ILLUSTRATIONS (In certain versions of this etext [in certain browsers] clicking on the image will bring up a larger view.)
CATALOGUE OF THE WORKS OF GOYA

{i}

THE SPANISH SERIES
GOYA {ii}

THE SPANISH SERIES

EDITED BY ALBERT F. CALVERT

Goya Toledo Madrid Seville Murillo Cordova El Greco Velazquez The Prado The Escorial Royal Palaces of Spain Spanish Arms and Armour Granada and the Alhambra Leon, Burgos, and Salamanca Catalonia, Valencia and Murcia Valladolid, Oviedo, Segovia, Zamora, Avila, and Zaragoza

{iii}

# GOYA

AN ACCOUNT OF HIS LIFE
AND WORKS BY ALBERT F.
CALVERT, WITH 612 RE-
PRODUCTIONS FROM HIS
PICTURES, ETCHINGS, AND
LITHOGRAPHS
LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD
NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY MCMVIII

{iv}

{v}

To
THE MARQUIS OF COMILLAS

My dear Marquis,

I beg you to accept the dedication of this volume as a mark of the high value I place upon your friendship, and as a sincere expression of my esteem for yourself as a patron of the arts, a true philanthropist, and a lifelong worker in the interests of Spanish greatness.

I am, my dear Marquis,
Your sincere and obliged,
ALBERT F. CALVERT.
{vi}

{vii}

Edinburgh: T. and A. Constable, Printers to His Majesty

## PREFACE

It has been said that in England everybody knows of Cervantes, but very few persons have more than a nodding acquaintance with Don Quixote, and Goya’s reputation in this country is even less securely founded. The great Aragonese is indeed little more than a name to the general public, and his work is literally unknown. Two little books—Mr. W. Rothenstein’s Goya, now out of print, and a monograph by Mr. Richard Muther in the Langham Series—are the only volumes in English dealing exclusively with a painter who for more than half a century might have been described, with more aptness than that with which the words were applied to Zurbarán, as ‘All Spain.’ As sincere a lover and as brilliant a transcriber of the beautiful as Watteau and Van Loo, a greater realist than Hogarth, and in portraiture second only to Velazquez, Goya stands out as the greatest artist Spain has produced since the death of the great Court painter of Philip IV.

The fact that Spanish art reflects the aspirations and is largely concerned with the repre{viii}sentation of scenes selected by its chief patron, the Spanish Catholic Church, accounts, in some measure, for the lack of sympathy and appreciation with which it is regarded in this country, but this prejudice does not explain the neglect from which Goya has suffered. Goya, it is true, accepted commissions from the Church, but his religious subjects do not comprise a tenth of his canvases, and in his etchings and engravings he is seen only as a secular moralist. As the painter of the Spanish Rococo period, he dipped his brush in beauty, gaiety, and humour; as a portraitist he was vivid, surprising, audacious, a maker of masterpieces; while his etchings constitute an unrivalled commentary upon the spirit of the age, recorded by its ‘most fearless and advanced thinker.’

Goya’s art would appear to be the reflection of his life. His youth was disordered and tempestuous; in the height of his success he accepted favours, but he was too conscientious an artist to repay the adulation of the world by flattering it in his canvases; and he published his disillusions in the biting satire of his Caprices and Proverbs.

The authorities I have consulted would make a formidable list, but among those to whom{ix} I am under special obligation I must mention the ‘Lives’ of Goya by the Conde de la Viñaza, Paul Lefort, Paul Lafond, W. Rothenstein, Richard Muther and Julius Hofmann; Valerian von Loga’s works on Goya’s etchings and engravings; Don Juan de la Rada’s chapter on ‘Goya’s Frescoes in the Church of San Antonio de la Florida;’ Muther’s appreciation of Goya in his History of Modern Painting; Stirling-Maxwell’s Annals of the Artists of Spain; Carl Justi’s ‘Sketch of Spanish Art’ in Baedeker’s Spain and Portugal; C. Gasquoine Hartley’s Spanish Painting; the Boletin de la Sociedad Española de Excursiones; and Théophile Gautier’s brilliant study of Goya in his Travels in Spain.

In making the collection of Goya’s works that is presented at the end of this volume, I have taken the line of least resistance and included reproductions of every picture, etching, or lithograph that I could acquire. However inadequate photography and ‘process’ may be to convey an impression of the original works, I have endeavoured to give English students an opportunity of becoming acquainted with the subjects and general nature of much of the output of Goya’s sixty years of artistic effort.{x}

In the compilation of the appended exhaustive catalogue of Goya’s works, which I am not without hope may be found of practical value, I have derived no little assistance from Spanish and German publications and from the list prepared by M. Paul Lafond. To Señor Don Mariano Moreno, who has made a special study of Goya and his work, I am indebted for descriptions of many pictures which are published here for the first time, and my thanks are also due to him for permission to reproduce from his collection a number of photographs which were new to me. I have also to acknowledge the kindness of the authorities of the Academy of San Fernando in allowing me to publish copies of the different prints of Goya’s works issued by the Academy; and to express my thanks to Señor Don J. Lacoste, Messrs. Braun, Clement and Co., Messrs. Mansell and Co., and Herr Franz Hanfstaengl, for their courtesy in supplying me with various pictures included in this collection and permitting me to reproduce them.

