, and they stop at nothing to accomplish it. Gallantry and intrigue are terms too refined for this people." Travels Through Spain and Portugal in 1774, published in London 1777.


the cook had fever. The Alba dishes conveyed dehcacies for a home which at times resembled a hospital. Goya loved children — the fact is evident from his own charming paintings — and the maladies and deaths of his little ones may be suggested as one cause of his own despondent spirits.

" A pretty woman 's worth some pains to see," wrote an English poet whose thoughts are not usually so easy of comprehension. The truth of the little phrase does not require Browning's imprimatur. The Dofia Maria Theresa was far more than pretty, and Goya was fas- cinated by her oval features, as well as by her keen tongue and active spirit. She lived in opposition to the v/orld around her, a Spanish variant of a type more often to be found in France than in the other countries of Europe. She reminds us of those brilliant women who directed the war of the Fronde. In her story there is more than a reminiscence of the Duchess de Chevreuse. Her audacious unconventionality, the bold manner in v/nich she showed her open contempt for the opinion of society, recall such a personality as Lady Holland. She had all the coquetterie of Madame Recamier, together with a passion the vestal of the Rue du Bac never experienced. Wealth, intellect, and beauty form a rare power before which all men must bow down and worship. Women approach it in a different spirit, for it is essentially ^a woman's combination.

The most celebrated portrait of the Duchess of Alba is that which hangs in the Liria palace. A rephca, formerly in Naples, now forms part of the collection brought together by the late Sir Julius Wem^er. Against a slightly indicated landscape Doiia Maria Theresa stands


in a somewhat stiff attitude, her right arm stretched forward with an air of authority rather than of entreaty. Her white robe, of the plainest fashion, is encircled by a wide red sash, and a similar bow (which may possibly be intended to carry some decoration) is crossed upon her breast. Her wonderful hair falls like a torrent across her shoulders down to her waist. A tiny dog is at her feet. This portrait was painted in 1795.

Let it be frankly admitted that this canvas is not one of Goya's supreme triumphs, for it is both stiff and affected, and cannot be compared with the easy grace of the Marquesa de la Solana, which probably dates from 1794, the majestic dignity of Dona Antonia Zarate, or the bold insouciance of The bookseller of the Calle de las Carretas. Goya was too deeply impressed by the absorb- ing personality of his model to control his brush, and this was the chief reason of his partial failure. He was too interested in her as a man to stand absolutely detached from her influence as an artist. Another portrait is equally interesting, though again not wholly satisfactory. The canvas, belonging to Don Rafael Barrio, is of three- quarter size. Again we are shown the same pallid, oval face, with long, aquiline nose, large black eyes, and a mass of raven hair beneath a ribboned hat. The dress is of the finest brocade, the tiny waistband fastened by a diamond buckle. In the left hand the Duchess clasps a key, probably symbolical of her rights as mistress of San Lucar. This may possibly be an earlier portrait than that of the Liria, for the face is younger and lacks significance. A third portrait, belonging to the Orossen collection, is a replica with slight variations of the same pose. Another canvas reveals the Duchess in the


simplest of Directoire costumes. The hair has been carefully dressed and curled, and the only ornaments are two enormous earrings. The ensemble suggests the portraits painted by David and his pupils about this period. A whole-length in black silk and a mantilla is artistically the most attractive of the series,* and is clearly the result of several studies. Of these the most important belongs to the Marquis de la Romana. In this sketch, for it is little more, Goya represents himself in animated conversation with Dofia Maria Theresa, who, with fan in hand and mantilla over head and shoulders, approximates more to the maja type than to the tra- ditional dignity of a great noblewoman. The artist himself masquerades in the dandified habit of a man of fashion. His long hair, unpowdered, in the style of the Revolution, the thick white stock, the smartly-cut coat, the tight breeches, the high boots, proclaim him a veritable Beau Brummel, if not a youthful hero of romance. This is Goya as he wished to be, not as he was, for the canvas was painted in 1793, when he had reached forty -seven years of age. It convicts him of a vanity towards which we should be indulgent, for most of us are equally guilty. The scene is animated and artificial, for both Goya and the Duchess are artificial creatures pretending to breathe an atmosphere of nature and turning their backs upon a world from which they had no wish to escape. Dofia Maria Theresa points to the black clouds of a gathering storm. She smiles at the infatuated artist. He follows humbly, for he does not know that the sunshine of his life is over, and that he

♦ These two portraits have been photographed by Moreno of Madrid, but I cannot trace the originals.


is about to enter its gloom. In this sketch Goya indicates the charm of his companion, but in the other portraits of the Duchess we are shown the countenance of a sphinx. We are always fascinated by what we cannot understand, and the Duchess of Alba will never lose her attractions, because she remains an enigma, une femme incomprise, a creature of innocence and duplicity, as beautiful as the sea and far more dangerous because uncharted.

Goya must have painted the canvas belonging to the Marquis de la Romana in the full stress of his passion. Early in 1793 Queen Maria Luisa determined to deal with her rival without mercy. That this outburst of vengeance was due to Dona Maria Theresa's patronage of Goya is hardly credible, although the artist was on the friendhest terms with the Queen. The Duchess was banished to her estates in Andalusia. There was no appeal. Maybe she accepted her fate with resignation, for, according to popular legend, when she left Madrid Francisco Goya accompanied her.

Again we enter the arena of biographical recrimination,

but all the facts support a story which harmonises with

the romantic hfe of this strange man. His paintings,

his drawings, and his etchings prove his infatuation.

Admittedly he went to Andalusia, and this coincides with

a gap in his professional activity. Yriarte speaks of a

sketch-book belonging to Carderera, now in the National

Library of Madrid, which contains particulars of the

journey with Dona Maria Theresa.* Lastly, there is a

curious reference in a letter to Zapater, in which Goya

petulantly demands : " Why should a great lady not

  • Charles Yriarte: Goya, p. 34; also Gazette des Beaux-Arts

September, 1863.

Photo. Lacoste

GOYA AND THE IJUCHESS OF AI.BA Collection o/ the Marquis dc la Roiitana, Madrid


be portrayed by an artist ? " * As Von Loga remarks, the phrase may mean anything or nothing, and he refuses to beheve in any of the stories which hnk their names together, f But does it not point to the existence of contemporary gossip ? " Goya was a man of his age. He neither aspired to the category of an ascetic nor opposed the customs and tendencies of his time, and his age being one of transition without fixed principles, he accommodated himself to its duties and its weaknesses, never for a moment failing in his domestic obligations, yet not refusing those outside favours that presented themselves to him." J With Mr. Calvert we agree that this shrewd and common-sense conclusion approaches very closely the truth.

The escapade of 1793 signalises the close of Goya's youth, for youth it had been, although he was now a man of middle age. His life had been crowded with incident, he had seized every opportunity for pleasure, yet he had never neglected his art. Despite increasing cares and anxieties he had tasted more happiness and success than his contemporaries. He had done great things, although the period of his finest productions was yet to come. Now fate commenced to neglect him. The first cruel blow was physical. He who had delighted in music, in the brisk conversation of the studios, the merry wit of the popular clubs, the repartee of the salons, was now struck with total deafness.

Like most of the facts of Goya's life, the reason is debatable. Von Loga asserts that the artist had already

  • Zapater : Noticias hiogrdficas, p. 55.

f Von Loga : Goya, pp. 82-83.

% A. F, Calvert : Goya, p. 56, the quotation being from the Boletin de la Sociedad Espaiiola de Excursiones.



suffered from semi-deafness for over thirteen years, and that the ultimate result must be attributed to long illness. There is another explanation. Whilst accom- panying the Duchess of Alba to San Lucar the coach collapsed in a lonely spot, Despeiia-Perros, where aid was diJHicult to obtain. Goya, impulsive with strength and energy, acted the part of a blacksmith. A fire was improvised, and the bent ironwork beaten straight. Overheating himself, a chill followed which ended in the great calamity overshadowing the remainder of his life. This story is quoted in the letters of Goya's son.

Of his existence at San Lucar we know nothing. He was absent from Madrid, it is stated, for two years, a period difficult to reconcile with some dated corre- spondence in 1794. He certainly relinquished his appoint- ment at the royal tapestry factory, and apparently deserted his family. If the portrait of the Marquesa de la Solana is correctly dated in 1794 he must have been working in Madrid during the course of that year. The plates of Los Caprichos were ready in 1796, and occupied at least the whole of 1795. That Goya's outlook on life had changed within a remarkably short space of time can be proved by comparing the smiling dandy in the Marquis de la Romana's conversation-piece with the grim, satirical face which forms the frontispiece to Los Caprichos. One man enjoys life and love ; the other has tasted Dead Sea ashes. Goya had suddenly awakened from his dream to find himself not only more famous than before, but old, exhausted, and bitter.

The Duchess of Alba was pardoned, because, so it is said, no other way remained to attract Goya back to Madrid. Their friendship probably continued for at


least a further year. Dona Maria Theresa appears in more than one of the first volume of etchings, and the three extraordinary compositions, which the artist had the good taste not to pubUsh abroad, undoubtedly refer to her. Plate 61 represents a beautiful dame flying with outstretched arms in butterfly fashion, but supported at the feet by three grotesque creatures crouched in the attitude of the carved misereres under monkish stalls. Upon a copy of this plate Goya scrawled : " The group of sorcerers who form the support for our elegant lady are more for ornament than real use. Some heads are so charged with inflammable gas that they have no need for balloons or sorcerers in order to fly away." This marks the waning of his passion. Perhaps the Duchess had remembered her exalted social position, and the admirer had received his dismissal. The three unpub- hshed plates were etched much later than the series usually known as Los Caprichos. On the first Goya wrote under the figure of the Duchess : " Suefio de la mentira y inconstancia " (A dream of lies and incon- stancy). The second plate depicts a nude woman with a double face. The portrait is unquestionable. This was the end.

Before leaving the story of the Duchess of Alba, reference must be made to two important canvases which have become the most popular of Goya's paintings, the Maja clothed and the Maja nude. These pictures of the same beautiful model have always been associated with the name of Doila Maria Theresa, who is said to have posed for them. The popular story is best told in Madame Dieulafoy's book on Aragon. ' The Duke (of Alba), learning that his wife often went to Goya's studio, became suspicious. He bribed the artist's servants, and soon discovered that she posed before him in a paradisiacal costume which marvellously became her. Friends warned both artist and sitter that the Duke was openly swearing to interrupt the next sitting in a startling manner. The next day the Duke presented himself at the doors of the studio, accompanied by alguazils and police. The door was broken open, and the Duchess discovered correctly clothed, v/hilst the painter was busily engaged on the Maja vestida. During the night Goya had made an exact copy of the Maja desnuda, so as to ensure that if the Duke had been given correct information concerning the pose he had been deceived with respect to the costume." The tale belongs to the group of legends concerning Goya over which his biographers have fiercely battled. The most important evidence in support of the assertion that the Duchess was the model for the two Majas is that of the face. Comparing the features of this entrancing damsel with the accepted portraits of Dona Maria Theresa it must be admitted that there are too many points of similarity to refute the current belief. The mass of dark hair, the eyes and eyebrows, the nose, the mouth, and, to some extent, the chin, are almost identical. The chief difference is in the expression. The portraits are inclined to melancholy. The Duchess gazes from her canvas with eyes of sombre dignity. The Majas, on the contrary, are frankly self-conscious, and look at the spectator with the slightest suspicion of a graceless twinkle. On the other hand, the Marquis de la Romana's sketch reveals another " soul-side " of skittish frivolity. If it be suggested that great ladies do not usually sit to artists in what poor Trilby called


  • ' the altogether " there is httle need to search far to find

examples which prove the contrary. Pauline Borghese, Napoleon's most beautiful sister, did not disdain to pose to Canova, and Napoleon's second wife, the Empress Marie-Louise, is traditionally said to have been the model for a Venus by Prud'hon.*

The question of dates is the most awkward bar to the story, although not conclusive. The Majas are generally credited to 1799, and Goya's friendship may have ceased before that year, if we are to believe plate 61 of Los Caprickos. The unpublished etchings were later, and quite possibly contemporary with the pictures. The comments belong to the earlier years of the nineteenth century.

The identity of the Majas must therefore remain a secret which future biographers are not likely to unravel. She may have been a model known in the Madrid studios at the period. Those historians who refuse to admit that the Duchess of Alba sat to Goya state that the pictures were commissioned by Godoy, Prince of Peace, in commemoration of his friendship with a frail beauty whose name is to be found in the chroniques scandaleuses of the Court of Charles IV. f The question is of little real importance in comparison with the artistic value of the canvases. " Goya's two pictures are still vivacious and fresh," wrote Mr. Charles Ricketts in a happy flight of appreciation, t " In La maja, a nude, he has painted the

  • The Venus and Adonis, No. 347 in the Wallace collection. The

thirteenth edition of the catalogue tells us that it was a commission from the Empress ini8 10, adding, " there is a tradition that she sat to Prud'hon for the Venus,"

t See Von Loga : Goya, p. 84. Possibly Josefa Tudo.

X Charles Ricketts : The Prado and its Masterpieces.


sensuous waist, the frail arms, the dainty head of the Duchess thrown upon pillows, contrasting in their gray whiteness with the gleam upon her flesh. In the other we note the same grace of pose, a more summary work- manship, touches of colour — too many, perhaps. The Duchess of Alba reclines on her divan in her rich bolero and white duck trousers of a toreador or Spanish dandy. We pause, we are astonished and charmed ; we wonder how such a thing was possible." The " thing " was possible because Goya, ever a student of the older masters, had suddenly become an absorbed disciple of Titian. In the Royal Palace was that glorious Bacchanal which had come from the Pamfili gallery at Rome. In the same collection was the Venus listening to music bought by Philip IV. at the sale of the art treasures belonging to Charles I. of England. To-day they hang in the Prado but a few steps from the Maja desnuda. That they directly inspired Goya cannot be doubted. He was too great an artist to copy them slavishly. He could not suppress his own powerful individuality. But he borrowed Titian's idea, as, in a far different case — the decoration of his country home — he seized upon one of the most fantastic imaginations of Rubens and converted it to his own use. The Maja desnuda is a solitary experiment, " the dear fleshly perfection of the human shape, rosed from top to toe in flush of youth," one of the few nude paintings in a school which did not en- courage the study of the undraped figure. Yet Goya was strong enough to challenge any of the gifted men who had been working a few years earlier in Paris. He had that subtle feehng for the flowing curves of flesh which distinguishes Boucher. His brush carries a vivid carnation reminding the English visitor of Etty.


•J «  < ^

s S


Sainte-Beuve said that biography was an ugly word, smelhng of the study, fit only for men, and not to be used for women. " Can the life of any woman bear relation ? It is felt, it passes, we have caught a glimpse of it." The Duchess of Alba was such a momentary vision. " Dates in connection with such a being are anything but elegant." She passed out of Goya's life, out of life itself, before the paint on those wonderful canvases had grown hard.

Ou sont nos amoureuses ? Elles sont au tombeau ! Elles sont plus heureuses Dans un sejour plus beau.

Goya's thoughts must have been the same as those of the unhappy Gerard de Nerval. When Dofia Maria Theresa died in the early years of the nineteenth century Goya was already an old man entering a generation whose joys he was not asked to share. One consolation remained. His genius had given his mistress immortality.

These portraits have fascinated poets as well as con- noisseurs. Baudelaire was curiously attracted by a face which might have formed the frontispiece to his own Fleurs du Mai. Writing to his friend Felix Nadar, May 14, 1859, he said : "... if you are an angel go and flatter a person named Moreau, picture dealer. Rue Lafitte, Hotel Lafitte (I intend to court him on account of a study I am preparing upon Spanish painting), and try to obtain from this man permission to take a photo- graph of the Duchess of Alba (absolutely Goya and absolutely authentic). The replicas (life-size) are in Spain, where Gautier has seen them. In one frame the Duchess is represented in national costume, in the other she is nude, in the same position, on her back.


The triviality of the pose adds to the charm of the pictures. If I ever used your slang I might say that the Duchess is a bizarre woman, with a wicked look. . . . If you were a very wealthy angel I would advise you to buy these pictures, for the occasion will not repeat itself. Imagine a Bonington, or a gallant and ferocious Deveria. The man who owns them is asking 2,400 francs. It is little enough in the opinion of an amateur mad over Spanish painting, but it is enormous to what the dealer has paid for them. He admitted to me that he bought them from Goya's son, who had become extraordinarily embarrassed." *

Despite the enthusiasm of Gautier and Baudelaire, these canvases must have been copies, and probably formed part of the collection of forgeries which Matheron tells us were offered for sale at this time in Paris and then withdrawn. The originals have recently been transferred to the Prado from the Academy of St. Ferdinand, where for years they remained imprisoned in a cabinet noir, only to be seen by the privileged few with the special permission of the custodian. One Spanish monarch had insisted upon their seclusion, and would not even allow the adult members of his family to admire the beauties of the Maja vestida and the Maja desnuda.

Baudelaire did not buy the pictures in the Rue Lafitte, but to his last days remained a fervent worshipper. Dur- ing the sad hours of July, 1866, when his reason was quivering in its balance, the French poet lived under the care of Doctor Emile Duval, in the Rue du Dome, Paris. The chief adornment on the walls of his room was a

  • Charles Baudelaire : (Euvres Pcsthumes et correspotidaKces inidites

(1887), p. 204.


couple of canvases by his friend Manet. One was a copy of a portrait of the Duchess of Alba, and her pale face gazed upon his fevered bed as the dying poet gasped his last sigh.*

  • The Duchess was married in 1773, at a very early age, to Don Jos6

Alvarez de Toledo, eleventh Marquis de Villafranca. She died in the summer of 1802, " supposed to have been poisoned ; her physician and some confidential attendants are imprisoned, and her estates sequestered during their trial, but by whom, and for what reason the dose was administered, remains as yet unknown. She was very beautiful, popular, and by attracting the best society was an object of jealousy to one who is all-powerful." The Spanish Journal of Lady Holland, p. 45. Sir W. Stirling-Maxwell in Annals of the Artists of Spain, Vol. IV., p. 1472, refers to the same rumour. Lady Holland also states that during the building of the original Alba palace in the Calle de Alcala, Madrid (now the War Office), two destructive fires broke out, " and enough was discovered to convince that a further attempt to finish the noble edifice would end in a similar disappointment, the train being laid by a high and jealous person. . . . The Duchess was always an object of jealousy and envy to the great lady ; her beauty, popularity, wealth, and rank were corroding to her heart." This " great lady " was the Queen. " A short time before her death she was banished for three years, and the only favour shown was allowing her the choice of her estates. She chose to reside at her palace at St. Lucar Barrameda in Andalusia." At her death her pictures were seized and sold by the Crown. Amongst them were the Madonna della Casa Alba by Raphael, now in the Hermitage ; the Education of Love, by Correggio ; and the famous Venus and Cupid, by Velazquez. The latter passed into the possession of Godoy, at his sale was bought by Wallis, acting for Buchanan, then, on the recommendation of Sir Thomas Lawrence, was purchased by Morritt of Rokeby, and is now No. 2057 of the National Gallery. In L'Art et les Artistes, 1906, Vol. II., p. 205, a portrait of the Duchess, hitherto unknown, attributed to Goya, is reproduced. No particulars are given as to ownership. The last edition (1913) of the Prado catalogue states that Goya painted the Maja vestida in the open air.



The Foundation of Goya's Cosmopolitan Fame. In Progress from 1793 to 1798. Goya's bad Health, Origin of Los Caprichos. The Un- published Preface. Popular Explanations of the Plates. Manuscript " keys." Satire of Social Life in Madrid. Doubts as to Personal Caricature. A new Harlct's Progress. Goya's Realism. Coarseness in Art. English Caricature of the Eighteenth Century. The Scenes of Witchcraft. Demonology in Art and Literature. Ruskin and Los Caprichos. Goya as Etcher and Aquatintist. Gautier's Appreciation of the Plates. Los Caprichos taken over by the State. Editions and Impressions.

HAD Goya not etched the series of plates to which he gave the title of Los Caprichos his fame might have remained for many years strictly confined to his own country, for, as Theophile Gautier remarks in Tra los Monies, " never was there a less harmonious genius, never a Spanish artist more local." As a painter his reputation was slow in crossing the Pyrenees, and then was chiefly based upon the testimony of the few strangers who had visited Madrid. But when the volumes of Los Caprichos reached Paris, the un- challenged centre of European art, these extraordinary works attracted unstinted appreciation, and awoke general curiosity with respect to the personality of the almost unknown Spaniard. Officers attached to the Enghsh army quartered in the Peninsula sent copies of Los


Caprichos home to London. Later still the book pene- trated into Germany. These etchings thus formed the foundation of Goya's cosmopolitan celebrity.

Los Caprichos consists of seventy-two plates which are usually dated iy(^6-iy(^y. Eight additional plates were added before 1803, but cannot be treated as part of the original set.* Without wishing to disagree with such com- petent critics as Paul Lefort and Julius Hofmann, who have so carefully annotated the etched work of Goya, it seems more probable that the production of these plates should be spread over a longer period. Goya must have commenced Los Caprichos as early as 1793 or 1794. In 1797 the artist was more than usually busy, and even his superabundant activity was unequal to the addi- tional task of designing, etching, and printing] seventy- two plates.

Goya's indifferent health has already been mentioned. If he travelled to Andalusia with the Duchess of Alba in January, 1793, simply for rest and convalescence, his recovery was painfully slow. On April 18, 1794, Livinio Stuik of the tapestry factory wrote that his friend was quite unable to work. The same month another com- panion remarked that the artist was in his studio again, but lacking in application or energy — a serious statement to make of a man who, when in health, bubbled over with life and virility. f Goya himself, in a letter to Zapater, dated April 23, 1794, refers to his condition. " My health has not improved. Often I get so excited that I cannot bear with myself. Then again I become calm,

♦ Lafond says these plates were added " before 1812," but Carderera, who gives the earlier date, is a safer authority, f These letters are quoted by Cruzada Villaamil.


as I am at this present moment of writing, although I am akeady fatigued. Next Monday, if God permit, I will go to a bull-fight, and I wish you were able to accompany me." *

He was stone deaf, and his eyes were giving him trouble. Unable to attack with serious purpose any large canvas, he did what many an ailing painter has done before and since. He trifled, pencil in hand, over his sketch-book. Every vague fancy idly flitting through his tormented brain was set down on paper. They were the caprices, the whims, of a moment. Then he picked up the etching needle, which he had neglected for more than twelve years, since the Velazquez plates of 1778. Thus we have the genesis of Los Caprichos.

Dozens of the original drawings are still in existence. Many remain in Madrid, hanging in the basement of the Prado amidst the tapestry cartoons. Others have been distributed throughout the private collections and public museums of Europe. A large number have been repro- duced in facsimile in the sumptuous portfolios edited by Pierre d'Achiardi.f In some cases the etchings have simplified the detail of the sketches ; in others, the artist follows his original idea with scrupulous fidelity. J Not all the drawings were used.§

  • Zapater : Noiicias biogrdficas, p. 53.

f P. d'Achiardi : Les Dessins de Francisco Goyay Lucientes au Musee dti Prado a Madrid. Rome, 1908. 3 vo's.

X Although Goya often painted in haste, his etchings show signs of the most careful preparation. In the Velazquez series he made many studies and working drawings before he touched the copper. The plates of Los Caprichos were brilliant impromptus not left to the inspiration of the moment.

§ There are sketches for the etchings, which were never used, in the art museimi at Hamburg. They came from the Fortuny collection.


The first edition is usually said to have been issued in 1797, but this is an error based upon the discovery of a sketch for the title-page dated in that year. Isolated proofs were to be seen in 1796, but the whole work was not ready until 1798 or 1799. Goya was slowly printing the two hundred copies in an attic workroom he had specially engaged for the purpose at the comer of the Calle de San Bernardino, but for some while the job was completely set aside. He drew up a draft prospectus which was never published. He explains that he has " chosen subjects which afford opportunities to turn into ridicule and stigmatise those prejudices, impostures, and hypocrisies which have been consecrated by time." He protests against any plate being treated as a personal satire, for this would be to mistake the object of art and the means art has placed in the hands of artists. He asks for the indulgence of the public, for " the author has not attempted to imitate the work of other people, or even to copy Nature. The imitation of Nature is as diffi- cult as it is admirable — when successfully accomplished ; let us therefore admire a method which leaves Nature out of the question, and reveals to our eyes forms and movements existing only in the imagination . . . Painting, like poetry, selects from the universe what it considers best for its own end. In a single fantastic figure it is able to concentrate circumstances and charac- teristics which Nature scatters amongst a crowd of individuals. Thanks to this wise and ingenious com- bination the artist must be allowed the title of inventor, and ceases to be a mere servile copyist." *

  • This draft belonged to Valentin Carderera, who quoted it in the

Gazette des Beaux-Arts, Vol. XV., September, 1863, p. 240.


The early copies were sold at the price of 288 reals, about £3, and Goya's wealthy patrons subscribed eagerly for the limited issue. The Duchess of Osuna paid 1,500 reals for her copy, and Goya's receipt is dated January, 1799. There was more than the artistic interest in the compilation. Despite Goya's protest against any plate being identified as a vehicle of personal satire Madrid society whispered that many of the etchings audaciously satirised not only medicine, the army, the law, the Church, and even themselves, but actually the throne itself. The very fact, if true, reveals an amount of personal Hberty in Spain which could only be equalled in London or Paris, and was certainly not to be found in any other European capital. Apparently the artist suffered no harm, experienced no retaliation, and met his victims without ill-will. The character of Goya must fall in our estimation if we accept the various " keys " to the drawings. They reveal him caricaturing personal friends and liberal patrons, and exposing to public laughter the weaknesses of women with whom he had been on the most intimate terms. The popular interpretation of Los Caprichos, however, is very misleading. Goya was partly to blame for a mystification without apparent motive. It is true, as Richard Muther says, that Goya penned a pasquinade upon the social, political, and ecclesiastical conditions of his age, that he fought against dandyism and wantonness, against servile courtiers and venal functionaries, against the hypocrisy of the priesthood and the stupidity of the people. But that he held up to shame the men and women from whom he was receiving generous encouragement, who opened their houses to him and shared their salt, is not so


obvious. Commentators have read more into Los Cap- richos than the artist ever intended, more than the drawings actually contain. Goya's character requires clearing of an accusation which is a serious injustice to his memory.

The seventy-two plates of Los Caprichos may be roughly divided in three parts which have practically nothing in common. Excluding the frontispiece-por- trait,* plates 2 to 36 deal with the social life of Madrid, caricaturing the Madrilenas with a good deal of fun and satire, but lacking fantasy or imagination. A few later plates (such as Nos. 55, 78, 79, and 80) should have been included in the same section, of which they naturally form a continuation. Plate 37 opens an entirely fresh vein, and we see animals acting as humans. This series ends abruptly with plate 42, and upon these etchings is based the accusation that Goya bit the hands which fed him. The charge must be examined in detail.

When Los Caprichos appeared Madrid society promptly read into the drawings names and personalities which the artist disclaimed even before publication. That he intended satire is obvious, but his ideas were general, rather than personal. However, manuscripts were written and passed from hand to hand which professed to give the key to each plate. They were copied, and they were added to. Charles Yriarte says that in his investigations he came across at least five or six. One manuscript is so frankly coarse that Paul Lefort was unable to incor- porate it in his valuable work on the etchings. Another, written by Goya himself, at Bordeaux, thirty years after thepublicationof the plates, must be accepted with extreme

  • This portrait was originally intended to form plate 43.


caution. An old and embittered man, with a certain amount of animosity against Ferdinand VII. and Madrid, he was not unwilHng to throw a Httle mud at the society he had renounced. His descriptive remarks are not only banal but exceedingly vague. Comparing these manu- scripts with the plates themselves, we find the slightest evidence to justify the most decided explanations. More important still is the discovery that the manuscripts and their scandalous traditions are invariably contradictory. Many of these plates can possess no direct personal meaning. Goya followed his imagination through the mazes of his fancy. He pursued rather nebulous thoughts on morality and politics which in his old age he attempted to clothe in personal applications. He would have been more honest, had he — like Browning — confessed his inability to explain his earlier work.

The chief actress in the scandals of the close of the eighteenth century was the Queen, and gossip identified her as the heroine of several of these plates. No. 2 represents a girl, her face covered with a domino, and her hair put up in a grimacing mask. She is being led to the altar by a bridegroom who is far from handsome. Two fantastically ugly old women accompany her, and a crowd grins in the background. " She says yes, and takes the hand of the first person who passes," is the original description beneath the etching. Goya's manuscript throws little light upon the subject : " easiness with which women contract marriage, hoping therefore to gain greater liberty," is his comment. In another manuscript personalities are hinted at. " She is a disguised princess, who later will behave worse than a dog, as indicated by the mask on her hair. . . . She has


"A ROUGH night" M.ila Noche. After the etching in" Los Cafrichos." Plate 3b


two faces like Janus ... A stupid crowd applauds this marriage, and behind walks a charlatan who prays for the happiness of the nation." * The phrases are as vague and unsatisfactory as the prophesies of a fashion- able palmist. If the words mean anything they refer to Charles IV., Maria Luisa, and Godoy, but it is impos- sible to fit any of these personalities to the figures in the drawing. One can as easily explain Leonardo's gro- tesques as political allusions reflecting upon the policy of the Medici.

Underneath A rough night (plate 36) Goya wrote : "To such inconveniences do light-hearted young ladies expose themselves when they do not wish to remain at home." This is the aimless and garrulous conversation of senility. A contemporary annotation explains that Goya wished to recall certain nocturnal excursions made by the Queen which excited comment. The plate does not corroborate the suggestion.! Poor little things (plate 22) is said by the same authority to allude to the vengeance exercised by the Queen against women of whom she was jealous. It is probably nothing but a street scene in Madrid. The same remarks apply to many of the etchings in the first section of Los Caprichos.

Charles Yriarte exhaustively examines this problem as to the identity of the characters in the etchings, { and arrives at the conclusion that in many cases there can be — as Goya himself asserted— no personal application. For instance, plate 19 represents two well-featured young

  • Gazette des Beaux-Arts (1867), Vol. XXII., p. 200 (note).

f Gazette des Beaux-Arts (1867), Vol. XXII., p. 197 (note). See also p. 201 (note).

X L Art, Vol. II. (1877). These four articles are brilliantly written, but appear to have escaped the notice of most biographers.


women plucking an unhappy bird with the head of a man. On the branches of a tree are several other birds with male and female heads, whilst one pert fowl boasts a cocked hat and a high stock. In the next plate, No. 20, the same wretched animals, remorselessly stripped of their feathers, are being chased away by two damsels with brooms. These etchings have a graceful and fantastic wit which is very alluring. They are said to refer to the many scandals in which the Queen became involved, and the birds are named, one representing Godoy,* another Juan Pignatelli.f But, as Yriarte remarks, the situation is so ordinary that it requires no personal application. How many men, who innocently believed that they were loved for themselves alone, have been stripped of their goods, and ignominiously driven forth when they had nothing but their hearts to offer ! It is the eternal thesis of moralists, satirists, and carica- turists of all countries. Goya follows his idea through six plates, Nos. 19 to 24. Woman the despoiler does not have it all her own way. Three vampires, in the costume of the law, seize the poor little bird with the head of a woman, and pluck her without mercy. Plate 22 gives the next act of the drama. These young ladies, the Manon Lescauts of Madrid, are being conducted to a house of correction by the alguazils. " Poor little things ! " cries Goya. After the arrest comes the judgment in plate 23. In her robe of penitence the wretched girl sits on a platform, surrounded by a dense crowd, listening to the reading of her sentence. Plate 24 shows the punish- ment. Semi-nude, she rides an ass to the place of

  • Godoy protested in his Memoirs against these insinuations.

t Gazette des Beaux-AHs (1867), Vol. XXII., p. 197 (note).


"POOR I.ITTLK things!" Pobrccitas! After the etchhig in Los Caprichos." Plate 22


execution, surrounded by a grinning mob, and guarded by the stem officers of the Holy Office. Goj^a wrote beneath this plate, " No hubo remedio " (There is no remedy). And there is no remedy for the evil which Hogarth treated in the Harlot's progress, and the Spaniard, on similar lines, in these six plates.

Yriarte refers to the realistic fidelity of Goya's drawings.

Goya is more a satirist than a caricaturist, although satire does not adequately describe such a plate as Love and Death, where a girl vainly attempts to revive her murdered lover, or the pathetic thought in the thirty-fourth etching (a prison-scene) that sleep is the only happiness for the unhappy.* The drawing of a priest attempting to hide his money-bags is satire. But the old man, in plate 29, who reads a newspaper whilst a barber dresses his hair, is broad fun, akin in subject to the social jests of Rowlandson, Bunbury, Wigstead, or Richard Newton. Goya was " coarse-minded and essentially vulgar," wrote P. G. Hamerton. Such an accusation is easy to make, and difficult to refute, especially when directed by one of the anaemic English critics of the nineteenth century against an artist of Latin race. In the constitution of every artist or author of virile strength lies hidden a vein of coarseness which forms an essential part of his intellectual equipment. It may be a survival of what the revivalists call " the old Adam," the sinful

  • With all his realism Goya had the mind of a poet. The same idea is repeatedly expresed by our Elizabethans. Sir Philip Sidney calls sleep " the certain knot of peace . . . the balm of woe . . . the prisoner's release." Shakespeare writes of the " sleep that sometimes shuts up sorrow's eye . . . that knits up the ravelled slave of care . . . sore labour's bath, balm of hurt minds."

nature of man which may be repressed but can never be wholly eradicated. According to the intellectual breadth and sanity of that artist so will the coarseness increase or diminish, overwhelm and distort his work, and become a weakness, or simply flash from time to time, giving an added power to his creations.

But, according to the same critic, because Goya was " coarse-minded and essentially vulgar," there was " something wanting in his temperament, and that something the delicate aesthetic sense . . . there is no evidence of that sweet enjoyment of natural beauty which is given only to the pure in heart." The assertion is preposterous, and Goya's finest portraits prove its false- hood. In general application it is equally untrue. Shakespeare was coarse if judged by prudish canons. Yet no poet had a purer appreciation of beauty. Rem- brandt was undoubtedly coarse, but who would dare suggest that he lacked a delicate aesthetic sense and failed to rise to supreme heights of mysticism. No great artist escapes this blemish, if you will, this flaw in a piece of exquisitely coloured marble. Moral England loves to fling the taunt at the Latin races, and it is one of the easiest and most smashing blows of an unsym- pathetic criticism because it is irrefutable. Great men are always coarse.

The coarseness of Goya is hardly noticeable, unless we set out to look for it.* There is nothing which can be classed with the few notorious plates of Rembrandt which all collectors know, those hidden creations of the Renaissance, or even the full-blooded caricatures

  • " Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming." — Oscar Wilde.


which disfigured the Georgian age in England. Goya's social etchings have often much grace. The majas who masquerade through the early pages of Los Caprichos are as attractive as a sketch by a modem Parisian illustrator. A rough night reminds us of a drawing in wash by Fragonard. If Goya never captured Rowland- son's soft pencil he far surpassed other artists who were busy in London. In several of his subjects there is an atmosphere of happiness, an absence of that fierce hatred of his fellows which so many of his biographers consider the outstanding feature of his character. His wit is biting, his satire sometimes envenomed, but it seldom approaches the bludgeoning and the brutal obscenities which distort the drawings of Gillray and his school. If Charles IV. and Maria Luisa were caricatured, which is most improbable, they were lightly dealt with in com- parison to their cousins of Great Britain, George III. and Queen Charlotte.

After the first section of Los Caprichos follows a short series of plates (Nos. 37 to 42) dealing with the adventures of animals acting as men, another version, in fact, of Gulliver's adventures amongst the Houyhnhnms, but with asses instead of horses. Goya's temperament and imagination have many curious points of similarity in the personahty of Swift. These plates are chiefly identified with the name of Godoy, but the weaknesses they satirise are common to human nature. Plate 43 opens a fresh departure. It is neither caricature nor satire. A man has fallen asleep in his chair over paper and pencils. His head rests on the edge of his drawing-table. Owls and bats circle round him in the gloom. A wakeful cat glares at his feet. One bird offers him a crayon to resume


his labours. On a paper by the table are the words, " El sueno de la razon monstruos " (Reason's dream gives birth to monsters). The man is Goya dreaming in a world of hallucinations. The face is hidden, but the identity is unquestionable, for Goya at first intended the frontispiece portrait to take the place of this composition. The plate forms a fitting introduction to a collection of the most remarkable inventions of diablerie that mind of artist ever conceived.

Although Goya piously asked the permission of the Almighty to attend a bull-fight, and often drew a cross at the head of his letters, there cannot be much question as to his lack of religious conviction. According to the fashion of his time he was more atheistic than agnostic. In an etching representing a corpse rising from the tomb with the grim message " Nada " (Nothing) he symbohsed the negation of his creed. But, in the words of Parson Adams, if he was not afraid of ghosts he did not absolutely disbelieve in them. These etchings of brujas (wi tches) place him at the head of a tiny group of artists who have devoted their genius to a revelation of the supernatural. Had they doubted the existence of the fantastic world they dreamt of could they have depicted it on paper ? They present the problem of demoniac possession in a new light. The gift of the macabre and the horrible is rare, and at its best a sur- vival of mediaevalism. We find it in the diabolical can- vases of Hieronymus van Bosch, in the temptations and hells of the younger Teniers, in some of the imaginings of Martin de Vos and Callot, and, coming to a later day, in the theatrical morbidness of Wiertz. There is a trace of the fascination for the ghastly in Albert Diirer, as well


"nail trimming"

Se repulen. After the etching in ^ Los Caprichos." Plate Ji


as in Gustave Dore, and fainter — because artificial, affected, and borrowed — in that draughtsman of yester- day, Aubrey Beardsley. Classical mythology and art have no room for its deities, but it will be found in Japanese and Chinese art as well as in the grotesques carved by the masons who built the great cathedrals of the Middle Ages. In literature there are numerous examples. Hoffman and Edgar Allan Poe come readily to mind, but the Arabian Nights, with its genii, sorcerers, and other unnatural creations, is the true source of all the later variations. It is, in fact, a survival of man's earliest terrors, when, trembling in his cave, he listened to the tyrodactyl ominously flapping its huge wings through the black forest, or the roar of some giant megatherium as it wallowed in primeval swamps.

Goya had imagined every kind of Walpurgis revel, attaining a wealth of illuminative detail which renders the last half of Los Caprichos a popular handbook of de- monology and witchcraft. In Homage to the master the chief figure is almost Egyptian ; in Nail-trimming he gives an insight into the domestic life of these unclean beings.

"It is so dangerous to have long nails that even the

sorcerers are forbidden to sport them," he wrote in an

explanatory footnote. The Fates spin, witches ride on

broomsticks, young children are offered in sacrifice,

hags crowd together over steaming cauldrons, muttering

frightful charms and incantations.

Round, around, around, about, about !

All ill come running in, all good keep out I

Here's the blood of a bat.

Put in that, O put in that !

Here's Ubbard's bane.


Put in again !

The juice of toad, the oil of adder :

Those will make the younker madder.

Put in — there's all — and rid the stench.

Nay, here's three ounces of the red-haired wench.

Round, around, around, about, about !

Even Thomas Middleton's verse does not do full justice to some of these scenes of the black world. And with them Goya mingles a rough commentary upon the bad laws which make hard cases. He satirises marriage — a man and a woman chained to a tree from which it is impossible to escape, whilst a grotesque bird watches over them. Surely Goya had no reason to complain of the bonds of wedlock. He gibes at dull sermons — a parrot preaching to appreciative monks. How many sermons had he sat out ? He pleads for a higher morality. " Do as I say ! " he urges, and might well add, " but not as I do." The reformed sinner makes a brave show on the platform, although we cannot always be sure that the conversion is genuine.

Ruskin destroyed a copy of Los Caprichos, and his attitude is typical of much EngHsh criticism.* Philip Gilbert Hamerton speaks of the series as " eighty of Goya's ugUest etchings " by an artist who " illustrated

  • The story is to be found in Vol. XXXVII. of the Complete Works

of Ruskin (1909), amongst the " Letters, 1870-1889." In a letter from Brantwood, dated September 19, 1872, he asks F. S. Ellis : " Any effect produced on customers' minds yet by our burnt sacrifice ? " The editors add the following note : " The enquiry is a jest — the story is this. Ruskin saw in Mr. Ellis's possession a fine copy of the Cap- riccios de Goya, and commented on its hideousness, adding that ' it was only fit to be burnt.' Mr. EUis agreed with him, and, putting the volume into the empty grate (for it was in August), he and Ruskin set light to it, and the book was burned to ashes." Ruskin's arrogance is only equalled by the bookseller's self-sacrifice. In the twentieth century it would be as hard to find an EUis as a Ruskin.


every turpitude and vice in a spirit of ferocious satis- faction," using the etching-needle "merely for his political purpose, as so many people use the pen in writing, with- out any idea of the artistic capabilities of the instrument and the art." This is a singularly unfortunate judgment, for Goya, particularly in the scenes of witchcraft, dis- plays a complete command of his tools. There is none of the bungling so noticeable in the plates after Velaz- quez. Occasional crudities mar the progress of the work, but as a rule the technique is on the same plan as the invention. Goya, ever ready for an artistic experiment, tried his hand at the comparatively new invention of aquatint. Several of the plates are in pure aquatint (No. 32 is a fine example), and how cleverly he succeeded is proved in A rough night. A recent historian of this method writes : " Goya raised the combination of etching with aquatint to a position of surpassing merit. . . . He will always remain the master of mixed aquatint engraving, and his work should be carefully studied by all interested in the legitimate scope of aquatint engraving." * This verdict is substantially just, coming with force from a writer who had made himself acquainted with the whole art of aquatint. Hamerton, led away by his hatred of Goya's political opinions — ^which Goya probably never professed — demolishes Goya as a man, as an artist, and as an etcher. " Goya was to a really cultivated etcher what a peasant fiddling in an alehouse is to Joachim interpreting Beethoven. Of the resources of etching — its pianos and its fortes, its harmonies and oppositions, its tender cadences and its notes of triumphant energy — Goya lived in Philistine ignorance. If his etchings had

  • S. T. Prideaux : History of Aquatint {1909).


been good he would never have endured to spoil them by heavy aquatint. He was as unskilful in aquatint as in etching proper, but he could lay a coarse, flat shade, which served in some measure to hide the poverty of his performance with the needle." *

Oscar Wilde said that diversity of opinion about a work of art shows that the work is new, complex, and vital. The days of Ruskin and Hamerton are over. One modem painter not inaptly compares Goya to Hokusai. But there never was any great diversity of opinion as to his genius amongst artists and critics who did not need teaching that " the moral life of man forms part of the subject-matter of the artist, but the morality of art consists in the perfect use of an imperfect medium." f Eugene Delacroix copied over fifty of the plates in Los Caprichos,X with a care and patience, says Charles Yriarte, of which few would consider him capable. The etchings appealed to many of the artists of the French Romantic movement, and some, like Louis Boulanger, borrowed freely from them. Daumier was strongly influenced by their power. Our own banker-poet, Samuel Rogers, added the set to his library. Theophile Gautier was no mediocre critic, and several of the most brilliant pages in his Tro los Monies endeavour to describe the fantastic invention lavished on the plates of Los Caprichos.^

  • P. G. Hamerton : Portfolio Papers, " Goya," p. 153.

I Theophile Gautier : Voyage en Espagne, edition 1845, pp. 131-134. Gautier particularly admired plate 59, haggard creatures attempting to raise a huge stone which threatens to crush them. " Dante him- self never arrived at such an effect of suffocating terror." He also speaks of the vivacity and energy of Bon Voyage.

X One of these drawings is in the Print Room of the British Museum.

§ Theophile Gautier : Voyage en Espagne (1845), pp. 129-134.

" BON voyage" Buen Vinje. After the etching in ^^ Los Caprichos." Plate 64.


Whether Goya was seriously threatened by the Inquisi- tion, for the Church had not been spared by his lash, or whether he found an opportunity to make a profitable bargain, cannot be stated definitely. The negotiations for purchase are said to have been suggested by Manuel Godoy . If the Prince of Peace had been really caricatured he would never have helped Goya to preserve the etchings. In 1803 the eighty plates were offered to the King, who accepted them in very flattering terms. Muther's sug- gestion that Charles IV. " was not even in a position to grasp the meaning of these plates " may be brushed aside. The Queen would never have permitted the Government to publish etchings which attacked her own moral character, and at the moment when the etchings were in circulation Goya was painting the portrait of the royal family. That the State accepted them is additional proof that the insinuations of the manuscript " keys " have little foundation in fact.

" Your Excellency," wrote Goya to the Minister, Don Miguel Cayetano Soler. " I am in receipt of His Majesty's royal order, which your excellency communicated to me on the 6th inst., accepting the offer of my work, the Caprichos on eighty copper plate engraved with aquafortis by my hand, which I will hand to the Royal Calcografia with the lot of prints which I had printed by way of pre- caution, amounting to two hundred and forty copies of eighty prints, in order not to defraud His Majesty in the least, and for my own satisfaction as to my mode of procedure. I am very grateful for the pension of twelve thousand reals which His Majesty has been pleased to grant to my son, for which I offer my best thanks to His Majesty, and to your excellency." After referring to


some portraits and their frames, in which he offers every assistance, the letter ends : "I only desire your excel- lency's orders, and that you may keep well. May God preserve your excellency's valuable life for many years. " Your excellency's obedient and grateful servant,

" Franco, de Goya.

"Madrid, October 9, 1803."