A. F. C.
{xi}

## ILLUSTRATIONS

PLATE | SUBJECT | GALLERY
1. | The Family of Charles IV., | Prado, Madrid.
2. | The Infante Don Carlos, | Prado, Madrid.
3. | The Infante Francisco de Paula Antonio, | Prado, Madrid.
4. | The Infanta Maria Josefa, | Prado, Madrid.
5. | The Infante Don Antonio, | Prado, Madrid.
6. | The Infante Don Carlos Maria Isidro, | Prado, Madrid.
7. | King Charles IV., | Ministerio de Hacienda, Madrid.
8. | King Charles IV., | Ministerio de Hacienda, Madrid.
9. | King Charles IV.,
10. | King Charles IV., | Royal Palace, Madrid.
11. | King Charles IV., | Prado, Madrid.
12. | King Charles IV., | Marques de Casa Torres, Madrid.
13. | Queen Maria Luisa, | Don A. de Beruete, Madrid.
14. | Queen Maria Luisa, | Don José Lázan.
15. | Queen Maria Luisa, | Ministerio de Hacienda, Madrid.
16. | Queen Maria Luisa, | Marques de Casa Torres, Madrid.
17. | Queen Maria Luisa, | Prado, Madrid.
18. | Queen Maria Luisa, | Prado, Madrid.
19. | Ferdinand VII., | Academy of St. Ferdinand, Madrid. {xii}
20. | Ferdinand VII., | Prado, Madrid.
21. | Ferdinand VII., | Prado, Madrid.
22. | Ferdinand VII., | Ancient Collection of Eustaquio Veate.
23. | Don Luis, Prince of Parma, | Prado, Madrid.
24. | Duchess of Abrantes, | Duquesa de Abrantes, Madrid.
25. | Duchess of Alba, | Don Rafael Barrio.
26. | Duchess of Alba, | Palacio de Liria, Madrid.
27. | Duchess of Alba, | Duque de Alba, Madrid.
28. | Duchess of Alba,
29. | Condesa de Altamira and Daughter, | Marques de Cervera.
30. | Count of Altamira, | Bank of Spain, Madrid.
31. | The Infante Don Luis de Borbon, | Marques de Casa Torres, Madrid.
32. | Altamirano, Auditor of Seville, | Marques de la Vega Inclan.
33. | Don Manuel Lapeña, Marques de Bondad Real, | Don Joaquin Argamanilla.
34. | Marquesa de Caballero, | Marques de Cervera.
35. | Conde de Cabarrus, | Bank of Spain, Madrid.
36. | The Wife of Cean Bermudez, | Marques de Casa Torres, Madrid.
37. | J. Cean Bermudez, | Marques de Casa Torres, Madrid.
38. | Doña Lorenzo Correa, | M. Bischoffsheim, Paris.
39. | The Toreador Costillares, | Don José Lazaro.
40. | Don Joaquin Maria Ferrer, | Count of Candilla.
41. | Condesa-Duquesa de Benavente y Osuna, | Madrid.
42. | Doña Manuela de Alvarez Coiñas, | Marquis of Baroja.
43. | Florida Blanca, | Marquesa de Martorell.
44. | Don Antonio Foraster, | Don J. Millan.
45. | The Engineer Ignacio Garcini, | The Garcini Family, Madrid.
46. | Doña Josefa Castilla-Portugal, | Don Vicente Garcini.
47. | Don Juan Antonio Cuervo, | Don F. Duran.
48. | Doña Maria Ildefonso Dabalos, | Count of Villagonzalo.{xiii}
49. | General Don Juan Marlin, | Don Luis Navas.
50. | Godoy, Prince of the Peace, | Academy of St. Ferdinand, Madrid.
51. | F. Guillemardet, | Louvre, Paris.
52. | Jaspar Melchor de Jovellanos, | Marquesa de Villamajor, Madrid.
53. | Asensio Julia, | Comtesse de Paris.
54. | The Milkmaid of Bordeaux, | Condesa Vinda de Muguiro.
55. | Asensio Julia, | Louvre, Paris.
56. | Marquesa de Lazan, | Comtesse de Montijo.
57. | Don Francisco Larrumbe, | Bank of Spain, Madrid.
58. | The Bookseller of the Calle de Carretas, | Don Benito Garriga.
59. | Don J. Antonio Llorente, | Don Francisco Llorente y Garcia de Vinuesa.
60. | Duke of San Carlos, | Marques de la Torrecilla.
61. | Duke of San Carlos, | Conde de Villagonzalo.
62. | The Actor Isidoro Maiquez, | Prado, Madrid.
63. | The Actor Isidoro Maiquez, | Marques de Casa Torres, Madrid.
64. | Countess of Miranda del Castañar, | Formerly in the Montijo Collection.
65. | Conde de Miranda,
66. | Leandro Fernandez de Moratin, | Academy of St. Ferdinand, Madrid.
67. | The Family of the Countess of Montijo, | Palacio de Liria, Madrid.
68. | Señor J. B. de Muguiro, | Condesa Vinda de Muguiro.
69. | Marques de Castro Terreño,
70. | Marquesa de Castro Terreño,
71. | Camarón, | Doña E. Camarón.
72. | Muñarriz, | Academy of St. Ferdinand, Madrid.
73. | Duke of Osuna and Family, | Prado, Madrid.
74. | Admiral Mazaredo, | Don M. Hernando.
75. | Meléndez Valdés, | Señor Suárez Inclán.
76. | Duke of Osuna, | Formerly in the Collection of the Duke of Osuna.{xiv}
77. | Duke of Osuna, | Marquesa de Villamajor, Madrid.
78. | Duke of Osuna, | M. Duniat, Paris.
79. | Duke of Osuna, | Formerly in the Palace of the Duque de Osuna, Madrid.
80. | Duquesa del Parque, | Marques de la Vega, Madrid.
81. | Doctor Peral, | National Gallery, London.
82. | General Palafox, | Prado, Madrid.
83. | Doña Isabel Corbo de Porcel, | National Gallery, London.
84. | Don Tiburcio Perez, | D. F. Duran and Cuervo.
85. | Don Mariano Luis de Urquijo, | Academy of History, Madrid.
86. | Don Tomás Pérez Estala, | Countess of Cedillo.
87. | Don Pantaleón Perez de Nenin, | Don P. Labat.
88. | Marquesa de Pontejos, | Marquesa de Martorell.
89. | Don Ramón Pignatelli, | Duquesa de Villahermosa.
90. | General Ricardos, | Madrid.
91. | The Toreador José Romero, | Madrid.
92. | Marques de San Adrián, | Collection of the Family.
93. | The Espada Pedro Romero, | Duque de Veragua.
94. | Ramon Satue, | Dr. Benito Garriga.
95. | Don Manuel Silvela, | Don F. Silvela.
96. | Doña Maria Teresa Apodaca de Sesma, | Don Andres Arteta.
97. | Marquesa de la Solana, | Marques del Socorro.
98. | General Urrutia, | Prado, Madrid.
99. | Maria del Rosario Fernandez, | Academy of St. Ferdinand, Madrid.
100. | Maria del Rosario Fernandez, | Conde de Villagonzalo.
101. | Marques de Tolosa, | Bank of Spain, Madrid.
102. | Conde de Teba, | Don J. Lázaro.
103. | José de Vargas Ponce, | Academy of History, Madrid.
104. | Don José de Toro Zambrano, | Bank of Spain, Madrid.{xv}
105. | Doña Antonia Zarate, | Señora Vinda de Albacete.
106. | Doña Antonia Zarate, | Señora Vinda de Albacete.
107. | Doña Lola Zimenez, | M. Chiramy, Paris.
108. | Don Evaristo Perez de Castro, | Louvre, Paris.
109. | Don Juan José Mateo Arias Dairla, | Marquesa de Almaguer.
110. | Father Lascanal, | Don J. Lázaro.
111. | Don Ramon de Posada y Soto, | Don José Maria Perez Caballero.
112. | Marques de Caballero, | Marques de Cervera, Madrid.
113. | Conde de Gazinza, | Marques de Casa Torres, Madrid.
114. | Moratin, | Don F. Silvela.
115. | The Artist, | Academy of St. Ferdinand, Madrid.
116. | The Artist, | Don A. Pidal.
117. | The Artist,
118. | The Artist, | M. Leon Bonnet.
119. | The Artist, by Vicente Lopez, | Prado, Madrid.
120. | Don J. B. de Goicoechea, | Don Felipe Modet.
121. | Goya’s Grandson, | Marques de Alcañices.
122. | Doña Feliciana Bayeu, | Don C. Ferriz.
123. | Don Juan Martin de Goicoechea, | Marques de Casa Torres, Madrid.
124. | Doña Narcisa Barañona de Goicoechea, | Don Felipe Modet.
125. | Doña Juana Galarza de Goicoechea, | Marques de Casa Torres, Madrid.
126. | Francisco Bayeu, | Prado, Madrid.
127. | Josefa Bayeu, | Prado, Madrid.
128. | Group of Heads, | Comtesse de Paris.
129. | Portrait Study of a Woman,
130. | Portrait of a Young Girl, | Private Property.
131. | Portrait of a Lady,
132. | Portrait of a Lady, | Conde de Peñalvez.
133. | Portrait of a Lady, | Don José Lázaro.
134. | Portrait of a Lady, | Don A. de Beruete.{xvi}
135. | Portrait of a Lady, | Don A. de Beruete.
136. | Portrait of a Lady, | Don A. de Beruete.
137. | Portrait of a Lady, | Don R. Garcia.
138. | Portrait of a Woman, | Louvre, Paris.
139. | A Little Girl, | Marques de Casa Torres, Madrid.
140. | Portrait of a Lady, | Don J. Gutierrez Martin.
141. | Young Spanish Woman, | Louvre, Paris.
142. | Portrait of a Man, | Private Collection.
143. | The Old Man, | Conde de Da. Marina.
144. | Portrait of an Architect,
145. | Portrait of a Doctor,
146. | Portrait of a Lady,
147. | Portrait of a Lady,
148. | Portrait of a Lady,
149. | Portrait of a Lady,
150. | Portrait of a Man,
151. | Portrait of a Lady, | Señor Orossen.
152. | Portrait of a Lady,
153. | Portrait of a Gentleman,
154. | Charles IV., | Comtesse de Paris.
155. | Queen Maria Luisa, | Comtesse de Paris.
156. | The Infanta Isabel, | Comtesse de Paris.
157. | Portrait of a Man,
158. | Don Felix Colon, | Don Ricardo Traumann, Madrid.
159. | Don Felix Colon, | Don Ricardo Traumann, Madrid.
160. | Portrait of a Man,
161. | Portrait of a Boy,
162. | Portrait of a Boy,
163. | Portrait of a Boy,
164. | Portrait of a Lady,
165. | Portrait of a Lady,
166. | Portrait of a Lady,
167. | Portrait of a Young Lady, | Mons. C. G., Paris.
168. | Episode of the French Invasion of 1808, | Prado, Madrid.{xvii}
169. | Episode of the French Invasion of 1808, | Duquesa de Villahermosa.
170. | Casting Bullets by Moonlight in the Hills of Tardienta, | Royal Palace, Madrid.
171. | Scenes of the 2nd May 1808, | Prado, Madrid.
172. | Battle-Scene, | Marques de Casa Torres, Madrid.
173. | Manufacturing Powder in the Sierra de Tardienta, | Royal Palace, Madrid.
174. | The Tribunal of the Inquisition, | Prado, Madrid.
175. | The Procession of Flagellants, | Academy of St. Ferdinand, Madrid.
176. | A Meeting of the Company of the Philippines,
177. | The City of Madrid: an Allegory, | Corporation of Madrid.
178. | Music: an Allegory, | Don Luis Navas.
179. | Spain making History, | Don Luis Navas.
180. | The Madhouse, | Prado, Madrid.
181. | The Majas of the Balcony, | Duque de Marchesa.
182. | The Majas of the Balcony,
183. | The Majas of the Balcony,
184. | La Maja (Nude), | Prado, Madrid.
185. | La Maja (Clothed), | Prado, Madrid.
186. | The Knife-Grinder, | Budapest.
187. | The Water-Carrier, | Budapest.
188. | Old Age, | Lille Museum.
189. | Robbery of a Coach, | Marques de Castro Serna.
190. | Brigands, | Marques de la Romana.
191. | Brigand murdering a Woman, | Marques de la Romana.
192. | Brigands stripping their Captives, | Marques de la Romana.
193. | Murder by Brigands, | Marques de la Romana.
194. | Brigands’ Cave, | Marques de la Romana.
195. | Goya and the Duchess of Alba, | Marques de la Romana.
196. | The Plague Terror, | Marques de la Romana.
197. | The Monk’s Visit, | Marques de la Romana.
198. | A Masquerade, | Duquesa de Villahermosa.{xviii}
199. | The Dance, | Marques de la Torrecilla.
200. | The Funeral of the Sardine, | Academy of St. Ferdinand, Madrid.
201. | The Booth at the Fair, | Marques de Castro Serna.
202. | The Greasy Pole, | Marques de Castro Torres.
203. | The Bonfire, | Conde de Villagonzalo.
204. | Nocturnal Scene, | Marques de la Romana.
205. | The Picnic, | Marques de la Torrecilla.
206. | The Inundation, | Marques de Castro Serna.
207. | The Village on Fire, | Marques de Castro Serna.
208. | Caprice, | Doña C. Berganza de Martin.
209. | Caprice, | Doña C. Berganza de Martin.
210. | Caprice, | Don A. Pidal.
211. | Dogs and Guns: Design for Tapestry, | Prado, Madrid.
212. | A Dead Bird, | Prado, Madrid.
213. | Dead Birds, | Prado, Madrid.
214. | A Picador on Horseback, | Prado, Madrid.
215. | Picador and Bull, | Marques de Baroja.
216. | Death of the Picador, | Paris.
217. | A Bull-Fight, | Bequeathed to the Royal Academy, Madrid.
218. | A Bull escaped from the Arena, | Duque de Veragua.
219. | Meeting of Witches, | Prado, Madrid.
220. | Galician Shepherds fighting, | Prado, Madrid.
221. | The Procession, | Conde de Candilla.
222. | Caprice, | Prado, Madrid.
223. | The Fates, | Prado, Madrid.
224. | Saturn devouring one of his Children, | Prado, Madrid.
225. | Judith and Holofernes, | Prado, Madrid.
226. | Two Monks,
227. | The Maja, | From Goya’s Country House near Madrid.
228. | A Caprice,{xix}
229. | Listening to the News, | Prado, Madrid.
230. | A Group of Witches, | Prado, Madrid.
231. | A Group of Witches, | Prado, Madrid.
232. | The Bull-Fight,
233. | Pilgrimage to the Fountain of San Isidro, | Prado, Madrid.
234. | Meeting of Witches, | Prado, Madrid.
235. | Two Old People eating Porridge, | Prado, Madrid.
236. | The Mass of Parida, | Marques de la Torrecilla.
237. | The Topers,
238. | Women of Madrid, and Friars, | Marques de Casa Torres.
239. | The Majas and the Majo,
240. | The Witch,
241. | Laughing Women, | Prado, Madrid.
242. | The Swing, | Duke de Montellano.
243. | The Greasy Pole, | Duke de Montellano.
244. | The Accident, | Duke de Montellano.
245. | Coach attacked by Bandits, | Duke de Montellano.
246. | Building the Church, | From the Collection of the Duque de Osuna.
247. | The Village Procession, | From the Collection of the Duque de Osuna.
248. | Summer: Threshers of Wheat, | Don Ricardo Traumann.
249. | The Hermitage of San Isidro, | Don P. F. Durán.
250. | The Wounded Mason, | Don P. F. Durán.
251. | The Hermitage of San Isidro, | Prado, Madrid.
252. | Scene from the Play ‘El hechizado por fuerza’—The Bewitched, | National Gallery, London.
253. | The Picnic, | National Gallery, London.
254. | Herd of Bulls coming from the Muñoza, | From the Collection of the Duque de Osuna.
255. | A Caprice, | From the Collection of the Duque de Osuna.
256. | A Witches’ Conventicle, | From the Collection of the Duque de Osuna.
257. | Sorcery Scene, | From the Collection of the Duque de Osuna.
258. | Don Juan and the Comendador, | From the Collection of the Duque de Osuna.{xx}
259. | Don Quixote,
260. | St. Bernard of Siena, | Church of San Francisco el Grande.
261. | St. Bernard of Siena, | Marques de Torrecilla.
262. | Christ taken by the Soldiers, | Toledo Cathedral.
263. | Christ on the Cross, | Prado, Madrid.
264. | The Death of St. Joseph, | Don A. Beruete, Madrid.
265. | The Holy Family, | Prado, Madrid.
266. | St. Justa and St. Rufina, | Seville Cathedral.
267. | Apparition of St. Isidore to King Ferdinand III., | Don A. Canovas, Madrid.
268. | St. Peter, | Don A. Pidal, Madrid.
269. | The Prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane, The Rector of San Antonio.
270. | St. Elizabeth of Hungary healing Lepers, | Don Clemente Velasco.
271. | St. Hermenegild in Prison, | Don Clemente Velasco.
272. | Angels and Cherubim, | Conde de Villagonzalo.
273. | Fresco of the Cupola of San Antonio de la Florida, 1st Section, | —The Church of San Antonio de la Florida.
274. | 274. Fresco of the Cupola of San Antonio de la Florida, 2nd Section,
275. | 275. Fresco of the Cupola of San Antonio de la Florida, 3rd Section,
276. | 276. Fresco of the Cupola of San Antonio de la Florida, 4th Section,
277. | 277. Group of Angels from San Antonio de la Florida,
278. | 278. Fresco of San Antonio de la Florida,
279. | Lunch on the Banks of the Manzanares: Tapestry Cartoon, | Prado, Madrid.
280. | Dance at San Antonio de la Florida: Tapestry Cartoon, | Prado, Madrid.
281. | The Scuffle at the New Inn: Tapestry Cartoon, | Prado, Madrid. {xxi}
282. | Al Fresco Scene: Tapestry Cartoon, | Prado, Madrid.
283. | The Drinker: Tapestry Cartoon, | Prado, Madrid.
284. | The Parasol: Tapestry Cartoon, | Prado, Madrid.
285. | The Kite: Tapestry Cartoon, | Prado, Madrid.
286. | The Card-Players: Tapestry Cartoon, | Prado, Madrid.
287. | Children with a Bladder: Tapestry Cartoon, | Prado, Madrid.
288. | Boys picking Fruit: Tapestry Cartoon, | Prado, Madrid.
289. | Blind Man playing the Guitar: Tapestry Cartoon, | Prado, Madrid.
290. | The Fair of Madrid: Tapestry Cartoon, | Prado, Madrid.
291. | The Crockery Seller: Tapestry Cartoon, | Prado, Madrid.
292. | The Soldier and the Girl, La Acerolera: Tapestry Cartoons, | Prado, Madrid.
293. | Playing at Soldiers: Tapestry Cartoon, | Prado, Madrid.
294. | The Game of Pelota: Tapestry Cartoon, | Prado, Madrid.
295. | The Washerwomen: Tapestry Cartoon, | Prado, Madrid.
296. | La Novillada: Tapestry Cartoon, | Prado, Madrid.
297. | The Tobacco Guard: Tapestry Cartoon, | Prado, Madrid.
298. | Children climbing a Tree, The Hunter and his Dogs, The Child and the Bird: Tapestry Cartoon, | Prado, Madrid.
299. | The Woodcutters: Tapestry Cartoon, | Prado, Madrid.{xxii}
300. | The Rendezvous: Tapestry Cartoon, | Prado, Madrid.
301. | The Gardener: Tapestry Cartoon, | Prado, Madrid.
302. | The Vintagers: Tapestry Cartoon, | Prado, Madrid.
303. | Poor Woman at the Fountain: Tapestry Cartoon, | Prado, Madrid.
304. | Winter: Tapestry Cartoon, | Prado, Madrid.
305. | The Wedding: Tapestry Cartoon, | Prado, Madrid.
306. | Women at the Fountain: Tapestry Cartoon, | Prado, Madrid.
307. | The Swing: Tapestry Cartoon, | Prado, Madrid.
308. | The Stilt-Walkers: Tapestry Cartoon, | Prado, Madrid.
309. | Boys climbing a Tree: Tapestry Cartoon, | Prado, Madrid.
310. | Boy on a Sheep: Tapestry Cartoon, | Prado, Madrid.

CAPRICES.
PLATE |  | SUBJECT
311. | 1. | Francisco Goya y Lucientes, Painter.
312. | 2. | So it is settled.
313. | 3. | Here comes the Bogey!
314. | 4. | The Old Spoilt Child.
315. | 5. | Birds of a Feather.
316. | 6. | Appearances are Deceptive.
317. | 7. | Not thus can he distinguish her.
318. | 8. | Kidnapped.
319. | 9. | Tantalus.
320. | 10. | Love and Death.
321. | 11. | Andalusian Brigands. Boys, to Work!
322. | 12. | Tooth-hunting.
323. | 13. | Scalding Hot!
324. | 14. | What a Sacrifice!
325. | 15. | Good Counsel.
326. | 16. | ‘May God pardon her!’
327. | 17. | Bien tirada está.{xxiii}
328. | 18. | ‘And his House is burning!’
329. | 19. | ‘All will fall.’
330. | 20. | They are already plucked.
331. | 21. | How they pluck her.
332. | 22. | Poor Little Things!
333. | 23. | Carry this Dust away.
334. | 24. | No Remedy.
335. | 25. | Because he broke the Pitcher.
336. | 26. | Now they have a Seat.
337. | 27. | Which is the more bored?
338. | 28. | Hush!
339. | 29. | This is what he calls Reading.
340. | 30. | Why hide them?
341. | 31. | She prays for her.
342. | 32. | For Over-sensibility.
343. | 33. | ‘To the Count Palatine.’
344. | 34. | Sleep conquers them.
345. | 35. | They shave him.
346. | 36. | A Bad Night.
347. | 37. | Will the Pupil know more than the Master?
348. | 38. | Bravissimo!
349. | 39. | As far as his Grandfather.
350. | 40. | Of what Ill will he die?
351. | 41. | Neither more nor less.
352. | 42. | Thou who canst not.
353. | 43. | The Sleep of Reason produces Monsters.
354. | 44. | They spin Linen.
355. | 45. | There is a lot to do.
356. | 46. | Doing Penance.
357. | 47. | Homage to the Master.
358. | 48. | The Blowers.
359. | 49. | Little Ghosts.
360. | 50. | The Chinchillas.
361. | 51. | They cut each others’ Nails.
362. | 52. | What a Tailor can do.
363. | 53. | ‘What an Orator!’
364. | 54. | The Shameful One.{xxiv}
365. | 55. | Till Death.
366. | 56. | Ascending and Descending.
367. | 57. | The Pedigree.
368. | 58. | Swallow that, you Dog!
369. | 59. | And yet they do not go.
370. | 60. | Trials.
371. | 61. | Up above the World so high!
372. | 62. | Who would believe it?
373. | 63. | How grave they are!
374. | 64. | Bon Voyage.
375. | 65. | Where is Mamma going?
376. | 66. | Changing Lodgings.
377. | 67. | Wait till you have been anointed.
378. | 68. | Pretty Mistress.
379. | 69. | Fanning the Brazier.
380. | 70. | Devout Professions.
381. | 71. | The Day breaks, let us go.
382. | 72. | You will not escape.
383. | 73. | It is better to do nothing.
384. | 74. | Don’t shout, Idiot.
385. | 75. | Will no one set us free?
386. | 76. | The Habit of Command.
387. | 77. | A Mimic Bull-Fight.
388. | 78. | Be quick, they waken.
389. | 79. | No one has seen us.
390. | 80. | Time’s Up!
DISASTERS OF WAR.
391. | 1. | Sad Presentiments.
392. | 2. | With or without Reason.
393. | 3. | All the Same.
394. | 4. | Women inspire Courage.
395. | 5. | And are like Wild Beasts.
396. | 6. | Well deserved!{xxv}
397. | 7. | Courage!
398. | 8. | What always happens.
399. | 9. | They will not!
400. | 10. | Nor they.
401. | 11. | Nor for these!
402. | 12. | Were you born for this?
403. | 13. | A Bitter Sight.
404. | 14. | Hard is the Way.
405. | 15. | And there was no Remedy.
406. | 16. | They avail themselves.
407. | 17. | An argument.
408. | 18. | To bury and to be silent.
409. | 19. | There is not Time.
410. | 20. | To heal each other.
411. | 21. | It will be the Same.
412. | 22. | As much and more.
413. | 23. | The same elsewhere.
414. | 24. | They are still of use.
415. | 25. | And these also.
416. | 26. | That cannot be seen.
417. | 27. | Charity.
418. | 28. | The Populace.
419. | 29. | He deserved it.
420. | 30. | The Tragedy of War.
421. | 31. | Strong Measures.
422. | 32. | Why?
423. | 33. | What more is there to do?
424. | 34. | For a Knife.
425. | 35. | No one knows why.
426. | 36. | Nor wherefore.
427. | 37. | This is worse.
428. | 38. | Barbarians.
429. | 39. | A Great Feat with the Dead.
430. | 40. | He turns it to Account.
431. | 41. | They escape through the Flames.
432. | 42. | All is in Confusion.
433. | 43. | Here also.{xxvi}
434. | 44. | ‘I saw it.’
435. | 45. | And this, likewise.
436. | 46. | This is bad.
437. | 47. | Thus it happened.
438. | 48. | Cruel Misfortune!
439. | 49. | A Woman’s Charity.
440. | 50. | Unhappy Mother.
441. | 51. | Thanks to the Blue Millet.
442. | 52. | They arrive too late.
443. | 53. | He died without Help.
444. | 54. | Vain Clamours.
445. | 55. | To beg is worst of all.
446. | 56. | To the Cemetery.
447. | 57. | The Healthy and the Sick.
448. | 58. | Of no Use to cry.
449. | 59. | Of what Use is a Cup?
450. | 60. | No one to help.
451. | 61. | Are they of another Race?
452. | 62. | Death-beds.
453. | 63. | Collecting Dead.
454. | 64. | Cartloads for the Cemetery.
455. | 65. | ‘What means this Tumult?’
456. | 66. | Strange Devotion.
457. | 67. | This is not less so.
458. | 68. | What Folly!
459. | 69. | Nothing; he says it himself.
460. | 70. | They do not know the Way.
461. | 71. | Against the General Good.
462. | 72. | The Consequences.
463. | 73. | The Cat’s Pantomime.
464. | 74. | This is worse.
465. | 75. | A Meeting of Quacks.
466. | 76. | The Carnivorous Vulture.
467. | 77. | May the Rope break.
468. | 78. | He defends himself well.
469. | 79. | Truly she died.{xxvii}
470. | 80. | Should she revive!
TAUROMACHIA
PLATE |  | SUBJECT
471. | 1. | Hunting Bulls across Country in the Olden Time.
472. | 2. | Hunting the Bull on Foot.
473. | 3. | Moors hunting the Bull across Country.
474. | 4. | Moors fighting the Bull in an Enclosure.
475. | 5. | The Moor Gazul fighting the Bull.
476. | 6. | Moors irritating the Bull.
477. | 7. | Origin of the Banderilla.
478. | 8. | Moor attacked by a Bull.
479. | 9. | Spaniard, wearing a Turban, slaying a Bull.
480. | 10. | Charles V. spearing a Bull in the Arena of Valladolid.
481. | 11. | The Cid spearing a Bull.
482. | 12. | Mob attacking a Bull.
483. | 13. | Horsemen planting Banderillas in the Bull.
484. | 14. | The Student of Falces and the Bull.
485. | 15. | The famous Martincho planting Banderillas.
486. | 16. | Martincho’s Feat.
487. | 17. | Moors using Donkeys as a rampart against Bulls.
488. | 18. | Martincho in the Arena at Zaragoza.
489. | 19. | Martincho’s Feat at Zaragoza.
490. | 20. | Juanito Apiñani in the Arena at Madrid.
491. | 21. | Spectators slain by the Bull at Madrid.
492. | 22. | The Female Picador, Pajuelera, at Zaragoza.
493. | 23. | Mariano Ceballos, alias el Indio, in the Arena.
494. | 24. | Ceballos mounted on a Bull in the Arena at Madrid.
495. | 25. | Bull-Baiting by Dogs.
496. | 26. | Picador overthrown by the Bull.
497. | 27. | Fernando del Toro in the Arena.
498. | 28. | Rendon in the Arena at Madrid.
499. | 29. | Pepe-Illo faces the Bull.
500. | 30. | Pedro Romero in the Arena.
501. | 31. | Flaming Banderillas.
502. | 32. | Bull overthrowing Picador.{xxviii}
503. | 33. | Death of Pepe-Illo in the Arena at Madrid.
504. | 34. | Picadors mounted on Mules harnessed to a Carriage.
505. | 35. | Bull carrying a Wounded Toreador on his Horns.
506. | 36. | Bull carrying a Dead Toreador on his Horns.
507. | 37. | Variation of No. 25. Bull-baiting.
508. | 38. | A Spanish Gentleman in the Ring.
509. | 39. | Bravo Toro!
510. | 40. | Nearing the End.
PROVERBS
511. | 1. | Women tossing a Dead Donkey and Mannikins in a Blanket.
512. | 2. | Soldiers flying from a Tree draped to represent a Ghost.
513. | 3. | Persons listening to an Orator.
514. | 4. | Peasant dancing before a Man and Woman.
515. | 5. | Man carrying off a Woman on a Winged Monster.
516. | 6. | The Infuriated Man.
517. | 7. | Man and Woman joined together at the Shoulders.
518. | 8. | Persons dressed in Sacks.
519. | 9. | Fantastic Personage offering Kittens to two Women.
520. | 10. | Human Beings maltreated by a wild Horse.
521. | 11. | A Two-headed Woman pursued by two Men.
522. | 12. | Majos and Majas dancing.
523. | 13. | Men attempting to fly.
524. | 14. | Fantastic Salutations.
525. | 15. | A Monk preaches; Soldier throws himself down an Abyss.
526. | 16. | Man and Woman quarrelling.
527. | 17. | Persons deriding a Blind Man.{xxix}
528. | 18. | The Old Man and the Corpse.