This is hardly the letter of a man who, we are asked to believe, had been running amuck through the Court and the ministries.*

Goya's son, Xavier, was working as an art-student (he never seems to have done much as an artist) and the pension was valuable, as it enabled him to study abroad. A few years later the pension was withdrawn, for the reason that money was no longer required for the youth's education. Goya, however, had not lost all influence, and the annuity was restored in June, i8i6.f As for the plates, Rafael Esteve superintended the printing of a second edition at the cost of the State, which was issued in 1806-1807. This is an extremely rich impression. A third edition was published by the Chalcographical Department in 1856, but the plates were rapidly wearing. It can be distinguished by the portrait of Goya on the cover. A fourth edition was printed in 1892. Facsimile editions were issued from Barcelona in 1885, and from Paris in 1888. The rare proofs of the original edition can be identified by the ink. The earliest have a reddish

  • The letter is quoted in the Gazette des Beaux- Arts, i860, p. 241, and

is reproduced in facsimile in Mr. Calvert's monograph, p. 88, and also by Von Loga, p. 77.

t Gazette des Beaux-Arts, 1863, Vol. XV., p. 241.


hue, and later impressions are of a brown that is almost black. The paper of the proofs pulled by Goya himself is moderately thick, and bears no watermark other than that of the wires.*

  • In the Gazette des Beaux-Arts, September, 1863, Philippe Burty

draws attention to a portfoKo of ten lithographs entitled Caricatures espagnoles par Goya, published at Paris in 1824. They are poor and sometimes modified copies of plates 10, 14, 15, 18, 24, 32, 40, 43, 52, and 55.



Five genre Pieces. The Carnival Scene. Portraits in 1794-1796. A Royal Command. The Church of San Antonio de la Florida. Goya's Decorations . Various Criticisms upon these Frescoes. Royal Approval. Goya appointed First Painter of the Court. His Friendship with Charles IV, and Maria Luisa.

FRANCISCO GOYA may be well described as " one who never turned his back, but marched breast forward." A man of indomitable per- severance, like all true artists he had but one aim in life — his art. We have seen him the hero of a romantic entanglement which certainly did not add to his lasting happiness ; we have traced the course of innumerable illnesses and obscure nervous collapses, ending in the deafness which cut him off from the joys of social inter- course. His friends tell each other that he is so unwell that he is unable to work. When at last he enters his studio he devotes himself to the mordant satire of Los Caprichos. Yet if we were to describe him as an embittered man we should be at fault. In the midst of this fight against physical disease and acute mental weariness Goya made a great effort to regain the mastery of his distracted genius, and, gathering together his whole artistic strength, achieved his greatest work. The


years between 1795 and 1810 include the period of his finest paintings.

Letters from Stuik and Bayeu dated early in 1793 have already been quoted. Go3^a himself wrote in April, 1794, complaining that he was no better. Yet in January of the same year he told Bernardo de Yriarte that he wanted to exhibit some of his recent pictures at the Academy of San Fernando, " in order to end the continual gossip regarding my illness." He informed his friend that he had painted some canvases, which " not being com- missioned had therefore more artistic feeling," a naive confession, although perfectly natural and easy to under- stand. In a second letter he explains that he has based these paintings upon studies made in Zaragoza. They may probably be identified as A bull-fight, A procession of flagellants, A meeting of the Inquisition, A madhouse, and possibly the Carnival scene, also known as El entierro de la sardina* These charming little genre compositions betray a change of method, a light, feathery touch being substituted for the harder technique of the earlier paintings. The Madhouse may be particularly

  • This Carnival Scene is interesting because it represents a phase of

social enjoyment now almost extinct. The art of being foolish in public, wildheadedly and wholeheartedly, is gradually being lost on the continent, and has quite disappeared in England. It is impossible to recapture the atmosphere of the mediaeval feasts and fairs, because the race has become self-conscious — probably owing to false educational ideals, cheap photography, accentuated during the present century by cinemas and illustrated newspapers. Even football crowds cannot stand naturally in front of a camera. Only the very wise and the very simple can enjoy playing the fool, and, in these days of successful mediocrity, the wise are too worried and the simple herded together aS " mental deficients." Wagner used to greet his friends by standing on his head and waving his legs in the air. This is the true spirit of carnival, and even Dr. Johnson experienced the thrill when he made that famous trip to Gravesend with his young companions.


noted for its amazing control of lights and shadows as well as a wonderful delicacy of handling. Technically it is foreign to the centur}^ in which it was painted, possess- ing all the sparkle and atmospheric vibration which the French artists of the Romantic School endeavoured to capture thirty years later. Mr. Rothenstein refers to the Bull- fight as showing the " trick of putting as it were a girdle of figures along the frame, round the central point of interest, the use of which fascinated Goya throughout his life. These small pieces are perhaps more comparable with the early paintings of Hogarth at the period when he too was influenced, through Ricci, then in England, by the late Venetians : such paintings as we see in the sketch of the Street Musicians at the Oxford Gallery, or in the small panels he executed before the engravings for Butler's Hudibras." * There is considerable difference of critical opinion as to the dates of these delightful works. Mr. Rothenstein ascribes them to the period following Goya's return from Italy ; Seiior Tormo y Monzo dates the Entierro de la sardina as late as 1818-1828.! But the brushwork is not so crudely hard in manner as that immediatel}^ following Goya's days of apprenticeship, or so loose and fluid as the late Madrid period. Both in tone and accomplishment they easily drop into sequence with the year indicated by the letter to Bernardo de Yriarte.

In 1794 a few dated portraits can be identified, such as Don Felix Colon de Larriafegui, General Ricardo, and a portrait of an unknown officer belonging to Don Luis

  • Rothenstein : Goya, p. 10.

t Elias Tormo y Monzo : Verios estudios de Artes y Letras — Las pinturas de Goya, p. 223. Madrid, 1902.


da Navas. The portrait of Mercedes Fernandez probably belongs to the same time. But Goya had other pre- occupations, and the years were lean in output. In 1795 came the Duchess of Alba of the Liria palace, and in 1796 many hours must have been spent over Los Caprichos. Not until almost the end of the century did Goya recover his former health and energy. Then he appears to have been overwhelmed with commissions.

The first was of some magnitude. Goya's experiences of church decoration were sufficiently bitter, and his remembrances of the treatment he received from the ecclesiastical dignities of Zaragoza is probably one explan- tion of the deep animosity against the Church revealed in the etchings of Los Caprichos. The new invitation, however, was also a command he was unable to refuse. The King owned a hunting-box on the outskirts of Madrid known as the Casa del Campo, not a very regal dwelling- place, if we are to believe Major Dalrymple. " The Casa del Campo, across the Manzanares, about a mile out of town, is but a hovel for a prince," that traveller wrote in 1774. " There is nothing striking in the park or enclosure, which is kept for the King's sport." The park had originally belonged to the Vargas family, and was acquired by Philip II., who, with his successor, added fresh lands to the domain. On this property was the Hermitage of San Antonio de la Florida, which stood in a most picturesque situation —

La primera verbena

Que Dios en via Es la de San Antonio

De la Florida.

To-day its site is to be discovered in a gloomy quarter



of the town at the back of the northern railway station. Rebuilt once, if not twice, the little church was again reconstructed in 1792 in a more pretentious style by Ventura Rodriquez, who delighted in the florid lines of a debased renaissance. In 1798 Goya was asked by Charles IV. to decorate the interior. With the assistance of JuUa Asensi he completed the task in three months. There is not a more joyous piece of church decoration in existence.*

The subject which covers the little cupola is that of St. Anthony of Padua raising a dead man to life in order that he might reveal the name of his murderer, a gloomy and rather forbidding theme. Goya had proved himself in Los Caprichos a supreme master of the macabre. He had already etched one figure returning from the tomb, who, instead of revealing any of the secrets of the world beyond the grave, had simply muttered the significant word " Nothing ! " Clearly Goya had his private opinions upon the problems of life and death, and also with regard to St. Anthony's capability as a miracle-maker. Hov/- ever, he did not trouble himself with deep speculations on the theory of the universe, or grandiose schemes of decoration. He was not harassed by a committee of- priests, or even a brother-in-law, and he climbed up his scaffolding with the lightest of hearts. The rapidity of the execution proves that the work was congenial. Round the cupola, massed within a railing, are all the fashionable men and women of the moment, one hundred figures more than life-size. The pendentives are occu-

  • The best reproductions are to be found in Frescos de Goya en la

iglesia de San Antonio de la Florida, engraved by Jose M. Gal van y ^ndela, with text by Juan de Dios de la Rada y Delgado. Madrid, 1888.


pied by angels, the smaller niches by tiny naked children. A few of these onlookers gaze at the saint and the murdered being who strives to rise from his bier. But the miracle does not excite much interest. Several of the boys are trying to climb over the railing. The men are ogling the women, and the women are pretending to be unconscious of their admirers. They sit and loll in positions of considerable freedom, and their bodies are garbed in tightly fitting garments best calculated to draw attention to charms they have no wish to conceal. There is none of that ecstatic mysticism which can be traced through Spanish art of an earlier period. The atmosphere is that of the Bal BuUier, the crowd fashion- able rather than well-mannered, and the exceedingly human angels clearly out for a romp. If Goya imagined a Heaven it was a Paradise of cakes and ale where ginger was hot in the mouth.

Technically these frescoes are a brilHant artistic success, painted with a breadth, a verve, an abandonment, more to be looked for in a youth of twenty-five than a man of fifty-two. Undoubtably Goya recollected Correggio's decorations at Parma, and Tiepolo's work was close at hand for study and suggestion. But Correggio's figures never lacked dignity, and Tiepolo*s sprawling gods and goddesses breathe the serene paganism of the Renaissance. Goya's men and women have no dignity — rather a naughty insolence. His angels are the figurantes of a ballet. They are beautiful both in colour and form, but it is the beauty of the flesh and not of the soul. The frescoes of San Antonio de la Florida are in art what Offenbach is in music.

Nothing Goya ever painted has aroused more discordant


and contradictory criticism, and the old battle of the artist's faith, or want of faith, is transferred to a fresh field. Richard Muther calls the frescoes " Casanova transferred to colour . . . figures as full of piquant intention as can be found in the most erotic paintings of Fragonard." A Spanish writer valiantly endeavours to combine the two points of view. " Apart from the fact that Goya was a believer and respectful to all that pertained to religion, he is as manifestly mystic and deli- cate as any painter of the spiritual school. In the central group the risen man partakes of both realism and religious unction. The expression could not be better, nor could the attitude of the saint be more dignified. Apart from this, in the other groups he copied what he was wont to observe in popular gatherings, as he saw it, as it was, as it will always be." * Excellent criticism — for the blind. More to the truth is the Count de Vihaza, when, after drawing attention to the admirable energy, the splendid scale of tones, the magic of colour, he denounces the wanton beauty of the angels, and complains that the saint's miracle is treated " as familiarly as the spectacle of a wandering rope-dancer." f

Whether Charles IV. was annoyed when he saw the members of his Court gazing in effigy from the ceiling of San Antonio is doubtful. Paul Lefort speaks of " the absurd tradition " that Goya found his models in the

  • Sefior Rada, quoted in Calvert's Goya, p. 80.

I " Imagine a coquettish little church with a white and gold interior, more like a boudoir than a shrine, but furnished with altar, and seats, and confessionals ; one's nostrils expect an odour of frangipani rather than incense, and it must be admitted that Goya's frescoes do not strike a discordant note in this indecorously holy place." — W. Rothen- stein, Goya, p. 18.


most fashionable circles of Madrid society. The tradition is too strong to be disregarded, and the crowd around the saint is decidedly late Spanish eighteenth century in dress and expression. The pious faithful were probably astonished when the church was reopened, July i, 1799, but no protests were raised against the presence of the philandering angels and the tiny amorini. The decora- tions brought a quick reward. Goya ardently coveted the appointment of first Court painter to the King, which had been vacant since the death of his brother-in-law, Francisco Bayeu, in 1795. Godoy had placed Goya's claims before the King, who replied that he wished to save the salary. At last, on October 31, 1799, the royal command was issued. " His Majesty wishing to reward your distinguished merit and to give in person a testi- mony that may serve as a stimulus to all professors, of how much he appreciates your talent and knowledge of the noble art of painting, has been pleased to appoint you his chief painter of the Chamber, at a yearly salary of fifty thousand reals, which you will receive from this date free of rights, and also five ducats a year for a carriage. And it is also his pleasure that you occupy the house now inhabited by Don Mariano Maella, should he die first."*

Goya's sincere joy at this distinction is again hard to reconcile with the theory of his ardent republicanism. He was never a revolutionary, and, although he desired to see his country more prosperous and better governed, he did not refuse to acknowledge the authority of the Ciown. Besides, he was on the happiest personal terms with the sovereigns. Charles IV. gave him a seat in his

  • Calvert : Goya, p. 79.


own coach — the highest honour a Bourbon could confer on a subject — and talked to him in the language of signs. Maria Luisa's attention to the deaf artist was equally gracious, and far more dehcate in its flattery. She gave Goya a Uttle painting by Velazquez, the only picture by another artist that we definitely know he possessed.*

  • Gazette des Beaux-Arts, 2'"" periode, Vol. XIX., p. 426. A man eat-

ing soup, formerly in the Peleguer collection. I have been unable to trace it.



A Portrait-painter's Prime. Goya's Slow Evolution and Lack of Uniformity. The Family of Charles IV. The Portrait of Godoy. General Urrutia. The French Ambassador Guillemardet. Leandro Moratin and his Portrait. Some other Portraits of Men. La Tirana. Dona Antonia Zarate. A Portrait in the National Gallery. Portraits of Women . The so-called Charlotte Corday. The Bookseller's Daughter. Majos and Majas. The Majas on the Balcony. Goya as a Painter of Fops. His Portraits of Elderly Men. Portraits of Children. An Allegory. The Santa Justa and Santa Rufina of Seville.

AT the age of fifty, or thereabouts, a portrait- painter should be at his best. Rubens is an exception, and Van Dyck died at forty-two. But the rule holds wonderfully good in a number of cases. Rembrandt was fifty-five when he finished the Syndics, in the Rijks museum, Velazquez no older at the moment of Pope Innocent and the later portraits of Philip IV. The equestrian Charles V., in the Prado, is the work of a veteran, but Titian was engaged on some magnificent portraits shortly after 1530, when he had recently turned the half-century. Reynolds, bom in 1723, was in the full flood of his genius about 1773, the year of the Graces decorating a terminal figure of Hymen, and the famous Strawberry girl. Gainsborough, four years younger than Reynolds, was busy over the Honourable Mrs. Graham (National Gallery of Scotland) in 1775, and


Perdita, of the Wallace collection, must be allotted to 1779 <^^ 1780. Romney met his beautiful model Emma Hart at the age of forty-eight, and Millais was also forty- eight in 1877, when the Yeoman of the Guard left his studio.

Goya's talent was of slow evolution, and most of his best portraits were painted after 1798, when he was fifty-two, and before 1818, when he had passed the three- score years and ten of the Psalmist. This period of twenty years excludes much good early work, such as the portraits of Charles IV. and Maria Luisa, Jovellanos, Florida Blanca, his brother-in-law Bayeu, the Osuna family, and the Duchess of Alba. It embraces, however, all those portraits upon which his fame must ultimately rest. Goya changed his technical methods with such erratic frequency that it is difficult to date many of his canvases. The Marquesa de la Solana (belonging to the Marquis del Socorro) a self-possessed Spanish dame of characteristic type, possessing all the inborn dignity of her rank as well as the alluring fascination of her sex and race, a portrait remarkable in psychology as well as in paint, is dated 1794. The same year the artist pro- duced the weak Dona Tadea Urias de Enriquez, in the Prado, which, apart from some clever passages in the dress, is by no means a wonderful achievement. Uni- formity of style, or of talent, will not be found in Goya's collected work. He trusted to the inspiration of the minute, as weU as the attraction of the sitter, and in many cases the results were frankly disastrous. If we were not sure that he is responsible for some of these canvases we could easily ascribe them to an unknown pupil of indifferent skill. The Mengs tradition was one


of laborious finish, whilst Velazquez gave an example of bold brushwork and a search for atmosphere. Goya vacillated between the two extremes, and his pictures suffered from the excess of a temperament which was nervous, irritable, excited, and subject to passion.

With the completion of the frescoes at San Antonio de la Florida, and his appointment as first painter to the King, Goya resumed a relationship with the royal family which had apparently been broken during the episode of the Duchess of Alba. If the Queen Maria Luisa had ever been jealous at his open acknowledg- ment of the superior charms of the Duchess — and the suggestion is made in contemporary gossip — he was now forgiven. Although the tale of his adventures was by no means ended, his deafness made him a staider man. No longer did he play those impudent jokes which de- lighted the simple-hearted King.* If he continued to flout the rules and precedents of the most ceremonious Court in Europe, we do not read that he indulged in the light-hearted tricks of his youth. The fact that upon his appointment he had his genealogy emblazoned, and assumed the aristocratic " de " in his name, shows that his point of view had altered. And it also helps to destroy the legend of his hot republicanism.

The first royal commission under these changed

  • Once, when the Court was in deep mourning, Goya presented

himself at the palace wearing white stockings. The chamberlains, shocked at such a lack of decorum, stopped him at the foot of the grand staircase. The artist went into the guardroom, asked for pen and ink, and covered his white stockings with portraits of the Court officials. Having completed these drawings, he forced his way into the throne room, where general curiosity was excited by the extra- ordinary stockings. The King and Queen recognised the portraits and laughed more than anybody else.


circumstances was the great family portrait, commenced in 1799, and completed either within the same year, or during the earlier months of 1800. The Family of Charles IV. was the largest portrait group Goya had ever attempted, and it stands alone in the sequence of his work. As a whole his groups had been rarely successful ; the Osuna family, and the Marquesa de Montijo and her daughters, leave much to be desired.* They have an awkwardness of line ; in a word they are maladroit. The reason is hard to discover. When Goya drew a band of smugglers, or a dozen of his Aragonese peasantry, his figures live and move with perfect grace and ease. A noble mother and her children curiously disconcerted the pencil which revelled in the composition of a witches' sabbath, or a street carnival.

In the Family of Charles IV. Goya surmounted all obstacles. Probably the triumph was only purchased by infinite pains, and Goya did not again embark upon a task of equal magnitude. Always a rapid rather than a plodding painter, he never cared to spend too much time over a single canvas. Of his success in this instance there can be no question. Whereas the tapestry cartoons are better translated into monochrome than in the original, no photograph or engraving can do the slightest justice to the scintillating vibration of this portrait group. His difficulty in all his canvases was to escape a flatness of tone together with a loss of colour, and the trouble in- creased as he grew older. He was evidently aware of the

  • Lucien Solvay, referring to this portrait in L'Art et les Artistes,

1906, Vol. II., p. 193, describes the child on the right as the future Em- press of the French, an extraordinary error, for the Empress Eugenie (de Montijo) was born at Granada in 1826 when Goya was living at Bordeaux.



Palacio dt Liria, Madrid, Reproduced /rom a photograph by permission of Mr. A. Calvert


danger, and, when at his best, easily evaded it. At other times one cannot help feeling that he unduly forced his colour note in order to avoid a monotonous weakness. When he succeeded, as in La Tirana, the Toreador Costillares, and other portraits readily to mind, he ranks with the greatest masters of his craft.

The Family of Charles IV. has been compared to Velaz- quez's Las Meninas. There is little in common between the two groups. One is a state ceremonial, the other a domestic incident. Velazquez painted singularly few official portraits, and, in an age when kings moved freely amongst their subjects, there was no need for an elaborate and somewhat theatrical display of the trappings and paraphernalia of royalty. Not until the reign of Louis XIV., and the rise of the modem state, did the " official " portrait develop in all its artificiality. Goya followed the methods of the French Court painters, and had a remark- able example close at hand, which to-day hangs within a few steps of his canvas in the gallery of the Prado. The Family of Philip V. by Michel Van Loo is a supreme effort in a genre controlled by the strictest conventions. The younger Van Loo knew his metier. He had been trained, almost by instinct, to paint those vast canvases which hang on the walls of most continental palaces, and convert the gilded salons into mausoleums of departed and forgotten greatness. Goya copied Van Loo, and, challenging him on his own ground, produced a master- piece.

His first problem was to invest an undistinguished family with an air of distinction. Gautier is said to have remarked that this group of Charles IV. surrounded by his family reminded him of a small shopkeeper who had


won a prize in a lottery. It is hard to believe that so gifted a critic uttered such an absurd judgment. The group has no suggestion of parvenu self-complacency.

O wretched state of kings ! that standing high, Their faults are marks shot at by every eye.

The later Bourbons had many faults, but it is not neces- sary to rob them of one quality they usually possessed. They were not intellectual. They were mostly idlers who did not even pretend to carry out their duties. Indeed, like the Stuarts, they seem to have been sent by Heaven to contradict all the theories and ideals of mon- archical government. But they were able outwardly to play their parts, to dress the character, and to act the prince. What the family of Charles IV. lacked in essentials Goya made up.

How methodically he set to work can be seen in the careful studies he executed of each subject. These rapid sketches, in oil on a red primed canvas, are pre- served in the Prado, the royal palaces, and the collection of the Comtesse de Paris. In freedom of handling and directness of attack they may be compared to the sketches of Lawrence, or the unfinished canvases which Romney left in his studio. The best are those of the boyish Don Carlos Maria Isidro, and his uncle Don Antonio, both in the Prado. In the large canvas Goya is even happier with the younger members of the circle than with their elders. The colour scheme is not too simple. Charles IV. wears a chestnut hued uniform ; Ferdinand, Prince of the Asturias, is in blue ; his brother is in red. The Queen and the Princesses are in white silk, veiled with shimmering gold and silver tissues. The men are


covered with decorations, the women with jewels. In the background stands Goya himself. No critic has yet explained why the artist was allowed to paint his own figure in a state group of this description. The reason is so simple that it has been overlooked. The family consists of thirteen persons ! There was only one way of solving the ominous difficulty, and that was by allowing Goya to take his place in front of the easel. In the fore- ground stand Charles IV. and Maria Luisa. Holding the Queen's hand is the little Francisco de Paulo, youngest son of the King. (Scandal said he was the son of Godoy.) On the right of the Queen is her daughter Maria Isabella who became Queen of Naples. On the left, in the fore- ground, is Ferdinand, Prince of the Asturias, afterwards Ferdinand VII. Goya painted him when he was King, but never so well as in this group. On the left of the Prince is his first wife, and a few paces behind, on his right, is Don Carlos Maria Isidro, his younger brother, who claimed the Spanish throne in 1833 as Charles V. Between Ferdinand and his wife, like a ghost of the past, peers the shrivelled face of Maria Josefa, eldest daughter of Charles III. And although she belonged to a different age, she is not out of place behind her nephew, who was destined to become a reactionary of the most benighted description. On the right of the canvas stand Prince Louis of Parma and his wife. Dona Maria Luisa, daughter of Charles IV., holding in her arms their infant child. Napoleon created Prince Louis King of Etruria. " This is a poor King," he wrote from Paris. " It is impossible to form an idea of his idleness. He has not taken a pen in his hand since he has been here, and I cannot get him to attend to business. All these Princes are alike."


Goya has painted in a masterly fashion the features of this good-looking, worthless faineant. In the rear are two more heads, Don Antonio, brother of Charles IV., and Dona Carlotta Joaquina, daughter of Charles IV., who became Queen of Portugal as wife of King John VI.

With the exception of Doiia Maria Josefa, each one of these Princes and Princesses played an active part in the tale of deceit and intrigue which made up the history of Spain and Portugal during the earher part of the nine- teenth century. Goya's canvas is a footnote to history of the deepest importance, and we can appreciate his value as a portrait-painter when we learn something of the characters of the men and women he immortalised. There is one curious discrepancy about the group which does not seem to have occurred to any previous biographer. The canvas is usually dated 1799, and there is not much doubt that it was completed, or almost completed, at the end of that year. The Princess standing on the left of Ferdinand is described as Maria Antonia, daughter of Queen Caroline of Naples, the friend of Nelson and Lady Hamilton. But Ferdinand did not marry his first wife until October, 1802, and the wedding formed part of a hastily conceived diplomatic scheme which also included the union of his sister Maria Isabella to the heir of the Neapolitan throne. Was the figure of Ferdinand's wife painted before the Princess had been selected by the King and his ministers ? The face of Dofia Maria Antonia has been purposely turned towards the shadow, as if the painter had not desired to give too much prominence to features he could not yet plainly delineate.

Goya was now working in three distinct manners. He had not thrown aside the careful finish and elabora-

PUvto. Lacoste

THE TORKADOR COSTILr.AKES Collection of Sr. de Lazaro Galdeano


tion which distinguished the Mengs period. This can

be noted in the portrait of Manuel Godoy, which dates

from the early years of the new century. Commissioned

by the Duke of Osuna, the work has received much praise,

but the attitude of the Prince of Peace is affected, ungainly,

and far from attractive. This portrait was painted at

the moment of the favourite's supreme power. Another

equestrian portrait, dating from the same time, has been

lost. Goya was also painting for Godoy at the end of

the century the lost Venus of the Alcudia, as well as the

decorative subjects which are now in the Ministry of the

Navy at Madrid. Godoy's political influence was bad,

but he fully earned his title of Protector of the Noble

Arts of San Fernando, and Goya found in him a lavish

patron.* In the full-length General Urrutia, painted in

1798, now in the Prado, the atmosphere is more natural,

and the strained composition of the Godoy has not been

repeated. This is one of the most dignified portraits

Goya painted, and in many respects it recalls the English

school of the late eighteenth century. By the side of

the best work of Reynolds and Gainsborough it would

lose little of its effect.

In the same year Goya painted another great portrait,

which he believed to be his best work. The ambassador

  • The attitude of Goya towards Godoy is hard to understand.

" During morning visits to his friends, he (Goya) v/ould take the sand- box from the inkstand, and strewing the contents on the table, amuse them with caricatures traced in an instant by his ready finger. The great subject, repeated with ever new variations in these sand studies, was Godoy, to whom he cherished an especial antipathy, and whose face he was never weary of depicting with every' ludicrous exaggeration of its peculiarities that quick wit and ill-will could supply." Stirling- Maxwell : Annals of the Artists of Spain, p. 1478. This was told to that author by Don Bartolome J. Gallardo, who had himself seen Goya paint and caricature in the manner described.


of the French Repubhc to Spain in 1798 was Francois Guillemardet, a former Conventional, and in earHer hfe a doctor of Autun. When he returned to Paris he carried this wonderful work with him, and in 1865 it was acquired from his heirs by the authorities of the Louvre. Goya could not be better represented in that great collection, and the Ambassador Guillemardet did much to promote his fame in France during the late Second Empire. Upon its exhibition it was received with enthusiasm by the French critics. " It is the work of a colourist of tempera- ment who sees the tones of nature in all their richness, and who knows how to paint them in their true affinity. Never has a French artist placed in such harmonious relation the three national colours. Goya has thrown the hat with the tri-coloured plumes on to a yellow table, against the tri-coloured scarf of a person seated on a yellow chair, and clothed entirely in blue. These dis- sonances mingle in a brilliant concerto which sounds softly to the ear. We forget to notice that the head takes the aspect of a piece of red stained glass by reason of over- reflection. The colours live as if shown through trans- parent water, or touched by the capricious play of light." * Goya was aiming at the same effect of vibrating atmo- sphere and glittering colour which he perfected in the Family of Charles IV. The combination of red, white, and blue was one of those artistic experiments which delighted his soul. But his genius rose and fell in a most extraordinary manner, for in 1799 he painted the feeble Marquis de Bondad Real, a reversion to an earlier manner which might well have been forgotten by such a con- summate artist. Then within the same few months he

  • L6on Lagrange in the Gazette des Beaux-Arts, 1865.

rhtto. AmUrson

THE POET DON LEANDRO FERNANDEZ DE MORAIIN Royal Academy of Si. Ferdinand, Madrid


produced the portrait of the poet Moratin, as great in its way as the larger Guillemardet, but reached in quite another manner.*

At the end of the century Moratin was not only the best but also the most popular man of letters in Spain. f Fortune had been kind to him. Wealthy patrons had come forward, he had travelled throughout Europe, making the acquaintance of kindred poets such as Goldoni. In Goya's portrait the happiness of success is written across his bright and ardent face. The portrait will live when the poet's verses have been forgotten, said Moratin to the artist, and the compliment was not wholly an exaggeration. The painting is a poem on canvas — not an epic, but a perfectly phrased vers de socUte. Goya laid his pigments on in broad, thin washes, and the colour is deep, though beautifully restrained. This is another experiment, no fantasia, like the portrait of the French ambassador, but a symphony of the most exquisite harmony. Leandro Moratin reveals Goya's affinity to Gainsborough, but it suggests many other masters — the delicacy of Whistler, the boldness of Manet, the freedom of Sargent. In Goya's own work it must be

  • Don Elias Tormo y Monzo (in Varios esttidios de Artes y Letras,

1902) ascribes these three portraits to i; 99, which is also the year of the Family of Charles IV. Matheron, however, dates Guillemardet in 1798, and this is more probably correct, although the difference is only that of a few months. Oertel's date, 1795, is surely wrong. Francois Guillemardet rallied to the Empire, and was one of the sponsors of the infant Eugene Delacroix — an odd coincidence, con- sidering the influence of Goya upon Delacroix's art.

t Leandro Fernandez de Moratin (1760-1828) was painted a second time by Goya {see chapter XIX.). His fate was sad. In 1808 he sided with the French, and went into exile at the restoration. Ferdinand VII. offered him a pardon, which he refused to accept, and his last days were passed in poverty.



classed as one of a long series belonging to the same technical idea, and including the portrait of Don Evaristo Perez de Castro, in the Louvre, " the finest portrait Goya ever painted," according to one enthusiastic critic, the exquisitely modulated Toreador Costillares, the actor Isidoro Maiquez, in the Prado, the two portraits in the Bowes museum, the portrait of Melendez V aides, and the National Gallery Doctor Peyral, although the last-named is more akin to the second portrait of Francisco Bayeu in the Prado. The sitters were all acquaintances and friends, actors, bull-fighters, authors, and, as in the case of Doctor Peyral, connoisseurs and lovers of art. Goya painted the portraits for his own gratification and pleasure. They vary in several technical aspects, and they are not of equal excellence. But they represent an aspect of Goya's art little known outside Madrid, and they are witnesses to the truth that Goya in Madrid was attacking problems in 1800 which did not arouse the other centres of European art until more than fifty years later. Goya was the pioneer of nineteenth-century art.

This period includes two of the finest female portraits that we have from the master. La Tirana and Dona Maria Zarate. The ladies were well-known actresses on the Madrid stage, and Goya painted them both more than once. The principal portrait of Rosario Fernandez, " La Tirana," in the gallery of the Academy of San Fernando, is variously dated in 1798 and 1802.* No portrait better displays the excellences and defects of the artist. The painting of the dress is magnificently spon- taneous. It is difficult to name any contemporary master who surpassed or equalled the Spaniard in this

  • La Tirana died in 1803.

Photo, l.acostt

LA TIRANA Royal Academy of St. Ferdinand, Matiria


respect. The flaws, however, are shght, but apparent. The right arm is bent in a clumsy manner, and the left hand is only roughly attempted. Whilst Goya was work- ing on the portrait of La Tirana in Madrid, Sir Thomas Lawrence was finishing the Mrs. Siddons now in the London National Gallery. A comparison of the two portraits provokes some interesting reflections, not only upon the two artists, but also upon the two actresses. In each case the composition is almost similar. Neither La Tirana nor Mrs. Siddons could claim much personal beauty in 1802, but they were women of considerable per- sonal dignity which Goya reproduced and Lawrence failed to catch. Probably it is not just to compare Lawrence's failure with Goya's success. The Englishman had a diflicult subject. As Mrs. Siddons grew older she became more and more stolidly bourgeoise, convinced that dull- ness alone was the hall-mark of virtue, and that attacks against her respectability could only be repelled by a foglike atmosphere of boredom. It is hard to discover in Lawrence's portrait a vestige of the fascinating girl Gainsborough saw. Lawrence painted a potential mother- in-law, for he was courting both her daughters. Goya painted his mistress, according to gossip. Does this ex- plain the respective failure and success ?

The three-quarter length figure of La Tirana, belonging to the Count de Villagonzalo, is a more intimate portrait which does not attempt to rival the canvas of San Fer- nando. The two portraits of Doha Antonia Zarate both originally belonged to the Senora Viuda de Albacete of Madrid. The first, in which the sitter wears a white mantilla, is almost a sketch. The young face bears an appeahng look not to be found in the second canvas,


now in the collection of Mr. Otto Beit.* The actress is clad in a decollete black robe, with a black lace mantilla, and gloves to the elbow. The background is brown and yellow. This great portrait stands by itself. Distin- guished by an extraordinary atmosphere of repose and restraint, it lacks all sensation or theatricality, and presents an enigmatic personality to which we return again and again. Between Dona Antonia Zarate, as Goya painted her, and the Lady of Elche, carved by the unknown Greco-Phoenician sculptor centuries earlier, there is an essential likeness, not only a Unk of race and blood, but a far deeper personal resemblance in tempera- ment, individuality, and even in actual features. Who was Dofia Antonia ? We know as little of her as of the woman of Elche. She was an actress who died young. Yet, when we study this calm, passive face, of serenely classical outline, we recognise that it hides more than it tells. The great canvas enshrines a forgotten story. When Dona Antonia Zarate passed away in the flower of her youth and beauty the world lost one of those souls Blake speaks of as cutting " a path into the heaven of glory, leaving a track of light for men to wonder at."

  • A writer in the Boletin de la Sociedad Espanola de Excursiones,

quoted by Mr. A. F. Calvert in his Goya, p. 72, offers an explanation. " But where Goya shows the most exquisite sensibility and profound psychology is in these two portraits of one person, in which he incor- porates the whole story of a dreamer swayed in life and death by the highest ideals, a woman of a race of poets and artists, Antonia de Zarate. Though in the first portrait he represented her smihng and in perfect health, in the second he knew her existence was undermined by a treacherous disease which was to cause her death. Never have we felt more deeply the impression of pathos than before this pre- sentment of a soul rather than a person, before this face enveloped in transparent veils, with life showing in the eyes, and in that hfe a melancholy realisation of approaching death."

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DONA ISABEL CORBO DE PORCEL National Gallery, London


Goya was a man of rapid contrasts. There is a family likeness in all Reynolds' portraits, but no common bond unites the women who sat to the artist in Madrid. From the solemn gravity of Doiia Antonia Zarate we turn to a portrait which was finished about the same time, the Dona Isabel Corbo de Parcel of the London National Gallery. Painted in 1806, it is now unhappily separated from the companion portrait of the husband, Don Antonio Corbos de Porcel, a knight of the order of Charles III., a mighty hunter, and a country gentleman who lived with his wife in Grenada. Dofia Isabel is an Andalusian of the most characteristic racial type. With arms akimbo, dressed in a rose-coloured satin which shines through the folds of the mantilla, she surveys the world without fear. There is a touch of rouge on her cheeks, for the rouge- pot found its place on the toilette of every Spanish lady. Her eyes are brilliant in defiant challenge. " Is this portrait a masterpiece ? " asked Paul Lefort, when it was added to the gallery in 1896. " We would not care to assert it." But he added with much truth, " all the same, it is a very pretty piece of painting." *

The list of Goya's female portraits dating about the early years of the nineteenth century is a long one. It includes the excellent Marquesa de Caballero (1807), who was lady-in-waiting to Queen Maria Luisa, Doha Josefa

  • Lucien Solvay quotes a tiny Spanish varse which might have been

inspired by this charming portrait :

El confessor me dice Que no te quiera, Y yo le digo : Padre Si usted la viera !

(" My confessor ordered me To love her no longer, And I answered him : ' Father, if you saw her ! '")


Castilla-Portugal (1804), the Duchess de Ahr antes (1816),* the Marquesa de Santiago, the Marquesa de Espeja, the Marquesa de Lazdn, the Countess de Fernan-Nunez, the Duchess de Penaranda, and many which cannot be identified by name, such as the small Spanish lady of the Louvre, which was painted in i799,t a more recent acqui- sition of a girl's portrait, in the same collection, and the deHghtful Lady with the rose, also known as Charlotte Cor day, painted about 1800 — an Andalusian brunette, in a light dress of the revolutionary period, seated against a^dark background, with her hands clasped upon her knees, and holding a couple of roses. The portrait was exhibited at the Retrospective Exhibition held in Brussels in 1873, and in several public exhibitions in Paris, where it has always created an impression. Whether or no Goya intended to paint Charlotte Corday is not known, although his heroine's striped dress is almost the same as that Paul Baudry depicted in his picture of Cor- day stabbing Marat. Perhaps Lafille a la rose is a better title, although Goya had the revolutionary subject in his mind, for he sketched several studies of Marat in his fatal bath.

Lastly comes that sullen-faced beauty, generally called The bookseller of the Calle de Carretas, now hidden in some private collection, and only to be studied by means of a photograph. J Usually dated in 1790, it can be more

  • Dona Manuela Giron y Pimental, not to be confused with that other

Duchesse d'Abrantes, Laure Permon, the wife of Junot, author of the voluminous memoirs, and friend of Balzac.

f Bequeathed to the Louvre in 1865 by the Guillemardet family, it was probably brought from Spain by the republican ambassador.

X Some years ago it belonged to Don Benito Garriga, and may probably still be in the same collection.

About 1790

Photo. Lacoste



safely transferred to the period of Dona Antonio Zarate.'* Madrid legend relates that Goya fell deeply in love with this bookseller's daughter, and that the portrait was a token of his affection. As far as can be judged from a reproduction it seems to be one of the most perfect of Goya's female portraits, although probably La Tirana is the first if criticised upon purely artistic considerations, whilst Dofia Antonia Zarate is the greatest as a revela- tion of hidden personality — and this gift of divination it must be remembered is the real test of a portrait-painter's genius.

In the Spanish dictionary the word majo is described as a boaster, braggart, fop, and dandy, a sufficiently appalling combination. " An idiot is the work of Nature," says the national proverb, " and the fop is the work of women and vanity." Whilst the majo is an object of contempt, the maja is always very alluring. What is vice in man forms one of the most adorable attractions in woman, for with her " not a vanity is given in vain." Goya was interested in the majos and majas of Madrid. They masquerade through all the earlier pages of Los Caprichos, and they crowd round the dome of San Antonio de la Florida. The Majas on the balcony was painted in 1800, and belongs to the collection of the Comtesse de Paris, Evidently suggested by the frescoes, it is in reality an amplication of several of the ideas in Los

  • There are surprising differences in some of the dates allotted to

Goya's portraits. Tormo y Monzo, who elaborately divides Goya's art into five periods (1776-1788, 1788-1800, 1800-1810, 1810-1817, and 1818-1828), most difficult to reconcile with the work as we see it, dates Goya's portrait of his wife in the period 1810-1817. But Josefa Bayeu died about 1804, and the portrait in the Prado shows a comparatively young woman. In 1804 Goya himself was fifty-eight, and Josefa is said to have been older than her husband.


Caprichos. The two majas sit behind a Hght iron raiUng, clad in soft dresses, and covered with black and white mantillas. Behind are two sombre majos in a fashionable variation of those heavy cloaks which Charles III. unsuccessfully endeavoured to drive out of the country.

  • ' My citizens/' he complained, " skulk about the streets

with covered faces more hke conspirators than the sub- jects of a civilised monarch." * In the museum at Lille is a picture of a most entrancing maja, in a skin-tight white bodice, attended by a servant and a tiny dog, the background being a group of laundresses on the banks of the Manzanares.f

Goya's skill as a painter of dandies has never yet been adequately recognised. For a few years during the early century he produced a series of little masterpieces in a manner which evidently gave him particular satis- faction. Then came civil commotion and war, and the dandies — like butterflies — vanished. The Marquis de Bondad Real has already been mentioned. His military costume belonged to pre-revolutionary Spain. The full- length of the Duke de San Carlos (belonging to the Marquis de la Torrecilla) represents a nobleman in Court uniform, and so hardly falls within the scope of the majo series. The Marquis de San Adrian, Don Juan Jose Mateo Arias

  • How these eighteenth century monarchs worried themselves and

their subjects about clothes ! Charies III., with liberal tendencies, wanted his Spaniards to discard their old-fashioned habits. A few years later Paul I. of Russia denounced frockcoats, waistcoats, and high collars as S5anbols of a liberalism he abhorred. The unhappy wearer of a round hat was chased through the streets of St. Peters- burg and castigated by the police. Even the British ambassador had to change his headgear.

f Gazette des Beaux-Arts, Vol. XXXIV., s"* periode {1905), p. 39, engraved by A. Mayeur, with a note by J. Momm^ja.


Photo. Calvert

DONA JOSEFA CASTILI.A PORTUGAL V>V. GARCINl In the collection of Don Vicente Garcini


D air la, the Duke de Fernan-Nunez, Don Manuel Garcia de la Prada, and the Young man in a gray coat are extremely interesting examples of the picturesque dress which spread from Paris in the days of the Directoire to the other great cities of Europe. In many of the men's portraits painted in Paris during this period we find an identical fashion of clothes. But the Frenchmen who produced portraits in the atmosphere of the classical school lacked vitality — and a very real vitality is the essence of Goya's art as a portrait-painter. His men, in their buckskin breeches, their " highlows," their thick white stocks, and " fly-away " coat-tails, are elaborately posed in a rather conventional manner. But there is no doubt, despite their foppishness, that they are men and not mannikins. Two of the best belong to French collections, the Young man in a gray coat, which came from the Salamanca sale, and Don Manuel Garcia de la Prada, in the Pacully col- lection. The first has also been called Goya's son, but the identification is doubtful.* The small coat is gray, with a violet silk lining on the broad lappels. The stock is frilled with fine lace ; the waistcoat is white, with two large bunches of gold seals ; the breeches are a sHghtly darker gray, with bold, vertical lines ; boots, which come almost to the knees, with tassels, an enormous cocked hat held in the same hand as a fine walking-stick, com- plete an ensemble only to be described as staggering. A little white dog with a red rosette crouches at his master's

  • M. Paul Lafond calls him Mariano, but Mariano, Goya's grandson,

was not in the worid when the canvas was painted. The portrait may not improbably represent Xavier Goya at about the age of twenty. The features are very strongly marked, and have a suggestion of the painter's heavy face.


feet.* The canvas bears every sign of rapid workman- ship, and, according to one French critic, possesses " a Greuze-hke harmony," whilst another is reminded of the grace of Debucourt. In French family collections one can find innumerable examples of the ancestors of Directoire, Consulate, or Early Empire days, painted by almost forgotten artists such as Jacques Antoine Vallin. But they never equal Goya's striking portraits. The Don Garcia de la Prada, a full-length figure, is apparently a few years later than the Young man in gray, and the costume is more restrained in colour, but not in " cut," which is evidently of the most fashionable design. The left hand rests on a chair which supports a beaver hat of exaggerated size ; the right hand strokes a tiny pug. The high boots have now given place to knee-breeches and white stockings. The legs are crossed in a manner which looks awkward and must have been exceedingly uncomfortable, and Don Manuel smiles from above a white stock which threatens to engulf his entire face. The Duke de Fernan-Nunez is a melodramatic gentleman dressed entirely in black, which has given Goya an opportunity for a superb piece of bravura painting in his favourite pigment. f When Byron visited Spain in 1809

  • One writer on Goya states that the little white dog was only

painted in the portraits of the Duchess of Alba, and was inserted as a kind of artistic signature and identification of the subject with the Duch- ess. The dog (a variety of griffon) certainly does appear in one of the Alba portraits, but it will also be found in the Lille Maja, who is not the Duchess. In the portrait of Garcia de la Prada there is a tiny pug.

f The only reproduction of this portrait will be found in La Piniura en Madrid, by N, Sentenach y Cabafias. It seemed impossible when in Madrid either to find the picture or obtain another photograph. Don Manuel Garcia de la Prada wiM be found in M. Lafond's Goya, and there is a rough woodcut of the Young man in gtay in the Gazette des Beaux-Arts, Vol. X. {1874), p. 299.


it was a sad pity he never got so far as Goya's studio, for Goya, and only Goya, was the artist of temperament allied to the poet's genius who could have given us that inspired portrait of the apostle of Romanticism which history lacks.

Goya's portraits of Ferdinand VII., of Generals Palafox and Wellington, of guerilla captains such as Don Juan Martin, of soldiers like Don Pantaleon Perez de Nenin and the Count de Teba, and of that brave sailor Admiral Mazarredo, although falling properly within the scope of this chapter, belong to the time of the Spanish War of Independence. But during this long and active period he painted numerous portraits of elderly men, and a few of children. Both are so characteristic of his many-sided talent that they cannot be omitted from our survey. The Don Tomas Perez Estala (belonging to the Countess de Cedillo) is instantly reminiscent of those Scottish worthies Raebum was immortalising in a northern capital. Don Jose Luis de Munarriz (in the Academy of San Fernando), painted in 1818, is one of the last portraits of this period before Goya's hand commenced to show signs of decay. From many points of view it is a better piece of work than the Don Jose Vargas y Ponce, in the Historical Academy of Madrid, which was done in 1805. But it remains almost impossible to divide Goya's portraits into any ordered sequence. In 1810 he was painting the Don Juan Martin de Goicoechea (belonging to the Marquis de Casa Torres) which should be classed with the Munarriz of 181 8, and even the Don Joaquin Maria Ferrer painted in Paris in 1824. The characteristic Don Juan Antonio Cuervo, an architect in his official dress as director of the Royal Academy of San Fernando, seated before a table upon


which is spread a large plan, might easily be placed before the end of the eighteenth century, Goya's own signa- ture is dated 1819. A very similar portrait, the Marquis de Caballero, in an elaborate uniform with many decora- tions, must have been finished about 1807. The full- length of Don Juan Antonio Llorente was done between 1808 and 1 813, and is one of the few portraits Goya painted of ecclesiastics — but then Llorente was the victim as well as the historian of the Inquisition. In its superb treatment of black it forms a vivid contrast to the full-length in scarlet of the Cardinal Infant Don Luis Maria, now hanging on the walls of the Prado.

The portraits of children carry us into quite another world. The little angels of San Antonio de la Florida have already been spoken of. In the Family of Charles IV., Doha. Maria Luisa nurses the tiny infant who succeeded his father on the transitory throne of Etruria. The collection of the Baron de Rothschild includes the portrait of a boy in a long cloak with large buttons, and a tiny little girl. Dona Clara de Soria, holding a book. This is one of the most exquisite portraits of childhood that Goya ever painted, and can only be compared in its atmosphere of innocence with some of the Dutch portraits of similar style. The collection of Madame Bernstein contains Don Manuel Osorio de Zuniga, a small boy with a birdcase and three unnatural-looking cats. A portrait of Dona Feliciana Bayeu has recently been added to the Prado. The collection of the Marquis de Alcanices contains the portrait of Goya's grandson, Mariano de Goya y Goicoechea, afterwards known as the Marquis de Espinar. The child wears an elaborate lace collar, and a round hat with curved brim, and the canvas is

AN ALLKGOKY Collection 0/ the Marquis <ie lajlorrecilla. Reproduced from a photograph by permission 0/ Mr. A. Calvert


most sympathetically painted with rich depth of colour. In the summer of 1913, Messrs. Knoedler exhibited in their London gallery a portrait of Victor Guye, nephew of General Nicolas Guye, a child of about seven years, dressed as a court page to Joseph Bonaparte when King of Spain. His serious face peeps from a stiff blue military uniform covered with gold lace. A sketch of a peasant child (belonging to the Marquis de Casa Torres), in scanty dress and bare legs, is of much freer execution, and sug- gests in subject the English school of Thomas Webster and William Collins.

These portraits hint at a Goya of whom we know but little, a Goya who loved children, who knew their ways and could join in their games. But Goya's personality was a combination of Jekyll as well as Hyde. The artist who had imagined the terrible scenes of devil-worship in Los Caprichos easily passed from worlds of light to baser planes. In 1801 he painted An allegory, an ampli- fication of an idea in Los Caprichos (No. 55) which perhaps is intended to represent the Countess of Benavente, although the meaning is exceedingly vague. A few years before he had invented those extraordinary pieces of genre, sometimes called the Duchess of Alba and her duenna. In one the duenna, own cousin to Juliet's nurse, holds a crucifix in front of her imploring mistress ; in the second her skirt is being pulled by two little pages, one a tiny negro. These belong to the same style as the Allegory, but lack its venom.

From time to time religious compositions came from the same studio. In 1817 Goya went to Seville to paint a Saint Justa and Saint Rufina for an altar in the cathedral. For his models he selected two famous demi-mondaines.


" I will cause the faithful to worship vice," was his blasphemous explanation. The picture has been much praised, but owes its fame more to this scandalous anecdote than its own merit.



Death of Goya's Wife. Spanish PoHtics. Napoleon and the Bourbons. Invasion of the Peninsula. Ferdinand VII. His Portrait by Goya. The " Dos de Mayo." Goya's two Great Pictures of the Revolt. His Attitude towards King Joseph Bonaparte. A Portrait of Pala- fox. The two Sieges of Zaragoza. Goya visits Aragon. Los Desastres de la Guerra. Goya's Portrait of the Duke of Wellington. An Exciting Incident. The Restoration of Ferdinand VII. Goya goes into Hiding, but is pardoned by the King. Portrait of Juan Martin, " El Empe- cinado," Juan Martin's Reward. Goya contemplates a Voluntary Exile.

GOYA'S wife died about 1804, some ten years after the death of her brother Francisco Bayeu. The artist lost friends on every side during the early years of the nineteenth century. The Duchess of Alba died in 1802 ; Maria del Rosario Fernandez, " La Tirana," about the same time. Martin Zapater, his life-long correspondent in Zaragoza, had already disappeared from the scene, and was followed to the grave in 1806 by Juan Martin de Goicoechea, whose grand- daughter had married Goya's son. The deaf master's reflections could not have been very cheerful, for, in addition to his personal sorrows, the state of affairs in the country was rapidly going from bad to worse.

The military campaign against the French Republic had ended in unconditional surrender, and, by the treaty


of San Ildefonso, Godoy had joined hands with the government of revolution against Great Britain. The royal favourite succeeded Aranda as prime minister in 1792. Although hated by the people, the Choricero * retained his position at the head of the government, for the infatuation of Charles IV. and Maria Luisa passed even the limits of decency. His marriage to the eldest daughter of Don Luis, the King's uncle, was bitterly resented, for it was well known that his household was ruled by Dona Josef a Tudo. In 1798, in deference to popular feeling, the King was compelled to relieve him of his functions as a minister. The Queen, it is said, had also fallen in love with another guardsman named Mallo.f But Godoy was soon back in office, and his burlesque performances as generalissimo of the campaign against Portugal consolidated his power. Ambition led him, and his sovereign, into a trap which proved the ruin of both.

Napoleon's policy towards Spain was summed up in the remark, " Un Bourbon sur le trone d'Espagne, c'est un voisin trop danger eux." In the days of the Directory, the alliance of Charles IV. was bought by the tempting suggestion that the crown of Louis XVI. might be offered to the Spanish Bourbon. With Bonaparte as First

  • " The sausage man," a nickname given to Godoy because he came

from Estremadura, a centre for pig-breeding, and the reputed home of all Spanish sausage makers.

t " During the brief reign of Mallo in the heart of Maria Luisa, Charles IV., from the balcony of the Pardo, saw at a distance that fortunate guardsman driving four horses in a brilliant equipage. ' I wonder,' said the King, ' how the fellow can afford to keep better horses than I can ? ' ' The scandal goes, your Majesty,' said the Prince of Peace, ' that he is himself kept by a rich, ugly old woman, whose name I have forgotten.' " — Letters from Spain (1822), p. 352, written by Blanco White.


Consul that dream was at an end, but Spain had become too entangled in the French toils for retreat. Godoy was held by the promise of an independent principality to be carved out of southern Portugal. Napoleon had thus the whole of Spanish policy within his grip. His own schemes were confessed at St. Helena. Speaking of the Spanish royal family, he said : " When I saw them at my feet, and could judge by myself of their incapacity, I pitied the lot of a great people, and seized the unique occasion which fortune presented me to regenerate Spain, to rescue her from England, and to unite her entirely to France." According to a conversation reported by Las Casas, he threw the blame of his downfall upon the Spanish Bourbons. " When I saw those idiots quarrelling, and trying to oust each other, I thought I might take advantage of it to dispossess a family antagonistic to me. I did not invent their quarrels, and if I had known the matter would have brought so much trouble to me, I should never have undertaken it."

The anti-French party continued its storm of protest against Godoy. Ferdinand, Prince of the Asturias, with the help of his wife (daughter of the Anglophil Queen of Naples) and his former tutor. Canon Escoiquiz, was in direct antagonism — personal as well as political — to his parents and their minister. The sudden death of the Princess of the Asturias in May, 1806, changed his atti- tude. To ensure the downfall of Godoy he negotiated secretly with France, and suggested that he might be allowed to marry one of the Emperor's sisters.

Ferdinand believed that his mother the Queen was plotting to disinherit him, and to place Godoy, or at least her youngest child, the reputed son of Godoy, upon



the throne. An anonymous letter warned Charles IV. that the heir apparent was intriguing to depose him and poison the Queen. The Prince was arrested, and documents were found in his desk which proved his endeavour to overturn the royal authority. They also revealed his secret negotiations with Napoleon. Charles IV. pardoned his son, but published the whole wretched business in the Madrid Gazette. In publicly discrediting his son he discredited himself.

Napoleon held the key of the situation. Under the pretext that Spanish independence must be guaranteed against British attack he obtained permission for his army to enter Spain. Early in 1807 over 100,000 French soldiers were south of the Pyrenees. The national hatred of the foreigner now complicated the already overcharged atmosphere. A rumour that the royal family was taking to flight provoked a popular rising against Godoy. Charles IV., to prevent the murder of his favourite, signed a decree handing the throne to Ferdinand VII. Within a few days Murat entered Madrid at the head of an army corps. Charles withdrew his abdication, and Ferdinand asserted his right to the crown. Father and son then commenced to outbid each other for the support of a master who intended to crush them both.

Napoleon's plans had been momentarily upset, for his original intention had been to frighten Charles IV. and his family from Spain, and he had already offered the crown to his brother Louis. By adroit cajolery Ferdinand was inveigled to Bayonne for a conference with the Emperor. On another road Charles IV. and Maria Luisa were being conveyed, surrounded by a French escort, to the same town under the pretext that Napoleon


was about to confirm their sovereignty. Ferdinand, upon his arrival, was placed under arrest and deposed. His parents quickly realised that they could never return to Madrid, and, to spite their son, formally resigned all their rights in the Spanish throne to the Emperor. Under pressure Ferdinand withdrew his claims to find that he had been duped, and that his father had given the crown to France. It was an adroit piece of unscrupulous manoeuvring. Charles IV., Maria Luisa, and Godoy retired to Rome, and disappear from history. Ferdinand was sent a prisoner to Valen9ay, where he remained for the next six years. But Madrid was in revolution, and although Joseph Bonaparte was accepted by a servile Junta as King of Spain, the whole unhappy country had risen in arms against foreign domination.

Goya knew intimately all the actors in this tragedy, and it is impossible to judge his actions during the War of Independence unless we have some knowledge of the tangle of Spanish politics during the early nineteenth centur}^ Ferdinand was immensely popular amongst the lower orders, probably because of his animosity against Godoy. Goya clearly did not share the general enthu- siasm, for his portraits of the Prince lack sympathy and accentuate the repellent side of his character. Only in the Family of Charles IV. does the artist allow him the slightest grace. Seven years later, at the moment of his arrest in the Escorial, the Prince is described as : "A stout, well-built, fresh-coloured young man of twenty- three, of singularly sinister aspect. His forehead was white and well-shaped, and over his dark eyes lowered conspicuously heavy, smooth, jet-black eyebrows, glossy like leeches ; but it was the lower part of the face which


mainly attracted attention. The point of the drooping Bourbon nose descended over a very short upper Up to the level of the straight-slit mouth ; whilst the nether jaw, underhung like those of the Princes of the House of Austria, stood clear out, so that the underlip was on a level with the point of the nose. This was Fernando, Prince of the Asturias, who in his own person centred all the evil qualities of both his Bourbon and Hapsburg ancestors without any of their virtues ; a man of un- doubted ability, beloved to frenzy by a generous, loyal people, who made greater sacrifices for him than a nation ever made for a ruler ; but a Prince who yet, through the whole of a long life, belied every promise, betrayed every friend, repaid every sacrifice by persecution, rewarded love and attachment by cruelty and injustice ; and who thus early began by treason to an over-indulgent father an evil career which was to bring untold misery to his country and a heritage of war of which the end has not yet been reached." * The canvas in the Prado, showing Ferdinand in the midst of a military camp, is said to have been painted in the early years of the century, before he ascended the throne, f The statement appears doubtful when the picture is compared with the portrait in the family group of 1799, for the features are much older. The figure is stiff, the colour like steel, and the ensemble far from pleasing. Another representation of Ferdinand, in almost exactly the same pose, but clad in his coronation robes, must have been painted upon his restoration in 1814. The equestrian portrait, frankly based upon Velazquez, is usually reported to have been painted after

  • Martin A. S. Hume : Modern Spain (1899), p. 89.

t Valerian von Loga : Goya, p. 112.


the abdication of Charles IV. and before Ferdinand's journey to Bayonne — a period of a few weeks.

Goya's attitude towards the new King in 1808 could only have been one of supreme disgust. The entry of Murat and 25,000 French soldiers into Madrid excited his patriotic indignation. Within a few days came the terrible " Dos de Mayo," of which Goya was an active witness. Charles IV. had ordered his daughter, Doiia Maria Luisa, Queen of Etruria, and his son Francisco de Paula, the only members of the royal family left in the capital, to join him at Bayonne, and their departure was arranged for May 2. Early in the morning a large crowd surrounded the gates of the palace, protesting against the removal of the child Francisco, who was a popular favourite. A footman reported that the boy was in tears at the prospect of leaving his home. A French officer passing at the instant, a woman screamed, " He is taking them away from us ! " The mob attacked the officer and his escort in wild fury, and broke to pieces the travelling carriages waiting for the Prince and Princess.

The crowd was practically unarmed, and could have been dispersed without trouble. Murat, however, con- sidered that the time had arrived to prove who was the master. French troops were hurried into the square, and a couple of volleys poured into the quivering mass. The news ran through Madrid, and the population rose in revolt. The great square of the Puerta del Sol became a scene of the most savage butchery. Fresh brigades were marched in from the French camp, and by midday the Mamelukes held undisputed mastery. Then Murat drove his victory home. Every man caught with arms, or even suspected of anti-French sympathies, was sent


to the drumhead. Throughout the afternoon, into the early hours of the next morning. Grouchy sentenced hundreds of Madrilenos to death. They were immedi- ately shot in the fields of the Prado, or outside the walls of the city.

As Goya sat in his studio, the windows shook again and again whilst the French artillery were clearing the streets of the capital.* In the revolt of 1766 he had been amongst the combatants, but forty years had made all the difference in the man, and now he could be nothing more than an onlooker. A few days later he was stand- ing in the Prado, the centre of a group of idlers. Sud- denly he dipped his handkerchief in the mud of a gutter and then rushed to the nearest wall. To and fro he went from gutter to wall, using one as his palette, the other as canvas. Gradually, in bold strokes and washes, the wall was covered with a gigantic sketch representing an incident of May 2. It was Goya's reproof to a popu- lation which had allowed itself to be conquered by the foreigner. This sketch was the foundation for the famous picture in the Prado Gallery, f

The Dos de Mayo is one of the great historical pictures of the world. Its appalling realism strikes the visitor with horror ; it is unpleasant to look at. There is no reticence, no slurring over facts and details we would prefer not to notice. The figures are life-size, and the canvas must have been painted with extreme rapidity.

  • The story of art in Madrid has many recollections of war. There

is a letter in the correspondence of Henri Regnault which describes how, as he sat quietly copying a Velazquez in the Prado, the discharge of cannon stopped all work and everyone rushed out to join Prim's triumphal march through Madrid.

t Matheron : Goya, chap. VI.


Matheron says that the artist used a spoon instead of a brush for his pigments, but, under repeated coats of varnish, there is no sign of overloaded colour, although the tones have a beautiful depth. There can be little doubt that Goya actually witnessed from some window the terrible scene he reproduced, a bull-fight on a large scale — but, instead of bulls, men were being slaughtered. The French cavalry are giving way to the Spanish attack. A Mameluke, with a look of inexpressible terror upon his face, falls backward from his horse as a manola raises a stiletto to plunge into his breast. Another insurgent bodily throws himself upon a turbaned horseman. Goya has caught an extraordinary sense of almost electric action in this composition, not to be found in the well- ordered pictorial exercises of Horace Vernet or the French military artists of the Second Empire. His soul rose with indignation as he worked, and, being a genius of masterly power, his paint still conveys his own passionate horror to the spectator.

A companion picture of equal size commemorates the execution of the prisoners. The day is about to break over the towers and steeples of the capital. The wretched captives gaze with hopeless despair at the guns of the grenadiers. One man throws up his arms and curses the executioners. The guards stand shoulder to shoulder, firm as rocks, immovable as fate itself, as they prepare to fire. In a second the word of command will be given, a crash of musketry will rattle against the walls of the city, re-echoing through the silent streets ; another trembhng gang will be pushed into position upon the blood-stained earth, and yet another. . . . Grouchy is merciless.


Yet, when Joseph Bonaparte entered Madrid as its King, Goya welcomed him, accepted the office of Court painter under the new dispensation, and wore the ribbon of the Legion of Honour !

The action was illogical, but there was good excuse. Many other intelligent Spaniards took the same step. The policy of Charles IV. — or rather of Godoy and Maria Luisa — had wrecked the country. Nothing could be expected from the miserable Ferdinand. The public debt was £72,000,000, three-quarters of which had been accumulated since the death of Charles III. The annual deficit was three and a half millions. Only a strong administration could save Spain, and Napoleon's financial assistants had grappled successfully with even greater dis- orders. When Goya is harshly criticised these facts should be remembered. In Madrid he was an afrancesado ; in the country he was a patriot. At one moment he is painting the portrait of El Rey intruso ; at another he is depicting the atrocities of the French soldiers. Torn by conflicting emotions, a sincere nationalist, he was forced to recognise that Spain could only be saved by the hated foreigner.

From 1808 to 1813 the Peninsula was a shambles. Amidst such overwhelming disasters it is wonderful that Goya was able to work at all, but he managed to continue his portraits, and from time to time he travelled into Aragon. On August 3, 1808, the first British expeditionary force landed in Mondego Bay, and during the summer of 1808 four independent campaigns were in operation — in Portugal, in Catalonia, in Galicia and Old Castile, and in Aragon. The first defence of Zara- goza under Palafox lasted from June 15 to August 13.


When King Joseph retreated from Madrid on August i, the French generals retired from Aragon and the city was free. Goya, who appears to have been in Madrid, soon left for his native province, and arrived in Zaragoza early in October. He was received by Palafox, whose portrait he painted. This canvas is now in the Prado. Palafox sits a prancing horse, and flourishes his sabre. The attitude is stilted and conventional, although there is a certain verve in the paint. Goya visited Fuende- todos, but travelling was difficult owing to the disturbed condition of the country, and he returned to Madrid. In November Palafox was defeated by Lannes, and withdrew to Zaragoza, but Goya must already have arrived in the capital which surrendered to the Emperor in person on December 3.

The second siege of Zaragoza commenced December 20, 1808. The French broke through the outer walls of the city on January 27, 1809, but three weeks of street fighting remained before the Aragonese surrendered. Over 20,000 fighting men and 30,000 of the populace perished, and the siege remains one of the most sanguinary in the history of Europe. " I have never seen stubbornness equal to the defence of this place," wrote Lannes to the Emperor. " Women allow themselves to be killed in front of every breach. Every house needs a separate assault. ... In a word. Sire, this is a war which horrifies." Lady Holland, in her diary, under the date April 29, 1809, tells a curious little story. " Palafox was insulted by the French and cruelly treated ; they removed the surgeon who attended him, and placed a Frenchman in his place. In his room there were several drawings done by the celebrated Goya, who had gone from Madrid on purpose


to see the ruins of Zaragoza ; these drawings and one of the famous heroine, also by Goya, the French officers cut and destroyed with their sabres at the moment too when Palafox was dying in his bed." *

Again Goya paid a flying visit to the heap of ruins which he had known as Zaragoza, taking as a companion Luis Gil Ranz, his pupil. On the journey he was arrested as a spy, his deafness complicated the situation, and he narrowly escaped being shot. For some years he appears to have remained in Madrid, but his movements are difficult to trace. Early in 1809 he painted an allegorical picture showing Madrid as a beautiful girl holding a shield which encircled a portrait of King Joseph. The model bears some likeness to the style he used in the frescoes of San Antonio de la Florida. The portrait of the King was afterwards erased, and replaced by the words, " Dos de Mayo." Another portrait of Joseph Bonaparte has been lost. On October 25, 18 10, he was appointed in conjunction with Maella and Napoli to select fifty pictures from the royal collection to be sent to France for the museum Napoleon was forming. He must have accepted the commission with mixed feelings, but he selected the canvases with considerable skill, for there was not one amongst them which was likely to be missed. The three by Velazquez included a St. Joseph, Don Balthasar Carlos, and a Martyrdom of St. Jacob. To these he added three Murillos, five Zurbarans, four Riberas, one Alonso Cano, and many less important

  • The Spanish Journal of Elizabeth, Lady Holland (1910), p, 324.

Lady Holland was at the time in Seville. She does not mention ever meeting Goya, although she was a frequent visitor to Madrid during the years 1802-1809.

^ I I


masters. These works never left Madrid for Paris, although several have since been lost or stolen.*

Goya's health now took a sudden turn for the worse. He left his easel, and, as he had done before, turned to his etching tools. The result can be seen in the collection of plates known as Los Desastres de la Guerra, a production which covers the years 1810 to 1813. In all there are eighty-two plates. Goya printed a few proofs during his lifetime, but the whole series was first published in 1863 by the Academy of San Fernando. This edition consists of eighty etchings, two of the plates having passed into other hands. Goya's own proofs were pulled in a blackish ink. The rare first edition of 1863 can be dis- tinguished by its reddish hue.

Los Caprichos is a mixture of satire, fantasy, and the grotesque. Los Desastres is an appalling commentary upon war. In the history of art there is nothing like it. Goya's etchings have been compared to Callot's Miseries of War, but if there is similarity of idea there is no simi- larity in treatment. Callot was an artist first ; his quaint miniatures produce the same effect as a set scene on the stage of a marionette theatre. He draws horrible things in a pleasant manner. We agree with him that war is a miserable affair, that convents could be sacked in a most picturesque fashion, and that a public execution offered much scope for an artist. The Miseries of War appeals to us aesthetically but not emotionally.

The case is different with Los Desastres de la Guerra, Not for one instant does Goya attempt artistic effect ; in fact, he remains a great artist in spite of himself. Boiling

  • A list will be found in the Count de Viiiaza's Goya, and other

details in Pedro de Madrazo's Viaje artistico.


over with a rage which at times is lost in pity he tries to preach a sermon with an obvious moral. A French author has said that Goya could never claim excellence in a certain class of the emotions such as pity, piety, and the grief of humble folk.* If piety means a regular attendance at church, Goya was certainly not pious, and he could hardly be reverent towards a Deity whose existence he doubted. But there is a piety of patriotism which breathes throughout these living drawings, and there is pity, and a sympathy with the grief of humble folk, to be found upon almost every page. The very first plate represents a starved, half-naked peasant on his knees imploring mercy.

Goya was a realist, and he set down unflinchingly and without reticence the facts of war. The glories of war did not interest him. He turned to its shame and horror, and it is well that one man has done the repellent task, for it is unlikely ever to be repeated. Murder and rapine are the keynotes of the collection. The French grenadiers and dragoons stalk through these pages like fiends. Goya holds the balance fairly, and shows the fearful acts of retaliation from the peasantry. Sex and age are allowed no privilege, but, with a cruelty rivalling that of the lowest circles of Hell, men, women, and children are tortured and slain with a barbarity which surpasses the imagination. Every aspect of war is brought before our eyes — except the heroic. Rubens, as Richard Muther reminds us, had painted an allegorical picture of the horrors of war. But Goya saw life from a different aspect, and forestalling such artists as Wiertz

  • Leonce Amaudry in an article in the Burlington Magazine

(December, 1904), Vol. VI., p. 191.


(-1 .8


and Verestchagin, repeated again and again the same haunting question :

" To what end ? "

Los Desastres de la Guerra can only be properly studied with the aid of the actual etchings, or their reproductions. The plates have not an equal value, and towards the close of the series Goya abruptly changed his original idea and revived the old Caprices, whilst others are purely political and satirise the government and King Joseph. These are often weak in design. But at his best Goya exhibits a superb mastery of his medium. Los desastres de la Guerra is revolting, cries one indignant critic. But war itself is revolting, and a man who can convince his fellows that such butchery is unnatural has performed a service to humanity.

On August 10, 1812, King Joseph left Madrid, the battle of Salamanca having rendered his position unsafe. On August 12 Wellington entered the capital at the head of a combined Spanish and English army. With his peculiar adaptability Goya made friends with the new- comers. He was commissioned to paint a portrait of Wellington, and the red chalk sketch, now carefully pre- served in the British Museum, is certainly the most faithful portrait in existence of the great general. The finished canvas is at Strathfieldsaye. Whilst the work was in pro- gress, the Duke, who did not wholly appreciate the likeness, made some remarks which were misunderstood by the deaf artist. Goya in sudden passion rushed to his pistols to avenge the fancied insult. Xavier Goya was in the studio, and snatched the arms from his father. Welling- ton, also a man of hot temper, was not appeased for several days, but eventually peace was made and the


portrait finished. However, Goya nearly changed the course of the world's history.

The English troops did not remain long in Madrid, for Joseph Bonaparte returned in December, and the French did not finally evacuate the city until May, 1813. A year later Ferdinand VI I. re-entered his capital amidst the delirious joy of the mob. The prisons were crowded with Liberals and afrancesados , and Goya was given a shelter by Don Jose Duaso y Latre, remaining in hiding for three months. More fortunate than many of his friends, he was restored to his old position as first painter to the King. Ferdinand was a vain creature with sufficient artistic discernment to know that Goya was the only living Spanish portrait-painter who could adequately depict him in all the splendour of his robes of state.

" You have deserved exile, you have merited the garotte, but you are a great artist, and we will forget everything," was the King's form of pardon when Goya was presented at the new Court.

Ferdinand had his portraits, but Goya's interest in the Bourbons gradually died away. Perhaps it would have been more honourable if he had not accepted the re- appointment, although financial reasons probably moved him to beg for a renewal of the royal favour. His old friends were being remorselessly punished and exiled. The Inquisition was re-established, and the clock set back more than a century. Life under Charles III., an enlightened monarch of liberal ideas, was freedom itself compared with the reactionary rule of his grandson. Even the men who had fought for Spain whilst Ferdinand was living in peaceful comfort at Valen9ay were punished.

When Wellington entered Madrid in 1812, at the head

ARTHUR WELI.ESLEY, DUKE OF WELLINGTON Drmviitg in red chalk. British Museum


of the Spanish troops rode Juan Martin, a peasant who had commanded the guerrilla bands with striking ability, a born military genius of the type of the Breton Cathelineau or the Savoyard Catinat. Goya painted the portrait of El Empecinado, a canvas of most remarkable power. Clearly the son of one peasant was in thorough accord with the son of another.

Upon Ferdinand's return from Valengay Juan Martin was rewarded for his great service by strict imprisonment. He escaped to Portugal, but was recaptured in November, 1823. " He was kept by the local authorities at Roa for the next ten months," writes Martin Hume, " suffer- ing the most revolting tortures in prison, being brought out every market day in an iron cage to be exposed to the insults of the crowd. For four days at a time he was kept without food or drink, confined in one position ; and his prayers that he should promptly be put out of his misery only brought upon him fresh persecution. In vain the English ambassador protested to the King against such inhumanity ; the Empecinado refused to acknowledge any crime or beg for mercy, as he had formerly refused the bribe of a peerage to desert the Constitution, and he was at length condemned to the gallows. He was calm and dignified almost to the last ; but on his way to the scaffold he was driven to sudden fury by seeing one of his persecutors, a royalist volunteer officer, flourishing the famous sword which he, the Empecinado, had borne throughout the war. With a prodigious effort he burst his fetters and scattered those who held him captive ; but he tripped over the shroud in which he was clothed, and, fighting furiously to the last, this, one of the greatest heroes of Spanish


independence, was dragged by the neck until he was dead, and the last insults might be offered to his corpse with impunity." *

This was but one of many similar incidents. Men like Leandro Moratin, who had been forced into exile, refused the pardon of Ferdinand VII. as an insult. Goya him- self was now considering the idea of a voluntary expatriation.

  • Martin A. S. Hume : Modern Spain (1899), p. 257.

About 1812

Photo. Calvert

GENERAL JUAN MARTIN, EL EMPECINADO Collection of the Marquis de Casa Torres, Madrid



Goya's Country House outside Madrid. Leocardia and Rosario Weiss. Two Portraits of the Artist. The Meeting of the Cortes. Portraits and Religious Subjects. The Portrait of Don Ramon Satue. The Tauro- maquia. Los Proverbios. The Prisoners. The Frescoes in his Country House. Indignant Criticism. Satan devouring his Children.

SOON after the restoration of Ferdinand VII. Goya gave up his residence in Madrid, and retired to a Httle property he had bought some years before, outside the city, on the other side of the river Manzanares, and close to the Puenta de Segovia. Not far away stood the Casa del Campo, and within a stone's throw was the scene of his picture La romeria di San Isidro. The house was a small, unpretentious building of two stories, and the windows commanded a fine view of Madrid. In the rear could be seen the Guadarrama mountains with their snow-capped ridges. This land- scape gave much delight to the old artist, who compared it to the Roman Campagna with the Alban hills in the distance. His rural home, in which he loved to entertain his friends from the city, became known as the " Huerta del Sordo," the House of the Deaf Man.* Domestic

  • Charles Yriarte, in L'Art, Vol. II., p. g, says that Goya bought

the Quinta when he was busy upon the decorations of San Antonio de la Florida. A drawing of the house, in the midst of a somewhat ragged garden, is given on the same page. Another drawing will be found in the same author's Goya (1867), p. 91.



arrangements were controlled by his second cousin, Leocardia Servilla, who had married the son of a travelling salesman from Bavaria, Isidro Weiss. Her husband having parted from her, for reasons unknown, she took charge of Goya's house, and lived under his roof with a little girl called Rosario Weiss, who had been born in 1814. When Goya went to Madrid he is said to have stayed with the bookseller of the Calle de Carretas, whose wife — or daughter — ^he painted. But there is no clue to the year in which this well-known portrait was finished, and it is probably earher than the date of his complete removal from Madrid.

Goya's portrait in the Academy of San Fernando was painted in 181 5, and does not greatly differ from the frontispiece of Los Caprichos of 1796. The face is strong, heavy, and powerful, with every outward sign of un quenched vitality.* A full-length portrait, belonging to the Count de Villagonzalo, was probably painted at the Quint a on the banks of the Manzanares, although its exact date is difficult to fix. Goya stands before his easel, his figure silhouetted against the blinding light of the large studio window. He is clad in a tightly-fitting toreador dress, and wears one of those fantastic round hats which are so frequently to be seen in Jan Steen's canvases. For an instant we catch a glimpse of Goya as he appeared when at work. As usual the portrait is an experiment, for Goya was now trying an exercise in the last manner of Velazquez. " In nature colour does not exist any more than line," he told a friend. " There is but the sun and

  • This portrait has since been transferred to the Prado. Another

interesting portrait of Goya in a three-cornered hat is given in the Gazette des Beaux- Arts (1868), Vol. XXIV., p. 173.

Photo, I.acoste

PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST Collection of the Count <le yUlagonzalo, Madrid


the shadows. Give me a piece of charcoal, and I will make you a picture." * This portrait is an attempt to paint ambient atmosphere, and he grappled with the same problem in the large composition belonging to the Museum of Castres, " one of the most troubling and singular of Goya's works."

The meeting of the Cortes (sometimes known as The commission of the Philippines) was painted between the years 1814 and 1820. Oertel gives 1819 as the date of the preliminary sketch in the Berlin gallery, but this is somewhat late. Its history is vague. In 1892, together with two portraits by the same master, it was bequeathed to the Museum of Castres (in the French department of the Tarn) by a townsman named Briguiboul. As Marshal Soult came from the same locality, it has been suggested that these pictures formed part of his Spanish loot during the French occupation of the Peninsula. A more probable explanation is that the elder Briguiboul bought them from Goya in Bordeaux. But they were painted before he went to Bordeaux, and how he smuggled them away from Madrid is hard to guess. The Portrait of a man is supple, free, and fluid, the second Portrait more opaque. Both are later than 1800. The large com- position, sketched with feverish fury, strongly reminded Louis Gonse, the French critic, of the later work of Manet. With a cruel sincerity of observation, evidently satiric in intention, Goya shows Ferdinand VII. surrounded by his ministers. In a huge hall, broken by transparent flying shafts of sunlight from the tall windows, sit the members of the council presided over by their sovereign. " The work of the artist is not less extra-

  • Matheron.


ordinary than the work of the satirist," writes Louis Gonse. " Never did Goya show himself more a virtuoso, more audacious, more revolutionary. . . . He seems to have wanted to revenge himself upon the regime which condemned him to exile. . . . The constrasted play of lights in this salle with bare walls is a miracle. . . . By strength of design, by magic of colour and philosophic depth, this powerful sketch is almost a masterpiece. In any case, with the Dos de Mayo it forms one of Goya's most characteristic creations." *

For a septuagenarian Goya's activity was marvellous. He refused commissions for portraits unless from personal acquaintances, and painted chiefly for his own pleasure. In 1815 came the portrait of Don Manuel Garcia, the father of Malibran,f in 1816 the Duke de Osuna, son of his old friend and patron who had died in 1807. The portraits of Ferdinand VII. have already been mentioned. There was a steady output of religious compositions. The Seville altar-piece of Santa Rufina and Santa Justa, praised by the contemporary critic, Cean Bermudez, as the artist's best work — a judgment difficult to agree with — ^was followed by Christ in the Garden (1819) and a San Josef of Calasanz, in the church of San Anton Abas, Madrid J (1820). The first is crudely powerful in a

  • Louis Gonse : Les chefs-d'ceuvre des Musees de France. — La Peinture

{1900), p. 99. The Castres pictures are also referred toby P. Lafond, " Trois tableaux de Goya au Musee de Castres," in the Chronique des Arts, March, 1896, and the Berlin sketch by F. Laban in the Jahrbuch der Kcniglich Preuszischen Kunstsammlungen (1900), Vol. XXI., p. 177.

f In 1815 Goya was painting the father ; over ninety years later Mr. Sargent was painting the son — a curious link between Goya and one of his artistic descendants.

I This painting reminded Mr. Rothenstein of the work of Alphonse Legros. " There was some unpleasantness on the part of the canons.


Rembrandtesque manner, and looks as if painted by lamplight. Some of the sketches in the Bonnat collection at Bayonne belong to this period. Still later came the portrait of Don Ramon Satue, Alcalde de Corte, dated by the artist on the canvas in 1823, ^.nd now in the collection of Dr. Carvallo of Paris. M. Leonce Amaudry describes the painting as " in three tones, black, white, and red, and Goya has carefully abstained from impasto. One might fancy that the painter was working for a wager as to how much space he could cover with how little paint. Still more surprising, therefore, at a little distance, is the depth he has obtained. But it is impossible that this method should have been adopted on the spur of the moment. It has nothing in common with the partiality or the fantasy of an artist taking pleasure in the exercise of his virtuosity. On the contrary, it is the result of a long series of previous essays, and the final formula of Goya, now arrived, at the age of seventy and over, at the complete mastery of his art. . . . The smooth, cynical air of the man, his evil, scornful lips, his low forehead under thickset hair, his untidy dress, his costly shirt half-open, and leaving the upper part of his chest exposed, the green and red lights of a much used garment on his riding coat, his general mixture of dandyism and disorder, all combine to make this portrait a disturbing character." M. Leonce Amaudry is, however, in error when he states that this portrait was painted at Bordeaux. It is dated 1823, and Goya did not leave Madrid until June, 1824.

who objected to pay the price Goya asked for this picture. Enraged at their haggUng he refused to continue it, and the Superior, so the story goes, went down on his knees before the old painter, whom he eventually appeased." Goya, p. 25.


The evidence of comparison will also help to fix the date, for in style and composition the portrait is own brother to the portrait of Goya's intimate friend, Don Tiburcio Perez, the architect, signed and dated in 1820. Don Ramon Satue may have been a Liberal, but that he joined the little Spanish colony " who fled to the capital of Guyenne after the restoration of Ferdinand VII." is very doubtful.

Despite his severe illness towards the close of 1819, these labours do not exhaust the whole of Goya's pro- duction during the last years of his life in Spain. He etched thirty-three plates for the series known as Tauro- maquia, eighteen of which come under the heading of Proverbios, some scattered plates, including the Colossus, and was also busily covering the walls of his Quinta with the most fantastic inventions that ever came from the mind of an artist.

The Tauromaquia was commenced during the early years of the century. Goya issued a limited number of impressions in 1815, but the plates were hoarded by Xavier Goya until his death, and were not actually published until the Calcografia Nacional issued a second edition in 1855, together with the etcher's portrait from Los Caprichos. In 1876 a French edition appeared with seven additional plates.* In addition to the original thirty-three plates which form the series, Goya etched six plates on a larger scale. These he afterwards destroyed, using the coppers for other subjects. That he did not attempt to spread abroad further proofs of such popular subjects is remarkable, for he must have recognised that the Tauromaquia included his supreme

  • La Tauromachie, par Don Francisco Goya y Lucientes. Forty

plates, with a portrait drawn and etched by E. Loizelet. Paris, 1876.

05 o O

, 5.


O -^


achievement as an etcher. In Los Desastros de la Guerra his indignation at times overcame his art, and in the technic of the aquatint washes his hand lost its cunning, for the contrasts are often harsh, and the subtle gradations of tone to be found in Los Caprichos were not always successfully repeated. Indeed, in aquatint, Los Caprichos is Goya's best work, for in several of the plates there is no line at all, the whole effect being produced by the wash. In Los Desastros de la Guerra Goya relied more com- pletely upon line. In the Tauromaquia the combina- tion is effected with masterly skill.

In these intensely dramatic compositions the artist's first aim seems to have been an historical review of the ring. The bull is hunted across open country by Moors and Spanish peasantry, and Charles V. and the Cid are shown in the arena. Then follow the extraordinary performances of Goya's own contemporaries, Martincho, Juanito Apinani, Mariano Ceballos, Reardon, Fernando del Toro, Pepeillo, and Pedro Romero. The bull escapes amongst the spectators, overthrows a picador, or tosses an unfortunate toreador on his horns. The banderillas dance round the victim like an ordered ballet with their be-ribboned arrows. Last scene of all the espada advances with his toledo blade, and the bull's fate is settled. With all their disgusting incidents, these con- flicts for life between man and beast have an overpowering attraction, and only those who have sat through a hot afternoon in the plaza of Madrid, or some other Spanish city, can fully realise how wonderfully Goya has caught the passing thrills and emotions of an unequal duel.*

  • Plates Nos. 19, 28, and 31 are dated 1815. Lefort finds two

" manners " in the series, and calls attention to the difference between


Los Proverbios must be classed as a late supplement to Los Caprichos. One critic suggests that when Goya was overwrought by the misfortunes of his country he turned to his etching needle and drew these plates to gain mental relief ; another writes that the etchings show how Goya's reason had been affected by the French invasion. Charles Yriarte promised a monograph, which was never written, dealing with Goya the philosopher, as exemplified in Los Proverbios. Gautier came nearer to the truth when he said that these plates were unexplainable, and Goya himself gave them the title of Suenos, or dreams, " the children of an idle brain, begot of nothing but vain fantasy.' The date of production cannot be fixed with certainty. Carderera believed them to be the work of Goya's old age,* but Lefort would have them done before 1810, his chief reason being that they reveal no sign of decaying powers. But although Goya, throughout the whole of his career, was a most unequal artist, we cannot forget that the lithographs, drawn in his eightieth year, bear not a trace of senility. Los Proverbios must have been in progress from about 1805 to 1820, or even later.

The first plate represents six girls tossing a dead donkey and some mannikins in a blanket. In one of his early tapestry cartoons Goya drew the mannikins, but the addition of a dead donkey makes the composition as

Nos. I to 12, and Nos. 19, 23, 27, 28, 31, and 32. The plates pulled under Goya's superintendence (a few sold in 1815 and the small balance placed on the market after the death of his son) are brilliant in quality, and extremely rare. Trial proofs bear the watermarks " Serra " and " Morato." Proofs bearing the number of the plate in the series have " Nolo." The edition of 1855 leaves much to be desired, for the plates soon showed signs of wear. Loizelet of Paris published an edition in 1876 with seven extra plates. ♦ Gazette des Beaux- Arts, September, 1863.


difficult of explanation as a cartoon in Old Moore's almanack. The second plate depicts a band of soldiers flying from an enormous spectre, and Lefort considers it analogous to the fifty-second Caprice. Monsters and grotesques follow on succeeding pages, giants, two-headed creatures, flying horses, flying men, fights, quarrels, — ■ a phantasmagoric jumble. The wild dance of clownish majos and majas in plate XII. recalls a Flemish kermesse. Plate IX., in which a masquerading figure, masked like a character in Venetian comedy, offers an armful of cats to a woman, is supposed to refer to Queen Maria Luisa, who had an extreme affection for kittens. Plate X., a girl seized and tossed in the air by a prancing horse, has a superb sense of movement.* Plate XIII. shows men learning to fly. Plate XIV. may be typical of the quarrel between Charles IV. and Ferdinand VII. at Bayonne.f Three of the etchings were not published until 1877, when they illustrated Charles Yriarte's articles in UArt.X The first edition appeared about 1850, and the Academy of San Fernando issued further editions of poor quality in 1864, 1891, and 1902.

The set known as The Prisoners consists of but three pieces, and belongs to the same indefinite period. The plates belonged to Lumley, a.n Englishman, who had a few impressions printed in 1859. Goya's idea v/as to draw attention to the unnecessary suffering inflicted upon prisoners and captives. Three proofs he presented to

  • "One of the finest plates etched by Goya." Rothenstein : Goya,p.22.

f Paul Lefort believed that many of these plates were worked upon by another hand.

J " I am inclined to consider them as among the last etchings by Goya's hand before his failing eyesight forced him to lay aside the needle, and this belief is supported by the larger size, and broader execution of the plates themselves." W. Rothenstein, Goya, p. 32.


Cean Bermudez, and on one he scribbled : " Such safe- guards are as barbarous as the crime ! " on another : " The security of a prisoner does not necessarily include torture," on the third : " If he be guilty why not execute him at once ? " — humanitarian sentiments worthy of John Howard. Lastly amongst these detached etchings is that wonderful nude figure of a giant, who sits, like Rodin's Penseur, under the stars, and gazes into the black depth of night. In an earlier etching Goya had drawn a gaunt being rising from the tomb, with the single exclamation " Nothing ! " This colossus cannot accept the negation. Had Goya himself in his old age thrown aside his materialism and accepted the supernatural ? The wonderful aquatint suggests a change in his attitude towards the unrevealed.* Amongst the canvases of this late period, Cocaita, a landscape, now at Berlin, is like nothing else in Goya's work, unless it be the wall-paintings of his country house.

During these last years he had been decorating his Quinta with frescoes which have been since transferred to the lower galleries of the Prado. When they were ex- hibited in the Trocadero during the Paris Exhibition of 1878 the huge canvases excited varied feelings. Hamerton declared that they proved how Goya's mind " grovelled in a hideous Inferno of its own — a disgusting region, horrible without sublimity, shapeless as chaos, foul in colour and ' forlorn of light,' peopled by the vilest abortions that ever came from the brain of a sinner. He surrounded himself, I say, with these abominations,

  • This very rare plate is reproduced in facsimile in the Jahrbuch

der Koniglich Preuszischen Kunsfsammlungen (1906), Vol. XX VII., p. 141. The original copper was broken after the third proof.


finding in them I know not what deviHsh satisfaction, and rejoicing, in a manner altogether incomprehensible to us, in the audacities of an art in perfect keeping with its revolting subjects. It is the sober truth to say that, in the whole series of these decorations for his house, Goya appears to have aimed at ugliness as Raphael aimed at beauty ; to have sought awkwardness of com- position as Raphael schemed for elegance of arrangement ; to have pleased himself in foulness of colour and brutality of style as Perugino delighted in his heavenly azures, and Bellini in his well-skilled hand. ... Of all these things the most horrible is the Satan. He is devouring one of his children with the voracity of a famished wolf, and not a detail of the disgusting feast is spared you. The figure is a real inspiration, as original as it is terrific, and not a cold product of mere calculating design. . . . Enough has been said to show that Goya had made himself a den of foulness and abomination, and dwelt therein, with satisfaction to his mind, like a hyena amidst carcases." * This easy flow of a high moral indignation is very readable. Unfortunately Hamerton, whilst admitting Goya*s power, denied his talent as an artist, a contra- diction in terms. The Victorian creed that art could only be art if it joined hands with morality had involved him in its toils. The subjects of the decorations of the " Huerta del Sordo " are horrible, but Goya had a natural inclination towards the macabre as Rops was moved by the erotic. These gigantic monochromes — for they lack all colour — of Judith and Holofernes, The witches' sabbath, The Fates, and several others, will disgust some spectators exactly as Swift's abominable monsters disgust some

  • P, G. Hamerton : Portfolio Papers, " Goya," p. 123.


readers. But there is a certain force of intense imag- ination which can only be commanded by a few spirits, and Goya is amongst them. Indeed he was follow- ing a vein of ideas which Watts pursued — but with in- finitely less power — in such compositions as The Mino- taur, Mammon, and Jonah. If we condemn a man's art because of his subject we must pronounce Shakespeare no poet because the bestial Caliban fouls the pure atmosphere of The Tempest. Mankind in bulk has an innate attraction towards the horrible, and one of the tasks of genius is to hold a mirror to the soul of humanity which must reflect its darker as well as its lighter sides. The only truly revolting art is that inflicted upon the world by artists who lack the skill and sympathy necessary to their calling.

Satan devouring his children was appropriately the chief decoration of Goya's dining-room in the Casa. In the Prado is a fine canvas by Rubens depicting the same gruesome subject, and this was undoubtedly the source of Goya's inspiration.* But no critic as yet has compared Rubens to a hyena amidst carcases, nor spoken of the Chateau de Steen as " a den of foulness and abomination."