EXAMPLES IN THE COLLECTION OF SEÑOR A. DE BERUETE
PLATE | SUBJECT | GALLERY
529. | The Promenade, | Don A. de Beruete.
530. | A Pauper, | Don A. de Beruete.
531. | The Madman, | Don A. de Beruete.
532. | The Miser, | Don A. de Beruete.
533. | A Woman flying, | Don A. de Beruete.
534. | Madmen, | Don A. de Beruete.
535. | The Maja and the Cloaked Man, | Don A. de Beruete.
536. | A Monk suspended in the Air, | Don A. de Beruete.
537. | The Living Skeleton, | Don A. de Beruete.
538. | French Chastisement, | Don A. de Beruete.
539. | To have and to hold, | Don A. de Beruete.
540. | The Snake-Charmer, | Don A. de Beruete.
541. | Charity, | Don A. de Beruete.
542. | Who will win? | Don A. de Beruete.
543. | The Madman, | Don A. de Beruete.
544. | The Lady with the Puppies, | Don A. de Beruete.
545. | Paupers, | Don A. de Beruete.
546. | Procession entering the Temple, | Don A. de Beruete.
547. | Women praying, | Don A. de Beruete.
548. | Mid-Lent, | Don A. de Beruete.
549. | Brides of the Church, | Don A. de Beruete.
550. | Melodious Mediators, | Don A. de Beruete.
551. | A Sleeping Maja, | Don A. de Beruete.
552. | The Skaters, | Don A. de Beruete.
553. | Study for the Young Infante in ‘The Family of King Charles IV.,’ | Don A. de Beruete.
554. | Study for the Portrait of the Queen in ‘The Family of King Charles IV.,’ | Don A. de Beruete.
555. | Sleeping Giant, | Don A. de Beruete.
556. | A Gentle Episode, | Don A. de Beruete.
557. | A Prisoner, | Don A. de Beruete.{xxx}
558. | The Happy Man, | Don A. de Beruete.
559. | Under a Hood, | Don A. de Beruete.
560. | Fairy Tales, | Don A. de Beruete.
561. | Spanish Beauty, | Don A. de Beruete.
562. | Haut-ton, | Don A. de Beruete.
563. | The Man with the Crocodile, | Don A. de Beruete.
564. | At last it breaks, | Don A. de Beruete.
565. | The Broken Pitcher, | Don A. de Beruete.
566. | Woman with a Child in Arms, | Don A. de Beruete.
567. | Rural Events, | Don A. de Beruete.
568. | Chastisement, | Don A. de Beruete.
569. | A Monk doing Penance, | Don A. de Beruete.
570. | The Invalid, | Don A. de Beruete.
571. | Mirar lo que no ven, | Don A. de Beruete.
572. | An Idiot, | Don A. de Beruete.
573. | Invocation, | Don A. de Beruete.
574. | Prayer, | Don A. de Beruete.
575. | A Mad Newswoman, | Don A. de Beruete.
576. | A Monk, | Don A. de Beruete.
577. | The Bride, | Don A. de Beruete.
578. | The Belle of the Assembly, | Don A. de Beruete.
579. | One more Unfortunate, | Don A. de Beruete.
580. | A Portrait, | Don A. de Beruete.
FRESCOES IN THE CHURCH OF SAN ANTONIO DE LA FLORIDA
581. | Interior of the Church of San Antonio de la Florida,
582. | San Antonio de la Florida, | Painting in the Principal Chapel.
583. | San Antonio de la Florida, | Paintings on the Centres of the Intrados of the Choir and Principal Chapel Arches.
584, 585. | San Antonio de la Florida, | Paintings on the Springings of the Intrados of the Principal Chapel Arches.{xxxi}
586, 587. | San Antonio de la Florida, | Paintings on the Springings of the Intrados of the Choir Arches.
588. | San Antonio de la Florida, | Paintings on the Intrados of the left Side Chapel Arch.
589. | San Antonio de la Florida, | Paintings on the Intrados of the right Side Chapel Arch.
590. | San Antonio de la Florida, | Triangles formed by the Dome adjoining the Principal Chapel.
591. | San Antonio de la Florida, | Triangles formed by the Dome adjoining the Choir.
592, 593. | San Antonio de la Florida, | Paintings at the Sides of the Window on the left.
594, 595. | San Antonio de la Florida, | Paintings at the Sides of the Window on the right.
596. | San Antonio de la Florida, | First Group on the Cupola to the left of the Centre.
597. | San Antonio de la Florida, | Second Group on the Cupola to the left of the Centre.
598. | San Antonio de la Florida, | Centre of the Composition on the Cupola facing the Entrance.
599. | San Antonio de la Florida, | First Group on the Cupola to the right of the Centre.
600. | San Antonio de la Florida, | Second Group on the Cupola to the right of the Centre.
DRAWINGS, ETC.
601. | The Duke of Wellington, 1812, | From the Original Drawing in the Print Room of the British Museum.
602. | Lady and Gentleman on Horseback. | From the Original Drawing in the Print Room of the British Museum.{xxxii}
603. | Head of the Dying Fray Juan | From the Original Drawing Fernanez. in the Print Room of the British Museum.
604. | A Criminal undergoing the infliction | From the Original Drawing of the Garotte. in the Print Room of the British Museum.
605. | A Lost Soul, | From the Original Drawing in the Print Room of the British Museum.
606. | Condemned Criminals conducted to | From the Original Drawing Execution. in the Print Room of the British Museum.
607. | Spanish Proverb Illustrated, | From an Etching, hitherto unpublished, in the Print Room of the British Museum.
608. | Spanish Proverb Illustrated, | From an Etching, hitherto unpublished, in the Print Room of the British Museum.
609. | Spanish Proverb Illustrated, | From an Etching, hitherto unpublished, in the British Museum.
610. | The Bulls: A Study of the Animals in various positions. | From an Etiching, hitherto unpublished, in the British Museum.
611. | Bull-fighter fettered in the Arena, | From an Etching, hitherto unpublished, in the British Museum.
612. | A Blind Guitar-Player tossed by a Bull. | From an Etching in the Print Room of the British Museum.

{1}

## GOYA

## I

A century before the birth of Goya, Spanish painting had attained its crown of achievement in the work of the four great naturalists, Velazquez, Ribera, Zurbarán, and Murillo. Josef de Ribera (‘Lo Spagnoletto’), had succeeded Ribalta, and had given lasting expression to the realism which characterised Spanish art in the seventeenth century; Francisco de Zurbarán, the Estremaduran peasant, whom Lord Leighton called ‘All Spain,’ carried on the tradition of the elder Herrera in his passion for truth in detail and in the dramatic intensity of his expression; Murillo, the disciple of the Spanish Catholic Church, bewitched his generation with what Antonio Castillo y Saavedra described as his ‘wondrous grace and beauty of colouring’; and Velazquez, ‘our Velazquez,’ as Palomino proudly styled him, was the supreme painter{2} through whom Spanish art became the light of a new artistic life.

Of Velazquez it has been said that he attained perfection in the realism of detail and in the realism of sight, and in his commanding genius Spanish art was emancipated from the fetters of pseudo-Italianism in which it had laboured so long. He carried Spanish realism to its Ultima Thule. Further his age could not go, and generations of artists who came after him devoted themselves to the imitation and reproduction of his colour and his technique with such passionate servility that in the end the copy of the pupil was frequently mistaken for the work of the master. The perfect technique of the great Court painter had, in his own day, the effect of arresting artistic development—it left his successors nothing to solve for themselves. He achieved so much in his own work that, for a time, the last word in art seemed to have been spoken. Until his influence had died away, the reproduction of Velazquez was the aim of the Madrid painters. For this reason, after the death of Velazquez, the artistic life of the seventeenth century became a spent force, and for want of new impetus of original genius, Spanish art steadily declined. The followers of{3} the supreme painter failed to realise the true inwardness of his message. They had the seed, but they could raise no new flower. One feels towards the pictures of Velazquez as Swinburne felt towards the muse of Sappho:

’ ... earth’s womb has borne in vain
New things, and never this best thing again;
Borne days and men, borne fruits and wars and wine,
Seasons and songs but no song more like mine.’

But the reverent desire to perpetuate ‘this best thing’ could not arrest the decay of artistic inspiration. The disciples of Velazquez copied and painted successfully (up to a point), and they trained other generations of imitators who continued to work and teach their methods, until imitation slowly but surely sank into artistic degradation. Under the sway of Mariana of Austria, the decay of Spanish painting was further hastened, and the ascendency of the facile, brilliant brush of Luca Giordano, under Charles II., dealt the death-blow to the realistic impulse that had carried the national school of the middle seventeenth century to the realisation of its utmost ambition.

The decadence which followed the death of {4}Velazquez was most pronounced among the Castilian painters, but the empire of Giordano extended to the Provincial schools and completed the more gradual decline of art in Andalusia and Valencia. Seville was foredoomed to decadence as a school of painting, for its artists had taken Murillo as their model, and in servilely imitating the ‘Painter of the Conceptions,’ they emphasised his faults, exaggerated his unreality, and caricatured his affectations. The popular admiration of Murillo was all-powerful to hasten the general decline, and each year the artistic outgrowth of Andalusia became more enfeebled.

In the last months of the seventeenth century Charles II. died without issue and the art-loving Austrian dynasty was ended. The succeeding Bourbon sovereigns brought with them an art derived from France; they had no ambition to reanimate the native art of the country. Madrid became the only recognised art centre in Spain, and to Madrid, in 1761, came, at the invitation of Charles III., Giovanni Battista Tiepolo, the Venetian fresco-painter, and the Saxon pedant, Anton Raphael Mengs. The Spanish painters who had rendered homage to the facile Giordano were caught by the glamour of the fantastic, insincere art of Tiepolo, while the dreary academic influence of Mengs—whose{5} paintings are declared by Carl Justi to echo the last shadow of eclectic mannerism—made for all that is dull, exact, and lifeless in pictorial art. No great Spaniard arose to counteract the demoralising influence of these imported professors; it was realised in the studios of Madrid that the methods of the favoured aliens led to popularity and fortune; the Spanish artists followed the line of least resistance, nor desisted when they found that it carried them ever further from the tradition founded by Velazquez.

This art, dull but without dignity, showy but meaningless, was the reflex of the prevailing rottenness in the national life. During the reign of Charles III. a certain superficial decency was observed; the corruptness of Court life was kept out of sight; a general conspiracy of make-believe was maintained. But under Maria Luisa of Parma and Charles IV., the abomination of moral desolation in social, political and artistic life was complete and confessed. Manuel Godoy, afterwards Prince de la Paz, was Prime Minister of Spain, and the country was demoralised by dissolute courtiers and unscrupulous ministers, and drained by insatiable priests. But in the turmoil created by an aristocracy sunk in lasciviousness, a government steeped in cor{6}ruption, and a commonalty beaten and bled into a state of nerveless resignation, was heard the echo of the revolutionary movement which was sweeping over Europe. The teaching of Goethe and Schiller, followed by the preaching of Rousseau, had taken concrete form in the butcheries of Robespierre and Danton; the movement had culminated in the personal supremacy of Napoleon Buonaparte.

The hopes of the Spanish nation were centred in the Crown Prince Ferdinand. Even as the First of the Tigers thought to exterminate Fear by killing a man, the Spaniards believed that the abdication of Charles IV. would make an end of misrule and give their country peace and prosperity. But the King hated his son, and inspired by the double purpose of defeating the ambition of the Crown Prince and punishing the disloyalty of his subjects, he laid his crown at the feet of the Emperor of the French, who bestowed it upon his brother, Joseph Buonaparte. The Spanish liberals made the alien king welcome, but the Spanish loyalists proved a constant thorn in the side of the usurper, and at the end of five years Joseph Buonaparte fled Madrid. Two years later the Prince of the Asturias returned to Spain to be crowned king as Ferdinand {7}VII. Again the distressful country was plunged into the depths of retrogression, clericalism, and fanaticism. Spain was undergoing her fate.

The strong men of the troublous times of the eighteenth century were the revolutionaries and reformers, and, as was inevitable, they sprang from the people. Rousseau, Robespierre, Napoleon, these were the forces that directed the movement, the effect of which was to make itself felt from one end of Europe to the other. Goya was a revolutionary. He lived under four kings of Spain. He was elected a member of the Académia de San Fernando in the reign of Charles III.; Charles IV. appointed him Pintor de Cámara del Rey; he took the oath of allegiance to Joseph Buonaparte and painted the usurper’s portrait; Ferdinand VII., who declared that he had deserved death for his defection from the Bourbon cause, condemned the man but pardoned the artist and received him as a member of the new Court. Critical opinion condones Goya’s flexible patriotism by the fact that ‘it was a period of national disaster,’ and that ‘national calamity was not altered by these trivialities.’

Goya, we are reminded, was a revolutionary; he was also a pitiless, if quizzical, onlooker at{8} the life of the Madrid Court. It was a simple matter to him to transfer his allegiance from the Bourbons to Joseph Buonaparte, and it was even more simple to welcome Ferdinand VII. to the throne. ‘What did such changes matter in years of irretrievable ruin?’ writes C. Gasquoine Hartley, in A Record of Spanish Painting. The question may be left for the individual to answer according to his own fancy. And if Goya was, as some will find, an opportunist, a political weathercock, and a moral Vicar of Bray, as an artist he was a great reformative force. Alternately an idealist and a realist, he fought with all the social forces and against the academic standards of the school commanded by David and Mengs, destroying the debased conventions of painting and freeing the brush from the domination of a clique. A national artist par excellence, he gave lasting form to the sentiments, customs and conditions of his country. A profound believer in empiricism, a great humourist, sometimes impetuous and fantastic, at other times holding fast to reality; a master of portraiture; fantastic, inspired, spontaneous in his aquafortis etchings; he seized upon and immortalised every aspect of the gruesome tragi-comedy which was played in Spain in the last years of the eighteenth century.{9}

Francisco José de Goya y Lucientes was born at the end of March (the 30th or 31st) 1746 at Fuentetodos near Zaragoza, in Aragon, the province which gave to the nation poets like the ‘Spanish Horaces,’ historians like Zurita, teachers like Gracián and Luzán, a scholar like Latassa, and a statesman like the Conde de Aranda. Goya was baptized in the Church of Our Lady of the Ascent, and the names given him by his godmother, Francesca de Grasa, were Francis Joseph. The amiable weakness for connecting great men with great families has prompted a German biographer to claim that both his father and mother belonged to the nobility, and that his first patron was the Duque de Fuentes. Less imaginative authorities, however, tell us that his parents, José Goya and Gracia Lucientes, were poor but hardworking peasants, and that when ‘the regenerator of the Spanish school of naturalistic painters’—to quote the prefatory note to Goya’s pictures in the Prado catalogue—had completed his course of elementary instruction at the hands of the village schoolmaster, he was put to agriculture. A fortunate accident revealed the bent of the lad’s genius and liberated him, at the age of fourteen, from the drudgery of manual labour.{10}

M. Matheron relates that the lad had been sent with a sack of wheat to a neighbouring mill, when a monk of Zaragoza (probably Father Felix Salvador of the Carthusian convent of Aula Dei) happened upon him. Goya, seated on his burden, was intent upon drawing a pig with a piece of charcoal upon a whitewashed wall. The priest, struck by the correct free lines traced by the youngster, inquired who his master was and received the characteristic reply: ‘I have none, your reverence. It is not my fault, I cannot keep from drawing.’ The overmastering incentive pleaded by the youthful delinquent never forsook him, and, although powerful enemies resented his too free use of the pencil, and the Holy Inquisition was moved to curb his unwearied industry, he continued to ply brush and needle and gavel during sixty-eight years of changing, strenuous life. Father Salvador remained Goya’s friend until his death. He saw his father, and obtained permission from him, in 1760, for the lad to go to Zaragoza. The imperial city exercised a powerful influence upon his art. There is always in his pictures, as one of his countrymen points out, the Zaragoza landscape, so rich in the contrasts of its splendid and vigorous vegetation, recalling{11} the banks of the Genil or the Turia, while its limy hills and grey plains bring to the memory the vistas of Castile. The melancholy of the sky—pierced by the severe lines of innumerable towers and bounded by the austere distant rock—remind us that here the sun has not the same suggested warmth that supplied the rays for Murillo’s brush; that this is not the land of fancy but the land of genius, cold as the snow of the Moncayo, that adds beauty to the beautiful plants which produce not sweet odours but healing balsams.

Thanks to the friendly offices of Father Salvador, Goya was admitted to the studio of José Luzán y Martinez, whose religious and historical pictures bear evidence of soft fresh colouring. He attended, too, the school founded in 1714 by the sculptor Juan Ramirez, a pupil of the well-intentioned Gregoria de Mesa. In the studio of Martinez, Goya, who from the first betrayed his lifelong passion for realism, worked with untiring ardour, stimulated, it may be, by the industry of his co-pupils, José Beratón, Tómas Vallespin, and the Huesca jeweller, Antonio Martinez, who founded, in Madrid, the silversmith’s business which still bears his name. ‘In the schools of Zaragoza,’ says C. Gasquoine{12} Hartley, ‘he followed no conventional standards, and his continuous study was directed to the development of his exuberant individuality. To comprehend the truth, and afterwards to depict it, as it pleased his ever-varying fancy, this was his great aim. His utterance was inevitable and instinctive, the overflow of his dramatic, inexhaustible and vivid imagination.’