  • The similarity between these two compositions does not appear

to have been noticed before. Francisco Xavier de Goya died in 1855 and the Quinta came into the possession of the artist's grandson, Mariano Goya y Goicoechea, who had been raised to the peerage as Marquis de Espinar. The house remained in its old condition until bought by the Spanish financier, the Marquis de Salamanca, in 1873. In 1867 it was reported as most dilapidated, and some of the decorations were copied by Eduardo Gimeno. The new proprietor wished to remove the frescoes, and one, painted by Xavier Goya, having been successfully transferred, Goya's work was also taken dov/n, and little remained of the house itself, which in 191 2 could not be located by the author of this volume. The frescoes were exhibited at Paris in 1878, and have now found a permanent home in the gloomy basement rooms of the Prado Gallery. They deserve a better setting.

About 1810

Photo. Anderson


One 0/ tlie/rescoes/orvicrty on the walls f>/ Goya's country house.

Prndo Museum, Maiifiil



Goya applies for Leave to go to Plombieres. His Arrival in Bordeaux. Letters from Moratin. He reaches Paris, July, 1824. Meets Horace Vemet. Studies Contemporary French Art. Paints two Portraits. Returns to Bordeaux in September. His Household. Applies for an Extension of his " Leave." Work and Recreation in Bordeaux. His Restlessness. His Health in June, 1825. Financial Worries. A Letter to his Son. His " Adopted Daughter," Rosario Weiss. Her Artistic Gifts and Education. Her Career and Early Death

GOYA was now an old man with few family or social ties in a society he had outlived. He watched with disgust the reactionary policy of Ferdinand VH. and his ministers. The invasion of Catalonia by the French troops under the Duke d'Angou- leme in 1823 filled him with patriotic shame, although it was hardly so sore a wound as M. Paul Lafond would have us believe. Renewed ill-health, accompanied by much pain, led to deep depression. Goya made up his mind to quit Spain. As a royal servant and member of the Court circle he could not leave Madrid without the permission of his master. He asked for six months' holiday in order to take the cure at the French watering- place of Plombieres in the Vosges. The request was readily granted, and the authorisation signed at Aranjuez, May 30, 1824.*

  • M. Paul Lafond quotes the document in the Crown Archives, section

relating to the members of the Court, Grand Chancellery, register G.


Had he any real intention to journey so far as Plom- bieres ? The reason was possibly only a pretext. His personal arrangements were quickly made. His house was shut up and little Rosario Weiss placed under the care of Tiburzio Perez, the architect, who was instructed to continue her artistic education. The mother is not mentioned. Goya lost no time in shaking the dust of Madrid off his feet. Before June was out he had arrived in Bordeaux, travelling alone, without even a servant. The journey is not an easy one, particularly during the early weeks of a burning Spanish summer. He was probably on the road nearly two weeks, and the jolting of a heavy diligence over rough and almost unmade paths, the uneasy rests at inns which had become a byword in all Europe, the varying temperatures and foods, could have been no pleasant experience for a man within two years of his eightieth birthday.

He had many acquaintances in Bordeaux who had fled across the Pyrenees to find a shelter on French soil from the animosities of Ferdinand VH. But he refused to rest, and after a brief stay of three days with his friend the poet Leandro Moratin, who was keeping a boys* school, the old man took the path again for Paris. The Spaniards were amazed at his energy, and Moratin wrote from Bordeaux, June 27, 1824, expressing some fear as to the result.

" Goya has actually arrived, old, heavy, enfeebled.

These chapters are largely indebted to M. Lafond's valuable articles entitled Les derm Ires annees de Goya en France, to be found in the Gazette des Beaux-Arts, third series. Vol. XXXVII. (1907), pp. 114-131 and 241-257. Another source of information is the pamphlet on the last days and burial of Goya published by Seiior Mesonero Romanos in Madrid, 1900.


not knowing a word of French,* without a servant — and no one needs a servant more than he ! However, he is very pleased with himself, and very anxious to see the world. He remained with us three days, and for two of them dined with us like one of the young pupils. I advised him to return in September, so as not to get stuck in the Parisian mud, or to be surprised by the winter, which would finish him off. He carries a letter to Arnao, who will look after him, and take every precaution on his behalf, and he needs many. To my mind the chief care should be that he must go out only in a carriage — if he will submit to it ? Later on we shall know whether this journey will kill him or not. I shall be very distressed if anything happens to him."

The spectacle of the deaf old lion " anxious to see the world " with the frank joy and curiosity of a schoolboy is exhilarating, and it certainly impressed his associates. Moratin wrote again from Bordeaux on July 8, 1824: " Goya has reached Paris. Thanks to the letter of introduction I gave him for Arnao, he is being well cared for. Upon his arrival Arnao found accommodation with his daughter-in-law's parents. He will continue to look after this young traveller, and has promised to send him back in September."

If Goya had any intention of continuing his journey to Plombieres the idea was soon abandoned. For two months he remained in Paris, although unfortunately there is no exact account of his doings. The time was in- teresting, the atmosphere full of events. Louis XVHI.

  • This hardly agrees with another statement that Goya was a good

French scholar, and could write in that language fluently. He is said to have learned it towards the end of the eighteenth century, Bui as he was stone-deaf the knowledge could have been of little use.


was in the Tuileries, nearer death than he knew.* In politics Chateaubriand was being ejected from the Foreign Ministry by Villele. In hterature Victor Hugo had written his Odes et Ballades, and during the August of 1824 a schoolboy called Alfred de Musset received a sixth prize for Latin verse. At the Opera they were playing Rossini, Auber, and Boieldieu, whilst Talma, Mademoiselle Georges, and Virginie Dejazet were the stars of the dramatic horizon. Goya's keen intellect was certainly occupied by the current events of the French capital. But art was his principal preoccupation, and the sum- mer is not a good season to meet artists in Paris. The only one we know he met was Horace Vemet, but we are told that he saw most of the pictures of the year and visited many studios. A student named Lariviere had carried off the Prix de Rome with The death of Alcihiades. Did Goya see this undistinguished work by a forgotten painter, and dream of the days — sixty years earlier — when he too consorted with the Frenchmen of the Villa Medicis ? At the Salon of 1824 the most important pictures were Delacroix's Massacre of Scio, and canvases by Ingres, Girodet, Gros, Gerard, and Vemet. Gericault, who had won fame with the Raft of the Medusa, had but recently died. Lafond mentions other notable paintings Goya probably examined. They include Delacroix's Dante and Virgil, Sigalon's Locusta, and the Odalisque and (Edipus and the Sphinx by Ingres. Goya found himself in the midst of the transition from the Classical to the Romantic school. Would that we had his comments ! We are told that he had a profound admiration for Gros,

  • He made his last public appearance in the streets of Paris on

August 28, and died September 16.

Photo. Anderson



and was astonished and delighted with what he saw of the works of Gericault and Delacroix.

Looking at these canvases awoke the desire to produce. Within the short eight weeks of residence, amidst strange and probably uncomfortable surroundings, he painted two life-size portraits which reveal few traces of age or feebleness. The three-quarter bust of Don Maria Joaquin Ferrer (now belonging to the Count de Candilla) repre- sents a man of about forty years of age, with dark hair, steely eyes, sharply modelled nose, clean-shaven and hard mouth, and a strong chin. His black coat is closely buttoned, and he holds a small book bound in red. Lafond suggests that French portraiture had already influenced the artist's brush. Goya was keenly suscept- ible, and perhaps half his desire to paint was a wish to experiment with French methods. He had, however, little to learn from the French portrait-painters of 1824, and, judging from a photograph, the only difference in this portrait from his Madrid works is a more lavish use of thick opaque pigments such as bitumen. The com- panion portrait of Dofia Manuela Alvarez de Coinas y Ferrer, although evidently faithful to the model, cannot rank with the artist's best work. But the firmness of drawing, and the solidity of the brushwork, are remarkable when we consider Goya's age.*

True to his promise not to be caught by the treacherous autumn winds of Paris, the old man hurried back to Bordeaux, where a home had been prepared for him by Leocardia Weiss and her daughter Rosario, who had evidently escaped from the guardianship of the architect

  • Both portraits are reproduced in the Gazette des Beaux-Arts, Vol.

XXXVII. (1907). I have not been able to see the originals.



Perez. On September 20, 1824, Leandro Moratin re- ported to Madrid : " Goya has installed himself with the Senora and the children* in a good and well-situated apartment. I think he will be able to pass the winter in comfort. He wishes to paint my portrait. From this I deduce the fact that I must be very beautiful for such clever brushes to aspire to multiply my effigy."

This was the second time Moratin had sat to Goya. In 1799, when the poet was the adulated darling of Madrid, Goya had painted that wonderful portrait so reminiscent of the magic grace of Thomas Gainsborough. Now Goya was seventy-eight, and had turned his back on his native land. Moratin was sixty-four, an age when life has usually played havoc with the poetic ideals of youth. The poor rhymster was a political exile turned school- master in order to keep body and soul together. Goya had not lost his skill, and the portrait tells its story. Moratin is old, worn, flabby in features. His eyes no longer sparkle. There is disappointment to be read in the lines of the face, as well as a tired but unquenched courage.

" Take care," said Moratin to the artist. " You are painting in front of the French."

On his mettle, Goya destroyed the first sketch, and then the second. The third is the portrait now belonging to Don Francisco Silvela.

Society at Bordeaux was as congenial as the mild climate. The Goicoechea family, originally of Zaragoza, allied through the marriage of a daughter to his son, had settled in the city on the Garonne. Moratin was of course

  • There was only one child, Rosario. Perhaps Leocardia brought a

little Spanish maid.


an intimate friend. He was one of many in similar exile. Molino had been mayor of Madrid during the short reign of Joseph Bonaparte ; Muguiro, a former banker in Madrid, had been too good an afrancesado to remain without danger at the Bourbon restoration ; Silvela was another politician ; Peleguer, the artist, had engraved Goya's San Francisco de Borgia of Valence ; Alea was an author. Goya himself was busily engaged painting, sketching, dreaming of new etchings, and experimenting in lithography. But he was still the servant of the King of Spain, and his leave expired at the end of November. He applied for a prolongation " to re-establish his health." He wanted to try the waters of Bagneres, a little thermal establishment in the Pyrenees. On January 13, 1825, he was given an additional six months. He did not leave Bordeaux, for the winter is not the best time for a man of seventy-nine to go mountaineering.

Goya was now living at a house numbered 24 (after- wards altered to 28) in the Cours de Toumy. The small establishment was not exactly a restful quietude. On October 23, 1824, Leandro Moratin wrote to a friend : Goya is here with his Dofia Leocardia, and there is no great harmony in the household." Lafond describes Leocardia Weiss as " turbulence itself, keen for distrac- tion, always moving about and turning the rooms upside down." Goya was her obedient slave, and she dragged him from end to end of Bordeaux. Arm in arm they attended the popular fairs with the little Rosario, and every circus which passed through the city was patronised by this odd family.

The master was deaf, and could only walk with extreme difficulty, but his unconquerable interest in life was as


strong an incentive to these excursions as Dona Leo- cardia's love of amusement. He refused to give way to his infirmities, or to accept his age. He hked to tell his friends of the deeds of his youth. " Goya maintains that he used to descend into the arena, and, sword in hand, feared not a soul," wrote Moratin, October 7, 1825. The reference was either to some fencing exploit or his feats in the bull-ring. " In two months he will reach his eightieth year," adds the poet in amazement. For Goya kept the anniversary by removing to No. 10, Rue de la Croix-Blanche, " a tiny house very well fitted, with a north light and a small garden." *

In his workroom he was active from morning to night. At one period there was a suggestion that he should con- tinue the series Los Caprichos. Happily it fell through, for he could not expect to repeat in 1825 the imaginative fantasies of 1796. " What you say about Los Caprichos is not possible," wrote the old man to Don Jose Maria Ferrer, December 20, 1825. " I made the plates over to the King more than twenty years ago, together with others I had then engraved, which are now in His Majesty's collection. ... I will certainly not go to copy them, having to-day better things which would sell more easily."

Sketching, lithography, drawing with crayon and pastel, and particularly miniature painting, were now engrossing his days. His sight became so feeble that he used strong magnifying glasses when at work on the ivory. Don Aureliano de Beruete possesses many of the drawings of the Bordeaux period, mostly scenes of daily life on the quays and in the streets of the city, a serpent charmer, a

  • Now renumbered 34.


tamer of crocodiles, a " living skeleton," and execution by guillotine — so realistic that Goya probably witnessed it from a window overlooking the place of doom. These innumerable activities are supported by the facts stated in his correspondence as well as the letters written by his friends. They conjure up a restlessness which had more or less troubled the whole of his career.

" Goya does not know what he wants, or what he wishes for," wrote Moratin, April 24, 1825. " I advise him to remain at peace until his ' leave * expires. The town pleases him, so do the country, the climate, the food, and the tranquillity he has enjoyed since his arrival. He has not had to suffer from any of the annoyances which troubled him before. Yet at some moments he has the idea that there is much for him to do in Madrid. If we left him alone he would take to the road on a stubborn mule, with his cloak, his mantle, his stirrups, his bottle, and his wallet."

About this date his health broke down, but he rapidly recovered, and was soon back at his easel. " Goya has escaped the gaping Acheron this time," wrote Moratin, June 28, 1825. " He is up again, and paints without rest, and without ever wishing to retouch what he paints." As Lafond remarks in his excellent article on these later years, the master painted simply for the pleasure of handling brushes and pigments. He wiped in his colours with the aid of rags and a palette knife upon the nearest material to his grasp, canvas, wood, paper, or zinc. Subject or material was indifferent to him, although he was chiefly interested in his lithographs and his minia- tures. In a letter dated December 20, 1825, he describes his work.


"It is true that last winter I painted on ivory, and I have a collection of nearly forty of these essays. But my method of painting miniatures is original, and I have not seen it used elsewhere. They are not done in stipple, and the brush work resembles that of Velazquez or Mengs." Having smoked the ivory he allowed a drop of water to fall upon the plaque, and with this medium he evolved simple figures or groups. These miniatures are rare, for Goya destroyed many. A tiny example, belonging to Mr. Rothenstein, is reproduced in his monograph. Valerian von Loga without sufficient reason doubts its authenticity, but the face, a grimacing witch, is quite Goyaesque, and shows that to the end of his life his imagination was dominated by a bizarre attraction for the diabolic and horrible.

Work could not always have been easy for the old giant. Perhaps he found in it a refuge from his many worries, personal, domestic, and financial. " Be merciful to this scrawl," he begs a friend, in a letter quoted by Lafond. " I lack sight, strength, pens, ink; and the only thing I have in abundance is goodwill." There was no bitter- ness in such a spirit. " Valued friend," he writes again, " I received your letter of the 13th, with the greatest pleasure, and I am touched at your solicitude about me and my health, I am delighted that you spent the summer in town with your beautiful little daughter. . . . From month to month I pick up my pen to write to lago, the only person in Spain with whom I correspond. I cannot find compliments worthy to send to Dofia Manuela. [Remembrances] to Amao, to your lady, to the children Sirena, to your sister, to my friend the painter, and to all who have favoured me [with their good wishes].


I finish by asking you to kiss the beautiful Httle girl for me. I say it sincerely. — Fr. de Goya." *

This is not the letter of a soured man, and his affections are even more strongly revealed in a letter to his son written on Christmas Eve, 1824.

" To Don Xavier de Goya, Calle de Valverde, No. 15, Madrid.

" Bordeaux, 24 December, 1824.

" Dear Xavier,

" Your valued letters have been missing from the three last posts. Not knowing the true reason I have many wild ideas. Are any of you ill ? But I go every day to see Don Martin, f and they tell me no wrong has happened.

" Should I be deceived if I suggested transferring the money invested in the mesadas to a safer security ? I do not think this should displease you, for it seems probable that like Titian I shall live to be ninety-nine and have no other resource. And further, this security must pass to my heirs, as I have told Don Martin when the conditions were discussed and I signed the receipts. In truth I do not know what more to say, except that the income runs from the 7th or the 9th and that six months' income will be due in April. I can do no more than certify the contract, and I do not know what

  • This letter was written to Don Joaquin Maria Ferrer, whose

portrait he painted in Paris, and " the beautiful little girl " was the daughter of Don Joaquin and Dona Manuela. lago was the artist's son, and the reference proves how thoroughly Goya had severed himself from his old acquaintances in Madrid. The letter belongs to the Marquis de Seoane, and is quoted in the Gazette des Beaux-Arts, Vol. XXXVII. (1907), p. 128. It is reproduced in facsimile in Goya, Moratin, etc., by M. Mesnero Romanos, p. 46,

t Don Martin de Goicoechea, to whom he was related by his son's marriage. He died in the following year.


guarantee I can have. Don Martin told me yesterday that Monsieur Galos * would take care of the papers.

" All these matters worry me, and I am beginning to believe that they will refuse me a prolongation of my leave. I shall have nothing if I lose my appointments. However much harm it does me I shall have to travel. I have already said this in another letter, and although this town pleases me it is not sufficient for me to abandon my family and my country.

" Thy father,

" Fr. de Goya."

The most charming feature of his residence in Bor- deaux was his friendship with the little girl Rosario. "Dona Leocardia at onetime laments, at another rejoices," wrote Moratin. " La Mariquita speaks French like a paroquet, runs, jumps, and amuses herself with the French children of her own age."

She was born in Madrid in 1814, and was thus eleven years of age. In some letters she is spoken of as Goya's " adopted " daughter, in others as his " god-daughter." Whatever the relationship, actual or implied, Goya's love for the child was very real. His renewed interest in miniature painting probably arose from his desire that she should be trained as a miniaturist, for he was enthusiastic in regard to her artistic talent. On December 28, 1824, he wrote to Don Joaquin Ferrer in Paris, as follows : " This astonishing child wishes to learn minia- ture painting, and I wish it also, for to paint as she is painting at her age is the greatest phenomenon in the

  • Jacques Galos, a wealthy shipowner, who looked after Goya's

money affairs. Goya painted his portrait, now belonging to the Countess d'Houdetot, " fresh and luminous," we are told, " but almost destroyed by bitumen."


world. She possesses special qualities, as you will see. If you will be good enough to help me I want to send her to Paris, but I would like you to consider her as if she were my daughter. I will repay you with my works, or my goods. I send you a small sample of her ability. All the professors at Madrid have marvelled at it, particularly the incomparable Martin. If I were not afraid of adding to the weight of my letter I would send you more. . . /* Rosario Weiss did not go to Paris, but continued working in Bordeaux under Goya's superintendence. This brought Goya into contact with the art schools of the city. For two years La Mariquita studied under a wall-paper designer called Vernet. Then she passed into the atelier of Antoine Lacour, son of Pierre Lacour, the first curator of the Bordeaux Museum and a fellow pupil with David under Vien.* Goya often took Rosario to the studio, and was tempted to look at the productions of her fellow-pupils. One of these pupils remembered how the old master passed between the easels, examining the drawings, and muttering under his breath, " No es eso '* (It is not like that). Knowing Lacour, Goya almost certainly visited the museum which had been founded in 1799, and then contained a very fine Perugino, and works by Giordana, Tiepolo, Cortona, and Rubens. Amongst the artists he met were Jean Paul Alaux, a landscape painter, Frangois Colin, Madame Sophie Tavel, G. de Galard, and Feytaud, all represented in the Bordeaux

  • Does this not give some explanation of the statement by Matheron

that Goya, whilst at Bordeaux, referred to his acquaintance with David in Rome ? What Goya may have said was that Antoine Lacour's father knew David in Rome, which was probably the fact, as they had worked together in Paris. The conversation could easily have been misunder- stood, and thus misreported.


gallery at the present day. They were provincials of respectable mediocrity.

Rosario Weiss did not fulfil all the expectations of her " godfather." Lafond describes a painting entitled La Sylphide (formerly in the Bordeaux museum) as decidedly weak and sentimental in conception. Goya intended to provide for her future in his will, but he neglected this duty, and, at his death, Rosario was left destitute. Whilst in Bordeaux she painted and lithographed, and must have been an interesting and alert companion. Moratin taught her to appreciate the Spanish poets ; she knew their verses by heart, and scribbled their poems on the margins of her drawings.

Returning to Madrid she became known as a remark- ably faithful copyist of the pictures in the Prado, and in 1840 was appointed Professor of Drawing to Queen Isabella. One day on her way to the palace she became involved in the crowded excitement of a riot, which frightened her into a high fever. Of this she died, July 31, 1840, at the age of twenty-six. Goya was not destined to leave any direct artistic heirs.



Goya experiments with Lithography in 1819. His first Lithographs. The Bull-fights of Bordeaux. Unsuccessful Attempts to sell the Litho- graphs in Paris. Correspondence with Ferrer. Goya on " Memory Drawing." His last Lithographs dated 1826 and 1827.

SENEFELDER invented the art of lithography about the year 1796, and in 1806 opened his hthographic estabhshment in Munich. The new method of facsimile reproduction was received with enthusiasm by the artists of Europe, and spread from country to country with the utmost rapidity. In France the chief members of the new school busily exploited a medium which was so admirably adapted to their bright and incisive style. Amongst the active lithographers were the two Vernets, Prud'hon, Lami, Gericault, Boilly, and above all Eugene Delacroix. In Spain an old man of seventy-three, a confirmed experimentalist, who in his younger days had been the first to make use of aquatint, was engrossed by the fascinations of the lithographic stone.*

Ferdinand VII. is said to have been the first to draw Goya's attention to Senefelder's discovery. We cannot

  • Goya's lithographs are dealt with in Valerian von Loga's Goya's

Lithographien und Seltene Radierungen, Berlin, 1907. They are exhaustively catalogued by Paul Lefort and Julius Hofmann,


state definitely the earliest of Goya's lithographs, either the Monk holding a crucifix, or the Old woman spinning, signed and dated " Madrid, February, 1819." He became intensely interested, and other proofs followed in quick succession. The duel is dated " March, 1819," and some undated drawings (numbered by Lefort 265 to 271) appear to have been executed after 1819 but before 1824. The subjects are typically Goyaesque : dogs attacking a bull, a woman in the arms of a peasant, scenes of grotesque devilry. The compositions are full of energy, and the execution bold though a trifle rough. " Nobody ever used a lithographic stone so barbarously," wrote P. G. Hamerton. Goya certainly never allowed himself to be mastered by his materials, and if he wished to produce a certain effect threw tradition overboard and seized the first tool which came to his hand.

Towards the close of his residence in Spain his interest flagged, but after his visit to Paris, where he undoubtedly studied the drawings of the French school, he returned to Bordeaux, found a clever printer in M. Gaulon, and immediately started the set known as the Bullfights of Bordeaux, which a modern critic describes as " certainly the greatest and most significant lithographs in the history of the art." * The original series consists of four large plates, and is of excessive rarity, as Gaulon printed only three hundred copies. The first plate, entitled El famoso Americano Mariano Ceballos, represents the most celebrated toreador of the period mounted on a bull as on a horse, and riding to the attack of a second bull. In the background, behind a crowd of anxious banderillas and their assistants, rises tier upon tier of white faces

  • W. Rothenstein.

About 1812

HKAl) OF A DYING MAN : KKAY JUAN FP;RNANEZ Dratving in chalk on the back 0/ the portrait 0/ the Duke 0/ Wellington British Museum


peeping through the gloom. The subject was a favourite with Goya, for it was one of the most daring feats of the arena, and he had already commemorated it in the Tauromaquia. The second drawing, which was not given a title, shows a picador thrown from his horse and caught by the bull. The third is called Dibersion de Espana ; two young bulls have been freed in the midst of an arena crowded by amateur toreadors and handerillas. The opportunity was offered to every ambitious youth to prove his mettle. The scene is typically Spanish, and Goya had painted it years before. The last plate shows a ring divided into two parts. Goya placed the litho- graphic stone on his easel and worked upon it as if painting a canvas. He used his pencils like brushes. He com- menced by covering the whole surface of the stone with a uniform gray tint and then scraped out the high lights, here a head, there a figure, a horse, a bull. Then he worked over the drawing with his pencil, reinforcing the shadows, and giving movement to the figures. His eyesight compelled him to make constant use of his magnifying glass.* For the lithographs, as well as for the etchings and the paintings, he made innumerable studies in chalk, and when he drew a bull-fight his hand revelled in the spirit of the subject. f

  • Matheron.

f No artist has ever rivalled Goya's paintings, etchings, lithographs, and drawings of the bull-ring. A fine sketch, belonging to Dr. Carvallo, is reproduced in the Burlington Magazine for December, 1904, and M. Leonce Amaudry comments as follows : —

" This is one of six paintings on tin representing scenes from bull- fights which, according to the eminent Spanish critic, Seiior Beruete, were painted by Goya two years before his death, during a visit to Paris. He painted them from memory, making use of an incalculable number of sketches and drawings, which are now in the cases in the Prado.


Unfortunately these masterly lithographs remained on the shelves of the printer and in the studio of the artist. They profoundly impressed fellow-artists, such as Dela- croix and Daumier. But collectors were disinclined to add the Bull-fights of Bordeaux to their portfolios. Goya lost no opportunity of pressing the sale, and, on December 6, 1825, wrote to his friend in Paris, Don Joaquin Maria Ferrer, enclosing a copy of the Dihersion de Espaiia. " If you find it worthy of publication, I will send you as many copies as you think fit. . . .1 have finished three other plates of the same size, dealing with other incidents of the bull-ring." Evidently Ferrer could do nothing with the print, and his reply must have been disappointing, for Goya wrote again :

" Bordeaux, 20 December, 1825.

    • My estimable Friend,

". . . . I understand what you tell me about the prints of the bull-fights : but I had thought of circulating them amongst the artists and amateurs who abound in

These paintings are the pictorial complement of the lithographs executed at Bordeaux in 1825. That now under notice is the second of a pair, the first of which (in the collection of the Marquis of Baroja) represents a picador awaiting, with lance in rest, the charge of the bull, which is standing motionless, full of rage and ready to bound forward. In the second of the two the attack has taken place. The brute has unhorsed the picador, fallen on him, and raised him on his horns, while the other occupants of the arena are trying to rescue their comrade from his terrible position and circling in a busy, alert group round the bull and the disembowelled horse. The background and the dress of the figures are identical in both cases. Here and there occur the same qualities of picturesque and delicate painting, which catches and fixes in little bright spots the light and the colours of the open air." It is difficult to believe that Goya painted six of these sketches, in addition to the portraits he finished during his two months' visit to Paris. The picture belonging to Dr. Carvallo came through M. Kleinberger from the collection of the Duke de Dino.


the great capital. Further, if a number of people see them, I thought that it would have been easy to give them to a print-dealer for a modest price without saying my name.

"F°°- DE Goya."

How he could have hidden his name is difficult to imagine, for Goya's genius is not only written all over them, but they are signed.

His spirit was unconquerable. Although the litho- graphs were commercially unsaleable he was not de- pressed, and started a new Bull-fight. They were mar- vellous exercises in memory drawing. Thomas Cole, the wood engraver, has preserved a little anecdote relative to Goya in this respect. " I was told by a Spanish painter whose father had known Goya personally that the great man was wont to declare that he who aspired to the name of artist should be able to reproduce from memory, with brush or pencil, any scene or incident in all its essential features, after having once beheld it." *

The Bull- fights of Bordeaux remains Goya's most brilliant achievement as a lithographer. He drew some further subjects, including a very charming and sprightly Spanish dance, dated in 1825. A group of men and women surround a maja who is dancing a vito to the sound of guitar and tambour, f Another duelling scene, entitled by M. Lefort Le coup d'epee, is dated in

  • T. Cole : Old Spanish Masters. As for rapidity of draughtsman-

ship Baudelaire writes in L'Art Romantique (1869) p. 35 : " If you are not clever enough to make a sketch of a man who has thrown himself out of a window during the time that he spends in falling from the fourth floor to the ground, you will never do great things ! "

I Reproduced in facsimile in the Jahrhuch der Koniglich Preus' zischen Kunsisammlungen (1905), Vol. XXVI., p. 136.


1826. Then came a Portrait of M. Gaulon* his printer,

which may be as late as 1827, and the catalogue of Goya's

lithographs ends.

  • Paul Lefort bought a copy of this lithograph at the sale of Dela-

croix's effects, and that artist had evidently brought together a large number of Goya's lithographs as well as all his etchings, and many drawings.



Portrait-painting in Bordeaux. A Visit to Madrid. The Portrait of Goya by Vicente Lopez. Return to Bordeaux. The Portrait of Muguiro. His last Vl^ork. The Chocolate Shop in the Rue de la Petite-Taupe. His latest Drawings. Antonio Bnigada. Physical Ailments. Letters to Madrid. A Visit from his Son. Goya's decreasing Strength. His Death, April 16, 1828. Burial at Bordeaux. Removal of the Body to Madrid in 1899. Goya's Son and Grandson.

THERE is a tiny drawing belonging to the Marquis de Seoane, and reproduced in the Gazette des Beaux- Arts* which gives an admirable impres- sion of Goya at this period. With age his face has become a trifle thinner, but the mouth is as firm and determined as before. Although the eyelids droop a trifle they do not wholly conceal the critical gaze of the earlier portraits. The old artist is wearing a large soft cap with a big peak, and bears a striking resemblance to the weather- beaten street hawkers who perambulate their goods through the slums of London and Paris.

He was now eighty years of age, and still energetic. In acknowledgment of the goodwill of Galos, the ship- builder, who acted as his banker, he painted that citizen's portrait. Goya was evidently proud of his skill, and at the foot of the canvas wrote his age as well as the date :

  • See Vol. XXXVIL, s""" p6riode (1907), p. 114.



  • ' Don Santiago Galos, pintado por Goya de edad de 80

afios en 1826." Manuela Silvela, the exiled politician who assisted in Moratin's school, was commemorated in a similar fashion. A tall, thin man, with strongly marked features, his eyes have that wandering lack of concen- tration so often to be noted amongst the disappointed dreamers and idealists — and dreamers and idealists usually arrive at disappointment. " The work displays a true dis- tinction which involuntarily recalls Greuze or Reynolds," writes M. Paul Lafond. Although evidently dull in colour (Goya painted almost in monochrome during the last ten years of his life) this portrait is surprisingly strong and characteristic. The Milkmaid of Bordeaux, the last of his many portraits of female beauty, lacks actuality when judged from the standard of Goya's own works. All the same it is a wonderful achievement for so old a man, and has even a touch of sentiment in its composition. Goya was still the first painter to the Spanish Court, and drawing a salary from the King. Twice had he been allowed terms of leave, and it now became necessary to make a third application. This could only be arranged personally, and he announced his intention of paying a visit to Madrid. The little colony in Bordeaux protested, but without avail. He started in the middle of May, 1826. " If he has good luck, and no harm befalls him on the road, you will be able to congratulate him," wrote Leandro Moratin from Bordeaux, May 7, 1826. " If he does not arrive, do not be astonished. The slightest breakdown will probably result in his death in the comer of some inn." But he did not die. The hardships of the journey from Bordeaux to Madrid had no terrors for this obstinate old genius. He arrived at the end of the month.


after an absence of two years, brimming over with life and activity. Presented to Ferdinand VII. he begged as a favour that his further holidays should not be limited as to time. Evidently his sole desire was to return to Bordeaux and the company of Leocardia and the little Rosario. Ferdinand received him very graciously, and granted his request upon one condition, that he should sit to Vicente Lopez for his portrait.

Vicente Lopez was the fashionable portrait-painter of that age. A quarter of a century earlier Lady Holland had proclaimed him an artist of promise. Whilst agree- ing with M. Paul Lafond that Lopez was a clever observer of Nature, precise and exact in his work, the best of his contemporaries, it is difficult to follow the same critic in his judgment that Lopez was a portrait-painter of the first order. The portrait of Goya itself reveals the extent and limitation of his talent. Other portraits in Spanish galleries show him to be a careful, painstaking, but essentially uninspired artist. He lacked the inspiration and fire of the old master, and his canvases convey the impression that he was personally a dull and heavy man. A great portrait-painter must be essentially a man of society.* However, Lopez could " catch a likeness," and his portrait of Goya was a success.

There are several traditional stories about this por- trait. Whilst sitting Goya related all the exploits of his youth in the bull-ring, incessantly darting up from his

  • All the great portrait-painters — Titian, Van Dyck, Reynolds,

Raeburn, Hoppner, and Lawrence, to cite names quickly to mind — were welcomed in society not only for their genius as artists but for their natural wit and intellect. Gainsborough and Romney were less prominent, but did not hold themselves aloof. Genius is many-sided, and rarely flourishes in solitude.


chair to illustrate his movements when in combat. Naturally he criticised the technique, and taking up the palette and brushes added a few strokes of his own to the canvas. He showed his true judgment by refusing to allow Lopez to finish the painting, for Lopez certainly never knew when to put a portrait aside. Finally he insisted that Lopez should be the model, and he once more the painter. Either his hand was too feeble, or, more probably, he lacked time. The portrait could hardly have been commenced, and no trace of it remains.

There is not much information to be gleaned about this visit to Madrid. He paid a visit to his old home on the banks of the Manzanares, and he entered again the church of San Antonio de la Florida. He remained in Madrid barely two months, and left for Bordeaux early in July, accompanied by his son Xavier, and his grandson Mariano. In a letter dated July 15, 1826, Moratin reported that the master had reached Bordeaux, " in a perfect state."

Without wasting an instant he picked up his tools and set to work again. His sight being no better he added double glasses to the large magnifier, and succeeded in painting a portrait of Don Juan Bautista Muguiro. As the production of a semi-blind octogenarian it ranks as a curiosity, but many younger artists have never been able to paint so well.* Goya was pleased at the result, and signed it in full : " Don Juan de Muguiro por su amigo Goya a las 81 afios en Burdeos, Mayo de 1827." The figure, seated in an armchair by the side of a writing- table, is stiff, and the former banker holds an unfolded

  • For a reproduction see theGazette des Beaux-Arts, Vol. XXXVIL,

3"° periode (1907), p. 247.


Photo. I.acoste

FRANCISCO GOYA Painted ly Vicente I.opezy Portana. Prado, Madrid


letter in his right hand in a somewhat painful manner. The back of the chair forms part of Muguiro's shoulder in an odd way which might easily have been obviated. The face, however, is evidently faithful to the model. But one sighs for the easy grace of the portraits of Florida Blanca or Guillemardet. This was Goya's last portrait.

At Bordeaux he saw little of the French, usually mixing with his own compatriots who met day by day in a choco- late shop kept by a former citizen of Zaragoza, in the Rue de la Petite-Taupe. Branlio Poc was a man of much originality and resource, according to the researches of M. Paul Lafond. Bom in 1788, his father was a rich Aragonese and the owner of many mule-trains. Ruined through politics, the son became a chocolate-maker. The siege of Zaragoza, and his liberal politics, completed the embarrassments of the family. Upon the restoration of Ferdinand VII. he fled to Bordeaux in order to escape imprisonment, and resumed his former trade.

The shop in the Rue de la Petite-Taupe speedily became the headquarters and club of the Spanish colony. All the bright but disappointed spirits met there : Muguiro, the man of finance ; Leandro Moratin, the poet ; Silvela, the politician (but they were all politicians) ; Gurea, Pastor, and O'Daly, three military men, and a mysterious gentleman known only by his nickname of Platero (goldsmith). When the evening discussions became heated, every visitor speaking at the same time, and the hubbub too deafening for comfort, the master of the shop took his guitar down from the wall — for he was a good musician and an agreeable poet — chanted a light sequi- dilla or improvised some couplets. Peace was restored.


But if this was not sufficient he played a lively jota aragonesa, and the company were soon dancing.

Discussing the crimes of Ferdinand VII. over cups of sugary chocolate, or around dishes of steaming puchero, the exiles forgot for a short while their unhappy fate. Moratin was a voluntary exile. He had proudly refused the pardon offered him by the King. Goya also was free to come and go. Many of the men were miserably poor, and Goya's purse, which was never empty, des- pite his fears, must have been often called upon for assistance.

His deafness prevented him from joining in the argu- ments, but his nature would not allow him to sit idle.

    • Goya marked five dots at random on a piece of paper,

or had them marked by a friend. Then he drew a figure, of which the head, the hands, and the feet had to pass these points. The exercise, which used to be much prac- tised in studios, was known in Spain under the name of Juego de riguitillas. If we examine carefully most of the drawings made by Goya at Bordeaux we find the five dots." *

One of his closest attendants at this moment was a young pupil of the Academy of San Fernando. Antonio Brugada, a native of Madrid, is known as a capable marine artist who had studied under Gudin in Paris. Goya became less fit to go abroad unattended, and Brugada was a daily companion. Blind, and almost unable to walk, the old man was most troubled by his deafness. He longed to hear again the old songs of Aragon, and one day, snatching the guitar from a musi- cian, he rapidly passed his fingers over the strings.

  • Paul Lafond.


" Nada ! Nada ! " was his despairing cry.

Matheron says that he did not much care to discuss questions of art. He was angry at his physical weak- ness. "What a humihation!" he cried. "At eighty years of age I am taken about Hke a child. I have got to learn to walk." Brugada replied in the language of signs. " Can't you make your gestures more discreetly ? " he complained to the young man. " Do you take a pleasure in allowing everyone to see that old Goya is neither able to walk nor to hear? "

His indomitable spirit never confessed itself con- quered. A letter to his son, who was contemplating a visit to Paris, proves how keenly he was interested in the world around him.

" Bordeaux, 17 January, 1828.

  • ' Dear Xavier,

" Your last letter, with its news of your travellers to Gibraltar, made me foolish with joy. Time has passed, and you will receive this with a little delay, but what does that matter ! Provided they come and pass one or two years here with you. I suppose, as it ought to be, that you will stay with me all the time you remain in Bordeaux, both coming to and going from Paris ; at least I imagine it so, and I am already preparing for your reception. Warn me in advance of their departure from Barcelona, and also about everything you do, everything, so that nothing escapes your memory. You know already what Galos has belonging to us, and that everything is yours.

" Yesterday I was told that Pallardo had been assassi- nated, and I was much troubled.

" My happiest moments are those when I receive a letter from you. Give every compliment to Muguiro.


Say how much I appreciate the amiabihties with which our travellers have been received at Gibraltar. All com- phments equally to the family, and to friends.

" Your father embraces you,

" Fr. de Goya.

" A thousand regards to Don Rafael Esteve. I often think of him."

Goya followed the movements of his son's family with close attention ; and the reference to Galos, his banker, was intended as a hint that money was not lacking. Two months later he wrote a second time.

"To Don Fran. Xavier de Goya, Calle de Valverde, No. 15, Madrid.

" Dear Xavier,

    • I received your letter of the 3rd March. I

believe you are right in regretting the decision of your travellers. But I hope to realise your wish and mine, and see them visit Paris, and also to make a long stay in this town, preferable for them, and affording special facilities for Mariano. What else do they want ? You must come also, you will spend less, for the return journey will perhaps give an advantage. 1 will pay their ex- penses here and in Paris, for you know what Marianito has with Galos. The other day in going to draw the amount of a mesada I asked him how much was lacking to make up an interest yielding 12,000 reals. He answered, 3,000 francs of capital. For myself, I know nothing about it, but you are curious, do you know ? If not, look through the papers.

" I await their arrival, and I hope for a letter telling me they are ready to start. Adieu. I am not able to write any more.

" Your father,

" Fr. de Goya."


The old man became troubled upon learning that the journey was postponed, but he still hoped to see his son's family. Within a few weeks he was writing again.

" Bordeaux, 26 March, 1828. " Dear Xavier,

" I am waiting very impatiently for my dear travellers, and I have cares. Everything you told me in your last letter, that in order to remain longer with me they had decided not to go to Paris, affords me the greatest pleasure you are able to give me. They will have every satisfaction here, and if you can come this summer I shall have all I can desire. On Saturday I was with Galos, and received the two mesadas you sent me. I have yet to make use of the other letter of exchange for 979 francs. If you send me the two other mesadas I shall be able to make up stock yielding 12,000 reals of revenue, which will form a perpetual income for Mariano and his descen- dants. Is this not so? I am much better, and I hope soon to be as well as I was before. This recovery I owe to Molina, who told me to take valerian ground to a powder. I am very happy to be so much better, in order to receive my much loved travellers. Adieu.

" Your father,

" Fr. de Goya."

Disappointment was in store. For some reason the family did not reach Bordeaux, and he was left with the grandchild Mariano, the little Rosario, and the excitable Leocardia. A sudden physical change gave him the gravest apprehensions. He told Mariano to send his last wishes to Xavier. The son replied that he would come to Bordeaux without delay. Again Mariano wrote to his father.


" Dear Papa,

" Grandfather is going to write four words at the foot of my letter to prove that he is still alive."

At the bottom of the page are scrawled Goya's last words, as he urgently awaited his son's coming :

    • Dear Xavier,

" I am not able to say anything more to you. Joy has made me ill, and I keep my bed. Please God, I shall see you, and my happiness will be complete.

" Francisco." *

Xavier Goya reached Bordeaux early in April. With extraordinary vitality the invalid recovered, but the tide of life was against him. On April 15 he was struck down with apoplexy. For a few hours he remained unconscious, and death came early the next morning, April 16, 1828. Surrounding his bedside were his son, his grandson, Leocardia, Rosario, and Antonio Brugada. His age was eighty-two years and a few days.f

  • Goya's letters to his son belong to Don Ricardo de Madrazo.

t Nearly all modern biographers and gallery catalogues give the date of Goya's death as the i6th March, an error arising from the extra- ordinary mistake on the monument in the cemetery of the Chartreuse. But there can be no doubt as to the true date. The death was civilly registered in the Bordeaux archives as follows :

" Le dit jour, — 16 Avril 1828, — il a ete depose au bureau de I'Etat- Civil un proems- verbal fait par le commissaire aux deces, duquel il resulte que Frangois Goya y Lucientes, age de quatre-vingt-cinq ans, natif de Fuendetodos, Espagne, veuf de Josefa Bayeu, fils de defunt ... est decede ce matin, a deux heures. Fosses de I'lntendance, No. 39, d'aprds la declaration des sieurs Jose Pio de Molina, proprietaire, m6me maison, et Romualdo Yanes, negociant, cours de Tourny, No. 36, temoins majeurs, qui ont signe le dit proces-verbal.

" L'adjoint au maire,

" De Coursson."

The certificate is quoted in full by Paul Lafond {Gazette des Beaux-


A funeral service was held in the parish church of Notre Dame, Molina and Brugada acting as pall-bearers. The body was then interred in the vault in the cemetery of the Chartreuse where the remains of Martin Goicoechea had been placed in 1825. The tomb was of imposing

Arts, Vol. XXXVII., s"" periode (1907), p. 256, and also by V. von Loga, Goya, appendix, p. 176, who gives as his authority Archives de I' art francais, 1851-1852, p. 319, But the two quotations do not agree, as Von Loga gives Goya's age as eighty-two years, adds the " de " to his name, and mis-spells the christian name of Yanes. Unfortunately, when in Bordeaux I did not search the municipal archives, but M. Lafond's copy appears to have been made from the original. The letter from Goya to his son is conclusive, for it is dated March 26, 1828, seems to have been posted in Bordeaux on the same day, and to have arrived in Madrid on March 31. M. Lafond says that Goya's son arrived at Bordeaux on March 3, but this is impossible, for the artist in the letter on p. 312 writes from Bordeaux : " I have received your letter of March 3." Xavier reached his father's bedside on April 3, and Goya died April 16, the proccs-verhal being made, according to French custom, within a few hours of his decease. A drawing of Goya on his deathbed was made by F. de la Torre, and lithographed by Gaulon. It is reproduced in M. Mesnero Romanos' pamphlet, p. 49, and also, in miniature, in Von Loga's Goya, p. 153.

In August, 1912, the present writer made a vain attempt to locate Goya's residences in Bordeaux. He tried picture-dealers, curiosity shops, even carvers and gilders — all were blissfully unconscious even of the name of the Spanish artist. A wander through the Rue Voltaire failed to identify the house. Lack of time prevented a visit to the H6tel de Ville. In October, 1912, a correspondent in L'Intermediare (Vol. LXVI.,p.483) called attention to the removal of a commemorative tablet which had previously been fixed upon the house numbered i. Rue Voltaire, at the angle of the Cours de I'lntendance, No. 41. An article in the Nouvelliste de Bordeaux (October 22) stated that no one knew who fixed the tablet or who removed it, but that Goya did not die at No. i. Rue Voltaire, but at the house named in the proces- verhal, originally numbered 39, but now No. 57, Cours de I'lntendance, facing the Rue Vital-Carles. By this time a tablet has probably been affixed, and there will be little difficulty in finding the building. In La Liberte du Sud-Ouest, October 25, 1912, it is mentioned that the original inscription over the tomb in the Cemetery of the Chartreuse has been preserved by the Bordeaux municipality.


architectural design, enclosed by an iron railing, and sur- mounted by an iron cross, in the most important part of the cemetery. Goya's epitaph was written by Pio de Mohna.

Hie jacet Franciscus a Goya et Lucientes Hispaniensis peritissimus pictor, Magnaque sui nominis Celebritate notus, Decurso, probe, lumine vitcB, Ohiit XVI Kalendas maii, Anno Domini M.DCCC.XXVIII. Mtatis sucB L.XXXV. R.I.P.

The double error of age and date escaped notice, or, at least, was never rectified. For seventy-one years the tomb was left undisturbed, although more than once it was suggested that the remains should be transferred to Spain.* In 1888 the Cortes voted a credit for the erection of a monument in the church of San Isidro to receive the body of so great a genius. But things move slowly in the Peninsula, and it was not until June 5, 1899, that Don Alberto Albifiana y Chicote, a professor of the National School of Architecture of Madrid, arrived in Bordeaux to reclaim the master of modem Spanish art. On the next day the Spanish and French officials went to the cemetery of the Chartreuse to carry out the exhumation.