Goya’s exuberant, passionate temperament betrayed itself in other directions outside his art. He lived, as he worked, in a condition of unconventional, even arrogant independence. Many tales of the wild escapades of his youth are told. His revolutionary tendencies embroiled him in frequent altercations; thrice he is said to have fallen under the ban of the Inquisition. Zaragoza finally grew unsafe for him, and in 1766 he fled to Madrid. There are no discovered documents relating to his first years in Madrid, and his biographers, for the most part, preserve a discreet reticence concerning his mode of life in the capital. It is supposed that he copied Velazquez, and the pictures at the Casa de Campo, the seat of the Duque de Arcos. It has even been surmised that, through his friendship with Bayeu, he had the entrée to the royal palaces of La Zarzuela, Aranjuez, and the{13} Escorial. Other writers favour the idea that he lived the life of a young revolutionary, and Richard Muther, in his monograph of the painter, pictures him ‘wild and passionate, an athlete in his physical strength,’ being ‘everywhere present when dancing or love-making, scuffling or stabbing, is going forward.’ The one outstanding fact, upon which most biographers are agreed, is that one morning he was found lying in the streets with a dagger in his back. This occurrence, supplemented, it is said, by his misfortune in again incurring the displeasure of the Inquisition—some hold that he was placed under police supervision—made him once more seek safety in flight. He had a will to visit Rome, but no money to defray his travelling expenses. Tradition declares that he joined himself to a company of bull-fighters, worked his way to the coast as a picador, and set sail for Italy.

Iriarte is the authority for most of the details concerning this period of Goya’s career. French writers declare that the painter remained in Italy from 1769 to 1774. There is a full-length likeness of Pope Benedict XIV. still in the Vatican which is said to have been painted by Goya in a few hours, but as that pontiff died in 1756 there is much reason to doubt the truth of the legend.{14}

The Conde de la Viñaza in his Life of Goya refutes every detail of this story. It is said that while Goya was in Italy he secured a prize offered by the Parma Academy of Fine Arts for a picture of ‘Hannibal surveying Rome from a pinnacle of the Alps,’ but the Conde maintains that Goya at this time was in Spain and that it was in his own country he painted his picture and carried off the second prize. In the Mercure de France of January 1772 we read: ‘Le 27 Juin dernier l’Académie Royale des Beaux Arts de Parme tint sa séance publique pour la distribution de ses prix. Le sujet de peinture était: “Annibal vainqueur du haut des Alpes jette ses premiers regards sur les campagnes d’Italie.”... Le premier prix de peinture a été accordé au tableau qui avait devise: “Montes fregit aceto,” et qui était de monsieur Paul Borroni etc. Le second prix de peinture a été remporté par M. François Goya romain (sic), élève de M. Vajeu, peintre du roi d’Espagne.’

The following paragraph by M. Paul Mantz from the same source is quoted into the Archives de l’art français: ‘L’Académie a remarqué avec plaisir dans le second tableau un beau maniement de pinceau, de la chaleur d’expression dans le{15} regard d’Annibal et un caractère de grandeur dans l’attitude de ce général. Si M. Goya se fût moins écarté dans sa composition du sujet du programme, et s’il eût mis plus de vérité dans son coloris, il aurait balancé les suffrages pour le premier prix.’

The Conde de la Viñaza, Goya’s Spanish biographer, maintains that this picture was painted and the prize won before the artist went to Italy, and he proves, by the publication of documents preserved in the Archives of the Pilar Cathedral at Zaragoza, that in October 1771 the painter, forsaking Madrid, was back on the banks of the Ebro in the enjoyment of an enviable reputation. This is in direct contradiction to the old stories describing a love adventure as the reason for his sudden and hasty departure from Rome. A mad enterprise which had for its object the rescue of a young maid from a convent ended, it is said, in his capture, and he ‘only escaped the gallows by the most reckless and headlong flight.’ This much we know, that Goya was in Zaragoza in 1771. He returned not as a fugitive and an outlaw, but as a reputable citizen having the confidence of the Cathedral authorities, who commissioned him to paint the quadrangular vault in the Holy Chapel. The{16} fresco which he prepared as a proof that ‘he was experienced in this kind of painting,’ was submitted to the Building Committee of the Cathedral, on November 11, 1771, together with the director’s assurance that it had received the approval of experts, and with Goya’s offer to paint the vault of the small choir for 15,000 reals, he providing the labourers and materials. The Committee, having heard this proposition and recognising it as better than that made by Don Antonio Velazquez, who asked 25,000 reals for the work, ‘agreed to Goya’s proposition, but in order to be safe and sure,’ it was stipulated that he should make some further studies and submit them to Madrid for the approval of the Royal Academy of Fine Arts (San Fernando), ‘which obtained, the negotiations would be completed and the contract signed.’

On January 27, 1772, Goya presented his study to the Committee, who having ‘already been informed that it was a skilful piece of work in specially good style,’ approved it, and waiving the stipulation that it should be submitted to the Royal Academy, they decided that the artist should forthwith proceed with the work. The documents give no information concerning the progress of the work, but we learn from a minute{17} in the Building Committee’s meeting, held on June 1, 1772, that the painting of the choir was nearly finished by that date, and the scaffolding was about to be taken down.

We are without any authentic particulars concerning the next three years of Goya’s life, but the Conde de la Viñaza supposes that with the 15,000 reals which this work brought him, he went to Italy. How he passed his time there cannot be definitely stated, but many interesting surmises have obtained currency. We are assured by Mr. Muther that for Goya ‘the antique had no more existence than the magnificent art of the cinque-cento: what attracted him was rather the teeming life of the people. Out of the red robes of the priests, the costumes, gay with colour, of the women of Trastevere, the merry, careless freedom of the Lazzaroni, he created fragments of life, rich with all its varied colour. Muleteers with their jangling cars, religious processions and Carnivale masques,’ to say nothing of much ‘love-making, scuffling and stabbing’—these are imagined to be the influences that directed his genius during his stay in Italy. Paul Lafond (Goya), while admitting the legendary element in most of the reported incidents in the life of the painter, repeats the stories of his ascending{18} to the lantern in the dome of St. Peter’s, of his making a tour of Cecilia Melella’s tomb, walking upright on the narrow ledge of the cornice, of his amatory escapade at a convent and its resultant flight from Rome. He also adds that his genre pictures attracted so much attention in Rome that the Russian ambassador, instructed by his sovereign to invite a number of distinguished artists to establish themselves at the Court at St. Petersburg, made Goya a very tempting offer, which he refused. On the other hand, the Conde de la Viñaza declares that ‘he was frequently seen studying the most sublime frescoes in the land, leaning boldly on the decorations of the architraves or on the most dangerous parts of the cornices’; that he secured the necessaries of life by the sale of pictures of the customs of his native land; that he made the acquaintance of Luis David, for whom he formed a deep and lasting attachment; and, finally, that ‘the only recollection he preserved of Italy in his old age was of his having met there the painter of “The Rape of the Sabines.”’

The friendship that existed between Goya and David has called attention to the similarities in the temperament and the aims of the two men, whose work was so widely different. Both used{19} their brushes to glorify the throne and received honours from kings; both sacrificed tradition on the altar of new ideas; and both lacked the tenderness and the faith necessary in the treatment of religious subjects. David was the friend of Robespierre and Saint Just, of Marat and Buonaparte; he painted the ‘Coronation of the Hero of the Pyramids’; he attended the Convention and voted for the death of Louis XVI. Goya was the friend of Godoy and of the ministers of Joseph Buonaparte; he painted the pictures of the Usurper as well as those of the kings that preceded and followed him; and he executed ‘The Disasters of War’ and ‘The Caprices.’ David was ambitious for the aggrandisement of his art, and Goya strove to make it worthy of its civilising mission, but they differed in the means by which they sought to attain their respective ends. David was inspired by the antique, and produced works which possessed the hardness of statuary as well as its clear-cut accuracy of form, while Goya went direct to nature for his inspiration, and his paintings are the reflections of naked reality. The painter of ‘The Death of Socrates’ was imbued with the guiding purpose of making his work dignified, elaborately accurate, and ex{20}clusive, while the author of the frescoes of La Florida, drawing inspiration from the customs of the toilers and the dandies alike, held that ‘a picture is finished when its effect is true.’ David represented man endowed with improbable and unattractive virtues, Goya painted man as he was; David idealised the individual form with classic grandeur, and his austere and solemn compositions, though based on observation of nature, were moulded to a fixed external idea; but Goya was as faithful to psychologic truth as to anatomy, and his brush revealed the moral sentiments of mankind and laid bare the passionate and terrible emotions of the human soul.

When Goya returned to Madrid in 1775 Spanish art was directed by Mengs and Tiepolo, by Maëlla and Francesco Bayeu. Mengs, the ‘reasoning artificer,’ who had neglected the world of nature in his servile study of Raphael and the antique, was a painter who theorised much and invented little. According to Richard Cumberland he was an artist incapable of portraying either life or death; a painter whose creations neither terrify nor inspire passion or transport; a timid, conscientious craftsman with an excellent hand for miniature. Yet Mengs,{21} the ‘Spanish David,’ as we are told by José de Madrazo, was regarded by the youth of his time as ‘the regenerator of the antique,’ and from the dictatorial chair of pictorial art, his voice ‘was heard like that of an oracle, not so much by the artistic cohorts of agitated Germany, where he received little attention, as by the peaceful Italo-Spanish pleiades, who applauded with enthusiasm the exhumation of the Hellenic form from among the ruins of Herculaneum and Pompeii, because it was the fashion, and without comprehending the reach of that fortuitous event.’

In the fantastic, beautiful, but slightly handled compositions of Battista Tiepolo we have the reaction against this form of classicism. The Venetian possessed a fertile and brilliant fancy, his execution was free and daring, if at times careless, and, in addition, he had a wide knowledge of the resources of his art. His decorations in the new palace at Madrid were ‘extolled to the skies of a generation that had forgotten Velazquez.’ Tiepolo got his effects rapidly; Mengs was laborious to a fault, but his work was probably a better guide for second-rate painters, themselves poorly equipped in knowledge, than the clearly (though incorrectly) drawn com{22}positions of his Venetian contemporary. As director of the Académia de San Fernando, Mengs suggested several new laws for the government of the students and certain alterations in the methods of study. These were at first adopted, but in carrying them into effect the director seems to have met with opposition and involved himself in quarrels, which ‘did little credit to the wisdom of his fellow-directors, or to his own temper and tact.’ As a result of these dissensions Mengs failed to accomplish all his reforms, but he secured several important changes in the Academy. It was due to his efforts that plaster casts were taken of the statues discovered at Herculaneum. Charles III. dowered the institution with a rich collection of marbles and bronzes which had been presented to his Majesty by Mengs, and he supplemented this gift with a large number of statues and busts from the Museum of Cristina of Sweden, and with pictures from the royal galleries and from the suppressed houses of the Jesuits. The sovereign also formed a library for the Academy, opened a school of perspective (Royal Decree of August 19, 1766), and commissioned the surgeon Augustin Navarro to instruct the students in the science of nature and the human form.{23}

In his efforts on behalf of the Academy, Mengs had the loyal assistance of Francisco Bayeu and Mariano Maëlla. The latter’s pictures are deficient in invention, in vigour of execution, and in variety; indeed his cold pearl-coloured creations have nothing to compensate their feeble and unimpressive handling and colour. Bayeu was gifted with peculiar intelligence and as an artist displayed fertility, capacity in composing a picture, and a skilful touch, but his designs lack vigour and delicacy, and his colour is disagreeable.