Goya's life was full of unexpected incident. Even in

  • A photograph of the tomb will be found in M. Mesnero Romanos'

little book, p. 51, and a wood-block in Yriarte's Goya, p. 54.


this long-delayed act of national appreciation there was a surprise, gruesome and macabre. The monument and the vault beneath had been allowed to fall into disrepair. When the stones were raised it was found impossible to identify the two bodies. There was but one way out of the difficulty. The bones of Goicoechea and Goya were sealed in one casket and conveyed to the church of Saint Bruno. After a religious service the remains were taken the same night to Madrid. On May 11, 1900, Goya was buried in the cemetery of San Isidro by the graves of Leandro Moratin and Menendez Valdes.

Of Goya's only living son, Francisco Xavier, there is little to say. In the first edition of his Handbook to Spain Richard Ford wrote that he was always willing to show his father's pictures and drawings to strangers, and gave his address. Later it is said that he hoarded up the collection, and practically suppressed the issue of the etchings which had not passed into the custody of the Calcografia Nacional. Baudelaire refers to his financial troubles, and he died in the 'fifties of the last century. The grandson Mariano became the Marquis de Espinar, and owner of the little estate on the banks of the Manzanares. At his death the direct descent from the painter became extinct.


GOYA'S influence on EUROPEAN ART

His Criticism of Academic Teaching. The three Masters. Goya and Constable. Delacroix and the Romantic Movement. Deterioration of French Art. The Spanish Reaction of 1859. Manet, Baudelaire. Henri Regnault. Bonnat. J. S. Sargent. Goya a Link between the Past and the Future. Eugenio Lucas and Vicente Lopez. The Modern Spanish School. Conclusion.

GOYA'S influence upon the art of Europe has been very great. Although an academician himself, one of the many contradictions of a contra- dictory life was his keen hostility towards the academic. " Always lines and never body," he cried when criticising his own contemporaries. " But where do we find these lines in Nature ? I can only see masses in light, and masses in shadow, planes which advance, or planes which recede, reliefs or backgrounds. My eye never catches outlines or details. I do not count the hairs on the head of the man who passes me in the street. The buttons on his coat are not the chief objects to catch my glance. My brush ought not to have better eyesight than its master. When these candid teachers meet Nature their ensemble is a mass of detail and these details are almost always fictitious and lying. They confuse their young pupils by making them trace for years, with sharply -pointed


pencils, almond-shaped eyes, mouths like arches or

hearts, noses resembling the figure seven upside down,

oval heads. Ah, if they were but allowed to study

Nature. Nature is the only master of drawing." * At

another time he said : " My only masters have been

Nature, Velazquez, and Rembrandt." Tradition he

refused to bow down to. Although in personality not

unlike Turner, his artistic ideals were more those of

Constable. The Englishman wrote in 1802 : " There

is room enough for a natural painter. The great vice of

the present day is bravura, an attempt to do something

beyond the truth. Fashion always had, and will have,

its day ; but truth in all things will last, and can only

have just claims on posterity." The words might have

come from the mouth of Goya, so exactly do they agree

with all his expressed ideas. " A picture that is true is

finished," he used to say.

Goya's attraction for the Frenchmen of the Romantic

School was more that of vivid action and dramatic

subject than of colour. They knew him chiefly through

the etchings and lithographs, for, in 1830, there could

scarcely have been more than a dozen of his canvases

north of the Pyrenees. Even this indirect influence was

stronger than might be thought, and had Goya's paintings

been exhibited in Paris as Constable's landscapes were

shown, the Spaniard would probably have received the

  • Matheron : Goya, chap. IV. Although Goya was a fierce critic,

he objected to criticism. One critic who entered his studio had a large hat pushed over his head upon his shoulders. " Learn to respect the head big enough to carry this hat," was the explanation. A second, asked to take a seat, was suddenly bespattered with paint, with the remark. " I give you dirt for dirt. I disfigure you as you disfigure me." Yet Goya remained on very good terms with Cean Bermudez — who was, perhaps, a better man than a critic.


whole credit of the Romantic movement. His work dominated Delacroix's youth in a remarkable way, and its recollection was so keen that when the Frenchman touched the coast of Spain for a few hours, in 1832, on his way to Tangier, he immediately wrote home to Paris, " All Goya breathes around me ! "

However, the men of 1830 drew their inspiration chiefly from English sources, in literature from Byron, in art from Constable. A London company of actors interpreted Shakespeare on the Paris boards, and the impression they created can be read of in the memoirs of Berlioz. Bonington linked the two countries together. Constable returned to Fitzroy Street with his gold medal. Gericault visited Epsom, and Delacroix himself crossed the Channel. Gradually the generation aged. Ideals changed, and the movement was extinct.

The Romantic School was of rapid growth, and died of its own excesses. History teaches that French art can only live by means of successive enthusiasms, for the French race has an inborn desire for perfection and ogical form which in art must necessarily deteriorate into accomplished mediocrity directly the original inspiration has been lost. During the 'forties and 'fifties of the last century painting in France fell back to the position from which the Romantic movement had rescued it. The technical skill of the artists was extra- ordinary, but the old fires had been extinguished. " Cher maitre," said Charles Blanc to Ingres, " you discovered photography years before we had any photographs." Delaroche, the son-in-law of Horace Vemet, was applauded for preposterous Salon anecdotes as false in historical truth as they were artificial in art. Meissonier

? s


was busy with the marvellous exercises so aptly described by Manet as " steel all over — except the armour." French painting needed its periodical tonic, and, as usual, it came from the foreigner.

In 1859 a band of Spanish dancers and musicians invaded Paris and took it by storm. The younger French artists were drawn towards Spain, and there was much material in the galleries and private collections of the city to base a judgment upon. The Louvre contained magnificent examples of Spanish art. King Louis Philippe's collection had only recently been dispersed. The Universal Exhibition of 1855 introduced Goya afresh, and the novelty and audacity of his methods fascinated students who commenced to paint in the Goya manner years before they went to Spain.

Manet, who had copied the portraits of Hals, discovered a great similarity between that master and the Spaniard. The dancers from Madrid had also caught his fancy, and most of his canvases had a Spanish setting. In 1861 he painted the Guitarero, in 1862 Lola de Valence, in 1864 the Ballet Espagnol and the Episode d'un combat de taureaux. In 1865 came the famous Olympia, un- questionably suggested by Goya's Maja desnuda. Yet, if we are to believe Baudelaire, ^fedouard Manet had never studied Goya. " M. Manet has never seen a Goya," wrote the poet to Thore in 1864. " So much has been said about his pastiches after Goya that he very much wishes to see some Goyas." * Manet, however, could not

  • Lettres de Charles Baudelaire, 1841-1866, Paris, 1906, p. 362.

Baudelaire admired Goya, but his verse on the artist is not very happy.

Goya, cauchemar plein de choses inconnues, De foetus qu'on fait cuire au milieu de sabbats,



have been unacquainted with the Caprichos and the Tauromaquia, although his journey to Madrid was delayed until the autumn of 1865. The influence of Goya upon his later work is unmistakable. Four years after his visit that wonderful young genius, Henri Regnault, was copying in the Prado, and the single portrait he painted in Madrid, the Countess de Barck, has been well described as a curious mixture of Goya and Watteau. After the war Paris became for a short while the most important art centre of the world. Amongst the masters of that period were Bonnat and Carolus Duran. Bonnat was almost a Spaniard by birth, and had worked under Goya's friend Madrazo. Carolus Duran, despite his northern origin, had keen Spanish sympathies, though more inclined — like Bonnat — ^to the school of Ribera. But Bonnat's pupil, Mr. J. S. Sargent, had seen Manet, and, when he travelled south, in such subjects as El Jaleo and Carmencita proved himself a true descendant of Francisco Goya.

Goya is the link between the art of Velazquez and the art of the future. In La Cocaita he forestalls the poin- tellistes ; and he has as much right to be classed amongst the earliest impressionists as Turner. He experimented in every possible way with his materials, and it must be admitted that some of these experiments do not add to his reputation. In addition many of his paintings are perfunctory in execution. At times he was careless, and it is easy to see whether a canvas interested him.

De vieilles au miroir et d'enfants toutes nues, Pour tenter les demons ajustant bien leur bas. Victor Hugo was another French poet who admired Goya. He is

said to have been the first Frenchman to introduce Goya's work into



Every trace of weariness can be immediately detected. He was an artist of moods. Although a man of powerful physique he was subject to nerves. In his studio visitors and sitters were condemned to an absolute silence. A single word, we are told, broke the charm. Goya would throw aside palette and brushes, and remain for days without touching his easel. After an unpleasant criticism he would put his foot through the offending canvas. Days of idleness would be followed by unremitting labour. Uniformity of production could hardly be expected from such a personality.

His pre-eminence was freely admitted in Spain, his influence over the French schools of the later nineteenth century enormous. But in his own land he founded no school and left no pupils.* His career did not signalise a renaissance of Spanish art. A few inferior men like Eugenio Lucas imitated his mannerisms without sharing his genius. Lopez reverted to the dead traditions of Mengs, and remained little better than a minor Winter- halter. Thirty years later Fortuny copied his works, but the rococo of Fortuny's golden prime was not the

  • M. Paul Lafond contributed an article on Eugenio Lucas to the

Revue de I'Art Ancien ei Moderne, Vol. XX., p. 37. His work, which does not improve upon acquaintance, is usually attributed to Goya, but it has a coarser texture than anything touched by the master. Goya had no pupils, strictly speaking, although he employed assistants from time to time. Julia Asensi helped in the decoration of San Antonio de la Florida, and Goya painted a very clever portrait of the artist about the same period. Sentenach y Cabanas in chap. XX. of La Pintura en Madrid gives the following names of Goya's contemporaries : Vicente Calderon de la Barca (1762-1794), Jos6 Rivelles y Helip (1778- 1835), who settled in Madrid in 1799, Augustin Esteve (1753-1812), Juan Galvez, who was awarded the first prize of the Academy of San Fernando in 1799, Luis Paret y Alcazar (1747-1799), a pupil of Gonzalez Velazquez, and Antonio Carnicero (1748-1814) of Salamanca.


rococo of Goya's young days. Spanish art took another direction. There is no community of spirit between Goya and the generation which boasted its Pradilla, Zamacois, Rico, and the Madrazo family. Even the painters of to-day Hke SoroUa y Bastida and Zuloaga have gone to Paris rather than to the sombre galleries of the Prado for their inspiration.

And yet, judged upon his finest works, Francisco Goya must indubitably find his place amongst the great names of art. He caught a peculiar quality of existence and vitality which no other artist in the history of painting has ever surpassed. This gift of energy and life was his supreme talent, and he possessed it because he worshipped life and the joy of living. Despite his apparent cynicism, and his avowed materialism, he had an intense sympathy for his fellow men. This, by itself, is not enough to make a great artist. Goya, however, had the psychological insight which is denied to most men, and a depth of fantastic imagination which is one of the rarest mani- festations of humanity.

Goya is the last great Spanish painter. In the history of art he stands alone — like a monument raised by a prehistoric race — unexplainable but unforgettable.


The following catalogue is based upon the valuable lists prepared by Charles Yriarte, Viiiaza, Valerian von Loga, Piot, Paul Lafond, and A. F. Calvert. Within the last few years many works have changed ownership, and such alterations, as far as possible, have been noted. Newly discovered works have also been included. The sizes are given (height and width) in metres. The classification is as follows :

I. Portraits of Members of the Royal Family.

II. Portraits of Men.

III. Portraits of Women.

IV. Portraits of Children.

V. Religious Compositions.

VI. Copies after Velazquez.

VII. Tapestry Cartoons and Studies.

VIII. Decorations of Goya's country house.

IX. Allegorical and mythological Compositions.

X. Historical Compositions.

XI. Miscellaneous Subjects.


1. Charles III. in hunting dress. Madrid, Prado, No. 737. Copies

in the Royal Palace, Madrid, and the collection of the Duke de Fernan-Nunez. The authenticity of this canvas has been questioned, but the Director of the Prado considers it original. 2.10 X 1.27.

2. Charles III. in court dress (1787). Madrid, Bank of Spain. 1.94

XI. 10.

3. Charles IV. and his family (1799-1800). Madrid, Prado, No. 726.

Painted at Aranjuez. 2.80x3.36. There are the following studies for this canvas :


4. (a) Charles IV. In the collection of the Comtesse de Paris.

5. (b) Queen Maria Luisa.

6. (c) The Infante Perdinand, afterwards Ferdinand VII.

7. (d) The Infante Don Carios Maria Isidro, son of Charles

IV. Prado, No. 731. 0.74x0.60.

8. (e) The Infante Don Francisco de Paula Antonio, son of

Charles IV. Prado, No. 730. 0.74x0.60.

9. (f) The Infante Don Antonio, brother of Charles IV.

Prado, No. 733. 0.74x0.60.

10. (g) Don Luis, Prince of Parma, son-in-law of Charles IV.

Prado, No. 732. 0.74x0.60.

11. (h) The son of Luis of Parma. Private collection.

12. (i) Isabella, afterwards Queen of Naples.*

13- (J) The Infanta Dofia Maria Josefa, daughter of Charles

III. Prado, No. 729. 0.74 x 0.60.

14. Equestrian portrait of Charles IV. as colonel of the Royal Body

Guard. Madrid, Prado, No. 719. 3.35x2.79.

15. Charles IV. in military costume. Madrid, Prado, No. 727.

2.02x1.26. Copy in the Royal Palace, Madrid.

16. Charles IV. in court dress. Madrid, Ministerio de Hacienda.

1.55 x 1. 10. Repetition in the School of Engineers.

17. Charles IV. in court dress. Madrid, Prado, No. 1324. Formerly

in Madrid University. 1.14x0.80.

18. Charles IV. in court dress. Madrid, Ministry of War. 2.20 x


19. Charles IV. Madrid, Prado, No. 1326. Formerly in the Casa

de la Moneda.

20. Charles IV. in crimson uniform. Boadilla del Monte collection.


21. Charles IV. in uniform. Madrid, collection of the Marquis de

Casa Torres.

22. Charles IV. in hunting dress. Naples, Capo di Monte. A copy

in the Royal Palace, Madrid.

23. Charles IV. in the uniform of the Royal Body Guard. Prado,

No. 727. Formerly in the collection of Godoy. 2.02 x 1.26. A copy in the Royal Palace, Madrid, f

  • Probably identical with the sketch formerly in the Gallery of San Telmo,

Seville, which is therefore not separately catalogued.

t Valerian von Loga also refers to a portrait of Charles IV. in the Sala Capitular of the Escoiial. It is more probably in one of the royal palaces.


24. Equestrian portrait of Maria Luisa, in the uniform of the Royal

Body Guard. Madrid, Prado, No. 720. 3.35 x 2.79.

25. Maria Luisa, in black, wearing a mantle. Madrid, Prado, No.

728. 2.09x1.26. Formerly in the collection of Godoy. Copy in the Royal Palace, Madrid.

26. Maria Luisa, carrying a fan. Madrid, Academy of History.

1.57x1.20. There are several copies, one being in the collec- tion of Don Luis de Navas.

27. Maria Luisa, wearing a large hat. Boadilla del Monte collection.

1.11X0.76. Copy in the collection of Don Aureliano de Beruete.

28. Maria Luisa. Madrid, Ministerio de Hacienda. 1.55x0.16.

29. Maria Luisa. Madrid, Prado, No. 1325. Formerly in the Casa

de la Moneda.

30. Maria Luisa. Madrid, Prado, No. 1323. 1.11XO.81. A copy

in the Ministry of War.

31. Maria Luisa. Pamplona, Casa de la Disputacion.

32. Maria Luisa, wearing a turban head-dress. Madrid, Marquis

de Casa Torres. A copy in the Royal Palace, Madrid.

33. Maria Luisa, wearing a turban head-dress. Naples, Capo di


34. Maria Luisa, wearing a turban, rings, and carrying a fan. New

York, Havemeyer (from the Rivas and Duret collections). 1.10X0.83.

35. Maria Luisa, carrying a child. Paris, Billotte collection (from

the Fromentin collection). 1.18x0.82.*

36. Maria Luisa. Madrid, D. Luis de Navas.

37. Ferdinand VH. Prado, No. 724. 2.07x1.44.

38. Ferdinand VH. in coronation robes. Prado, No. 735. A copy

in the Palacio del Canal Imperial de Aragon, Zaragoza. Signed. 2.12x1.46.

39. Equestrian portrait of Ferdinand VH. Prado. Formerly in the

Royal Academy of S. Fernando. 2.90 x 2.70. A study for this picture in the Madrazo collection. National Library, Madrid.

40. Ferdinand VH. Madrid, Post Office. Probably painted for an

illuminated decoration.

41. Ferdinand VIL Pamplona, Casa de la Disputacion.

  • Von Loga mentions a portrait in the Sala Capitular of the Escorial, which

has probably been moved. The portrait, said to be in the collection of Sir John Meade, London (Zapater, p. 39), I cannot trace. There is also a reference to a missing portrait in tiie Gazette des Beaux-Arts, Vol. XIII., 1862, p. 373.


42. Ferdinand VII. Study on canvas. Madrid, Ministerio de la


43. Ferdinand VII. Bust, in purple and ermine, with Order of the

Golden Fleece. Madrid, collection of the Viscount de Val de Erro.*

44. The family of the Infante Don Luis (1783). Boadilla del Monte

collection. 2.48x3.15.

45. The Infante Don Luis, brother of Charles III. (1783).! Boa-

dilla del Monte collection. Signed. 0.42x0.35.

46. The Infante Don Luis in uniform. Boadilla del Monte collection.


47. The Infante Don Luis and Don Ventura Rodriguez. Paris, Ivan

Stchoukine. 0.27 x 0.20.

48. The Infante Don Luis Maria, afterwards Archbishop of Toledo,

as a child. Boadilla del Monte collection. 1.30x1.16. Copies in the collection of the Marques de Casa Torres, and the Church of Santa Maria di Monserrato, Rome.

49. Dofia Maria Teresa de Villabriga, Countess of Chinchon, wife of

the Infante Don Luis (1783). Boadilla del Monte. Signed panel. 0.42 X 0.35. There are several replicas, and Zapater also speaks of an equestrian portrait.

50. Dofia Maria Teresa de Bourbon, afterwards Princess of Peace,

as a child. BoadUla del Monte. 1.30x1.16. There is also a small study.

51. Dofia Maria Teresa de Bourbon. Whole length study. Boadilla

del Monte. 1.95x1.36.

52. Dofia Maria Teresa de Bourbon, seated. Boadilla del Monte.


53. Dofia Maria Teresa de Bourbon. Boadilla del Monte. A study

for No. 52. 0.74 X 0.56.

54. Joseph Bonaparte, King of Spain. Quoted by V. von Loga and

Viiiaza as in a private collection.

55. The Emperor Francis of Austria. Cited by Viiiaza, but doubtful.


56. Ferdinand IV., King of Naples. Madrid, Marquis de la Vega Inclan.


57. The thirteenth Duke of Berwick and Alba, Marquis of Villafranca.

Half-length. Madrid, Duke de Medina Sidonia.

• Von I-oga mentions a study on canvas in the Eustaquio Lopez sale, 1866. I Von Loga catalogues a replica, but gives no owner's name.


58. The thirteenth Duke of Berwick and Alba. Cited by P. Lafond

as in a private collection, Madrid.

59. Don Vincente Osorio Moscoso Fernandez de Cordova, Count of

Altamira and Astorga. Madrid, Bank of Spain. 1.77 x 1.08.

60. Altamirana, a judge of Seville. Oval bust. Canada, The Art

Association of Montreal. Signed. 0.84x0.63,

61. Francisco Bayeu y Subias, Goya's brother-in-law. Madrid.

Prado, No. 721. 1.12x0.84.

62. Francisco Bayeu before an easel (1786). Valencia, Museum.

Signed, i.iixo.83,

63. Ramon Bayeu and his wife. Madrid, D. Alejandro de Pidal.

A miniature.

64. Goya's father-in-law. Madrid, D. Alejandro de Pidal. A minia-


65. Don Manuel Lapeiia, Marques de Bondad Real (1799). Madrid,

D. Joaquin Argamasilla, Signed. 2.25 x 1.40.

66. Don Jose Maria Arango, the artist {1816). Seville. Formerly

belonging to Don J. M. Asensio. Cited by Vifiaza, p. 258. 0.55 X 0.40.

67. Don Gabriel de Aristizabal, Lieutenant-General of Marines.

Formerly in the Naval Museum, Madrid.

68. The naturalist Azara, in naval uniform. Madrid, Azara family.

Cited by Vinaza, p. 238, and Zapater, p. 39.

69. Don Juan Cameron y Melia, Director of the Academy of San

Carlos, Valencia. Madrid, D. Felipe Calvo. 0.65x0.56.

70. Francisco, Count of Cabarrus (1778). Madrid, Bank of Spain.

2.10 X 1.27.

71. Don Pedro Rodriguez, Count de Campomanes. Mentioned by

Vinaza, p. 269.

72. Don Manuel Cantin y Lucientes. Zaragoza. D. Francisco Cantin

y Gamboa. 0.50x0.44.

73. M. Careda or J. Caveda. See Yriarte, also Lafond, p. 125,

Vinaza, p. 236.

74. Don Isidoro de Castagnedo. Madrid, Portrait Exhibition, 1902.

75. Don Juan Augustin Cean Bermudez. Madrid, Marquis de

Corvera, 1.22x0.88.

76. Don Felix Colon y Lariategui (1794). Madrid, Richard Trau-

mann. Formerly in the possession of the Count de Robres, Zaragoza. 12.0x0.85.

77. Don Joaquin Company, Archbishop of Valencia. Valencia.



78. The Secretary to the Archbishop Don Joaquin Company. Madrid,

D. Salvador Cubells. 0.69x0.83.

79. The Bull-fighter Joaquin Rodriguez Costillares. P?ris, Ivan

Stchoukine. Formerly in the possession of D. Placido Zuloaga. 0.28x0.21. Similar portraits belong to the Count del Asalto, Madrid,* and Sr. de Lazaro Galdeano.

80. Don Juan Antonio Cuervo (1819). Paris, Duran Ruel. Formerly

in the collection of D. Francisco Duran y Sirvent. Signed. 1.28x0.87.

81. Don Juan Martin, " El Empecinado."t Madrid, D. Luis de

Navas. 0.84 x 0.65.

82. Don Carlos Espaiia, Count de Espafia. See Vifiaza, p. 236.

83. Don Rafael Esteve y Vilella (1815). Valencia, Museum. Signed.


84. Fray Miguel Fernandez, Bishop of Adrianopolis. Bilbao, D.

Enrique Salazar. 1.00x0.63.

85. Don Carlos Guiterrez de los Rios, Duke de Fernan-Nunez. Madrid,

Duke de Fernan-Nunez.

86. Don Joaquin Maria de Ferrer (1824). Madrid, Count de Caudilla.

Signed. 0.73 x 0.59.

87. Don Mariano Ferrer. Valencia, Museum. Signed. 0.82x0.62.

88. Don Jose Moiiino, Count de Florida Blanca, and Goya. Madrid,

Marquesa de Martorell y Pontejos. Signed. 2.62 x 1.66.

89. Count de Florida Blanca. Madrid, Marquis de Casa Torres. {


90. Count de Florida Blanca. Murcia, Institute.

91. Don Antonio Foraster. Madrid, D. Javier MiUan. 0.49 X


92. Jacques Galos. Mentioned by Matheron, chap, xi., p. 5.

93. Don Manuel Garcia (1815). Paris, Bamberger. Signed. Sala-

manca sale (1867). No. 172. 0.80x0.57.

94. Don Ignacio Garcini (1804), Madrid, Dofia Rosa Garcini y

Arizcun. Signed. 1.04x0.82.

95. M. Gasparini. Madrid, D. Manuel Soler y Alarcon. 1.06x0.80.

96. Don Manuel de Muzquiz, Count de Gauza. Madrid, Marquis de

Casa Torres.

  • Von Loga catalogues another replica, No. 201.

t There is a replica of this fine work in the collection of the Marquis de Casa Torres, Madrid.

X Copy in the Museo Iconografico.


97. Don Manuel Godoy, Duke of Alcudia, Prince of Peace. Madrid,

Prado, 1.80x2.65.

98. Don Manuel Godoy. A missing equestrian portrait, painted

about 1800.

99. Don Juan Bautista de Goicoechea. Madrid, D. Felipe Modet. 100. Don Juan Martin de Goicoechea, the elder. Zaragoza. 1.05 x

0.60. Von Loga questions the authenticity. loi. Don Juan Martin de Goicoechea, the younger (1810). Madrid, Marquis de Casa Torres. Signed. 0.82 x 0.59.

102. Don Cornelius van der Goten (1782) . Madrid, Museo Iconografico.

0.62 X 0.47.

103. Don Francisco Xavier de Goya y Bayeu, the artist's son.*

Paris, Bischoffsheim collection. 1.90 x 1. 12. Salamanca sale (1867). No. 174.

104. Don Tomas Goya y Lucientes, the artist's brother. England,

Bowes Museum, Barnard Castle. Formerly in the collection of the Count de Quinto. 0.43 x 0.38.

105. Portrait of the artist before his easel. Madrid, Count de

Villagonzalo. 0.42 X 0.28.

106. Portrait of the artist. Madrid, Marquis de Santillana.

107. Portrait of the artist as a bull-fighter. Formerly in the Urzaiz

collection, Seville.

108. Portrait of the artist. Formerly in the Carderera collection.

A miniature. See Yriarte, p. 11.

109. Portrait of the artist. Castres Museum. Formerly in the

Briguiboul collection. 0.50x0.30. no. Portrait of the artist. Bayonne Museum, Bonnat collection. See Gazette des Beaux-Arts, 1900, p. 200. 0.52x0.41.

111. Portrait of the artist. Madrid, Dofia Carmen Berganza de

Martin. Signed. 0.18x0.12.

112. Portrait of the artist. Madrid, D.Alejandro Pidal. A miniature.

113. Portrait of the artist. Zaragoza, D. Martino de Ena y Villaba.

114. Portrait of the artist (1815). Madrid, Prado. Transferred

from the Academy of St. Ferdinand. Signed. 0.46x0.40.

115. Portrait of the artist. Madrid, Prado. 0.46x0.35.

116. Portrait of the artist. Formerly in the Baroilhet collection.

See Gazette des Beaux-Arts, i860, p. 58.

117. Portrait of the artist. Paris, Destailleur sale, 1901.

• Von Loga mentions a similar portrait belonging to M. PacuIIy, Paris, and also one realising 600 fcs. in the Desping Sale, Paris, 1^00.


ii8. The Duchess of Alba and Goya. Madrid, Marquis de la Romana. 0.42x0.32.

119. Goya and Arieta (1820). Signed by the artist. S^^ Von Loga's

catalogue, No. 247.

120. Ferdinand Guillemardet, French ambassador. Paris, Louvre.


121. General Nicolas Guye. London, Messrs. Knoedler (1913).

122. Don Gaspar Melchior de Jovellanos. Madrid, Marquesa de

Villamejor. Signed. 2.05x1.23.

123. Don Gaspar Melchior de Jovellanos. Gijon, D. Jos4 Maria

Cienfuegos. See Lafond, p. 131, No. 145.

124. Don Asensio Julia, " el Pescadoret." Collection of the Com-

tesse de Paris. Signed. 0.55 x 0.42.

125. Don Asensio Julia. Paris, Bamberger. Signed. Madrazo

sale, Edwards, 1870 (6,500 fcs.). 0.73 x 0.56.

126. Don Francisco Larrumbe (1787). Madrid, Bank of Spain.


127. Cardinal Francisco Antonio de Lorenzana. Toledo, Cathedral.

Von Loga questions this.

128. Don Juan Antonio Llorente. Collection of Edward Arnhold.

1.90 XI. 14. Calvert ascribes a portrait of the same descrip- tion to a Madrid collection, but doubts its authenticity. A portrait under this name passed through the Paris house of Durand-Ruel. See Von Loga, No. 269, and Zeitschrift fiir hildende Kunst, 1900, p. 232.

129. Don Isidro Maiquez, an actor. Madrid, Marquis de Casa Torres.

0.92 X 0.70. Formerly in the possession of the Count de Quinto. See Zapater, p. 39.

130. Don Isidro Maiquez (1807). Prado, No. 734. Signed. 0.77 x


131. The bull-fighter Martincho. Madrid. Formerly belonging to

D. Eduardo Cano and Lafitte collection. 0.79 x 0.59.

132. Admiral Mazarredo. Madrid, D. Luis de Navas. Formerly in

the Boadilla del Monte collection. Signed. 1.05x0.84.

133. Don Francisco del Mazo. France, Castres Museum. See

Gonse, Les Musees de France, p. 99. 1.00x0.75.

134. The Poet, Don Juan Antonio Melendes Valdez. 1797. England,

Bowes Museum, Barnard Castle.* Formerly belonging to D. Francisco Azebal y Arratia, and also the Count de Quinto. Signed. 0.72 X 0.55.

• A copy in the Royal Library, Madrid.


135. Don Juan Antonio Melon. Lithographed by Gilivay.

136. Count de Miranda (1777) . Paris, Dannat collection.

137. Don Pedro Mocarte. Paris, D. Raimundo de Madrazo. Signed.

Edwards' sale. No. 28 (9,000 fcs.). 0.76x0.56.

138. Don Jose Pio de Molina. Mentioned by Matheron, chap. xi.

139. The Poet, Don Leandro Fernandez de Moratin (1779) . Madrid,

Academy of St. Ferdinand. 0.72x0.56.

140. Don Leandro de Moratin. Madrid, D. Francisco Silvela.

Painted in Bordeaux. 0.95x0.68.

141. Marshal Mouchy. Bordeaux, Lacy collection. Debrousse

Sale, Paris, 1900 (6,000 fcs.). 1.25x0.91.

142. Don Juan Bautista de Muguiro (1827). Madrid, Dowager

Countess de Muguiro. Signed. 1.02x0.85.

143. Don Jose Luis de Mufiarriz (1818). Madrid, Academy of St.

Ferdinand. Signed. 0.84 x 0.64.

144. Marquis de Nibbiano. Mentioned by Zapater, p. 39.

145. Don Manuel Osorio (1784). Paris, Madame Bernstein.

146. The ninth Duke de Osuna, his wife, and their four children.

Prado, No. 739. 2.25x1.74. Osuna collection. No. 65.

147. The ninth Duke de Osuna (1785). Paris, Dannat, and then

London, i.ioxo.82. Osuna cat.. No. 63.

148. Don Francisco de Borja, tenth Duke de Osuna (1816).* France,

Bay onne Museum. Bonnat collection. 0.02x1.46. Osuna sale. No. 91.

149. General Don Jose Palafox, Duke de Zaragoza. Madrid, Prado,

No. 725. 2.48x2.24.

150. " El tio Paquete," a beggar. Madrid, Count de Marina. See

Zeitschrifi fur bildende Kunst, igoo, p. 230. 0.39x0.31.

151. Dr. Peral. London, National Gallery, No. 1951. Formerly

in the Dannet collection, Paris, and presented to the Gallery by Sir George Donaldson. 0.72 x 0.62.

152. Don Tiburcio Perez, an architect (1820). Paris, Durand-Ruel.

Signed. 1.02x0.80.

153. Don Evaristo Perez de Castro. Paris, Louvre. Formerly

belonging to D. Manuel Soler y Alarcon. 0.99x0.69.

154. Don Tomas Perez Estala. Madrid, Dowager Countess de Cedillo.

Signed. 1.02x0.79.

155. Don Pantaleon Perez de Nenin (1808). Madrid, D. Pedro

Labat y Arrizabaloga. Signed 2.05x1.24.

• Von Loga catalogues a study (No. 295) which he declares is not by Goya.


156. Don Ramon Pignatelli y Moncayo. In the collection of D.

Alejandro de la Cruz, Count de Fuentes. A study for this portrait belongs to the Duchess de Villahermosa, Madrid, and there are two copies in Zaragoza.

157. Don Antonio Corbo de Porcel (1806). Formerly in Granada,

Porcel y Zayas, Signed. 1.13 x 0.82.

158. Don Ramon de Posada y Soto. Madrid, D. Jose Maria Perez

Caballero. i .97 X 0.96.

159. Don Manuel Garcia de la Prada. Paris, Emil Pacully.

160. Don Juan Jose Mateo Arias Davila, twelfth Count of Pufion-

rostro. Madrid, Marquesa de Almaguer. 2.34x1.50.

161. Archbishop of Quebec. Formerly in the Jean Gigoux collec-

tion, Paris.

162. General Ricardos. Madrid, D. Pedro Fernandez Duran, from

Boadilla del Monte. 1.09 x 0.51.

163. General Rafael del Riego (1820). Eibar, Don Placido Zuloaga.

Miniature. Signed.

164. The Architect Don Ventura Rodriguez (1781).* Madrid,

Marquis de Castro Monte. Signed. 1.02x0.75.

165. Bishop Rojas. Madrid, Academy of History. Catalogued by

Von Loga (No. 317), but declared by him unauthentic.

166. The bull-fighter Jose Romero. Madrid, Duke de Ansola. For-

merly belonging to the Infante Don Sebastian. 0.92 x 0.70. f

167. Don Manuel Romero. Madrid, D. Isidoro de Urzaiz. 1.02 X


168. The bull-fighter Pedro Romero. Paris, formerly in the Kann

collection, now belonging to A. M. Huntington. 0.92 x 0.76.

169. The bull-fighter Pedro Romero. Madrid, Probably a replica

of No. 168.

170. Don Manuel Salvador Carmona. Paris, Dannat.

171. Marquis de San Adrian (1804). Madrid, Marquis de San Adrian.

Signed. 2.09x1.27.

172. Don Jose Michael de Carvajal, Duke de San Carlos (1815).

Zaragoza, Palacio del Canal Imperial de Aragon. Signed. 2.80 X 1.25. Repetitions belong to the Marquis de la Torrecilla and the Count de Villagonzalo, Madrid.

173. Don Ramon Satue (1823). Paris, Dr. Carvallo. Benito Gar-

riga sale, Paris, 1902 (9,850 fcs.). Signed. 1.07x0,84.

174. The engraver Selma. Engraved by Selma.

  • Copy in the Academy of St. Ferdinand.

t Calvert catalogues three portraits of Jos6 Romero, Nos. 224, 325, 226.


175. Don Manuel Silvela. Madrid, D. Francisco Silvela. Signed.


176. Don Miguel Cayetano Soler (1803). Engraved by R. Esteve.

See Vifiaza, p. 50 and p. 249.

177. Don Bartolome Sureda. Madrid, Dona Sureda. 1.20 x 1.80.

178. Count de Tepa. Madrid, D. Jose Lazaro Galdeano.

179. Marquis de Tolosa {1787). Madrid, Bank of Spain. 0.39 x 0.31.

180. Don Mariano Luis de Urquijo. Madrid, Academy of History.


181. General Urrutia (1798). Madrid, Prado, No. 736. 2x1.36.

Osuna, No. yy.

182. Don Jose Vargas y Ponce {1805). Madrid, Academy of History.

Signed. 1.04x0.82.

183. Don Manuel de Villafano. Painted about 1791.

184. Marquis de Villafranca and family. Madrid, Duke de Medina


185. The architect Don Juan de Villanueva. Madrid, Academy of

St. Ferdinand. Signed. 0.93 x 0.68.

186. Duke of Wellington on horseback. England, Strathfieldsaye,

Hampshire. 2.74 x 2.12.

187. Duke of Wellington. Formerly in the possession of D. Ricardo


188. Don Bernardo Yriarte. Paris, private collection. 1.68x0.85.

189. Don Jose de Toro y Zambrano (1785). Madrid, Bank of Spain.


190. Don Martin Zapater y Claveria (1790). Zaragoza. Formerly

in the possession of the family. Signed. 0.78 x 0.60.

191. Don Martin Zapater (1797). Signed. 0.80x0.66.

192. Portrait of a French general. Paris, Camille Rogier sale, 1896.


193. Portrait of a picador on horseback. Madrid, Prado. 0.56 x


194. Portrait of an actor. Formerly in the Carderera collection.

Madrid. See Vifiaza, p. 259. 0.38 x 0.30.

195. Portrait of a man (1815). France, Castres Museum.

196. Portrait of a Spanish gentleman. Madrid, D. Manuel Soler y


197. Portrait of a man. Formerly in the collection of D. Sebastian

de Bourbon y Braganza, Aranjuez. Doubtful.

198. Portrait of an old man. Formerly in the same collection.


199. Portrait of an old man (?D. Jose Duaso y Latre). Madrid, D.

Jose Lazaro Galdeano. Signed. 0.59 x 0.49.

200. Portrait of a Spanish gentleman. Biarritz, M. Ch. Cherfils.

Early nineteenth century. 0.45x0.32.

201. Portrait of a man in seventeenth-century costume. Formerly

in the Cepero collection, Seville. Doubtful.

202. Portrait of a man. Valencia, D. Jose Toran.

203. Portrait of a man. Bilbao, D. Enrique Salazar. 0.56x0.38.

204. Portrait of a Spanish gentleman. Formerly in the Candamo

collection, Paris.

205. Portrait of a knight, Madrid, D. Luis de Navas.

206. Portrait of a man. Paris, Ivan Stchoukine. Formerly belong-

ing to D. Placido Zuloaga.

207. Portrait of a man. Paris, Haro collection. 1.16x1.00.

208. Study for a family group, with three figures. Paris, Ivan

Stchoukine. 0.27 x 0.20.

209. A group of heads. Comtesse de Paris. Formerly at San Telmo,



210. Doila Manuela Giron y Pimental, Duchess de Abrantes (1816).

Madrid, Duchess de Abrantes. Signed. 0.92x0.70.

211. Dofia Maria Teresa Cayetana de Silva, Duchess of Berwick and

Alba (1795). Madrid, Duke of Alba. Signed. 1.94x1.30.

212. Duchess of Alba. London, collection of the Dowager Lady

Wemher. Formerly in the Medici collection, Naples. 1.93x1.15-

213. Duchess of Alba (1797), wearing a mantilla. Paris, P. Soh^ge.

Formerly belonging to King Louis Philippe. Signed. 2.10 x 1.47.

214. Duchess of Alba, seated, holding a key. Madrid, Don Rafael

Barrio. 0.88 x 0.66.

215. Duchess of Alba, life-size bust. Madrid, Duke of Medina


216. Duchess of Alba, half-length. Madrid, Orossen collection.

217. Duchess of Alba, in a white dress, holding a letter. Photo-

graphed by Moreno.

218. Duchess of Alba, half-length, green dress, powdered hair. Paris,

M. Bamberger. Formerly in the Salamanca and Pereire collec- tions. Pereire sale (Paris) 1872 (10,000 fcs.). 0.55x0.40.


219. Duchess of Alba. Formerly in the Urzaiz collection, Seville.


220. Dona Tomasa Aliaga. Madrid, D. Pablo Bosch.

221. The Countess of Altamira with her daughter. Paris, Leopold

Goldschmidt. Formerly in the possession of the Marquis de Corvera. 1.95 x r.15.

222. The Marquesa de Bajamar. Madrid, Marquis de Bajamar.

223. The Marquesa de Baena (1813). Eibar, Don Ignacio Zuloaga.

Signed. 0.60x0.61,

224. Dona Josefa Goya y Bayeu, the artist's wife. Madrid, Prado.

No. 722. 0.81x0.56.

225. The Marquesa de Caballero (1807). Madrid, Marquis de Cor-

vera. Signed. 1.06x0.54.

226. The Marquesa de Cadalso. Cited by Lafond. 1.06x0.84.

227. Dona Francisca Candado. Valencia, Museum. 1.63x1.18.

The sketch for this portrait is in the collection of Herr Cans, Frankfurt-a-Main.

228. The wife of Cean Bermudez. Madrid, Marquis de Casa-Torres.


229. Doiia Lorenza Correa. Paris, Bischoffsheim collection. 0.80 x

0.57. Salamanca sale, Paris, 1867, No. 173.

230. Dona Maria Ildefonsa Dabalos y Santa Maria. Madrid, Count

de Villagonzalo. 1.08x0.80.

231. Dofia Tadea Arias de Enriquez. Prado, No. 740. 1.90 x 1.06.

232. Doiia Josefa de Alvarado Lero, Marquesa de Espeja. Madrid,

Duke de Valencia. 1.04x0.83.

233. The Countess de Feman-Nunez. Madrid, Marquis de la Mina.

234. Dona Manuela de Alvarez Coinas y Tom^s de Ferrer (1824).

Madrid, Marquesa de Baroja. Signed. 0.73x0.60.

235. Dofia Josefa Castilla Portugal de Garcini (1804). Madrid, D.

Vincente Garcini. Signed. 1.04x0.82.

236. Dofia Narcisa Baranona de Goicoechea. Madrid, D. Felipe


237. Dofia Juana Galarza de Goicoechea (1810). Zaragoza, Sociedad

economica de amigos del pais. V. von Loga questions the authenticity of No. 100, but this companion portrait is signed by the artist.

238. Doiia Gracia Lucientes y Goya, the painter's mother.* Berlin,

Royal Museum. 0.75x0.62.

  • Von Loga also cites a similar portrait in a Zaragoza sale (1902).



239. Dona Gumersinda de Goicoechea y Goya, the painter's daughter-

in-law. Paris, Bischoffsheim. Salamanca sale, No. 175. See Gazette des Beaux-Arts, 1873, p. 366. 1.90x1.12.

240. Doiia Rita de Goya y Lucientes. Madrid, Lafitte collection.


241. Dona Mariana de Silva, Countess de Haro. Madrid, Marquesa

de Santa Cruz. 0.50x0.35.

242. Doiia Maria Gabriela Palafox y Portocarrero, Marquesa de

Laz^. Madrid, Duke de Alba. 1.93 x 1. 15.

243. Rita Luna, the actress. Formeriy in the Carderera collection.

Viiiaza, p. 239. 0.41 X 0.34.

244. The Countess Miranda del Castafiar. Madrid. Formerly

belonging to the Counts de Montijo. 1.00x0.83.

245. Dona Vicenta Solis, Duchess de Montellano. Vifiaza, p. 269.

246. Dona Maria Amalia Zuargo y Acedo, Marquesa de Monte Her-

moso. Berlin, Professor Heilbuth. 1.70x1.05.

247. Dona Maria Francisca de Sales Portocarrero y Zufiiga, Countess

de Montijo, and her four daughters. Madrid, Duke de Alba. Without apparent reason. Von Loga questions the authen- ticity of this canvas. 2.15 x 1.45.

248. Doiia Maria Josefa de Pimentel, Countess and Duchess of Bena-

vente and Osuna (1785). Madrid, Herr Gustav Bauer. For- merly in the Osuna collection. No. 64. 1.04 x 0.80.

249. The Duchess del Parque. Madrid, Marquis de la Vega Inclan.


250. The Duchess de Peiiaranda. Madrid, Duke de Tamames.

251. Doiia Maria Ana Moiiino, Marquesa de Pontejos. Madrid,

Marquesa de Martorell y de Pontejos. 2.10 x 1.28.

252. Dona Isabel Corbo de Porcel. London, National Gallery,

No. 1473. Formerly in the possession of D. Andres de Urzaiz. 0.81 x 0.50.

253. Marquesa de San Andres. Madrid, D. Garcia.

254. Marquesa de San Andres. Madrid, D. Aureliano de Beruete.


255. Dona Joaquina Tellez de Giron, Marquesa de Santa Cruz.

Madrid, Count de Pie de Concha. 2.63 x 1.22.

256. Marquesa de Santiago. Madrid, Duke de Tamames.

257. Dona Maria Teresa Apodaca de Sesma. Madrid, D. Andres

Arteta. 1.28 x 0.96.

258. Dona Rita de Barrenechea, Marquesa de la Solana, Countess

del Carpio. Madrid, Marquis del Socorro. 1.83x1.24.


259. Dona Teresa Sureda. Madrid, Doiia Sureda.

260. " La Tirana," Doiia Maria de las Mercedes Fernandez (1794).

Madrid, Count de Villagonzalo. Signed. 1.12x0.79.

261. "La Tirana." Madrid, Academy of St. Ferdinand. 2.16x1.40.

262. Marquesa de Villafranca. Madrid, Duke of Medina Sidonia.

Yriarte, p. 133.

263. The Dowager Marquesa de Villafranca. Madrid, Duke of

Medina Sidonia.

264. Dofia Catalina Viola. Mentioned by Vifiaza, p. 236.

265. Dona Antonio Zarate, in a black mantilla with a fan. London,

collection of Otto Beit, Esq. Formerly in the possession of Dona Adelaida Giloy Zarate de Albacete, Madrid. 1.05 x 0.84.

266. Dona Antonio Zarate, in a white mantilla. Madrid, Dona

Viuda de Albacete.

267. Dona Antonio Zarate. Madrid, Duke of Medina Sidonia.

268. Doiia Lola Zimenez. Paris, Cheramy collection. 0.84x0.57.

269. A girl. Brussels, Royal Museum. Signed. Formerly in the

collection of A. Stevens. 0.46 x 0.32.

270. Portrait of a girl with a rose, called " Charlotte Corday." Paris,

Baroness Leonino. Formerly in the Baron N. de Rothschild collection. See Von Loga, No. 397.

271. A girl, Paris, collection C. G. Calvert, No. 282.

272. A woman in a garden. Paris, collection C. G. Lafond, p. 142,

No. 262. 1.46x0.96.

273. A woman seated on a sofa. Paris, collection C. G. Calvert, No.


274. A woman seated, with a dog on her lap. Paris, collection C. G.

Calvert, No. 298.

275. Portrait of a woman seated. Paris, Louvre. Formerly in the

Salamanca collection. Purchased Antwerp, 1898 (29,000 frs.). 1.08x0.84.

276. Portrait of a woman in a mantilla. Paris, Louvre. 0.52 x 0.34.

277. Portrait of a woman in a white mantilla. Collection of the Com-

tesse de Paris. Formerly at San Telmo, Seville, i.oo X 0.60.

278. Portrait of a woman in maja costume. Bordeaux, Madame de


279. A nun. Painted at Bordeaux. Formerly in the collection of the

Infante D. Sebastian. 0.46 x 0.32.

280. The milkmaid of Bordeaux. Madrid, Count de Muguiro.


281. The bookseller of the Calle de las Carretas. Madrid, Formerly

belonging to D, Benito Garriga. Signed. At the Debrousse Sale, Paris, No. 45 (7,500 frs.). 1.05 x 0.75.

282. Portrait of a woman, about twenty-five, called " Goya's

mistress." Paris, Bamberger collection. 0.55 x 0.40.

283. Portrait of a woman playing a guitar, called " Goya's mistress."

Paris, M. de Pommereul. Edwards' sale (11,000 frs.).

284. Portrait of a girl, Paris, private collection. See Lafond, p. 142,

No. 259. 1.17x0.84.

285. Portrait of a girl. Madrid, Duke de Valencia. 0.73x0.57.

286. Portrait of a young woman. In the Pereire sale. See Gazette

des Beaux-Arts. XVI., 1864, p. 210.

287. Portrait of a woman in court dress and feathers. Madrid, D.

Aureliano de Beruete.

288. Portrait of a woman in a white dress with black ribbons. Madrid.

D. Aureliano de Beruete. 1.12x0.79.

289. Portrait of a woman in a mantilla. Dublin National Gallery.

Formerly in the Beruete collection. 0.54 x 0.42.

290. Portrait of a woman. Madrid, D. Joaquim Gutierrez Martin.


291. Portrait of a woman (? the Duchess d'Abrantes). Madrid, D.

Joaquim Gutierrez Martin.

292. Portrait of a woman in a black mantilla. Paris, M. Dannat.

Formerly in the Beruete collection. 1.12x0.78.

293. Portrait of a woman in maja costume. Gijon, D. Jos6 Maria


294. Portrait of a woman. Paris, H. Rouart.

295. Portrait of a woman. Paris, H. Rouart. Catalogued by Calvert

(No. 293) as doubtful.

296. Portrait of a woman in a black mantilla. Formerly in the Wilson

collection, Paris, 1881. 0.13 x

297. Portrait of a woman. Formerly in the Debrousse collection.

Signed. Sold in Paris, 1900 (7,500 frs.).

298. Portrait of a woman in pink dress with powdered hair. Madrid,

Marquis de la Vega Inclan. 0.49 X 0.37.

299. Portrait of girls. Madrid, Marquis de Casa Torres. Von Loga

(No. 385) says it is not by Goya.

300. Portrait of a young woman. Paris, Ricardo Heredia sale, 1900

(1,350 frs.).


301. Portrait of a girl (el sueiio). Madrid, Marquis de Casa Jimenez.


302. Portrait of a young woman. Paris, Cepero sale, 1868. 0.80 x


303. Portrait of a woman. Madrid, Herr Gustav Bauer.

304. Portrait of a woman. Paris, M. A. Beurdeley. A miniature.

0.055 X 0.040.

305. Portrait of a woman on a sofa. Paris, private collection. In

the Paul de Saint- Victor sale, 1882. See Lafond, p. 142, No. 263. 1.02x0.96.

306. Portrait of a woman. Paris, Ivan Stchoukine. 0.27x0.41.

307. Portrait of a lady. Madrid, Count de Peiialver.

308. Portrait of a lady in court dress. Madrid, D. R. Garcia.

309. Portrait of a lady with a fan. Orossen collection.

310. Portrait of a lady. Sir Hugh Lane, formerly in the Rouart

collection. Paris. 0.57 x 0.48.

311. Portrait of a woman in a mantilla. Madrid, D. de Zayas.

312. The maja of Goya's house. Madrid, Prado.


313. Doiia Feliciana Bayeu, aged thirteen. Madrid, Prado, No.

1328. Formerly belonging to D. Cristobal Ferrez. 0.38 x 0.30.

314. Dona Hermenegilda Goya y Bayeu, the artist's daughter, at the

age of eighteen months. New York, Miss Sarah Cooper- Hewitt. Formerly in the Madrazo collection.

315. Don Mariano de Goya y Goicoechea, afterwards Marquis de

Espinar, the artist's grandson, at the age of ten. Madrid, Marquis de Alcaiiices. 0.59 x 0.47.

316. Doiia Clara de Soria, aged six Collection of Baron de Roths-

child, Ferrieres. 1.12x0.80.

317. Victor Guye, nephew of General Nicolas Guye. London,

Messrs. Knoedler (1913). A child of about seven, in the stiff blue uniform, with heavy gold lace, of a court page to Joseph Bonaparte, King of Spain.

318. Manuel Lucientes, aged twelve. Zaragoza. Calvert, No. 175.

319. The Duke de Trastamara, aged twelve (1810). Madrid, Marquis

de Castrillo. Signed,

320. Portrait of a child, aged about seven. Bordeaux. Collection of

Madame de Lacy.


321. Portrait of children. In the Pereire sale. See Gazette des

Beaux-Arts, Vol. XVI., 1864, p. 210.

322. A little girl with a dog. Bordeaux, Madame de Lacy.

323. A child. Collection of the Baron de Rothschild, Ferri^res.

324. Portrait of a child, " Victoriano Her . . ." (1806). Cassel,

Herr Kleinschmidt. Formerly in the Cepero collection, Seville. Signed, but doubtful, according to Calvert. 1.25 X 0.93.

325. Portrait of a boy. Paris, M. Emil PacuUy. 0.75x0.49.

326. A little girl in a white dress. Madrid, D. Patricio de Lozano.

Calvert, No. 276.

327. A little girl, aged five or six years, in peasant dress. Madrid,

Marquis de Casa Torres. Calvert, No. 277.

328. Children. Madrid, D. Patricio Lozano. 0.31x0.20.

329. Children. Sir J. Stirling-Maxwell.

330. Children. Paris, M. M^ge. 0.80x1.25.


331. Frescoes in the church of Our Lady of the Pillar, Zaragoza :

The Godhead (chapel of the Virgin).

The Virgin, Queen of Martyrs (cupola facing the chapel of

St. Joseph). A sketch for the fresco of the Virgin (in the chapter-house). Faith, Charity, Strength, and Patience (cupola facing the

chapel of St. Joseph). Saint Braulio, Bishop of Zaragoza.

332. Frescoes in the Cartuja of Aula Dei (1772-1774).

333. Frescoes in the church of San Antonio de la Florida, Madrid :

The miracle of St. Anthony (1798). Angels and cherubim.

334. Study for the miracle of St. Anthony. Madrid, Count de

Vniagonzalo. 0.26 x 0.38.

335. Saint Bernard of Siena preaching before King Alphonse of

Aragon (1781-1783). Madrid, San Francisco el Grande. 4.80 X3.00.

336. Study for Saint Bernard of Siena. Madrid, Marquis de TorreciUa.


337. Study for Saint Bernard of Siena. Madrid, Marquis de Torre-

cUla. Not the same as No. 336.


338. Study for Saint Bernard of Siena. Zaragoza, Zapater collection,

p. 33, called by Yriarte Saint Francis.

339. Study for Saint Bernard of Siena. Venice, D. Mariano Fortuny

y Madrazo.

340. The Assumption (1783-1784). Chinchon parish church.

341. The apparition of the Virgin of the Pillar. The first painting by

Goya, on the shutters of the retable, parish church of Fuendetodos. Referred to by Zapater, p. 10, and reproduced in Espana Ilustrada (1894).

342. The Immaculate Conception (about 1784). Salamanca, coUege

of Calatrava.

343. The Virgin of Sorrows (about 1775). Mentioned by Goya in

a letter to Zapater, p. 12.

344. Saint Christopher. An early painting mentioned by Goya in a

letter to Zapater.

345. The Virgin of the Carmel (1787-1788). Mentioned by Goya in a

letter to Zapater, pp. 42, 44, 46.

346-348. Three religious paintings. Formerly in the church del Monte de Torrero, Zaragoza. Cited by Carderera. See Von Loga, Nos. 57-59.

349. St. John. Mentioned by Vinaza, p. 209.

350. St. Francis of Assisi. Two paintings sent to America.

351. Saint Bias. Gaen, church of Urrea. ZsLpater : Apuntes biogra-

ficos, p. 40.

352. The kiss of Judas (about 1787-1788). Toledo cathedral. 3.00 x


353. Study for the kiss of Judas. Madrid. Formerly in the possession

of D, Luis Rotondo. See Yriarte, p. 137.

354. Saint Benedict (about 1784). Salamanca, college of Calatrava.

355. Saint Bernard (about 1784). Salamanca, college of Calatrava.

356. Saint Raymond (about 1784). Salamanca, college of Calatrava.

357. Saint Francis of Borgia exhorting a dying man to repentance

(1787). Valence cathedral.

358. Study for Saint Francis of Borgia. Madrid, Marquis de Santa

Cruz. 0.37 X 0.26.

359. Saint Francis of Borgia leaving his family to enter the Company

of Jesus (1787). Valence cathedral.

360. Study for Saint Francis. Madrid, Marquis de Santa Cruz.

0.37 X 0.26.


361. Saint Braulius, Bishop of 2^ragoza. Mentioned by Vinaza,

p. 200.

362. St. Mary Magdalene penitent. Madrid, Lafitte collection.


363. The crucified Christ. Toledo, chapel de la Casa del Nuncio.

Lafond thinks this probably by Francisco Bayeu, and Von Loga says it is not by Goya.

364. The crucified Christ (1780). Madrid, Prado. Painted for San

Francisco el Grande. 2.55x1.53.

365. The dead Christ. Toledo, Archbishop's palace. Mentioned by

Yriari:e and Viiiaza.

366. The death of St. Joseph (about 1787). Valladolid, church of

St. Anne. 2.60x1.60.

367. The death of St. Joseph. Madrid, D. Aureliano de Beraete. A

sketch. 0.55x0.41.

368. St. Bernard and St. Robert (about 1786-1787). Valladolid,

church of St. Anne. 2.60x1.60.

369. St. Ludgarda (about 1787). Valladolid, church of St. Anne.


370. St. Omelina (about 1787). Valladolid, church of St. Anne.

371. St. Peter giving charity. Valladolid cathedral. 3.20x4.40.

372. St. Peter awaking the dead. Valladolid cathedral. Von Loga,

No. 54, says that it is not by Goya. 273. The Holy Family. Madrid, Prado. 2.00x1.48.

374. The Holy Family. Madrid, Duke de Noblejas.

375. St. Joseph of Calasanz (1820). Madrid, church of San Antonio,

Calle de Hortaleza. 2.50x1.80.

376. Study for the St. Joseph. Paris, Leon Bonnat. Formerly in

the possession of Paul de Saint-Victor.

377. Study for the St. Joseph, Paris, Ivan Stchoukine. 0.34 x 0.42.

378. St. Justina and St. Rufina (1817). Seville cathedral. Signed.


379. Study for St. Justina and St. Rufina. Madrid, D. Pablo Bosch.

0.45 X 0.29.

380. An Archbishop ascending to heaven. Zaragoza, Zapater


381 . Tobias and the angel. Zaragoza, Zapater collection (about i860) .

382. Study for Tobias and the angel. Valladolid, Pascual Calvo.


383. The birth of Christ. Madrid, D. Patricio Lozano. 0.19x0.22.


384. St. Isabel healing lepers. Madrid, D. Clemente Velasco. Also

called "St. Elizabeth." Formerly in the Zapater collection. 0.33x0.23.

385. St. Isidore appearing to Ferdinand III. Madrid, D. Antonio

Canovas del Castillo. 0.47x0.32.

386. St. Peter praying. Madrid, D. Alejandro Pidal. Signed.

0.73 X 0.65.

387. The decapitation of John the Baptist. Madrid, Count de

Villagonzalo. 0.33 X 0.47.

388. The Garden of Olives (1819). Madrid, Schools of San Antonio.

Signed. 0.47 x 0.35.

389. Death of Thomas a Becket. Formerly in the Cottier collection,

Paris (1892). Von Loga (No. 56) states that there is a picture of the saint in the Stchoukine collection, Paris ; probably the same canvas. 0.34 x 0.29.

390. The prison of St. Hermenegildo. Madrid, D. Clemente Velasco.


391. A priest saying Mass. Formerly in the collection of F. de


392. A sketch for the priest saying Mass. Madrid, Marquis de Torre-

ciUa. 0.32 X 0.42.

393. A sketch for the priest saying Mass. Madrid, Count de Esteban

Collantes. 0.30 x 0.40.

394. The Viaticum. Bordeaux, Cauderan. Collection of Madame

de Lacy. 0.80 x 0.84. Lafond considers this doubtful.

395. Interior of the church of the See, Zaragoza. Bordeaux, Cau-

deran. Collection of Madame de Lacy. 0.92x1.20. Lafond considers this doubtful.

396. Interior of a church. Paris, formerly in the Aroza collection.

0.50 X 0.40.

397. St. Francis receiving the stigmata. Rinecker sale, 1868 (55 frs.).

398. Jacob's sons. Paris. Jean Gigoux collection.

399. A priest expelling devils. Madrid, Prado.


400. JEsop. Formerly in the Madrazo collection. In a Paris sale,


401. " Las Meninas." Cologne, Steimeier collection.

402. Menippus. Formerly in the Madrazo collection.


403. King Philip IV. hunting the wild boar. A copy of the canvas

in the National Gallery, London, which was presented by Ferdinand VII. to Lord Cowley. Madrid, Prado.


404. Picnic on the banks of the Manzanares. " La merienda."

Madrid, Prado, No. 768. 2.72x2.95.

405. The dance at San Antonio de la Florida. " El baile." Madrid,

Prado, No. 769. 2.72 x 2.95.

406. The dispute at the Venta Nueva. " La riiia." Madrid, Prado,

No. 770. Goya received 15,000 reals for Nos. 768 and 769, and 17,000 reals for Nos. 770, 771, 772, 773. 2.75x4.14.

407. The maja and the men with the capa. " La maja y los embo-

zados." Madrid, Prado, No. 771. Restored by Joseph Rivero. 2.75x1.90.

408. The drunkard. " El bebedor." Madrid, Prado, No. 772.

Restored by Joseph Rivero. 1.07 x 1.51.

409. The parasol. " El quitasol." Madrid, Prado, No. 773. Painted

with the four previous cartoons in 1777. 1.04x1.52.

410. The kite. " La cometa." Madrid, Prado, No. 774. 2.69 x


411. The card-players. " Los jugadores de naipes." Madrid, Prado,

No. 775. 2.70x1.67.

412. Boys inflating a bladder. " Noiios inflando una vejiga."

Madrid, Prado, No. 776. 1.16x1.24.

413. Boys picking fruit. " Muchachos cogiendo fruta." Madrid,

Prado, No. 777. This, with Nos. 774, 775, and 776, was delivered to the factory, January 26, 1778, and Goya received for them 15,000 reals. Restored by Joseph Rivero. 1.19 X 1.22.

414. The blind guitar player. " El ciego de la guitarra." Madrid,

Prado, No, 778. Painted in 1778 for 10,000 reals. 2.60x3.11.

415. The fair of Madrid. " La feria de Madrid." Madrid, Prado,

No. 779. Painted, with Nos. 780, 781, 782, 783, and one missing cartoon, in 1778. Goya received 20,000 reals. 2.58 x 2.18.

416. The potter, or crockery-seller. " El cacharrero." Madrid,

Prado, No. 780. Restored by Joseph Rivero. 2.59 x 2.20.

417. The soldier and the lady. " El militar y la senora." Madrid,

Prado, No. 781. 2.59 x i.



418. The parsley-seller. " La acerolera." Madrid, Prado, No.

782. 2.59x1.

419. Boys playing at soldiers. " Muchachos jugando a los soldados."

Madrid, Prado, No. 783. 1.46x0.94.

420. The game of bat and ball. " El juego de pelota 4 pala."

Madrid, Prado, No. 784. Delivered at the factory with No.

785, July 20, 1779. Goya was paid 15,000 reals. 2.61x4.70.

421. The swing. " El columpio." Madrid, Prado, No. 785. 2.60 x


422. The washerwomen. " Las lavanderas." Madrid, Prado, No.

786. Delivered with the ten following cartoons, January 24, 1780. Goya was paid 22,000 reals. 2.18x1.66.

423. The young bulls. " La novillada." Madrid, Prado, No. 787.


424. The tobacco customs. " El resguardo de tabacos." Madrid,

Prado, No. 788. 2.62 X 1.37.

425. The child in the tree. " El nifio del arbol." Madrid, Prado,

No. 789. 2.62x0.40.

426. The boy and the bird. " El muchacho del pajaro." Madrid,

Prado, No. 790. 2.62x0.40.

427. The woodcutters. " Los lefiadores." Madrid, Prado, No. 791.


428. The rendez-vous. " La cita." Madrid, Prado, No. 792.


429. The flower-sellers. " Las floreras." Madrid, Prado, No. 793.

Painted in 1786 with Nos. 794, 795, 796. 2.77x6,41.

430. The garden. " La era." Madrid, Prado, No. 794. 2.76x6.41.

431. The vintage. " La vendimia." Madrid, Prado, No. 795.


432. The wounded mason. " El albaiiil herido." Madrid, Prado,

No. 796. 2.68x1.10.

433. The beggars at the fountain. " Los pobres en la fuente."

Madrid, Prado, No. 797. Painted in 1787 with Nos. 798, 799, 800, and one missing cartoon. 2.77 x 1.15.

434. The snowfall. " La nevada." Madrid, Prado, No. 798.


435. The marriage. " La boda." Madrid, Prado, No. 799. 2.67 x


436. The water-carriers. " Las mozas del cantaro," Madrid, Prado,

No. 800. 2.62x1.60.


437. The stilt-walkers. " Los zancos." Madrid, Prado, No. 801.

Painted in 1788. 2.68x3.20.

438. The mannequin. " El pelele." Madrid, Prado, No. 802.

Painted in 1791 with Nos. 803 and 804. 2.67x1.60.

439. A boy climbing a tree. " Los muchachos trepando al arbol."

Madrid, Prado, No. 803. 1.41x1. 11.

440. Blind man's buff. " La gallina ciega." Madrid, Prado, No.

804. 2.69x3.50.

441. The huntsman and his dogs. " El cazador con sus perros."

Madrid, Prado, No. 805. Cruzada Villaamil ascribes this cartoon to Ramon Bayeu. 2.62x0.71.

442. One cartoon, the property of the Director of the factory,

D. Livinio Stuik. 443-449. Seven missing cartoons. See p. 102, with reference to the reported discovery of some of these works in the Nemes sale. For the Osuna Studies, see Nos. 567-571.


450. A woman of the people. Madrid, Prado, No. 754. 1.47 x 1.32.

451. The pilgrimage to the miraculous fountain of San Isidro. Madrid,

Prado, No. 755. 1.23 x 2.66.

452. A fantastic vision. Madrid, Prado, No. 756. 1.23x2.66.

453. The Fates. Madrid, Prado, No. 757. 1.23x2.66.

454. Two men fighting with clubs. Madrid, Prado, No. 758. 1.23 x


455. Two old monks. Madrid, Prado, No. 759. 1.44x0.66.

456. The pilgrimage of San Isidro. Madrid, Prado, No. 760.


457. The witches' sabbath. Madrid, Prado, No. 761. 1.40x4.38.

458. Two old people eating soup. Madrid, Prado, No. 762. 0.53 x


459. Satan devouring his children. Madrid, Prado, No. 763. This

picture decorated Goya's dining-room. 1.46x083.

460. Judith and Holofernes. Madrid, Prado, No. 764. 1.16x0.84.

461. Two women laughing. Madrid, Prado, No. 765. 1.25x0.66.

462. Several men listening to a reader. Madrid, Prado, No. 766.


463. Fragment of a panel with a dog's head. Madrid, Prado, No.

767. 1.34x0.80.



464. Winter. Formerly in the Alameda collection. Osuna cata-

logue, 74. 0.34x0.32.

465. Spring. Formerly in the Alameda collection. Osuna catalogue,

75. 0.32x0.22.

466. Summer. Madrid, Richard Traumann. Formerly in the

Alameda collection. Osuna catalogue, 76. 0.34x0.76.

467. The apotheosis of music. Madrid, D. Luis de Navas. Formerly

in the possession of Consul Shaw, Cadiz. 3.02x2.95.

468. The city of Madrid. Madrid Town Hall. 2.60 X 1.95

469. Time discovering Truth. Madrid. Formerly in the collection

of D. Jose Martinez Espinosa. Small size.

470. Spain writing history. Madrid, D. Luis de Navas. 3.00x2.40.

471. An allegory, three children, the arms of Spain, a group of students

(1806). Engraved by Albuerne, and cited by Araujo.

472. Agriculture (1800). Madrid, Library of the Admiralty. Cir-

cular medallion. Diameter 2.22.

473. Industry. Madrid, Library of the Admiralty. Circular


474. Commerce. Madrid, Library of the Admiralty. Circular

medallion. These three medallions were probably painted for the palace of the Prince of Peace. Yriarte (1867) also mentions a ceiling in the mansion of the Count de la Puebla, Madrid, and the fragment of a fresco in the Royal Palace.

475. Venus. Mentioned by Vinaza, p. 298. Formerly belonging to


476. Cupid and Psyche. D. Victoriano Hernandez Garcia y Quevedo.

This appears to have been in the sale-room in Madrid (1861), where it was sold for 620 fcs.


477. Hannibal on the Apennines (1772). With this canvas, now lost,

Goya took the prize at Parma.

478. Episode of the 2nd May, 1808. Madrid, Prado. 2.66x3.45.

479. Sketch for the " Dos de Mayo." Madrid, Duchess de Villa

Hermosa. 0.24 x 0.32.

480. Episode of the 3rd May, 1808. Madrid, Prado.


481. Episode during the War of Independence. Formerly in the

collection of D. Sebastian de Bourbon y Braganza, Aranjuez. 0.20 X 0.28.

482. A similar subject. Formerly in the same collection. Both

these sketches were reproduced in the " Disasters of War."

483. Episode during the War of Independence. Biarritz, Cherfils

collection. Von Loga (No. 71) says this is not by Goya. 0.35x0.50.

484. A battle. Madrid, Marquis de Casa Torres. Lafond and Von

Loga consider this doubtful. 0.38x0.46.

485. A battle. Hamburg, Weber collection. Doubtful. 0.69 X


486. The congress of the " cinco gremios may ores." Museum of

Castres. Formerly in the Briguiboul and Angel Maria Terra- dillos collections.

487. Sketch for the congress. Berlin, Royal Museimi. 0.58x0.71.

488. An execution by garrotte. Lille Museum. 0.53 x 0.45.

489. A meeting of the Inquisition. Prado.

490. A scene in the Inquisition. Brussels, Royal Gallery. Formerly

in the L6on Gauchez collection. 0.80 x i.oo.

491. The prison of the Inquisition. England, Bowes Museum,

Barnard Castle. 0.40x0.30.

492. Expulsion of the Jesuits. Charles Yriarte sale, Paris (1898).

Sold for 500 fcs.

493. The abolition of the Jesuit order at Zaragoza. Charles Yriarte

sale, Paris {1898), (500 frs.).


494. The madhouse. Madrid, Prado. Formerly in the Academy

of St. Ferdinand. 0.45 x 0.72.

495. The madhouse. Madrid, D. Aureliano de Beruete. A

repetition. 0.45 x 0.72.

496. The maja nude. Madrid, Prado. Formerly in the Academy.


497. The maja clothed. Madrid, Prado. Formerly in the Academy.


498. The majas on a balcony. Madrid, Duke de Marchena. Formerly

belonging to D. Sebastian de Bourbon y Braganza. i .94 x i .25.

499. The majas on a balcony. Collection of the Comtesse de Paris.

Formerly at San Telmo, Seville, and in the Louvre. 1.85 x 1.02.


500. The majas on a balcony. Paris, private collection. 1.92 X 1.30.

501-506. The brigand Maragoto and Fray Pedro de Zaldivia. Six canvases formerly in the Lafitte collection, Madrid. Re- produced by Von Loga. 0.28 x 0.37.

507. A scene of brigands. Madrid, Marquis de Riscal.

508. Study, probably for " La merienda," Madrid. Formerly in

the Lafitte collection. 0.42 x 0.52.

509. Study, probably for " La merienda." Madrid, Marquis de la

Torrecilla. 0.46 x 0.54.

510. A promenade. Zaragoza, Sociedad de los amigos del Pais.


511. La cucana. Berlin. Formerly in the collections of the Marquis

de Casa Torres, Marquis de Vega Inclan, Count Caunitz, and the Marquis de Selva Alegre. It belongs to the same period as the Casa decorations. 0.80x1.03.

512. A study. " El baile." Paris, Groult collection. 0.35x0.40.

513. A study. " El baile." Madrid. Formerly in the Lafitte

collection. 0.42 x 0.52.

514. A study. " El baile." Madrid, Marquis de la Torrecilla.

0.46 X 0.54.

515. A study. " El baile." Mentioned by Zapater.

516. A study, probably for " El baile." Paris. Formerly in the

Aroza collection.

517. An open-air dance. Madrid, D. Juan Perez Calvo. 1.50 X 2.00.

518. A dance. Madrid, Marquis de Castro Serna.

519. Spaniards dancing a bolero. Sir John Murray-Scott collection

(Christie's, 1913), from the Wallace collection.

520. A carnival scene. " El entierro de la sardina." Madrid,

Prado. Formerly in the Academy of St. Ferdinand. 0.82 X 0.60.

521. A study. Biarritz, Cherfils collection. Formerly D. Eustaquio


522. A masked ball. Madrid, Duchess de Villa Hermosa.

523. A grotesque concert. Bayonne Museum.

524. A grotesque. Formerly in the Saint Victor collection, Paris.

525. The manufacture of bullets in the Sierra de Tardienta. Escorial.

Formerly in the Royal Palace, Madrid. 0.33x0.53.

526. The manufacture^of powder in the Sierra de Tardienta. Madrid,

Prado. Formerly in the Escorial and Royal Palace. 0.33 x 0.53.


527. The flagellants. Madrid, Prado. Formerly in the Academy

of S. Ferdinand. 0.54 x 0.80.

528. A procession of flagellants. Lille Museum. 0.53 x 0.45.

529. A monk castigating a woman. Madrid, D. Jose de la Bastida.


530. A procession to Lombas. A sketch. Formerly in the Sala-

manca collection. Sold in Paris (1875), (5,100 fcs.). 0.63 x 0.52.

531. A procession. Madrid, Count de Caudilla. 0.49x0.60.

532. A village bull-fight. Madrid, Prado. Formerly in the Academy

of S. Ferdinand. 0.45 x 0.72.

533. A bull-fight. Formerly in the Salamanca collection. Sold in

Paris (1875), (7,500 fcs.). 0.97 x 1.25.

534. A sketch for a bull-fight. Paris, Sigismond Bardac. Formerly

in the Piot, Rochefort, and Kahn collections. 0.70x1.10.

535. A sketch for a bull-fight. Paris, Bardac. Formerly in the Piot,

Rochfort, and Kahn collections. Kahn sale, 1895. 0.70 X 1. 10.

536. A bull-fight. Bordeaux, Cauderan, Madame de Lacy.

537. A bull-fight. Bordeaux, Cauderan. Madame de Lacy.

538. A picador. Madrid, Prado. 0.56 x 0.47.

539. The death of a picador. Paris, Carlin sale, 1872. Collections

P. Lefort and Cariin. 0.43x0.32.

540. Three bulls. London, W. Mackay. 0.50x0.80.

541. Bull attacked by a picador (1824). Madrid, Marquis de Baroja,

Painted in Paris. 0.50 x 0.61.

541a. A herd of bulls. Paris, Carlin sale, 1872. Collections Lefort and Carlin. 0.43 x 0.32.

542. A bull in the Plaza de Madrid. Madrid, Duke of Veragua.

0.53 x 0.76.

543. Bulls attacking a procession. Caithness, Thurso Castle, Sir

J. Sinclair.

544. Brigands (1787). Madrid, Duke de Montellano. Alameda

catalogue, 71. 1.68x1.27.

545. Brigands. Madrid, Marquis de Castro Serna.

546. Brigands. Mentioned by Araujo, p. 102.

547. Brigands. Formerly belonging to M. C. de Balmazeda, Bor-

deaux. See Yriarte, p. 151.

548. Brigands. Count de Adanero. See Yriarte, p. 138.


549. A scene of robbers. Madrid, Marquis de la Romana. Von

Loga catalogues four similar subjects which appear to belong to the same owner. 0.33 x 0.58.

550. Brigands. Paris, Ivan Stchoukine. Formerly belonging to Z.


551. 552. Two scenes of brigandage. France, Besangon Museum.

Formerly belonging to Jean Gigoux. 0.20 x 30. 553. Brigands and soldiers. In the Eustaquio Lopez sale. 1866. 554-556. Scenes of brigandage. Madrid, D. Constantine Ardanaz.

See Lafond, Nos. 71-74 (p. no). 0.30x0.37.

557. A peasant girl. Municipal Gallery, Nice.

558. The Fates. Municipal Gallery, Bordeaux.

The following Subjects are from the Osuna Sale, 1896.

559. Bulls guarded by picadors (1787). 1.60x2.00.

560. The swing (1787). Duke de Montellano. 1.69x0.89.

561. Brigands stopping a carriage (1787). Duke de Montellano.


562. Children at play (1787). Duke de Montellano. 1.69x0.89.

563. An accident (1787). Duke de Montellano. 1.69x0.89.

564. The building of a church (1787). Marquesa de Villamajor.

1.60 X 1.35.

565. A procession from a church (1787). Marquesa de Villamajor.

1.60 X 1.35.

566. La romeria de San Isidro (1788). Prado, Madrid. 0.44x0.94.

567. Spring. 0.32 X 0.22.

568. Summer. 0.34 X 0.74.

569. Autumn. 0.32x0.22.

570. Winter. 0.32 x 0.34.

571. A bal-champetre. 0.42x0.40.

572. The hermitage of San Isidro. Don Pedro Fernandez Duran,

Madrid. 0.42 x 0.40.

573. Caprice. Demons and owls. 0.42x0.30.

574. Sorcerers. 0.52 X 0.30.

575. Consulting a sorcerer. 0.42 X 0.30.

576. Caprice. 0.42 X 0.30.

577. Don Juan and the commander. 0.42 X 0.30.

578. The poor. 0.32x0.14.



579. El hechizado por fuerza. (The Bewitched.) National Gallery,

London, 0.42 x 0.30.

580. The picnic. National Gallery, London. 0.40x0.26.

581. The wounded mason. Don Pedro Fernandez Duran. 0.32 X


582. A study of still-life. Prado, Madrid.


The following catalogue is based upon the exhaustive works of Paul Lefort and Julius Hofmann.

I. Los Caprichos.

II. Los Desastres de la Guerra.

III. La Tauromaquia.

IV. Los Proverbios.

V. Miscellaneous etchings.



Seventy-two of these plates were etched during the years 1796 and 1797, and eight additional plates (Nos. 73-80) were added before 1812. Three supplementary plates (Nos. 81-83) do not form part of the original set. The Spanish titles are those engraved on the plates. On one set of plates Goya wrote a few explanatory comments, and these are given.

1. Francisco Goya y Lucientes, pintor. Profile bust portrait of Goya, in his fiftieth year.

2. El si pronuncian y la mano alargan Al primero que llega (They say yes, and give their hand to the man who comes first). A young girl in a mask is led to the altar by an old man. Two fantastically ugly duennas follow her. In the back- ground is an excited crowd. A satire against marriage, and probably a veiled allusion to the marriage of Charles IV. and Maria Luisa.

3. Que viene el coco (Here comes the ghost).

Two children clinging in fright to their mother at the approach of a shrouded figure.

4. El de la roUona (The child of the rollona).

A servant helping a man dressed as a child, who is sucking his fingers. Probably s5anbolical of the helplessness and dependence of the rich.

5. Tal para qual (Birds of a feather).

A dandy in cocked hat, knee breeches, with a sword, gazes at a fashionably dressed lady. In the background two old women look on and laugh. Probably Godoy and the Queen Maria Luisa.


6. Nadie se conoce (No recognition).

A carnival scene. Two women in masks. Two men in grotesque hats, and a third with a false nose. Goya wrote on this plate : " The world is a masquerade, faces, costumes, voices, ever^hing a lie. Each person wishes to appear what he is not. The whole world deceives itself, and no one recognises himself."

7. Ni asi la distingue (He does not recognise her thus).

A dandy looks through his eyeglass at a well-dressed girl in a mantilla. Two women seated in the background. Goya wrote on this plate : "He does not want a glass to see what she is."

8. Que se la llevaron ! (An abduction).

Two men carry off a screaming girl.

9. Tantalo (Tantalus).

A man clasps his hands in appeal. On his knees is a girl in a swoon. She is lightly clothed, and her hair hangs loosely over her shoulders. A stone wall forms the back- ground. " If he were a little more gallant, and a little less wearisome, she would revive " (Goya).

10. El amor y la muerte (Love and death).

A woman tries to raise a dying man. His hat and sword on the ground suggest that he is the victim of a duel. A stone wall rises in the background.

11. Muchachos al avio (To food, my children) .

Four brigands seated by a tree, eating. Probably symbolical of the government.

12. A caza de dientes (Hunting for teeth).

A girl, hiding her face with her scarf, tries to extract a tooth from the mouth of a hanging man.

13. Estan calientes (They are hot).

Three monks at table. Another brings in a dish of meat. A satire on the greediness of certain priests.

14. Que sacrificio ! (What a sacrifice !)

An old man, bandy and hunchbacked, is affianced to a young girl. In the background are three relations. One covers her eyes with her hand.

15. Bellos conselos (Fine advice).

An ugly old beldame talking to a beautiful and richly-dressed girl. Both are seated. Possibly an allusion to Josefa Tudo, a lady of notorious morals, said to be married secretly to Godoy.


16. Dios la perdone : Y era su madre (God pardon her, for it is her

own mother).

An old woman begs of a young woman, who refuses to give


17. Bien tirada esta (It is well tied).

A young woman ties her garter. An ugly duenna looks on.

18. Yscle quema la casa (And the house is on fire).

A drunken man pulling on his clothes. On the chair is a flaming lamp. The man possibly represents Charles IV.

19. Todos Caeran (All will fall).

Two women plucking the feathers of a bird which has the head of a man. On the left an old woman kneels, with clasped hands, gazing upward. On the branch of a tree is a bird with the head of a woman, and round her fly other birds with the heads of men. Perhaps an allusion to the lovers of the Queen, from Juan Pignatelli to Godoy.

20. Ya van desplumados (All plucked).

Two girls chasing with their brooms three birds which have the heads of men. Two old women look on. In the back- ground another bird on a perch. The same significance as No. 19.

21. Qual la descanonan ! (How they pluck her !)

Three men, dressed as lawyers, with the heads and claws of cats, have caught a chicken with the head and bust of a woman. They are pulling the feathers from her wings. The plate has some allusion to the Queen.

22. Pobrecitas ! (Poor little ones !)

Two hooded women followed by two men. Perhaps sym- bolical of the helplessness of women.

23. A quellos polbos (Dust).

A prisoner seated on a scaffold, clasping her hands, and wear- ing a conical hat. A priest reading from a pulpit. A crowd surrounds the scaffold. Said to be a woman of bad character being punished by the Inquisition.

24. Nohubo remedio (No remedy).

A woman, in the conical hat of the Inquisition, with hands bound, and stripped almost to the waist, riding on an ass to punishment. Two officers ride by her side, and she is surrounded by a crowd.

25. Si quebr6 el Cantaro (Because he has broken the jug).

An old woman beating a child, in a laundry. On the ground a broken pitcher. " The son is stupid, the mother is angry. Who is more to blame ? " (Goya). Possibly the woman represents Maria Luisa, and the son Ferdinand VII.


26. Ya tienen asiento (Now they have seats).

Two girls, clothed only in scanty transparent mantles, carry chairs on their heads. Two men point at them, and laugh. A satire on the Directoire costimie of the period.

27. Quien mas rendido ? (Which is more wearied ?)

A fashionably dressed young man proposing to a girl, who pretends not to listen to him. Four women in the back- ground. Two dogs at play. Goya's suggestion seems to be that in this love scene both are deceivers.

28. Chit6n! (Hush!)

A young woman, her face partly covered by a mantilla, whispers to an old woman, who leans heavily on her stick. In the background the trunk of a tree. A confidential mission. " Allusion to the fashion in Spain of confiding billets doux to beggars at the church doors " (Calvert).

29. Esto si que es leer (This is what it is to read) .

An old man reading, whilst one servant dresses his hair, and another puts on his boots. " They dress him, and put his boots on. He sleeps and he studies. Nobody can say that he loses his time." (Goya). Probably a reference to the Mar- quis de RevUlagigedo or the Duke de Parque.

30. Porque esconderlos ? (Why hide them ?)

A miser, possibly a priest, trying to hide two bags of money from four laughing men. " Why hide them ? Because be thinks he is going to live for ever " (Goya).

31. Ruega por ella (Praying for her).

A girl pulls on her stockings, whilst a servant combs her hair. By her side an old woman recites her rosary. " God bless her " (Goya).

32. Por que fue sensible ? (Why so sensitive ?).

A young woman weeping in prison. " This may imply that people of excessive sensibility carry their own prison or torture-chamber with them " (Calvert).

33. Al Conde Palatino (To the Count Palatino).

A dentist, richly dressed, extracting a tooth from a man. Two other patients in the foreground. The charlatan perhaps represents Count Urquijo.

34. Las rinde el sueño (Comforted by sleep).

Four women sleeping in a prison. Light streams through an iron grating. " Do not wake them. Sleep is often the single happiness of the unhappy " (Goya). Charles Yriarte remarks that this is the only calm and consoling phrase to be found in Goya.


35. Le descafiona (Shaving him).

A young man being shaved by a girl. In the background stands a duenna, and a woman with a dish.

36. Mala noche (A rough night).

Two women walking through a storm of wind. Possibly an allusion to a nocturnal excursion of Queen Maria Luisa. ZT' Si sabra mas el discipulo ? (Will the pupil learn more ?)

A donkey dressed in the clothes of a man, teaching the alphabet to another donkey. Three others bray in the background. Said to be an allusion to Godoy.

38. Brabisimo ! (Bravissimo !)

A monkey singing to a guitar. A donkey listens enchanted. Two men laugh and applaud. Said to represent Charles IV. listening to Godoy.

39. Asta su abuelo (To his grandfather).

A donkey, clothed as a man, seated and looking through a book of pictures of donkeys. Under the book the heraldic shield of an ass. A satire upon the genealogical pretensions of Godoy

40. De que mal morira ? (Of what will he die ?)

An ass feeling the pulse of a dying man. Possibly a satire on doctors, perhaps Dr. Galimoga. Also said to be Godoy.

41. Ni mas ni menos (Neither more nor less).

A monkey, with brushes and palette, painting the portrait of an ass. The animal on the canvas appears in a wig. The painter identified as D. Antonio Carnicero, the ass, Godoy. But Calvert describes it : "A donkey sits for his portrait to a monkey, who is painting a horse. Satire on artists who paint pictures of those whom they have never seen,"

42. Tu que no puedes (Thou, who are not able).

Two asses, with spurs, riding on two men. A satire on the heavy taxation of the people. The asses are said to represent the ministers Caballero and Urquijo.

43. El sueno de la razon produce monstruos (Reason's sleep gives birth to monsters). A man seated by the side of a table has fallen asleep. Around him hover bats and owls, one of which offers the sleeper a pencil. By the chair is a cat. The sleeping figure may be intended for the artist himself. In 1797, Goya wrote upon a copy of this etching : "Imagination without reason produces impossible monsters ; with reason, it becomes the mother of the arts, and the source of its marvels."


44. Hilandelgado (They spin).

Three witches spinning. In a corner a number of children hanging from cords.

45. Mucho hay que chupar (There is much to drink).

Three witches talking and taking snuff. In the foreground a basketful of young children ; in the background some bats.

46. Correccion (Correction).

• Several old women and three men, one with the head of an animal. The face on the left is probably a portrait. Per- haps a satire on the Inquisition.

47. Obsequio a el maestro (Homage to the master).

Sorcerers, of both sexes, worshipping their master, and offering a newly-born child in sacrifice.

48. Soplones (Blowers).

A devil, with huge wings, rides on a cat, and awakes three monks. Other fantastic figures. A satire against auricular confession.

49. Duendecitos (Little ghosts).

Three dwarf-like monsters eating and drinking. A satire on the clergy.

50. Los chinchillas.

Two men dressed in heavily brocaded coats, with eyes shut, mouths open, and ears in padlocks. One has a sword, the other a rosary. A blind-folded hairy monster, with long ears, is feeding them with a spoon. " Those who hear nothing, those who know nothing, and those who do nothing, belong to the numerous family of Chinchillas, who have never been good for anything " (Goya).

51. Se repulen (Cutting their nails).

A demon cutting the toenails of a second devil, whilst a third stretches his wings.

52. Lo que pueda un sastre ! (What a tailor is able to do !)

The vestments of a priest have been draped on a tree. Men, women, and children kneel and worship. In the background, fantastic flying demons. A satire upon the superstition of the Church.

53. Que pico de Oro ! (Golden words !)

A parrot, perched on the edge of a pulpit, preaching to seven admiring monks. A satire against preachers.

54. El vergonzoso (Shameful).

A man, with an enormous nose, eats with a spoon from a cup held by another man. In the background a man clenches his fists.


55. Hasta la muerte (Until death).

A very old and ugly woman seated before the mirror on her toilet table, and trying on a hat. Two men and a maid smile at her. Probably the Countess de Benavente. " She does well to beautify herself. It is her birthday, she has reached seventy-five years, and her little friends come to see her " (Goya).

56. Subir y bajar (Up and down) .

A giant with the legs of an animal lifts up a young man in court dress, whose hands and head are on fire. Two other men have fallen to the ground. Meaning obscure. Des- cribed in Calvert's catalogue as Vice holding up a mannikin, Godoy. Possibly the giant represents Urquijo.

57. La filiacion (Mated).

A marriage, the bride having the face of an animal, and the bridegroom being a dwarf. A priest writes in a book. Other figures in the background.

58. Tragala, perro (Take that, you dog).

A crowd of monks, with fantastic figures in the background. One monk holds a large syringe. An allusion to contemporary monastery scandals.

59. Y aun no se van ! (Yet they do not go !)

Gaunt, starved beings attempt to uphold a huge block of stone which threatens to fall and crush them. " Not impossibly this may symbolise the determined clinging to life of even the most wretched " (Calvert).

60. Ensayos (Essays).

A colossal goat overlooking a nude man and woman. In the foreground cats, a jug, and a scull. Evidently an attempt at sorcery.

61. Volaverunt.

A beautiful woman flying through the air, upheld by three bent figures. The woman appears to represent the Duchess of Alba.

62. Quien lo creyera ? (Would it be believed ?)

Two nude men fighting in mid-air. Above and below, hairy monsters.

63. Miren que grabes ! (What gravity !)

Two demons taking a little exercise, and riding on grotesque beasts. One demon has the head of a bird, the other of a donkey.

64. Buen viaje (Bon voyage.)

Winged sorcerers flying through the night.


65. Donde va mami ? (Where is mama going ?)

A stout woman being carried through the air by three demons. A cat holds a parasol. In the distance a glimpse of land- scape. "Mama is hydropathic, and she has been ordered to take exercise. Pray to God that she may recover " (Goya). Possibly a satire upon a member of Madrid society.

66. Alld va eso (Take care) .

A nude man and woman, with wings, flying through the air, with crutches and a cat. Beneath, a landscape.

67. Aguarda que te unten (Wait until you have been anointed).

Two fantastic figures holding a goat by the legs. Meaning obscure, but said to be a satire upon the doctrine of extreme unction.

68. Linda maestra I (Beautiful mistress !)

Two nude witches riding through the air on a broomstick.

69. Sopla (She blows).

A witch using the body of a child as a bellows over a furnace. In the gloom many figures of sorcerers, and other children.

70. Devota profesion (Devout profession).

A witch, with the ears of an ass, seated upon a demon, and reading from a large book. In the background two mitred priests.

71. Si amanece, nos vamos (The day is breaking, let us get away).

Against a black sky studded with stars, a group of witches and sorcerers. Possibly symbolical of ignorance and super- stition.

72. No te escaparas (You will not escape).

A girl trying to escape from four fantastic creatures. Perhaps the Duchess of Alba.

73. Mejor es holgar (Better to do nothing).

A man holds his hands in a cat's-cradle, and gloats upon a girl. An old woman in the background.

74. No grites, tonta (Do not worry, stupid).

A girl frightened at two grotesque flying monks.

75. No hay quien nos desate ? (Can no one free us ?)

A man and a woman tied to a tree. A satire on marriage, and the need for divorce. The owl and spectacles probably meant for the ecclesiastical lawyers.

76. Esta Vmd ? pues, como digo . . . (Are you there ? Well, I

say ... Be careful ! If not . . .) A stout, absurd-looking officer giving orders. Probably Don Tomas Morla, lieutenant-general of artillery, and governor of Andalusia.