When Goya reappeared in Madrid in 1775, Mengs was dictator of art, and Bayeu was the Court painter. Goya’s art owed nothing to contemporary influence or example, but to these two officials he was indebted for employment and for his wife. The young Aragonese knew nothing of the bitterness of long apprenticeship; his rise in the esteem of the art world of Madrid was rapid. This, in a measure, was due to his genius, but his worldly prospects were assisted by his marriage to Josefa Bayeu, the sister of the Court painter, and by the influence of Mengs, which secured for him a commission to execute a series of designs for the tapestries woven at the Fábrica de Tapices de Santa Bárbara. This first{24} series were designed for the decoration of the dining-room and bed-chamber of the Prince of the Asturias in the Palace of El Pardo. Goya delivered the first picture on October 31, 1776; on January 26, 1778, the tenth and last cartoon was delivered.

Between 1776 and 1791 Goya executed the forty-six tapestry cartoons which now hang in the Prado, and he repainted many of his designs on a smaller scale for the Countess of Benavente at the Alameda. As late as 1802 the Santa Bárbara factory wove tapestries from Goya’s pictures, and up to 1832 some of the more favoured designs had been reproduced four times. Isabella II. presented some of these fabrics to King Leopold of Belgium, but the greater number adorn the royal palaces of Madrid, El Pardo, and the Escorial.

The designs for tapestries which Goya composed during this period of over twenty-five years form a large part of the painter’s artistic output. It has been said that these early designs do not exhibit any of the painter’s predominant characteristics, and that they reveal crudeness and uncertainty. It is probable that Goya approached the task, in the first place, with very little knowledge of either the industry or the style{25} of design required from him. Mr. Rothenstein remarks that the models in the Prado are painted ‘in so crude a key, and with so little regard for harmony of colouring, that their merit is apt to escape the attention of many students,’ while the strong reds and yellows Goya employs in them have prompted Mr. Muther to compare them unfavourably with the ‘tender delicate colouring’ of Watteau and Lancret. Certainly Goya’s designs are unequal in merit. It must be remembered, too, that often he had not the good fortune of being reproduced faithfully; while other artists employed by the factory gained much by reproduction, his work almost invariably suffered in the process. The officials at the factory objected to the elaborate and delicate work which Goya submitted, and a beautiful model (‘The Blind Man playing the Guitar’) was returned to him on the ground that it could not be successfully transferred to the threads of the warp. Goya corrected his design by exaggerating all the tints and he accentuated the figures by enclosing them in white outlines. This fact suggests one reason why Goya’s enthusiasm in the employment speedily grew cool.

We learn from the Palace archives that the officials, who were more concerned with the com{26}mercial than the artistic side of the manufacture, declared that Goya’s 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 unproductive.’ They contrived to remedy this defect by covering his figures with paintings of trees or clouds or anything else that made the tapestry easier and cheaper to produce, and this treatment was not calculated to make Goya more careful in the finish of his designs. It therefore follows of necessity that only occasionally among his later cartoons can one be found to compare with those in the first series, such, for instance, as ‘The Picnic on the Banks of the Manzanares’ and ‘The Dance at San Antonio de la Florida,’ or indeed with any of the earlier designs, which were all remarkable for the vigour and animation of the scenes, the delicacy of colouring (despite an occasional surfeit of sienna and red ochre), the strength and freedom of the drawing, and the genius for natural and effective grouping in the composition of the pictures. Goya would appear in these works to be carried away by his imagination, and he has presented to us a masterly panorama of all that is brightest and most joyous in the national customs—a panorama{27} that pulsates with life, bubbles over with spontaneous merriment, and fascinates with its irresistible gaiety. We seem to hear the bells of the pony chaise and the pleasant jokes of the wenches at the fêtes on the banks of the Manzanares; the farces of Ramón de la Cruz are translated into the language of colour. And the pictures with children—happy, roguish youngsters—reveal not only marvellous skill, but a sympathy with the poetry and charm of childhood that has not been surpassed. Zapater tells us that Goya was often seen surrounded by children in his house by the Manzanares, and his whole-hearted love of childish grace and innocence is manifested in these studies.

Among his later work as a designer of tapestry one of the best examples is ‘The Earthenware Stall,’ which in its delicacy of colouring, its skilful arrangement of transparent draperies, and its brilliant lighting, is comparable with ‘The Village Wedding,’ which Cruzada declares to be the most graceful composition of the whole collection. Here the story is told with supreme humour. The stupid and happy youth in his finest attire walks beside his fresh-coloured bride who is bedecked with finery and ribbons, a priest and the parents and friends of the young couple{28} accompany them, and the village piper marches in front surrounded by a crowd of singing, shouting, dancing children. In beauty of colouring this design is the equal of the handsome, graceful figures in ‘The Water-Girls,’ and in its mirthfulness and realism it is a companion to his illustration of ‘Blind Man’s Buff,’ which overflows with irrepressible merriment. Another notable design which is also the largest that Goya painted, is ‘El Agosto,’ a striking piece of work. ‘On contemplating this picture,’ writes the Conde de la Viñaza—who declares that it entitles Goya to be known as the Theocritus, the Virgil, and the Garcilaso of painting—‘the sun seems to burn and asphyxiate with its fire, the reapers appear to be dazed with wine, and we seem to hear the chirping of a cricket hidden in the sheaves. Of the children crying and playing on the hills of straw, some appear to be the children of Van Dyck, and others the work of the expressive hand that created the weeping Ganymede.’

The forty-six cartoons mentioned in the Prado catalogue—of which thirty-three are reproduced at the end of this volume—are now contained in the Goya Room of the Madrid Gallery. During the reign of Isabella II., Frederico de Madrazo, the{29} director of the Royal Gallery, repeatedly importuned the administrators of the Royal Patrimony to exhume the Goya designs from the cellars of the Tapestry offices to which they had been consigned, and to have them restored and housed in the Royal Museum. This request, however, was not conceded, and it remained for Gregorio Cruzada Villaamil to rescue them from the oblivion into which they had fallen. He succeeded in having the cartoons placed at the disposal of the Escorial Tapestry Museum Commission, and after being restored they were sent to the Prado. Unfortunately the works are difficult to restore and quickly deteriorate; for it was Goya’s practice to sketch his pictures with extraordinary rapidity, to surround the whole with carbon, and then trace his figures with the aid of aqua rás. Many of the studies in the Prado are covered with glass in order to preserve from total loss the canvases on which scarcely any oil has been used beyond that contained in the colours.

During these first years of his material prosperity Goya varied his work for the tapestry factory by producing genre paintings and a few portraits. He also began at this time to exercise his extraordinary powers as an engraver. As an exponent of genre he was unsurpassed, as{30} a portraitist he was excelled by Velazquez alone, but his genius is more certainly demonstrated in his aquafortis work than in either his genre studies, his frescoes, or his portraits. ‘Goya was pre-eminently fitted, both by his environment and by his nature,’ writes C. Gasquoine Hartley, ‘to be the exponent of genre.’ The truth of this dictum is patent to all who study his canvases of this period. The customs that he depicted were the customs that he loved; the subjects, the people, and the passions represented are always real. He reveals both imagination and invention in the grouping and arrangement of the scenes. The vigour and boldness of his manner is revealed in the success with which he seizes, as with a camera, the fleeting movement—the unfinished smile, the arrested gesture—and seals it upon his canvas. His scenes of carnival and of merry-makings, his representations of bull-fights, and his sidelights on the Inquisition, are living phases of the life which surrounded him and in which he found his pleasure and his inspiration. The spirit of Goya is in all these pictures. His dramatic temperament, his fierce humour, and his imagination found their outlet in the life of the period and expressed itself in these paintings in which that life is immortalised.{31}

In all that he painted Goya never lost sight of, if he did not always attain, his object of securing absolute truth of effect. Whether he is employed on a portrait, a representation of romance or diablerie, or a religious fresco, he is true to the principle explained in his own remark that ‘a picture is finished when its effect is true.’ And the truth of ‘his flashes of insight imprisoned in line and paint,’ give his work a sense of modernity which is seen in the pictures of few other artists. M. Paul Lefond declares: ‘More than any other painter of past periods he is made to be understood in our day. Something more and something better than a modern, the Aragon painter still remains a forerunner; he is still almost a contemporary of the generation to come. His manner of translating and interpreting nature is absolutely modern. He renders it as he sees it, with the comprehension of an artist of our time, daring and independent. He is more than a hundred years in advance of his century. His manner of portrait-painting is completely outside all theory of teaching; his fashion of treating frescoes is an extraordinary audacity. He has in his whole existence, without truce or compromise, been pursued by this idea of arriving at the true expression of life.{32}’

It has been claimed for Goya that his genius was arrogantly unsubjective; that he had no master and was contemptuous of all rules. Originality and independence could go no further, and it may be admitted that he was intolerant of outside influence. But the spark of genius must be fanned into flame by the magnetic influence of example, and while Goya studied nature with a passionate and jealous devotion, he glories in the debt he owes to Rembrandt and Velazquez. ‘I have had three masters,’ he wrote to a literary friend, ‘Nature, Velazquez, and Rembrandt.’ Some have tried to recognise in him a disciple of Tiepolo, and his study of the aquafortis engravings of the Venetian may well have suggested his adoption of that so long neglected method of engraving, but as we should expect, he preserved an independent attitude of mind and developed a manner quite different from that of Tiepolo. There is no evidence, in his engravings, of any admiration for Tiepolo’s style, but his admiration of Rembrandt was as sincere as was his devotion to Velazquez. Gautier finds that Goya’s work reminds one of Velazquez and Rembrandt, ‘as a son reminds you of his ancestors, without any servile imitation—or rather, more by certain congeniality of{33} taste than by any formal wish.’ ‘Goya’s love for the old masters,’ says Lafond, ‘is the best proof one can give of his sincerity. He did not think of inventing new processes; conscious that the same language is capable of a variety of expressions, he was content to master the technique of the past and to borrow from it all that best suited his individuality.’ But what he borrowed he moulded and modified to suit his own purposes; translating it into a language which was his own and in the process enlarging it with new and further life.