TJ. Unos dotros (One to the other).

Old men attacking another, who plays with a ball. " May be intended to convey a satire on the aged who pretend to the activities and energy of youth " (Calvert). Goya wrote on this plate : " Thus goes the world. We mock at and deceive each other. He who, yesterday, was the ball, is to-day the horseman in the ring. Fortune directs the feast, and distributes the parts according to the inconstancy of its caprice."

78. Despacha, que despiertan (Hurry up, they are waking).

An old woman waking a sleeping man, possibly a monk. In the background another man.

79. Nadie nos ha visto (Nobody has seen us).

Four monks carousing in a cellar.

80. Ya es hora (It is the hour).

Four monks stretching and yawning.

81. Sueno de la mentira y de la inconstancia (A dream of lies and

inconstancy). Lefort catalogue, 256. Hofmann, 240. Nos. 81, 82, 83 are extremely rare, and fully described in Lefort's Catalogue after examples in the Carderera collec- tion. They are supposed to refer to Goya's friendship with the Duchess of Alba, and were not published.

82. A woman crying. A man gives medicine to a dog. Two states.

Lefort catalogue, 257. Hofmann, 241.

83. A woman asleep in prison ; her feet are chained to the walL

Two states. Lefort catalogue, 258. Hofmann, 242.


This set of eighty prints was not published in Goya's lifetime.

1. Tristes presentimientos (Sad forebodings).

A man kneeling in supplication. The sky is black, with the dim forms of unearthly monsters. The kneeling figure perhaps is symbolical of Spain.

2. Con raz6n 6 sin ella (With or without reason).

A combat between peasants and French soldiers.

3. Lo mismo (All the same).

A Spanish peasant attacking a French soldier with an axe. Another similar fight in the background.

4. Las mujeres dan valor (The courage of women).

Women and soldiers struggling together.

5. Y son fieras (And are like furies).

Women attacking French soldiers with pikes and stones.


6. Bien teseesta (A good business).

A French soldier dying, surrounded by peasants.

7. Que valor ! (What courage !)

The Maid of Zaragoza firing a cannon. Dead bodies in the foreground.

8. Siempre sucede (It always happens) .

French cavalry. In the foreground a horse has fallen with his rider. g. No quieren (They will not),

A soldier struggling with a woman. Another woman advances with a dagger, and is about to strike him in the back.

10. Tampoco (Nor they).

Women and soldiers struggling together.

11. Ni por esas (Not for these).

Two soldiers dragging women away. A dead child in the foreground.

12. Para eso habeis nacido ? (Were you born for this ?)

A man staggering across the bodies of the slain.

13. Amarga presencia (A bitter scene).

Soldiers with a peasant and his wife.

14. Duro es el paso (The road is hard).

A man being carried up a ladder to a gallows.

15. Y no hay remedio (And there was no remedy).

French soldiers shooting prisoners.

16. Se aprovechar (They make use of).

Soldiers stripping dead bodies.

17. No se convienen (Disagreement).

French Cavalry. Conflicts in the background.

18. Enterrar y callar (To bury and remain silent).

A man and a woman weeping as they stand before a mass of stripped bodies of the slain.

19. Ya no hay tiempo (There is no time).

A French officer and Spanish women.

20. Curarlos y a otra (Healing).

A group of wounded Spaniards.

21. Sera lo mismo (It will come to the same).

Dead and wounded being carried away. A woman covers her face.

22. Tanto y mas (As many and more).

A heap of dead bodies.

23. Lo mismo en otras partes (The same in other places).

Another rendering of the same subject.


24. Aun podrdn servir (Still able to serve).

Spaniards carrying the sick and wounded.

25. Tambien estos (And there also).

A field hospital.

26. No se puede mirar (Not to be seen).

Men and women kneeling in attitudes of supplication. On the left can be seen the advancing bayonets of the French.

27. Caridad (Charity).

Corpses, stripped of clothing, being thrown into a pit.

28. Populacho (The mob).

A crowd mutilating the body of a soldier.

29. Lo merecia (He merited it) ,

A corpse being dragged along the ground.

30. Estragos de la guerra (The tragedy of war).

Half-clothed men, women, and children being thrown with articles of furniture into a dark cellar.

31. Fuerte cosa es ! (Force stronger than right).

A French soldier sheathing his sword. In the background a prisoner is being hanged from the branch of a tree.

32. For que ? (Why ?)

Three soldiers strangling a prisoner.

33. Que hay que hacer mas ? (What more to do ?)

Soldiers mutilating a body.

34. For una navaja (For a knife).

A scaffold with a man who has been executed by garotte.

35. No se puede saber por que (No one can say why).

A scaffold with eight bodies, executed by garotte.

36. Tampoc6 (Neither).

A French soldier looking at the body of a man hanging from a tree.

37. Esto es peor (This is worse) .

A body impaled on a tree. In the background French soldiers.

38. Barbaros ! (Savages !)

French soldiers shooting a prisoner tied to a tree.

39. Grande hazafia, con muertos (Great bravery, with the dead).

Mutilated bodies tied to the branches of a tree.

40. Algun partido saca (Turning it to account) .

A man (or a woman) struggling with a beast.

41. Escapan entre las llamas (Escaping through the flames).

Peasants escaping from a burning village.

42. Todo va revuelto (Confusion).

Monks and nuns endeavouring to escape.


43. Tambien esto (This also).

Monks running away.

44. Yo lo vi (I saw it).

Peasants flying from a village. A woman tries to save her children.

45. Yo esto tambien (I saw this also).

Women and children in flight.

46. Esto malo (This is bad).

A French soldier killing a priest.

47. Asi sucedio (Thus it happened).

A priest dying at the altar rails. French soldiers canying away loot.

48. Cruel lastima ! (Cruel fortune !)

A man and a woman gazing at a heap of corpses.

49. Caridad de una muger (A woman's charity).

Wounded being fed by a woman.

50. Madre infelix (An unhappy mother).

Men carrying away the dead body of a woman. A tiny child looks on, and weeps.

51. Gracias a la almorta (Thanks to the crop).

Starving peasants being given grain.

52. No Uegan d tiempo (Too late).

Women trying to revive a dying girl.

53. Espir6 sin remedio (He died without assistance).

Men and women standing round a body.

54. Clamores en vano (Crying in vain).

A group of emaciated peasants. A soldier in the background.

55. Lo peor es pedir (To beg is the worst).

Starving men begging of a fashionably dressed woman. In the background a French soldier.

56. Al cemeterio ! (To the cemetery !)

A dead body being carried to the cemetery.

57. Sanos y enfermos (Quick and the dead).

Starving and sick people in a cellar.

58. No hay que dar voces (No use to cry).

A group of the hungry and sick.

59. De qu6 sirve una taza ? (One cup is no use).

A woman giving food to the hungry,

60. No hay quien los socorra (Nobody to help them).

Four starving men.


61. Si son de otro linaje ? (Are they of another race ?)

A starving family asking two Frenchmen for help.

62. Las camas de la muerte (Deathbeds).

A woman weeping amidst corpses.

63. Muertos recogidos (Dead brought together).

A heap of dead bodies.

64. Carretadas al cemeterio (Loads for the cemetery).

Taking corpses to the cemetery.

65. Qu6 alboroto es este ? (What means this disturbance ?)

A French officer writing. Women cry, and a dog barks.

66. Extrafia devocion (A strange devotion).

The body of a saint carried upon the back of an ass. Men and women kneeling in adoration.

67. Esta no lo es menos (This is the same).

Men carrying the statue of a saint.

68. Qvl6 locura ! (Madness !)

Subject uncertain. Described as a monk surrounded by objects of devotion. On the left a heap of grotesque masks.

69. Nada (Nothing).

A body, emerging from a tomb, writes " Nothing " on a piece of paper. In the gloom grotesque visions and faces.

70. No saben el camino (They do not know their way).

A number of priests, and other persons, walking, each one tied to the other with ropes.

71. Contra el bien general (Against the general good).

An old man with bat's ears and claws writing in an open book. Probably symbolical of the Church.

72. Las resultas (The consequences).

Vampires sucking the blood of a corpse, which perhaps represents Spain.

73. Gatesca pantomima (The cat's pantomime).

A priest kneeling in prayer before a cat, said to represent Godoy.

74. Esto es lo peor (This is the worst).

A fox writing on a parchment. Monks and others in attendance,

75. Farandula de charlatanes (A gathering of quacks).

A group of fantastic animals dressed as monks.

76. El buitre camivoro (A flesh-eating vulture).

A huge bird chased by a crowd of priests and soldiers.


77. Que se rompre la cuerda (May the rope break),

A man walking a tight-rope above the heads of a crowd. Said to represent King Joseph Bonaparte.

78. Se defiende bien (He defends himself well).

A horse kicking, surrounded by foxes and dogs. The horse probably s5mibolical of Spain.

79. Muri6 la verdad (Truth dead) ,

The body of a girl, surrounded by a crowd. A bishop gives the blessing.

80. Si resucitata ? (Will she revive ?)

Rays of light form an aureole around the same person. These plates are said to refer to the abolition of the constitu- tion by Ferdinand VII.


The first edition, printed under the supervision of Goya about 1815, was not actually placed upon sale until after his death. The second edition was issued in 1855 by the Calcografia Nacional. A French edition appeared in 1876 with seven additional plates.

1. Method of the ancient Spaniards of chasing bulls in the open on


2. Chasing bulls on foot.

3. Spanish Moors, who, neglecting the teaching of the Koran, adopt

the art of hunting the bull in open country with the spear.

4. Capean ovio encerrado,

5. The brave Moor Gazul was the first to fight bulls according to the

rules of the art.

6. The Moors imitate the play of the cape with their bournous in the


7. Origin of the points of the banderillas.

8. A Moor is attacked by a bull in the ring,

9. A Spanish chevalier kills the bull after having lost his horse.

10. Charles V. spearing a bull in the plaza of ValladoUd.

11. El Cid Campeador striking a bull with his lance.

12. The crowd hamstringing a bull with lances, demi-lunes,

banderillas, and other weapons.

13. A Spanish cavalier in the ring breaking the banderillas without

the aid of the chulos.

14. A clever student of Falces, covered in his cloak, plays with the

bull, making some quick ecarts.


15. The famous Martincho setting the banderillas and giving the


16. Martincho attacking a bull in the ring of Madrid.

17. The Moors making use of asses as protection against a bull with

horns covered.

18. Audacity of Martincho in the Zaragoza ring.

19. Another folly of Martincho in the same place.

20. Quickness and dexterity of Juanito Apifiani in the Madrid


21. An accident in the Madrid ring, and death of the Alcade of


22. Courage of the celebrated Pajuelera in the Zaragoza ring.

23. Mariano Ceballos, known as the Indian, kills a bull.

24. Ceballos displaying a bull covered with banderillas in the Madrid


25. Dogs attacking the bull.

26. A picador falls from his horse under the bull.

27. The celebrated picador Fernando del Toro attacking the bull at

the point of his lance.

28. The brave Rendon spearing a bull, which he kills with a blow,

in the Madrid ring.

29. Pepe Illo in the ring.

30. Pedro Romero killing a bull.

31. Banderillas of fire.

32. Two groups of picadors and a bull.

33. The unhappy death of Pepe Illo in the Madrid ring.

Unpublished Plates of La Tauromaquia.

34. Variation of plate 24.

A bull-fighter (probably Mariano Ceballos) riding a bull.

35. A scene of Novilladas.

Picadors, grotesquely dressed, on asses attached to a carriage, attacking a bull.

36. A toreador preparing to strike a buU which charges him. ^y. The death of Pepe Illo.

38. The death of Pepe Illo, variation of No. 37.

39. Variation of No. 25.

40. Variation of No. 18.

41. The five buUs.




These etchings, eighteen in number, were first printed in 1850. A second edition was issued in 1864 by the Royal Academy of San Fernando, with the following title : " Los Proverbios, coleccion de diez y ocho laminas inventadas y grabadas al agua fuerte por Don Francisco Goya, publicada la Real Academia de nobles artes de San-Fernando, Madrid, 1864." This edition was limited to 250 copies, and the watermark is " J.G.O." with a small palm. Later editions have appeared in 1891 and 1902. The plates are not numbered, and bear no titles.

1. Six women, dressed as majas, tossing mannikins and a dead

donkey in a blanket.

2. Soldiers flying in terror from a giant phantom.

Compare this with Los Caprichos, plate 52.

3. Ten men and women on the branch of a tree, overhanging an

abyss, listening to an orator.

Perhaps an allusion to Charles IV. and his Court.

4. A giant dancing before a pigmy. Fantastic figures in the back-


5. A man, riding a hippogriff carries off a woman.

6. A man, with the lance of a picador, attacking an old man. Other

men and women in the background.

7. A monster, half-man and half-woman, receiving the adoration

of a crowd.

8. Several figures, enveloped in sacks, directed by a prince or


9. Several fantastic figures presenting kittens to two women.

10. In the foreground a woman carried by a horse. In the back-

ground another woman is being ill-treated by a fantastic animal.

11. Two young men running after a woman with two heads. Other

figures on the right.

12. Three women and three men, dressed as majas and majos, dancing

to castanets.

13. Men with wings endeavouring to fly.

" A truly superb drawing," writes P. Lefort, " not only the best plate in the series, but one of the artist's most beautiful productions."

14. Two fantastic figures saluting, in the presence of a large crowd.

Probably a reference to the Treaty of Bayonne, which would date the plate in 1808.


15. A monk preaching to a soldier, who throws himself into the

abyss. Other figures in the background. t6. a woman quarrelling with a man, and other figures.

17. Men making fun of an old man.

18. An old man on his knees surrounded by demons.

The following additional plates were not issued with this series, to which, however, they must be classified in subject : —

19. Two phantoms, or scarecrows, watched by a crowd.

This plate was published in L'Art {1877), Vol. II., p. 56.

20. A young woman riding a horse on a tight-rope. A crowd in the

background. This plate was published in L'Art (1877), Vol. II., p. 82.

21. Four Moors, or Rabbis, offering a book to an elephant.

This plate was published in L'Ari (1877), Vol. II., p. 41.

The following plate belongs more strictly to the Tauromaquia series.

22. Four bulls.

Published in L'Art {1877), Vol. II., p. 6.


The sizes (height and length) are quoted in millimetres after the Lefort and Hofmann Catalogues.

Religious Subjects:

1. The flight into Eg5rpt. Signed : Goya invt. et fecit. 125 x 89.

L. 227, H. 227.

2. S. Franciscus de Paolo. Signed : Goya ft., two states. 32 x 95.

L. 228, H. 228.

3. S. Isidro el Labrador. Signed : Goya f. 231 x 168. L. 229,

H. 229.

Subjects after Velazquez :

4. Equestrian portrait of Philip III. 380 X 310, three states. L. 230,

H. 249.

5. Equestrian portrait of Margaret of Austria. 370x312, three

states. L. 231, H. 250.

6. Equestrian portrait of Philip IV. 370x315, three states.

L. 232, H. 251.

7. Equestrian portrait of Isabel of Bourbon. 370x315, three

states. L. 233, H. 252.


8. Don Baltasar Carlos. 348 x 220, three states. L. 234, H. 253.

9. Don Caspar de Guzman. 373 x 313, three states. L. 235, H. 254. ID. Las Meninas. 360x300. L. 236, H. 255.

11. Bacchus crowned. 320 x 435, two states. L. 237, H 256.

12. The Infante Don Fernando. 255x126, four states. L, 238,

H. 257.

13. Menippus. 305 x 220, four states. L. 239, H. 258.

14. .^sop. 300 X 220, four states. L. 240, H. 259.

15. Barbarossa. 260x141, four states. L. 241, H. 260.

16. The dwarf known as Don Juan. 255 x 144. L. 242, H. 261.

17. Francisco Bazan. 250 x 112, two states. L. 243, H. 262.

18. The dwarf Sebastian de Morra. 208x148, four states. L.

244, H. 263.

19. The dwarf El Primo. 215 x 154, four states. L. 245, H. 264.

Miscellaneous Subjects :

20. An execution by garotte. 330 x 215, two states. L. 246, H. 230.

21. A blind man tossed by a bull. 138 x 183, three states. L. 247,

H. 231.

22. A street scene with a blind singer. Signed Goya. 395x570.

L. 248, H. 232.

23. A nude figure (Prometheus). 285x206. L. 249, H. 233.

24. Un homme en guenilles se balance. 186 x 120, two states, L.

250, H. 234.

25. An old witch. 186 x 120. L. 251, H. 235.

26. An old bull-fighter. 189 x 120. L. 252, H. 236.

27. A maja in a mantilla. 188x123. L. 253, H. 237.

28. A maja in a mantilla, with figures in background. 188x123.

L. 254, H. 238. Carderera considers Nos. 26, 27, 28, to be the work of Goya's old age. Lefort classifies in the same period Nos. 24, 25, and 29.

29. A blind man singing. 165 x 105, two states. L. 255, H. 239.

30. A landscape. 148x263, L. 259, H. 243.

31. A landscape. 145x263. L. 260, H. 244.

32. A scene of the Inquisition. L. 261, H. 245.

33. A masquerade. L. 262, H. 246.

These two etchings are cited by Piot and Matheron.

34. A beggar. 81x60. H. 247.


35. Heraldic design. Signed : Goya. 45 x 60. H. 248.

36. Fiero monstrao (A strong monster).

A cat devouring human beings.

37. Esto es lo verdadero (This is truth).

A young woman, symbolical of truth, with a peasant. These two plates are sometimes added to Los Desastres de Id Guerra.

38-40. Three etchings known as " The Prisoners."


The sizes (height and length) are quoted in millimetres after Lefort's catalogue.

1. An old woman spinning.

In the top left corner Madrid, febrero, 1819, and signed Goya. About 210x140. Lefort, 263.

2. The duel.

Two men in the costume of the period of Philip IV. fighting with sword and dagger. Signed : Goya, Madrid, marzo, 1819. Facsimile in the Gazette des Beaux-Arts, XXV., 1868, p. 177. About 220 X 230. Lefort, 264.

3. A bull attacked by dogs.

Five dogs worrying a bull which has tossed another dog in the air. Two toreadors look on. This lithograph, which is extremely rare, has no signature or date, according to Lefort, but Von Loga states a signature Goya fecit. About 270 x 170. Lefort, 265.

4. A drunkard.

A man trying to hold in his arms a woman who endeavours to escape. No signature or date. About 180 x 120. Lefort cites a proof, probably unique, in the Carderera collection. Lefort, 266.

5. The reading.

A seated woman reading to two children : another person in the background. No signature or date. About 130x120. Lefort, 267.

6. A scene of sorcery.

Fantastic demons and animals surround a nude man. Fac- simile in Rothenstein's " Goya." No signature or date. About 240x120. Lefort, 268.

7. A peasant,

wearing a Catalonian bonnet, seizing a young woman. A rare plate. No signature or date. About 150x130. Lefort, 269.


8. A monk with a crucifix.

No signature or date. About 90x130. Lefort, 270.

9. Sleep.

A beautiful girl sleeping on the knees of an old woman. In the background four other women. No signature or date. 160x140. Lefort, 271. Los Toros de Bordeos {The Bull-fights of Bordeaux). A set of four plates, lithographed at Bordeaux, in 1825, and limited to 300 copies.

10. El famoso Americano Mariano Ceballos.

The celebrated toreador Ceballos assailing a bull. Signed, on the left, Goya. In addition to the title the words : Depose, et lith. de Gaulon. Another state has the inscription : D. Francisco Goya y Lucientes primer pintor de Camara del Rey de Espana y Director do la real Academia de San Fernando invent 6 y lithografio estas cuatro estampas en Bordeaux de 1826 a los 80 de edad. About 403 X 312. Lefort, 272.

11. A picador caught on the horns of a bull.

Signed Goya on the left. No title or name of printer. 410x310. Lefort, 273.

12. Dibersion de Espana.

A crowd in the arena baiting young bulls. The first state measures about 415x303, and is signed Goya on the left. In the margin : Depose, et lith. de Gaulon. The second state is smaller, having been cut down, probably owing to an accident with the stone. Lefort, 274.

13. A scene in the bull-ring.

Signed Goya. About 414 x 305. Lefort, 275.

14. A Spanish dance.

A group of men and women applauding a dancing maja. One plays man a guitar, another a tambourine. Probably the lithograph described by Matheron under the title " Les Bohemiens." The lithograph, which was drawn at Bordeaux in 1825, is extremely rare. Signed Goya. About 190 x 185. Lefort, 276.

15. A duel.

One of the duellists has run his sword into the other. Two witnesses. Lithographed about 1826, and rare. Signed Goya. About 220x210. Lefort, 277.

16. Portrait of Monsieur Gaulon.

A rare print, signed Goya. About 270x210. Lefort, 278. Von Loga appears to catalogue two of these portraits (Nos. 718 and 728).

17. A bull-fight.

Not catalogued by Lefort. Von Loga, No. 731.


Pierre D'Achiardi : Les dessins de D. Francisco Goya y Lucientes au

Mus6e du Prado a Madrid. Preface et texte explicatif. 3

volumes. Rome, 1908. L6once Amaudry : The Collection of Dr. Carvallo at Paris. II. —

Spanish and other later pictures. Burlington Magazine, December,

1904. VI., pp. 179-191. Zeferino Araujo Sanchez : Goya. Madrid, 1895. First published in

La Espana Moderna. Art et Decoration : " Goya's etchings." XIX., p. 142. El artista. Madrid, 1835. An article by V. Carderera, The Art Journal. July, 1903. R. Balsa de la Vega : Exposition de obras de Goya. Madrid. Bus-

tracion Espanolay Americana, 1900, p. 299. A. M. de Barcia : Goya en la seccion de estampas de la biblioteca

national. Madrid. Revista dearchivios, bibliotecas ymuseos, 1900. Emilio Pardo Bazan : " Goya." La Lectura, 1906. S. L. Bensusan : " Note upon the paintings of Francisco Jose Goya."

The Studio, 1901. XXIV., p. 155. S. L. Bensusan : " Goya, his times and portraits." Connoisseur, 1902.

II., p. 22 ; IV., p. 115. Henri Beraldi : Les Graveurs du XIX' sidcle. VII., pp. 188-200.

Paris, 1888. Kurt Bertels : Goya. Munich. Klassische Illustraten I., 1907. Aureliano de Beruete : " Eine Sammlung von handzeichnungen des

Francisco Goya." Zeitschrift fiir hildende Kunst, 1907. XVIII.,

p. 165. Aureliano de Beruete : The School of Madrid. Enghsh edition. Lon- don, 1909. L. Brieger : Goya. 52 illustrations. Paris (recent). G. Brunet : Etude sur F. Goya, sa vie et ses travaux. Bordeaux and

Paris, 1865.


Bulletin de V Alliance des Arts. Paris, 1842.

Burlington Magazine. " Pictures acquired by Mr. Archer M.

Huntington." (Pedro Romero.) Vol. XIL, pp. 232-233.

January, 1908.

Charles H. Caffin : The Story of Spanish Painting. New York,

1910. Charles H. Caffin : " Goya." Prints and their Makers (edited by

Fitzroy Carrington. New York, 1912. Albert F. Calvert : Goya, an account of his life and works, with 612

illustrations, " The Spanish Series." London, 1908. Valentin Carderera : " Goya," El Artista, 1835. Valentin Carderera and Philippe Burty. Francisco Goya, sa vie, ses

dessins, et ses eaux-fortes. Gazette des Beaux-Arts, August 15,

i860 ; September i, 1863. Emilio Castelar : Un viaje a Paris durante el establecimiento de la

Republica. Chap. XX. : " Un pintor espanol juzgador por un

critico frances." Madrid, 1878. Catalogo de la Exposicion nacional de retratos. Madrid, 1902. Catalogo de las Obras de Goya expuestas en el Ministerio de Intruccion

Publica y Bellas Artes. Madrid, 1900. Jose Caveda : Memorias para la historia de la Real Academia de San

Fernando. Vol. L, chap. X., pp. 207-221. Madrid, 1867. Thomas Cole : " Goya." Old Spanish Masters. New York, 1907. P. M. Craigie (John Oliver Hobbes) : " Goya and Dante. The

Art of Portraiture." The Academy. London, April 23, 1904..

LXVL, p. 457. Gorgio Cruzada Villaamil : Los tapices de Goya. Madrid, 1870. Gorgio Cruzada Villaamil : " La Casa del Sordo." El Arte en Espaiia.

Madrid, 1868. VIL. p. 265. Dictionnaire de la conversation. " Goya." Paris, 184-. EncyclopSdie du XIX siecle. " Goya." Paris, 185-. Espaiia Illustrada. Zaragoza. " Goya, viaje artistico." 1894. IL,

p. 285. Th6ophile Gautier : Fran""- Goya y Lucientes. Le cabinet de I' amateur

et de I'antiquaire, p. 337. Vol. I. Paris, 1842. Theophile Gautier : Voyage en Espagne (" Tro los Montes "). Paris,

1845. pp. 127-137. Louis Gonse : " Goya, par Lefort." Chronique des Arts, July 14, 1877. Louis Gonse : Les chefs-d'oeuvre des Musees de France — La Peinture.

Paris, 1900. p. 99.


Los Grandes Maestros de la Pintura en Espana : No. II. Retratos de Mujeres por Goya. No. III. Los Caprichos. Madrid, 1909.

P. G. Hamerton : Portfolio Papers. Goya. London, 1878, first published in the Portfolio.

C. Gasquoine Hartley : A Record of Spanish Painting. London, 1904. pp. 274-298.

C. Gasquoine Hartley : " Goya." Art Journal. IN., p. 207.

Marguerite Hein : A I'ecole de Goya. Paris, 1909.

Julius Hofmann : Francisco de Goya. Vienna, 1907.

J. K. Huysmans : " Goya." Certains. Paris, 1889.

William M. Ivins, Jr. : "A Note on Goya." Prints and their Makers (edited by Fitzroy Carrington). New York, 1912.

Frederick Keppel & Co., Exhibition Catalogue. " ' The Caprices * and ' The Proverbs.' " Keppel, New York, 1911.

F. Laban : " Die Farbenskizze zu einem Reprasentationsgemalde Goyas." KoniglichPreuss. Kunstsamm. Jdhrbuch,igoo. XXL, p. 177.

Paul Lafond : -Goya. Paris [1902]. First published in Revue de I'Art ancien etmoderne, 1899-1901.

Paul Lafond : " Les demieres annees de Goya en France." Gazette des Beaux-Arts, 1907. 3rd series, XXXVIL, pp. 141-131, 241-257.

Paul Lafond : " Goya." Les artistes de tons les temps. Paris.

Paul Lafond : " Trois tableaux de Goya au Musee de Castres." Chroni- que des Arts, March, 1896.

Tristan Leclerc : Les Caprices de Goya. Paris, 1910.

Paul Lefort : Francisco Goya : etude biographique et critique, suivi de I'essai d'un catalogue raisonne de son oeuvre grave et litho- graphe. Paris, 1877. First published in the Gazette des Beaux- Arts, February i, 1867 ; April i, 1867 ; February i, 1868 ; April I, 1868 ; August I, 1868.

Paul Lefort: "Francisco Goya." Gazette des Beaux-Arts, XII. (1875), pp. 506-514; XIII. (1875), pp. 336-344; XIV. (1876), pp. 500-510.

Paul Lefort : " Francisco Jose Goya y Lucientes." Histoire des Peintres (edited by Charles Blanc). Paris, 186-,

Paul Lefort : La Peinture Espagnole. Paris, 1893. p. 257.

Paul Lefort : " Ecole Espagnole. — Collection Pacully." Gazette des

Beaux- Arts. 1875-76.

Paul Lefort : " Dofia Isabel Corbo de Porcel." Gazette des Beaux- Arts,

1897. XVII.


Max Lehrs : " Ein Steindnick Goyas." Koniglkh Preuss. Kunst- samm. Jdhrhuch, igoy. XXVIII., p. 50.

Max Lehrs : " Ein Geschabtes Aquatintablatt von Goya." Koniglich Preuss. Kunstsamm. Jahrhuch, 1906. XXVII., p. 141.

Valerian von Loga : Francisco de Goya. Beriin, 1903.

Valerian von Loga : Francisco de Goya. Meister der Graphik, B. IV. Leipzig.

Valerian von Loga : Goya's seltene Radieningen und Lithographien.

Beriin, 1907. Valerian von Loga : " Goya's zeichnungen." Graph. Kiinste, 1908.

p. I. H. Liicke : " Goya." Zeitschrift fur bildende Kunst, 1875. p. 193.

H. Liicke : " Francisco Goya." Dohme, Kunst und Kiinstler. Leipzig, 1880. p. 29.

Magasin pittoresque. " Goya." Paris, 1834.

Magazine of Art. " Goya." XXVI. , pp. 130, 161.

Pedro de Madrazo : Viaje artistico de tres siglos por las colecciones de Cuadros de los Reyes de Espana. Barcelona, XIX., chap. XIX., p. 301.

Pedro de Madrazo : " Goya." Almanaque de la Ilustracion Espanola y Americana, 1880.

Paul Mantz : Archives de I'art frangais. Paris, 1842.

Jose Martinez : Discursos praticables del nobilisimo arte de la pintura. Madrid, 1866.

Masterpieces of Goya : Gowan's Art Books, No. 26. London, 1910.

Laurent Matheron : Goya. Paris, 1858.

Laurent Matheron : Goya. Madrid, 1890. Translated into Spanish by G. Belmonte Miiller. The appendix contains articles by V. Carderera and P. de Madrazo, and poems addressed to Goya by Moratin and Quintana.

August L. Mayer : " Die Gemaldesammlung des Bowes-Museums zu Barnard Castle." Zeitschrift fur Bildende Kunst, 1912, new series. XXIIL, p. 104.

Enrique Melida : Articles on the " Horrors of War "and the " Pro- verbs." — El arte en Espana, Madrid, 1863-64.

Jos6 Ramon Melida : " El arte de Goya." La Ilustracion Espanola y Americana. Madrid, 1900. p. 295.

Manuel Mesonero Romanos : Goya, Moratin, Melendez Valdes, y Donoso Cortes. Madrid, 1900. " Goya," pp. 43-62.


J. Momm6ja : " Un tableau a Lille." Gazette des Beaux-Arts, 1905. 3rd series. XXXIV., p. 39. With an etching by A. Majeur.

Richard Muther : Francisco de Goya. London, 1905.

Richard Muther : Goya. BerUn, 1906.

Richard Muther : Geschichte der Malerie im XIX. Jahrhundert.

Munich, 1893. I., p. 55. Richard Muther : The History of Modern Painting. London, 1895.

I., pp. 6678 ; edition 1907, I., pp. 43-53. Richard Muther : Studien und Kritiken. Vienna, 1900. p. 365. Antoine de Nait : Les eaux-fortes de Goya. Facsimiles by Segui y

Riera. Paris, 1888. Nouvelle hiographie generate. " Goya." Didot, Paris, 185-. Richard Oertel : Francisco de Goya. Kiinstler-Monographien, No.

89. Leipzig, 1907.

Richard Oertel :" Goya." Velhagen & Klasings Monetshefte. 1904-5. I., pp. 642-666.

Manuel Ossorio y Bernard : Galeria Biografica de Artistas Espanoles

del siglo XIX. Madrid, 1868. I., p. 311. M. E. Piot : Catalogue raisonne de I'oeuvre grave de Goya. — Le cabinet

de I'amateur. Paris, 1842. Vol. I., p. 346. Juan de Dios de la Rada y Delgado : Frescos de Goya en la iglesia

de San Antonio de la Florida. Etchings by Jose M. Gal van y

Candela. Madrid, 1888.

La Revue de I'Art Ancien et Moderne : " An unknown etching by Goya." X., p. 378.

Revue des Deux-Mondes : " Les Maitres Espagnols et I'art naturaUste." September 15, 1888.

Revue Encyclopedique. Paris, 1832.

Charles Ricketts : The Prado and its Masterpieces. London, 1904.

R. de los Rios : " L'exposition des ceuvres de Goya k Madrid." La Chronique des Arts. Paris, 1900. p. 286.

Clement de Ris : Musee royal de Madrid, 1859.

William Rothenstein : Goya. " The Artist's Library," No. 4. London, 1900.

Saturday Review : " Review of Yriarte's ' Goya.' " March 21, 1868.

M. Schuette : " Vier lithographische Einzelblatter von Goya." Konig- lich Preuss. Kunstsamm. Jdhrbuch, 1905. XXVI. , p. 136.

A. Schulze-Berge : " Einiges iiber die Goya-Ausstellung, Madrid. May, 1900." Zeitschrift fur hildende Kunst., I., 1900. p. 229.


Narciso Sentenach y Cabanas : La Pintura en Madrid, desde sus

origenes hasta el siglo XIX. Madrid, 1907. Chapters XVIIL,

XIX., Goya. Chapter XX., Discipulos y contemporaneos de

Goya. Narciso Sentenach y Cabanas : Catalogo de los cuadros, esculturas,

grabados, de la antiqua casa ducal de Osuna. Madrid, 1896. Hans W. Singer : " Pictures by Goya at the Galerie Miethke, Vienna."

Burlington Magazine, No. 62, Vol. XIII. {1908), p. 99. Lucien Solvay : L'art Espagnol. Paris, 1887. Lucien Solvay : " Les femmes de Goya." L'Art et les Artistes, 1906.

II., pp. 193-205. Sir William Stirling-Maxwell, Bart. : Annals of the Artists in Spain.

London, 1848. p. 1471. A. G. Temple : Catalogue of the Exhibition of the Works of Spanish

Painters at the Guildhall, London, 1901.

Ehas Tormo y Monzo : " Las pinturas de Goya con motivo de la Ex- posicion de sus obras en Madrid." Revista de la Asociacion- Artistico-Arqueologico-Barcelonesa. Barcelona, 1900. IV., pp. 585, 617.

Elias Tormo y Monzo : Verios estudios de Artes y Letras. — Las pin- turas de Goya. Madrid, 1902. p. 223.

M. Utrillo : " Lugar de Goya en la pintura." Forma, Barcelona, 1904. L, p. 259.

Louis Viardot : Notices sur les principaux peintres de I'Espagne. Paris, 1839.

Vifiaza, Muiioz y Manzano, Conde de : Goya, su tiempo, su vida, suo obras. Madrid, 1887.

Viiiaza, Mufioz y Manzano, Conde de : Adiciones al diccionario his- torico de los mas ilustres profesores de las bellas artes en Espagne, de Don Juan Augustin Cean Bermudez. 4 volumes. Madrid, 1889-1894.

Vinaza, Muiioz y Manzano, Conde de : " Goya." Revista Content' poranea. September, 1883.

E. W. Washburn : The Spanish Masters. 1884.

M. Watsin and W. Stassow : Francisco Goya.

Woltmann and Woermann : Geschicte der Malerei. Leipzig, 1888.

III., p. 937. Charles Yriarte : Goya ; sa biographie, les fresques, les toiles, les

tapisseries, les eaux-fortes, et le catalogue de I'oeuvre. Paris,



Charles Yriarte : Goya aquafortiste. L'Art, Vol. II., pp. i, 33, 56, 78.

Paris, 1877. Francisco Zapater y Gomez : Apuntes historico-biograficas acerca

de la Escuela Aragonesa de Pintura. Madrid, 1863. Francisco Zapater y Gomez : Goya ; Noticias biograficas. Zaragoza,

1868. This was first published in the journal La Perseverencia.

Interesting Goya documents will be found in the Egerton MSS., British Museum.


Abrantes, Laure Pennon, Duchesse

d', 246 Abrantes, Duchess de (Goya), 246 Academy of San Fernando. See San

Fernando, Academy of Acerolea, La (Goya), 106 Achiardi, Pierre d', 204 Adams, Parson, 214 Adoration of the Shepherds (Zurbaran),


Adrian Pulido Pareja (Velazquez), 21 and note

Msop (Velazquez), 118

Aigueperse, 16 note

Alameda, palace of, 163 note, 164, 165, 170

Alaux, Jean Paul, 297

Alba, house of, 187 note

Alba, Duke of, 186, 188 note, 195

Alba, Duchess of, i8i ; her position at the Spanish Court, 186 ; her interest in bull-fighters, 187 ; and Josef a Goya, 188, 189 ; her por- traits by Goya, 189-192, 196, 199, 201 note, 225, 232, 250, 253 ; exiled by the Queen, 192, 203 ; adventure with Goya, 194, 203 ; etchings of, by Goya, 195 ; the two Majas, 195, 196, 197, 198, 199 ; her death, 199, 201 note, 255 ; and Baudelaire, 199, 200, 201 ; jealousy of the Queen, 192, 201 note : her pictures, 201 note

Albacete, Seiiora Viuda de, 243

Alban Hills, 273

Albani, 69

Alcade Ronquillo (etching after Velaz- quez), 119

Alcala del Ebro, 39 note

Alcafiices, Marquesa de, 184

Alcanices, collection of the Marquis de, 252

Alcazar of Madrid, 28, 66

Aldobranini Palace, Rome, 103

Alea, 291

Alembert, d', 151, 152 and note, 168

Alidorio, Cardinal (Raphael), 66

Allegory, An (Goya), 253

AUue, Canon Mathias, 89, 90, 126, 127,

130. 131 Amaudry, Leonce, 268 note, 277, 301

note Amicis, Edmondo de, 34 Amigoni, 27

Andalusia, 181, 192, 203 Andalusia (Goya), 105 Andromache, 65 Angelico, Fra, 144 Angouleme, Duke d', 285 Antonio, Infante Don, 236, 238 Antonio de la Florida, San. See San

Antonio de la Florida Antwerp, 100 Apinani, Juan, 279 Apollo Belvidere, 69 Arabian Nights, 215 Arabs, the, 36 Aragon, province of : Its early art, 4,

28; school of, 29, 30, 31 ; national

characteristics, 34 ; history, 34-38 ;

political freedom, 34, 35 ; the

nobility of, 144 note ; campaign of,

264, 265 Aranda, Count d', 72 and note, 150,

151, 152, 183, 256 Aranjuez, palace of, 27, 65, 153, 154

note, 165, 185, 285 Aranjuez (Velazquez or del Mazo), 1 1 Arbues, Pedro de, 35 Ardemans, Teodoro, 26 Arenas de San Pedro, palace of Las,

137, 138, 164 Aretino, 144 Arias Dairla, Don Juan Jos6 Mateo

(Goya), 248 Amao, 287, 294 Arredondo, Isidore, 26



Art, r, 116, 2og note, 281

Art and emigration, 19

Art Romantique, L', 303

Asensi, Julia, 226, 323 note

Assumption, The (Goya), 170

Asti family, 76

Asturias, Prince of the. See Charles

IV. and Ferdinand VII. Asturias, Princess of the, Maria Antonia,

236, 237, 238. 257 Athens, 64 Auber, 288

Aula Dei, chartreuse of, 44, 91, 92, 93 Austria, Royal House of, 9, 13, 24, 26,

145. 147 Autun, 240 Auvergne, 3 Avignon, 40 note Avila, 3. 4, 59, 137 Azara, 99 Aznarez family, 43

Bacchanal (Titian), 17, 66, 198

Bagnferes, 291

Baillie family (Gainsborough), 166, 167

Ballet Espagnol (Manet), 321

Balthasar Carlos, Don (Velazquez), 68 note

Balzac, 246 note

Banco de San Carlos, 156

Barataria, island of, 38 note

Barbarossa, an etching, 117

Barcelona, cathedral of, 39

Barck, Countess de (Regnault), 322

Baretti, 78

Barrfes, Maurice, 113 note

Barrio, Don Rafael, 190

Basaiti, Marco, 10

Basque race, the, 3

Bastien-Lepage, 165

Battoni, Pompeo, 63

Baudelaire, 199, 200, 201, 321

Baudry, Paul, 246

Bauer, Gustav, 167

Bayeu, Dona Feliciana (Goya), 252

Bayeu y Subias, Francisco, 49, 50, 135 ; works in Madrid, 63, loi ; influence at Court, 65 ; Goya his pupil, 84 ; commissions Goya, 89 ; and the tapestry factory, 102, 158, 159, 160 ; rivalry with Goya, 1 1 1 ; etching by, 117; advises the Committee of El Pilar, 124-133 ; quarrels with Goya, 125-133 ; portraits of, by Goya, 132, 157. 167, 232, 242 ; death of, 229, 255

Bayeu, Josefa. See Goya y Bayeu,

Josefa Bayeu, Fray Manuel, 132 Bayeu, Ramon, 49, 50, 102, 124, 126,

158, 159. 171 Bayonne, 32, 57, 172, 258, 261, 277 Beardsley, Aubrey, 215 Beaumarchais, 106 Bebedor, El, tapestry, 163 Beechey, Sir William, 163 note Beethoven, 217 Beit, Otto, collection of, 244 Bellini, 10, 11, 283

Benavente-Ossuna, Countess and Duch- ess of (Goya), 169 Benavente, Countess of, 253 Benedict XIII., 40 note Benedict XIV., 83, 86, 148 Benvenuto Cellini, 144 Beraton, Jos6, 49, 50 Berbers, the, 36 Berenson, B., 10 note Berlin Museum: Chalcography, 116;

Meeting of the Cortes, 275 ; Cocana,

282, 322 Berlioz, Hector, 320 Bermudez, Cean, 42, 120, 276, 282.

319 note Bermudez, Senora de Cean (Goya), 169 Bemis, Cardinal de, 81 note Bernstein, Madame, 156, 252 Beruete y Moret, A. de, 9 note, 11, 18,

20, 21 note, 22, 24, 167, 292 Bewitched, The (Goya), 169 Bi^vre, 99

Blake, William, 15, 244 Blanc, Charles, 320 Blind beggar (G<)ya), 106, 120 Boadilla del Monte, palace of, 138 Bohemia, 63 Boieldieu, 288 Boilly, 299 Bologna, 104 Bonaparte, Joseph, 142, 253, 259, 264,

265, 266, 269, 270 Bonaparte, Louis, 258 Bondad-Real, Marquis de (Goya), 240,

248 Bonington, R. P., 200, 320 Bonnat, L., 322

Bonnat collection, Bayonne, 277 Bookseller of the Calle de las Carretas,

the (Goya), 190, 246, 274 Bordeaux, 57, 207, 275, 286, 289-298,

306, 307, 315, 316 Borghese, Pauline, 197



Borrachos, Los (Velazquez), 7, 16, 17

Borroni, Paul, 84

Borrow, George, 110 note

Bosch, Jeronimo, 66, 214

Boucher, 65, 96, 198

Boulanger, Louis, 218

Bourbon, Cardinal de, 137 note, 252

Bourbon, Royal House of, 2, 26, 60,

81, 145, 147, 154, 173, 236. 256. 257.

260 Bowes Museum, 242 Boys climbing a tree, tapestry cartoon,

163 Brabazon, H. B., 6 note Brantwood, 216 Briguiboul, 275 Bristol, E^rl of, 147 Browning, Robert, 2 note, 10, 64 note,

189, 208 Brueghel, P., 66

Brugada, de, 186, 310, 311, 314, 315 Brummel, Beau, 191 Brunet, G., 186 Brunetti, Madame, 184 Brussels, 80, 246 Bull-fight (Goya), 166, 223, 301 Bull-fights of Bordeaux, 300, 301, 302,

303 Bull-fighting. 61, 301 Bunbury, H., 211 Burty, Philippe, 95 note, 221 note Butler, Samuel, 224 Byron, 32, 51, 250, 320 Byzantine art, 14

Caballero, Marquis de (Goya), 252

Caballero, Marquesa de (Goya), 245

Cacharrero, El, tapestry cartoon, 106

Cadore, 1 1

Calleja, Andrea de, loi, 135, 138, 139

Callot, 214, 267

Calvert, A. F., 193, 244

Cambiasi, 24

Campagna, Roman, 82, 273

Candilla, collection of the Count de,

289 Cano, Alonso, 4, 5, 20 note, 266 Canova, 197 Capo di Monte, loi, 178 Caprichos, Los, 116, 185, 194, 195, 197,

202-221, 222, 225, 247, 253, 267, 269,

274, 279, 280, 292 Carderera, Valentin, 46, 95 note, 103,

117, 118 note, 192, 203 note, 205 note,

280 Carducho, Vicenzo. 17

Carlos Maria Isidro, Don, 236, 237

Carlotta Joaquina, Doiia, 238

Carmencita (J. S. Sargent), 322

Camicero, Aiitonio, 323 note

Carnival scene (Goya), " The burial of the sardine " 223, 224

Caroline, Queen of Naples, 238, 257

Carolus Duran, 322

Carraci, Annibale, 69

Carreiio de Miranda, Juan : Charles II. (Prado), 13, 23 ; a master of the decadence, 19, 23 ; his death, 20 ; refused the Order of San- tiago, 21 ; his decorative work, 22 ; Saint Anthony (San Antonio de los Portugueses), 22 ; compared with Velazquez, 23 ; influenced by Van Dyck, 23 ; Dona Mariana of Austria (Munich), 23 ; Peter Ivanovitz Potemkin (Prado), 23 ; his pupils, 23 ; Don Juan of A ustria, 119

Carvallo, collection of Dr., 301

Casa del Campo, 65, 225, 272

Casa Torres, collection of Marquis de, 120, 169, 253

Casanova, 144, 228

Castile, Old, 3, 4, 7, 17 note, 34, 60, 264

Castilla-Portugal, Dona Jose fa (Goya), 246

Castillo, Jose del, loi, io2, 135, 136, 158

Castres, Museum of, 275, 276 note

Catalonia, 30, 264, 285

Cathelineau, 271

Catherine II., 82

Catinat, 271

Caxes, Eugenio, 20 note

Ceballos, Mariano, 279

CeciUa Matella, tomb of, 82

Cellini, Benvenuto, 144

Cenci, the, 76

Cervantes, 11, 42, 59

Charles I. of England, 66, 198

Charles II., portrait by Carreiio, 13, 23 ; and Coello, 24, 26 ; his death, 27,

Charles III., 19, 59, 61, 62, 65, 81, 97, 100, 104, 137 note, 138, 144 note, 146, 147, 148, 149, 153. 172. 174. 248, 270

Charles III. (Goya), 146, 156

Charles IV., 153, 172, 173, 174, 175. 178

Charles IV. (Goya), 178, 179, 226, 228, 229, 232, 258, 259




Charles IV., Family of (Goya), 234- 238, 240, 241 note, 252, 259, 264

Charles V., Emperor, 4, 35, 55

Charles V. (Titian), 66, 231

Charlotte, Queen of Great Britain, 213

Charlotte Cor day (Goya), 246

Chartreuse of Aula Dei, 44

Chateaubriand, no, 288

Chevreuse, Duchess de, 189

Chicote, Don Alberto AJbinana y, 316

Childebert, 37

Children, portraits of, by Goya, 156, 163

Chinchon, 133, 170

Christ in the house of Martha (Velaz- quez), 16

Christ at the column (Velazquez), 18,


Christ in the Garden (Goya), 276

Christian art, 8

Christina, Queen of Sweden, 27

Cimabue, 44

Civita Vecchia, 150

Clement XIII., 75, 83

Clement XIV., 75, 76, 81, 83

Cocana, La (Goya), 282, 322

Coello, Claudio, a master of the de- cadence, 19 ; and Goya, 23 ; his work in Madrid and Zaragoza, 24 ; Sagrada Forma (Sacristy of the Escorial), 24, 26; rivalry with Giordiano, 24, 25, 26 ; Martyrdom of St. Stephen, 26 ; his death, 20, 26

Colbert, 146 note

Cole, Thomas, 109 note, 303 note

Colin, Francois, 297

ColUns, William, 253

Colonna, Palazzo, Rome, 76

Colossus, the etching, 278

Commission of the Philippians (Gojra),

275 Conca, 27

Constable, John, 319, 320 Corbo de Porcel, Don Antonio (Goya),

245 Corho de Porcel, Dona Isabel (Goya),

245 Corot, 18 Corrado, 27

Correggio, 64, 69, 84, 98, 126, 227 Corso, the, Rome, 76, 77 Cortona, Pietro da, 25, 47, 297 Costillares, the bull-fighter, 187, 235,

242 Coup d'ip&e, a lithograph, 303 Crockery market. See Cacharrero, El

Crucifixion of San Francisco el Grande

(Goya), 112, 113, 114 Crucifixion of San Placido (Velazquez),

112, 113 Cuervo, Don Juan Antonio (Goya), 251

Dalrymple, Major, 57, 60, 61, 62, 100, 147. 153. 154 *iote, 187 note, 225

Dance, the (Goya), 163

Dance at San Antonio de la Florida (Goya), 105, 112

Dante, 218 note

Daumier, 177, 218

David, Louis, 79, 80, 143, 152 note, 297 and note

Debucourt, 250

Dejazet, Virginie, 288

Delacroix, Eugene, 288, 289, 299, 304 note, 320

Delaroche, Paul, 320

Desastres de la Guerra, Los, 116, 267, 268, 269, 279

Deveria, 200

Diderot, 27, 152 and note

Dieulafoy, Madame, 37, 38 note, 195

Don Quixote, 38 note, 58

Dona Mariana of Austria (Velazquez), 21

Dore, Gustave, 215

Dos de Mayo (Goya), 261-263, 266, 276

Dou, Gerard, 70

Dresden, 63, 65, 99

Dryden, 121

Duaso y Latre, Don, 270

Duel, the, a lithograph, 300

Du Deffard, Madame, 151

Dulwich Gallery: Philip IV. (Velaz- quez or del Mazo), 21

Dumas, Alexandre, 25

Diirer, A., 16, 66, 214

Dutch school, 5, 17 note, 65, 66, 70

Ebro, 36, 38 and note, 52

Edinburgh, 50, 60

Egmont, Count, 45 note

" Elche, Lady of," 3, 4, 244

Ellis, F. S., 216 note

Ellis Havelock (SomZ of Spain), 4 notei

"3 Emigration and art, 19 " Empecinado, El," Don Juan Martin,

23, 251, 270, 271 Ensenada, Marquis de la, 146 note Episode d'un combat de Taureaux

(Manet), 321 Escoiquiz, Canon, 257



Escorial, palace and church of the, 9,

13, 14, 24, 27, 65, 66, 160 Espeja, Marquesa de (Goya), 246 Espinar, Marquis de. See Goya y

Goicoechea, Mariano de Essai sur I' Art et l' Industrie de I'Es-

pagne (Paris), 4 note Essay upon Painting (Carducho), 17 Estala, Don Thomas Perez (Goya), 251 Esteve, Augustin, 323 note Esteve, Rafael, 220, 312 Etruria, Louis, King of, 237 Etty, 198

Eugenie, Empress, 234 note Eyck, Jan van, 4

Fair of Madrid, tapestry cartoon, 109 Family of Charles IV. (Gioya), 235, 240,

252, 259 Famese, Elizabeth, 137 note Farro, Gregorio, 135, 136 Fates, the (Goya), 283 Feast of San Isidro, " La Romeria de

San Isidro " (Gk)ya), 21, 170, 273 Ferdinand and Isabella, 19, 35 Ferdinand VI., loi, 145, 146, 148 Ferdinand VII., 208, 251, 258-260,

270, 272 Ferdinand VII. (Goya), 260, 273, 275,

285, 299 Fernan-Nunez, Countess of (Goya), 246 Fernan-Nunez, Duke of (Goya), 249,

250 Femey, 151 Ferrer, Don Joaquin Maria (Gk)ya), 251,

289, 292, 295, 296 Ferrer, Dona Manuela A Ivarez Coinas y

(Goya), 289, 294 Feytaud, 297

Flagellants, the (Goya), 11 1 note, 223 Flemish art, 4, 66, 70 Florence, 29, 85 Florence, Palazzo Vecchio, 13 Florentine influence upon Spanish art,

5 Florida Blanca, Count of, 83, 135, 136,

155, 168, 183, 309 Folly Bridge (Turner), 116 Ford, Richard, 2, 30, 31, 34, 317 Forge of Vulcan (Velazquez), 7, 17 Fortuny, Mariano, 323, 204 note Fragonard, 65, i6i, 164, 213, 228 Francisco de Paula, Don, 237, 261 Fremin, 27 French art-students in Rome, 78, 80,


Fuendetodos, 41 and note, 42, 43, 44,

45, 91 note, 182, 265 Fuentes, Count de, 41 note, 45, 151

Gabriel Anton, Don, 159, 236

Gaganelli, 75

Gainsborough, T., 65, 163, 166, 167,

231, 239, 241, 243, 290, 307 Galard, G. de, 297 Galinsoya, Dr., 185 Gallardo, Bartolom6 J., 239 note Galos, Jacques, 296, 305 Galton, Francis, on hereditary genius,

19 Game of pelota, tapestry cartoon, 109 Garcia, Don Manuel (Goya), 276 Garcia de Miranda, Juan, 28 Garcia de la Prada, Don Manuel (Goya),

249, 250 Garriga, Don Benito, 246 Gaulon, 300, 304 Gautier, Theophile, 171, 199, 202, 218,

235 Geneva, 35 George III., 178, 213 Georges, Mile., 288 Gerard, 288

G6ricault, 288, 299, 320 German art, 16, 65, 66 Gerona, cathedral of, 39 Gesner, Solomon, 65 Gigantillas, Las, tapestry, 102 Gillray, 213

Gimeno, Eduardo, 284 note Giordano, Luca, 24, 25, 26, 46 note,

47, 100, 297 Giotto, 44 Girodet, 288 Gobelins, 99 Godoy, Manuel, Prince of Peace, 137

note, 173, 175, 185, 197, 209, 210,

219, 239, 256 Goethe, 83 Goicoechea, Don Juan Martin de, 251,

255 Goldoni, 241 Gonse, Louis, 275, 276 Gonzalez, Antonio, loi Goten, CorneHus van der, 154, 156, 158 Goten, Jacob van der, 100 Goten, Francisco van der, 100 Gothic art, 9, 40 Goya, Camillo, 133 Goya, Francisco (i 746-1828) : Rises

from a crowd of mediocrities, i ;

compared with Velazquez, 5, 6, 7



Goya, Francisco (1746-1828), Cont., his religion, 9, 15 ; and El Greco, 14 ; passionate temper, 14 ; impres- sionable nature, 18 ; borrows from Rubens, 18 ; copies Velazquez, 19, 67 ; influence of Carrefio upon, 22 ; Richard Ford on, 30, 31 ; a typical Aragonese, 31 ; influence of Zara- goza upon, 40 ; his birth and family, 41, 44 ; early attempts at drawing, 44 ; Luzan his first master, 45 ; his love of music, 51, 72 ; town fights in Zaragoza, 52 ; action of the Inquisition, 53 ; goes to Madrid, 53; life in Madrid, 55, 63 ; introduced to Mengs, 63 ; and the Spanish royal collection, 65 ; influence of Tiepolo, 67 ; early life in Madrid, 72 ; an expert swordsman, 72 ; his exploits as a bull-fighter, 72, 73 ; goes to Rome, 73 ; student days in Rome, 74-87 ; his marriage, 94-97, 156 ; recreations in Madrid, 96, 157 ; tapestry cartoons, loi, 102 ; presented to Charles III., 109 ; financial position, iii ; early etch- ings, III, 115-121, 158; elected to the Academy of San Fernando, 114 ; etchings after Velazquez, 118, 119; frescoes for El Pilar, 122-134 ; quarrel with Francisco Bayeu, 124- 132 ; director of San Fernando, 139 ; comparison with Hogarth, 139, 140 ; as a politician, 143 ; royal favour, 155 ; early portraits, 156 ; later tapestry cartoons, 157-171 ; religi- ous paintings, 170 ; portrait of Maria Luisa, 176; bad health, 180, 181, 203, 222, 267, 293 ; the Duchess of Alba, 181, 182-201 ; political ideas, 182, 183 ; in society, 184, 185 ; origin of Los Caprichos, 204 ; San Antonio de la Florida, 225-229 ; re- newed favour with the King and Queen, 229, 230 ; the great portrait period, 231-254 ; deaths of his friends, 255 ; sketches of the Dos de Mayo, 262 ; Los Desastres de la Guerra, 267 ; Goya and war, 268 ; King Joseph and the Duke of Wel- lington, 268, 269 ; his country house, 274, 283, 284 ; in retirement, 274 ; La Tauromaquia, 278 ; Los Proverbios, 280 ; life in Bordeaux, 286 : visits Paris, 287, 288, 289 ; returns to Bordeaux, 290 ; the

Goya, Francisco (1746-1828), Cont., lithographs, 298 ; visits Madrid, 306-308 ; last days in Bordeaux, 309 ; death and burial, 314, 315,

316 , 317 ; his son and grandson,

317 ; his three masters, 319 Works by Goj'a referred to in the text :

Abrantes, Duchess de, 246

Acerolea, La, 106

Alba, Duchess of, 189-192, 196, 199,

201 note, 225, 232, 250, 253 Allegory, An, 253 Andalusia, 105 Antonio, Infante Don, 236 Arias Dairla, Don Juan Josi Mateo.

248 Asensi, Julia, 323 note Assumption, The, 170 A sturias, Maria A ntonia. Princess of

the, 236, 237, 238 Aula Dei, frescoes of, 44, 91, 92, 93 Bayeu, Dona Feliciana, 252 Bayeu, Francisco, 132, 157, 167, 232,

242 Bebedor, El, 163 Benavente-Osuna, Countess of, 169,

253 Benedict XIV.. 83 Bermudez, Senora de Cean, 169 Bewitched, The, 169 Blind beggar, 106, 120 Bonaparte, Joseph, 266 Bondad-Real, Marquis de, 240, 248 Bookseller of the Calle de las Carretas,

190, 246 Bourbon, Cardinal de, 252 Boys climbing a tree, 163 Bull-fight, A. Ill, 166, 223, 301 Bull- fights of Bordeaux, 300, 301, 302,

303 Caballero, Marquis de, 252 Caballero, Marquesa de, 245 Cacharrero, El "The crockery market,"

1 06 Caprichos. Los, 116, 185, 194, 195, 197, 202-221, 222, 247, 253, 267, 269, 274, 279, 280, 292 Carlos Maria Isidro, Don. 236, 237 Carlotta Joaquina, Dona, 238 Carnival scene (Burial of the sar- dine), 223, 224 Castilla-Portugal, t)ona Josef a, 246 Ceballos, Mariano, 279 Charles III., 146, 156 Charles IV., 178, 179. 226, 228, 229, 232, 258, 259



Works by Goya, Continued. Charlotte Cor day, 246 Christ in the Garden, 276 Children, portraits of, 156, 163 Cocana, La, 282, 322 Colossus, The, 278 Commission of the Philippines, 275,

276 Corbo de Porcel, Don Antonio, 245 Corbo de Porcel, Dona Isabel, 245 Costillares, the bull-fighter, 187, 235,

242 Coup d'lpee, 303 Crockery market, " El cacharrero,"

106 Crucifixion of San Francisco el

Grande, 112, 113, 114, 134 Cuervo, Don Juan Antonio, 251 Dance, The, 163 Dance, The, at San Antonio de la

Florida, 105, 112 Desastres de la Guerra, Los, 116, 267,

268, 269, 279 Dos de Mayo, 261-263, 266, 276 Duel, The, 300 Empecinado, El {Don Juan Martin),

23, 251, 270, 271 Espeja, Marquesa de, 246 Estala, Don Thomas Perez, 251 Fair of Madrid, 109 Family of Charles IV., 235, 240, 252,

259 Fates, The, 283 Feast of San Isidro {La Romeria de

San Isidro), 21, 170, 273 Ferdinand VII., 260, 273, 275, 285,

299 Fernan-Nunez, Countess of, 246 Fernan-Nunez, Duke of, 249, 250 Ferrer, Don Joaquin, 289 Ferrer, Dona Manuela, 289 Flagellants, The, iii note, 223 Florida Blanca, Count of, 155, 156,

309 Francisco de Paula, Don, 237 Galos, Jacques, 305 Game of pelota, 109 Garcia, Don Manuel, 276 Garcia de la Prada, Don Manuel, 249,

250 Gaulon, the lithographer, 304 Gigantillas, Las, 102 Godoy, 239 Goicoechea, Don Juan Martin de, 251,

255 Goya and the Duchess of Alba, 191

Works by Goya, Continued.

Goya, portraits of, 139, 140, 274

Goya, Josef a, 94, 95

Goten, Cornelius van der, 156

Guillemardet, Francois, 240

Guye, Nicolas, 253

Guye, Victor, 253, 246, 309

Hannibal, 84

Holy Family, 97, 98

Judith and Holof ernes, 283

Kiss of Judas, 171

Lady, portrait of a (Louvre), 246

Larriategui, Don Felix Colon de, 224

Lazan, Marquesa de, 246

Llorente, Don Juan Antonio, 252

Luis, Don, 138

Madhouse, The, iii, 223

Maiquez, Isidoro, 242

Majas on the balcony, 247

Maja clothed, and Maja nude, 195-

201 Maja (Lille), 248, 250 note Maria Luisa of Etruria, 237 Maria Luisa, Queen of Spain, 176,

236 Mazarredo, Admiral, 251 Meeting of the Cortes, 275 Melendez V aides, 242, 317 Merienda, La, 104, 105, 169 Milkmaid of Bordeaux, 306 Miranda, Count de la, 156 Montijo, Countess de, 166, 184, 234 Moratin, Leandro, 241, 290 Muguiro, Juan de, 291, 308, 309 Munarriz, Don Josi Luis de, 251 Nenin, Don Pantaleon Perez de, 251 Novillada, La, 109 Osuna, Duke of, 239, 276 Osuna, Duchess of, 166, 187, 206 Palafox, Josi, 32, 251, 264, 265 Penaranda, Duchess de, 246 Peral, Dr., 167, 242 Perez, Don Tiburcio, 278, 286 Perez de Castro, Don Evaristo, 242 Pignatelli, 181 Pontejos, Marquesa de, 168 Prisoners, The, 281, 282 Promenade, The, 106, 109 Proverbios, Los, 278, 280, 281 Quitasol, El {The parasol), 163, 164 Ricardo, General, 224 Romeria de San Isidro, La, 170, 273 Romero, Pedro, 187, 279 Saint Anne, 171 Saint Bernardino of Siena, 135 Saint Christopher, 91



Works by Goya, Continued.

Saint Francisco de Borgia, 291

Saint Joseph of Calasam, 276

Saint Justa and Saint Ruftna, 253, 276

San Adrian, Marquis de, 248

San Antonio de la Florida, frescoes of, 67, 225-229, 233, 247, 252, 266, 273 note, 308

San/a Barbara, tapestries of , loo, loi, io8, 160, 162 note

San Carlos, Duke of, 248

Santiago, Marquesa de, 246

Satan devouring his children, 283, 284

SatuS, Don Ramon, 277

Silvela, Manuel, 291, 306, 309

Solana, Marquesa de la, 190, 194, 232

Soria, Dona Clara de, 252

Spaniards dancing a bolero, 112

Stilt-walkers, The, 163

Summer, 162

Tauromaquia, La, 278, 279, 300, 307

Teba, Count de, 251

Tirana, La, 235, 242, 243, 247, 255

Tolosa, Marquis de, 156

Tribunal of the Inquisition, iii, 223

Urias de Enriquez, Dona Tadea, 232

Urrutia, General, 239

Vargas y Ponce, Don Jose, 251

Vendimia, La {The vintage) , 163, 164

Virgin of the pillar, 54

Venus of the Alcudia, 239

Washerwomen, The, 109

Water-carriers, The, 163

Wellington, Duke of, 269, 270

Witches' sabbath, 283

Young man, portrait of a, 249

Zambrano, Don Jose y, 156

Zapater, Martin, 181

Zarate, Dona Antonia, 190, 242, 243, 244, 247

Zuniga, Don Manuel Osorio de, 252 Goya, Francisco Xavier, 200, 220, 249,

255, 269, 284 note, 308, 311-317 Goya y Lucientes, Gracia, 42, 134 Goya, Jose, his occupation, 41, 42 ;

residence in Zaragoza, 42, 43 ; and

his son's support, 77 ; death of, 134 Goya y Bayeu, Josefa, 93, 94, 95, 96,

97, 98, 131. 132, 133, 156, 157, 188,

247. 255 Goya y Goicoechea, Mariano de, Mar- quis de Espinar, 252, 284 note, 313,

314. 317 Grasa family, 43

Grasa, Cenon, 53

Grasa, Francisca, 43

Grasa, Vicenta, 53

Greco, El (Theotocopuli), 39 ; an artist of to-morrow, 8 note ; his art and influence, 13, 14, 15 ; St. Peter (Sacristy of the Escorial), 14 ; his palette, 14 ; the Blake of Spain, 15 ; Casa del Greco at Toledo, 18 ; in- fluence on Goya, 90

Greek art, 64, 65

Greek influence on early Iberian art, 3, 4 note

Greuze, 250, 306

Gros, 288

Grouchy, 263

Guadarrama Mountains, 273

Guardi, 107

Guido, 69

Guillemardet, Francois, 240, 241, 246,

309 Guitar ero (Manet), 321 Guye, General Nicolas (Goya), 253 Guye, Victor (Goya), 253

Hagedorn, 65

Halifax, Earl of, 148

Hals, Franz, 321

Hamerton, P. G., 18, 115, 116, 143,

160, 211, 217, 218, 282, 300 Hamilton, Lady, 232, 238 Hannibal (Goya), 84 Harlot's progress, (Hogarth), 211 Head, Sir E. W., 30

Hereditary Genius (Francis Gal ton) 19 Hermitage Gallery : Saint Lawrence,

(Zurbaran) 15 ; The Alba Madonna

(Raphael), 201 Herrera el Mozo, Francisco, 9, 38, 88 Hertford, Marquis of, 112 note Hilanderas, Las (Velazquez), 18 Hobbes, T., 152 Hoffmann, E. T. W., 215 Hofmann, Julius, 116, 203 Hogarth, WilUam, 30, 68 note, 107,

120, 121, 139, 140, 211, 224 Hokusai, 164, 218 Holbein, 64, 66 Holland, EHzabeth, Lady, 189 Holland, Spanish Journal of Elizabeth,

Lady, 45 note, 201, 265, 266 note Holy Family (Goya), 97, 98 Homer, 64 Hoppner, J., 307 Hosea, 2 Hovasse, Rene Antoine, 27, 100



Huerba river, 41

Hugo, Victor, 322 note, 288

Hume, Martin, 259, 271

Ibsen, 135

Ilchester, Earl of, 45 note

Infantado, Duke of, 188 note

Ingres, 288, 320

Inquisition, the : Its censorship of art, 9, II, 47 ; effect upon the Spanish race, 19 note ; rising in Zaragoza against the, 35 ; Llorente's history of, 35 ; Goya escapes the, 53, 219 ; re-estabhshed by Ferdinand VII., 270

Isabella of Spain, 19, 35, 162 note

Ispahan, 38

Italian influence on Spanish art, 4, 11, 17

Jadraque, 15

Jaleo, El (Sargent), 322

Jesuits, the, and Charles III., 81, 83,

149 Joachim, 217 Johnson, Dr., 223 note Jovel'anos, 132, 136 Judith and Holofernes (Goya), 283

Kiss of Judas (Goya), 171 Kleinberger collection, 302 Knoedler, Messrs., 253 Kremlin, the, 39

Lacour, Antoine, 297

Lacour, Pierre, 297

Lafond, Paul, 47, 80, 249, 276 note,

285, 288, 289 Lagrange, L6on, 240 Lairesse, Gerard de, 64 Lamb, Charles, 140 note Lami, 299 Lancret, 161

Langle, Marquis de, 36, 52 note Lannes, Marshal, 32, 265 Largillifere, 13 Larivi^re, 288 Larriategui, Don Felix Colon de (Goya),

224 Las Casas, 257 Lavater, 139

Lawrence, Sir Thomas, 236, 243, 307 Lazan, Marquesa de (Goya), 246 L6andre, 177 Le Brun, C, 27 Lefort, Paul, 25, 29, 31, 203, 207, 228,

245, 280, 281

Legros, Alphonse, 276 note

Lenbach, 6 note

Lenger, Antoine, 100

Leopold I., 162 note

Leonardo da Vinci, 5, 152 note, 209

Lerena, 158

Lespinasse, Mdlle. de, 151

L'hermitte, 165

Lille museum, 248, 250 note

Little Bull-fight (Goya) ,111

Lippo Lippi, 144

Liria, palace of the, 187, 189, 225

Llano, Marquesa del (Mengs), 169

Llorente, Don Juan Antonio (Goya), 35, 252

Locksley Hall, 2 note

Loga, Valerian von, 74, 83, 88, 90, 92, 96, 97, 108, 117, 132, 171

Lolade Valence (Manet), 321

Longhi, 107

Lopez, Don Thomas, 91

Lopez, Vicente, 307, 308, 323

Louis XIV., 145, 174, 235

Louis XV., 80, 81 note, 153

Louis XVI., 89

Louis XVIII., 287

Louis Philippe, 321

Louvre, the : Lady of Elche bust, 3 ; Monna Lisa (Leonardo), 3 ; Spanish pictures in the, 321 ; Guillemardet (Goya), 240, 241, 246, 309 ; Por- trait of a lady (Goya), 246

Lucas, Eugenio, 323

Lucientes family, 42

Luis Maria, Cardinal Infant Don (Goya), 252

Luis, Don, 137, 138, 155, 156, 256

Lumpkin, Tony, 96

Luna family, 40 and note

Luzan y Martinez, Don Jose, 46, 47, 48, 49. 50. 53. 88

Mabuse, 5

Madrazo, Jos6 de, 78, 79, 323, 324 Madhouse, The (Goya), iii, 223 Madonna of the meadow (Basaiti), 15 Madonna, The Alba (Raphael), 201 note Madrid : Its attraction to the artist, 6 ; its remoteness, 8 ; the fire of, 1734, 22, 28 ; palace of the Alcazar, 28, 66 ; street of the Holy Sacrament, 28 ; San Antonio de los Portugueses, 22 ; the School of Madrid, 22, 29 ; in the eighteenth century, 55-62 ; the palace, 56, X03 ; revolution of 1766, 60, 61 ; Puerta del Sol, 261



Maella, Mariano Salvador, loi, 102, 117, 130, 135, 159, 160, 229, 266

Maeterlinck, 30

Maiquez, Isidro (Goya), 242

Majas on the balcony (Goya), 247

Majas, the two, by Goya, 195-201

Malibran, 276

Mallo, 256 note

Malmesbury, Earl of, 57, 61, 62

Manet, E., 8, 241, 275, 321, 322

Mantz, Paul, 83

Manzanares, the river, 56, 104, 225, 273. 274, 308

Marat, 246

Maratti, 27

Marie Antoinette, 178

Marie-Louise, Empress, 197

Maria Luisa of Etruria, 237, 261

Maria Luisa, Queen, 13, 84, 97, 153, 173' 175. 177. 178. 192, 208, 209, 230, 233, 257

Mariana of Austria, her portraits, 21, 23. 176

Martinez, Antonio, 49, 50

Mastroleo, 46

Matheron, Laurent, 44, 52, 53, 77, 79, 82, 185, 263, 272

Mattel, 27, 46 note

Mayans, Gregorio, 100

Mazarredo, Admiral, 251

Mazo, Juan Bautista Martinez del, 9 ; his landscapes, 1 1 note ; a landcape at the Casa del Greco, 18 ; a master of the decadence, 19 ; his relation- ship to Velazquez, 20

Medici, Villa, 78, 79, 80

Medici, gardens of the Villa, 11 note, 18

Medina Coeli, Duke of, 187 note

Meeting of the Cortes (Goya), 275

Meissonier, 169, 320

Melendez Valdes (Goya), 242, 317

Memlinc, 5

Mengs, Anton Rafael, 63 ; his friend- ship Avith Winckelmann, 65 ; life in Rome, 65 ; and Goya, 63, 98 ; and Reynolds, 67 ; the Discourses, 69, 70 ; on painting, 71 ; his style, 99 ; his success, 100 ; the tapestry factory, 1 01 ; the Parnassus, 103 ; his por- traits, 169

Meninas, Las (Velazquez), 18

Merienda, La (Goya, National Gallery), 169

Merienda, La, tapestry cartoon, 104,

105 Merovingians, 37

Metsu, 65

Michael Angelo, 15, 25, 69, 92

Middleton, Thomas, 216

Milan, art of, 5

Milkmaid of Bordeaux (Goya), 306

Millais, Sir J. E., 232

Miranda, Count de la, 156

Molino, 291

Montijo, Countess de, 166, 184, 234

Moors, the, 3, 9, 18

Morales, 5, 15, 16

Moratin, Leandro, 241, 286, 287, 290,

291, 293, 306, 317 Morland, George, 96 Moro, Antonio, 13 Moscow, 39

Mount Parnassus (Mengs), 99 Muguiro, Juan de, 291, 308, 309 Munarriz, Don Josi Luis de (Goya), 251 Murat, 258, 261 Murillo, 4, II, 15, 266 Musset, A. de, 288 Muther, Richard, 63, 64, 99, 153, 156,

177, 228, 268

Naples, 24, 26, 65, 104, 189 Napoleon Bonaparte, 172, 237, 256,

257, 266 Napoli, 266 National Gallery, London :

Madonna of the meadow (Basaiti), 10

and note St. Peter Martyr (Bellini), 10 Philip IV. (Velazquez), 13, 21 note Adoration of the shepherds (Zur-

baran), 15 Christ in the house of Martha (Velaz- quez), 17 Christ at the column (Velazquez), 18 Adrian Pulido Pareja (Velazquez), 21 Venus, the Rokeby (Velazquez), 201 La merienda campestre (Goya), 104,

105, 169 Bewitched, The (Goya), 169 Dona Isabel Corbo de Porcel (Goya),

245 Dr. Peral (Goya), 167, 242 Navagero, AJidrea, 66 Navas, Don Luis da, 224 Nelson, 23S Nemes sale, 102 note Nenin, Don Pantaleon Perez de, 251 Nerval, Gerard de, 199 Newton, Richard, 211 Northcote, James, 68 note Novillada, La, tapestry cartoon, 109



Nuneham Har court (Turner), ii6

Oertel, R., 241 note, 275

Offenbach, 227

Offering to the Goddess of Love (Titian),

66 Olavide, 152, 153 Olivieri, 27 Orleans, Duke of, 37 Orossen collection, 190 Osuna family, 165, 166, 167, 234 Osuna, Duke of, 239, 276 Osuna, Duchess of, 166, 187, 206 Our Lord after the flagellation (Zur-

baran), 15

Pacelli, Matteo, 24

Pacheco, 8, 17, 47

Palafox, Jos6, 32, 251, 264, 265

Palomino, Antonio, 26

Palomino, 20, 24

Panto ja de la Cruz, 13

Paracelsus, 2

Pardo, El, palace of, 102, 154 note

Paris, Comtesse de, 236, 247

Paris, Pierre, 4

Parma, 84

Parmegiano, 69

Patinir, 5

Paul I., of Russia, 248 note

Pedro III., 34

Peleguer, 291

Penaranda, Duchess de (Goya), 246

Peral, Dr. (Goya), 167, 242

Perez, Don Tiburcio (Goya), 278, 286

Perez de Castro, Don Evaristo (Goya),

242 Pennon, Laure, 246 Perugino, 283, 297

Peter Ivanovitz Potemkin (Carreno), 23 Philip II., 9, 13, 27, 35, 65, 146, 225 Philip III., 18

Philip IV., I, 13, 16, 17, 18, 21 note Phihp v., 32, 47, 82, 137 note, 145 ;

his accession, 26 ; patronage of the

arts, 27, 146 ; and the tapestry

factory, 99 Philip, family of (Van Loo), 235 Pignatelli family, 45 and note, 46, 48,

i8i Pignatelli, Juan, 210 Piranesi, 33 Pitt, the elder, 147 Pius VI., 81 note Plombi^res, 285, 287 Poe, Edgar Allan, 215

Pontejos, Marquesa de (Goya), 168 Ponz, Antonio, 136, 139 Portugal, 4 Poussin, 47, 83 Pradilla, 324

Prado gallery. For list of works by Goya in the Prado, see catalogue. Gardens of the Villa Medici (Velaz- quez or del Mazo), 11 note Los Borrachos (Velazquez), 7, 16, 17 Forge of Vulcan (Velazquez), 7, 17 Charles II. (Carreno), 13 Bacchanal (Titian), 17 Offering to the Goddess of Love

(Titian), 66 Las Meninas (Velazquez), 18 Las Hilanderas (Velazquez), 18 Surrender of Breda (Velazquez), 20

note Prince Balthasar Carlos (Velazquez),

21 Dona Mariana of Austria (Velaz- quez), 21 View of Zaragoza (Velazquez and

del Mazo), 21 Peter Ivanovitz Potemkin (Carreflo),

23 Pnm, General, 262 note Prisoners, The, etchings, 281, 282 Procaccini, A., 27, 100 Promenade, The, tapestry cartoon. 106,

109 Proverbios, Los, 278, 280, 281 Prud'hon, 197, 299

Quitasol, El {The parasol) (Goya), 163, 164

Raeburn, Sir H., 307 note

Rake's progress (Hogarth), 121

Ramirez, Jos6, 49

Ramirez, Juan, 49

Ranc, Jean, 27

Randan, chateau of, 16 note

Ranz, Luis Gil, 266

Raphael : Influence upon Giordano, 25 ; Winckelmann on, 64 ; The Pearl, 66, 100 ; Reynolds and Mengs, 67, 68 ; Velazquez on, 71 ; Alba Madonna, 201

Ravago, Father, 148

Raviella, Pablo, 49

Regnault, Henri, 262 note, 323

Rembrandt, 212, 231, 319 ; compared with Velazquez, 5, 6 ; modem fol- lowers, 6 note ; a restless worker.



Rembrandt, Continued.

6, 7 ; Mengs on, 70 ; house in the Breestraat, 123, 124 ; and Goya, 141

Renan, E., 96

Reynolds, Sir Joshua, 65, 163, 231, 239, 307 ; and Rafael Mengs, 67 ; and Velazquez, 68, 69

Ribalta, 4

Ribera, Antonio, 78

Ribera, " El Spagnoletto," 4, 266, 323

Ricardo, General (Goya), 224

Ricci, 224 K

Richelieu, Marshal de, 45 note

Ricketts, Charles, 197

Rico, 324

Rigaud, 13, 27

Rizi, 22

Rochford, Earl of, 148

Rodin, 282

Rodriguez, Ventura, 38, 138, 226

Rogers, Samuel, 218

Romana, Marquis de la, 191, 194

Romano, Julio, 25

Romantic School, the, 8, 319

Rome, II, 29, 32 ; gardens of the Villa Medici, 11 note; English students in, 78 ; French art-students in, 78, 80, 81 ; Spanish art-students in, 27 ; the Lateran, 75 ; Goya in, 74-87 ; life and manners in, 75-78 ; Cam- pagna, 82, 273 ; Colonna palazzo, 76 ; Corso, 76, 77 ; Spagna, Piazza di, 77 ; Aldobranini Palace, 103

Romeria de San Isidro, La (Goya), 170,


Romero, Pedro, 187, 279

Romney, G., 232, 236, 307

Rossi, Aniello, 24

Rossini, 288

Rothenstein, William, 68 note, iii, 161, 224, 228 note, 276 note, 281

Rothschild collection, 252

Rousseau, J. J., 152, 168

Rowlandson, T., 177, 211, 213

Rubens on Velazquez, 17 ; Goya bor- rows from, 18 ; Otto Vcenius and, 47 ; and Marie de Medicis, 176 ; his best period, 231 ; and the horrors of war, 268 ; Satan devouring his children, by, 284 ; Bordeaux mu- seum, 297

Ruskin, John, 216, 218

Sacchi, 27 Sachetti, 56, 67 Sade, Marquis de, 144

Sagrada Forma (Coello), 24, 26

Saint Anne (Goya), 171

Saint Christopher (Goya), 91

Saint Francisco de Borgia (Goya), 291

Saint Joseph of Calasanz (Goya), 276

Saint Justa and Saint Rufina (Goya),

253. 276 Saint Lawrence (Hermitage), 15 Saint Margaret (Zurbaran), 16 Saint Peter (El Greco), 14 Saint Peter Martyr (Bellini), 11 St. Petersburg, 82 Saint Stephen, Martyrdom of (Coello),

26 Sainte-Beuve, 199 Sala, Don Mario de la, 42 Salamanca, 137 Salamanca, battle of, 269 Salamanca, Marquis de, 284 note Salvadores, the, 43 Salvator Rosa, 71 Salzedo, Don Felix, 44, 45, 91, 130,

131 Sancho Panza, 38 note, 42, 58, 59 San Adrian, Marquis de (Goya), 248 San Antonio de la Florida, 67, 225-

229, 233, 247, 252, 266, 273 note,

308 San Antonio de la Florida, frescoes of,

222-230 Santa Barbara, tapestry factory of,

100, loi, 108, 160, 162 note San Carlos, Duke de (Goya), 248 San Carlos, Duchess of, 183 San Fernando, Duke of, 137 note San Fernando, Royal Academy of, 27,

114, 139, 178. 274 San Francisco el Grande, 112 Santa Cruz, Marquesa de, 183 Santiago, Marquesa de (Goya), 246 Sargent, J. S., 241, 276 note, 323 Satan devouring his children (Goya) ,

283, 284 Satan devouring his children (Rubens),

284 Satu6, Don Ramon, 277 Schuwalow, Count Ivan, 81 Scott, Sir John Murray, 112 Segovia, Puenta de, 273 Senefelder, 299 Seoane, Marquis de, 305 Servet, Michael, 35 Seville, 29, 30, 253 Shakespeare, 2, 30, 211 note, 212 Shelley, 32 Siddons, Mrs., 243



Sidney, Sir Philip, 211 note

Sigalon, 288

Silvagni, 75, 76, 87

Silvela, Manuel, 291, 306, 309

Sistine Chapel, 14, 92

Socorro, Marquis del, 232

Solatia, Marquesa de la (Goya), 190, 194, 232

Soler, Don Miguel Cayetano, 219

Solimena, 27

Solvay, Lucien, 201 note, 234, 245

Soria, Dona Clara de (Goya), 252

SoroUa y Bastida, 8, 324

Soul of Spain (Havelock Ellis), 4

Soult, Marshal, 275

Spain : Two centuries behind Europe, 2 ; wood carving, 12 ; husbands, jealousy of, in, 16 ; population of, 19. 63 ; growth of Spanish art, 28 ; foreign influence, 61 ; an age of transition, 142 ; the Peninsula War,


Spanish art : Foreign influences, 3, 4, 5, 29 ; and the Italian schools, 11 ; sculptors and wood-carvers, 12 ; portrait painting of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, 13 ; essentially naturalistic, 15 ; religious ecstasy, 15 ; and population, 19 ; the three schools, 30 ; in the nine- teenth century, 318

Spaniards dancing a bolero (Goya), 112

Spinoza, 35, 152

Steen, Jan, 274

Stevenson, R. A. M., 50, 71

Stilt-walkers (Goya), 163

Stirling-Maxwell, Sir W., 27, 30, 201, 239

Stoffels, Hendrikje, 7

Strasburg, 83

Strauss, 35

Stuarts, the, 236

Stuik, Livinio, 158, 159, 203, 223

Summer (Goya), 162

Surrender of Breda (Velazquez), 20

Swift, Dean, 213, 283

Tadda, 12

Talma, 288

Tauromaquia, La, 278, 279, 300, 307

Tavel, Sophie, 297

Teba, Count de, 251

Teniers, 66, 70, 100

Tennyson, 2 note

Terburg, 65

Theotocopuli. See Greco, El

Thore-Burger, 112, 321

Tiepolo, G. B., 47, 67, 90, 92, 103,

107, 117, 126, 227, 297 Tintoretto, 20, 66 Tirana, La (Goya), 235, 242, 243, 247,


Titian, 11, 21, 230 ; Bacchanal (Prado), 1 7 ; Winckelmann on, 64 ; Mengs on, 70 ; Offering to the Goddess of Love (Prado), 66 ; Charles V (Prado), 66, 231

Titus, son of Rembrandt, 7

Toledo, 8, 15, 18, 28, 29, 60, 171

Tolosa, Marquis de, 156

Tormo y Monzo, E., 224, 241 note, 247 note

Tribunal of the Inquisition (Goya), in, 223

Trovatore, II, 40 note

Tudo, Josefa, 200, 256

Turenne, 61 note

Turner, J. W. M., 6, and note, 17 note, 32, 116, 162, 319, 322

Urias de Enriquez, Dona Tadea (Goya),

232 Urrutia, General (Goya), 239 Utamaro, 164

Vaccaro, 27

Voenuis, Otto, 47

Valen9ay, 259, 270

Valence, 29

Valencia, 4

Valenti, Cardinal, 86

Valladolid, 12, 171

Vallespin, Tomas, 49, 50

Vallin, Jacques Antoine, 250

Van Dyck, Anthony, 23, 231, 307 note

Van Loo, Carl, 27

Van Loo, Louis Michel, 13, 27, 82, 235

Vanvitelli, 27

Vargas family, 225

Vargas y Ponce, Don Jose (Gk)ya), 251

Varin, Quentin, 47

Vasari, 44

Vatican, 67, 68

Vecchio Palazzo, 12

Vega Inclan, Marquis de la, collection

of, 18 Velazquez, Antonio, 89, 102, 130, 135 Velazquez, Diego : His death the close

of an era, i ; Rembrandt and, 5, 6 ;

Los Borrachos (Prado), 7, 16, 17 ;

Forge of Vulcan (Prado), 7, 17 ; and

Goya, 7, 16, 18 ; Medici gardens



Velazquez, Diego, Continued.

(Prado), II note; Philip IV. (National Gallery), 13 ; personality of, 16; unerring vision, 17; Christ in the house of Martha (National Gallery), 16 ; Sir David Wilkie on, 1 7 ; Rubens on, 17; a lost portrait of Philip IV., 17 ; Christ at the column (National Gallery), 18, 113 ; Las Meninas (Prado), 18 ; Las Hilanderas (Prado), 18; develop- ment of his genius, 18 ; his death, I, 18, 19 ; Surrender of Breda (Prado), 20; Adrian Pulido Pareja (National Gallery), 21 ; Prince Bal- thasar Carlos (Prado), 21 ; Prince Balthasar Carlos (Wallace) , 68 note ; Philip IV. (Dulwich), 21 ; Dona Mariana of Austria (Prado), 21, 177 ; View of Zaragoza (Prado), 21 ; and Sir Joshua Re5molds, 68 note ; Mengs on, 70 ; his opinion of Raphael, 71 ; his opinion of Titian, 71 ; Crucifixion of San Placido, 112, 113; a painting owned by Goya, 230 ; Pope Innocent, 231 ; ofi&cial portraits, 235 ; works select- ed for Napoleon, 266 ; Goya's ideal,

319 Velazquez, 2^charias, 78 Vendimia, La (Goya), 163, 164 Venetian painting, 17, 66, 106 Venice, 29, 85

Ventura, Rodriques, 27, 88, 134 Verdi, 40 note Verestchagin, 269 Vemet (Bordeaux), 297 Vemet, Horace, 263, 288, 299, 320 Veronese, Paolo, 20, 25, 66 Versailles, 13, 56 Vicente, Bartolome, 23 Victoria of Braganza, Dofia, 159 Vien, 80, 297 Viladomat, Antonio, 27 Villaamil, Cruzada, 102 Villagonzalo, Count de, 243, 274 Villanueva, 35 Vill^le, 288

Villahermosa, Duke de, 151 Vifiaza, Count de la, 42, 43, 45, 46,

47. 54. 74. 77. 85 note, 90, 91, 228 Virgin of the pillar (Goya), 54 Visigoths, 3

Voltaire, 30, 151, 152, 153 Vos, Mairtin de, 214

Wagner, Richard, 223 note Wallace collection, 68 note, 112, 197

note Washerwomen, The, tapestry cartoon,

109 Water-carriers (Goya), 163 Watteau, 57, 64, 104, 105, 106, 161 Watts, G. F., 49, 284 Weiss, Leocardia, 274, 289, 290, 291,

296, 313. 314 Weiss, Rosario, 274, 286, 289, 290, 291,

296, 297, 298, 313, 314 Wellington, Duke of, 251, 269, 270,

271 Wemher ooUection, 189 Weyden, Van der, 5 Whistler, 241 Wiertz, 214, 268 Wilde, Oscar, 212, 218 Wigstead, 211 Wilkie, Sir David, 17 Winckelmann, 63, 64, 103 ; Thoughts

upon the Imitation of Greek Works,

64 ; History of Ancient Art, 64 Witches' sabbath (Goya), 283 Wouwerman, 100

Young man, portrait of a (Goya), 249 Yriarte, Bernardo de, 223, 224 Yriarte, Charles, 46, 52, 67, 72, 74,

78, 79, 80, 82, 112, 162, 207, 210,

273 note, 280

Zabalo, Juan, 48

Zamacois, 324

Zambrano, Don Jos6 y, 156

2^mpieri, Dominici, 69

Zapater y Gomez, Francisco, 9, 42, 43. 52, 53, 72, 75

Zapater, Martin, 46, 54, 80, no, 132, 135, 138, 155, 170, 171, 179, 181, 203, 255

Zaragoza : Zaragoza, view of (Velazquez and del Mazo), 21 ; Vicente, a native of, 23 ; Coello and the Church of the Augustines, 24 ; first impressions of, 32, 33 ; the citizens of, 34 ; political freedom of, 34 ; rising against the Inquisition, 35 ; cathedral of El Seo,

35. 38. 39. 40. 52 ; early history of,

36, 37 ; the sieges of, 37 ; Mag- dalena, the, 37 ; San Paolo, 37 ; San Miguel des Navarrois, 37 ; Moorish influences, 37, 38 ; the Leaning Tower, 38 ; Puente de Piedra, 38 note ; cathedral of El



Zaragoza, Continued.

Pilar, 38, 39. 52, 74- 88-93, 122-133 '. Lonja, the, 40, 109 ; Audiencia, 40 ; Goya's father in, 42, 43 ; Goya goes to, 45, 46 ; Luzan's studio in, 48 Calle de la Moreria Cerrada, 43 Calle de Rufas. 43 : Aula Dei, 44 evenings in, 51 ; town fights, 52 . reUgious processions, 52 note ; San Luis, 52 ; Goya's visits to, 74, 87 ; Goya's frescoes in El Pilar, 88-93, 122-133 ; French occupation of, 91 ; Goya's love for, 122 ; sieges of, 264-266

Z urate, Dona Antonia (Goya), 190, 242, 243, 244, 247

Ziem, 7 note

Zuloaga, 8, 161, 324

Zuniga, Don Manuel Osorio de (Goya), 252

Zurbaran, 4, 11 ; Saint Lawrence (Hermitage), 15 ; Our Lord after the flagellation (Jadraque), 15 ; Adoration of the shepherds (National Gallery), 15, 16, and note ; Portrait of a lady as Saint Margaret (National Gallery), 16 ; pictures selected by Goya, 266

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