In 1779 Goya presented to the King his plates after the pictures of Velazquez. This series, which consisted of the portraits of Philip III., Philip IV., Margaret of Austria, Isabella of Bourbon, Prince Baltasar Carlos, the Count-Duke of Olivarez, and other etchings, are faithful though not inspired copies of the master. Goya wrote to Zapater that he had had the honour of being received by his Majesty and family when he submitted the plates for their inspection, and he adds, ‘I could not have wished them to be more pleased than they showed themselves to be on seeing them.’

Herr Valerian von Loga, who has an intimate acquaintance with and profound knowledge{34} of Goya’s etchings and lithographs, has just published in Berlin a series of thirty-two reproductions of the rarest examples of the painter’s work in these media. The explanatory notes which accompany the plates are of great interest both to the student and the collector. This writer assumes that José del Castillo, who worked with Goya for the tapestry factory of Santa Bárbara, urged him to devote some of his restless activity to the etching needle. He holds that in his earlier attempts, and particularly in ‘The Flight into Egypt,’ the technique reminds one of Tiepolo. This etching is the work of an apprentice hand, and while it is not devoid of charm, it runs on bad lines. Goya’s acquaintance with the fundamental rules of etching was so imperfect that, in the first prints of his ‘St. Francisco de Paula,’ the inscription C. A. R. J. appears turned the wrong way. It is the opinion of Herr Valerian von Loga that in almost all the plates executed at this period there is a certain emptiness and unsteadiness of drawing, while the unsuccessful handling of light and shade betrays the work of the beginner, but ‘what is new and original, and above all, characteristic of Goya, is the manner in which the whole is worked out according to{35} the painter’s mode of working. We see the artist taking pains, not to give form to the things themselves, but to their appearance. On this account outlines are omitted and contours left open, and there are no regularly-growing, flowing lines, while parallel and crossing strokes are rare. The dark surfaces are composed of a great number of short, chopped-off strokes; the entire workmanship is nervous and undecided. It is clear here that the ability of the artist was far behind the good-will, and at times too his inspiration was insufficient.’

In his copies of Velazquez Goya appears to have been the first to introduce into Spain Le Prince’s ten-year-old process of aquatinta, a process which in later times he developed to the highest perfection. In 1779 he brought out an etching from one of his own designs for the tapestry factory. His work so pleased the Prince of the Asturias, for whom it was executed, that the painter is credited with an intention of publishing all his Santa Bárbara pictures as etchings. But his growing popularity as a portrait painter now claimed his activities for more remunerative work, and for more than ten years he laid aside the etching needle in favour of the brush.{36}

We learn from a memorial preserved in the Palace Archives that the graciousness of his reception, the success of his tapestry designs, and the admiration that Charles III. had expressed for his two religious studies of ‘Christ Crucified’ and of ‘St. Francis,’ emboldened the artist to proffer himself for the position of Court Painter. This honour was denied, but he was elected a member of the Académia de San Fernando.

On January 24, 1781, Goya left Madrid for Zaragoza to assist in the redecoration of the Church del Pilar under the direction of his brother-in-law, Francisco Bayeu. The dissensions which arose out of this commission between Bayeu and Goya, and between Goya and the Building Committee, were bitter and prolonged. It is not likely that the biographers of Goya, without the facts of the dispute to guide them to a correct conclusion, would display much sympathy with a conventional, mediocre painter like Bayeu, or so nebulous a body as an archbishop’s chapter, and Zapater and Cruzada have revealed their hero in the light of a persecuted, long-suffering martyr. The vanity and envy of Bayeu and the wilful obstinacy of the Building Committee in their support of the older artist they hold to{37} have been at the bottom of the matter. But the Conde de la Viñaza has exhumed the hard facts in the archives of the Pilar Cathedral, and from these it is now clear that the indomitable independence of Goya’s nature and his impetuous intolerance of all restriction have not been taken sufficiently into account by his biographers.

From the documents which Viñaza has brought to light we learn that the frescoes which Bayeu completed in the Pilar Church, in 1776, gave so much satisfaction to the authorities that they agreed to the artist’s terms for painting the round vaults and cupolas of the church. Four years later, when the Building Committee were getting impatient for the work to be put in hand, they granted Bayeu permission to engage his brother Ramon and his brother-in-law Goya to assist in the execution of the designs which he had already prepared. On October 5, 1780, Ramon Bayeu and Goya presented these designs for the vaults. The Committee found that they were ‘inspired by the greatest taste’ and decided to proceed at once with the work. It may be assumed that Francisco Bayeu arrived shortly after to supervise the operations of his assistants, and it was not long before the disagreements between Goya and his brother-in-law{38} commenced. On December 14 Bayeu complained that Goya would not be subject to correction in the manner of his painting, and he asked the Committee that he might be relieved of his responsibility in the direction of the work, in so far as Goya was concerned. We read that ‘the Committee, taking into account that Goya had come to paint, owing in a great measure to the pressure and eulogy of Bayeu in his letters, agreed that the Building Director (Canon Allué) should see Goya and his painting frequently, and mention any defects he might notice and impress upon him how grateful he ought to be for the good offices of D. Francisco Bayeu in engaging him as his assistant.’

Although it is evident that Goya was already in revolt against the supervision which he had accepted as a condition of his employment, the trouble was temporarily overborne. From this we may conclude that the good Allué did not insist too much upon the gratitude which Goya owed to his brother-in-law. By February Goya had completed the painting of the dome, and he then submitted his studies for the four triangles formed by the arches supporting it. It would appear that the public had expressed their dissatisfaction with Goya’s compositions in the dome, and the{39} Committee complained that not only were these new designs marked by similar defects of ‘drapery, colouring, and idea,’ but one of the figures represented came short of the standard of chastity that was required in pictures of this kind. The Committee, ‘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 from the whole chapter, under the direction and in the hands of D. 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 triangles be painted in such a way that they may be shown to the public without fear of criticism.’ But when this resolution of the Committee was communicated to Bayeu, he retaliated with a tirade upon his offended dignity, and we find Allué appealing to 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 desire only that the work be skilful and perfect.’

To this appeal Goya returned what we may describe as a characteristic letter. This epistle has been published in Spain, but no transla{40}tion has hitherto appeared in England. The letter is as follows:—

### Memorial of Goya to the Building Committee.

D. Francisco de Goya, Member of the Royal Academy of San Fernando, respectfully shows: That after having put the works of his profession before the public, namely, the paintings just unveiled at the Church of Our Lady of Pilar, his attention had been called to the opinions he hears expressed, containing a criticism prompted by a principle other than that of justice, or governed by the authorised rules of art, which only should form the opinion regarding the work; and although he cannot believe that ill-meant prejudice has gained access to your rectitude, or that you could be led away by impulses little in accord with reason; yet the honour of a professor is a very delicate thing; opinion is what sustains him, all his subsistence depends on his reputation, and when that is obscured by even a light shadow, his fortune is gone; therefore Nature warns him to take care of it by using all the defences within his reach, and to omit the least would be to gain a slight advantage by abandoning the greatest treasure the Creator had entrusted to him.

These principles, accompanied by a sense of wounded honour, the expositor hopes his explanation will make evident to your benignity.

D. Francisco Bayeu asked that the work in the domes might be done by his brother and the expositor, but it was on the understanding that the latter should do one of the parts by himself, as Bayeu himself{41} agreed, considering that the degree of an honoured member of the San Fernando Academy, acquired by the work which had won great renown for him in Madrid, in addition to the work for H.M., would not admit of his absolute subordination to another professor without detriment to his honour. The expositor might be wrong in this, but his error would have the approbation of D. Francisco Bayeu himself, who agreed to it, and was a trustworthy witness of the success that might be expected; and also that of the chief Presbyter Allué, to whom through some people in the city he had manifested the same opinion, to which he agreed.

The expositor feeling sure of said promises, with all good faith in them, proceeded with the Study or Design, and as he wished to be on good terms with D. Francisco Bayeu he took it to him, and received his entire approval: he came with him to this city: he began his work by consulting him regarding the place where the principal façade should be put; the expositor gave way to Bayeu’s opinion. He presented the design to you, who approved them; and in executing them he has only enlarged them.

Taking into consideration these harmonious dealings of the supplicant with D. Francisco Bayeu, which created no motive for resentment, and were governed by the principles and rules prescribed in the first and only conversations regarding the matter, who could think that the expositor had been wanting in respect to Bayeu? There are those who think so, because when the work was well in hand, they wished to make him understand that the agreement with Bayeu was that he should interfere as much as he liked with the{42} expositor’s work, and that the latter should obey him as a subordinate in execution, placing of figures, style, colouring, and so forth; in a word make him a mere executor and mercenary subordinate; but as this was in direct opposition to what had been agreed, it would have been discreditable to his honour to yield, as he would be losing what his merit had won for him, and he could not therefore so humiliate himself, for he knew that the previous offices were sufficient, and that similar ones if continued would not make them anything but his own production. D. Francisco Bayeu’s warning to you that he would not be responsible for his part of the work, only shows that his object was to create a want of confidence that should cause coercion to be exercised, which was justly resisted, for doubt as to skill and success sat ill on D. Francisco, who knew quite well of the honours acquired by the expositor in Madrid, both from the Royalties and from all who had seen his productions, all executed by himself without the slightest direction from any one.

After this, things were artfully circulated against the conduct of the expositor, concerning his temper, proceedings and dealings with Bayeu, he being accused of hauteur, pride and stubbornness. Thereafter malice prepared the blow, long premeditated, of first creating personal disaffection, and then disaffection with his work; as shown by the reception of his work in the dome of the Cathedral of Our Lady. The criticism passed by some persons can only be attributed to this, because all its merit is unobserved and only the defects suggested by caprice or ignorance are sought.{43}

He has suffered with resignation the insults to his honour, he has had the patience to see that the same Bayeu who impaired his credit with insinuating words, and the deceitful complaint that he was responsible for the success of the work, and that he would have to give an account of the confidence placed in him, and that the supplicant was depriving him of this satisfaction because he would not allow him to correct or alter his productions; on other occasions defended the expositor, exalting his merit, acknowledging his skill and the correctness of his painting.

The insinuations of Bayeu have led to the conclusion that the expositor came to this city as a mere subordinate of his, and that notwithstanding this absolute dependence, his proud spirit would not submit to asking for instructions from D. Francisco, even on the ground of friendship and relationship. Two entirely false propositions, which are the cause of all the supplicant’s trouble, because regarding the first he has already told you about the agreements that preceded his coming to Zaragoza, and regarding this and the second, D. Francisco Bayeu cannot deny that, as the result of those agreements, the expositor executed the studies and designs in Madrid, showed them to him, received his approval, and no fault was found. The studies are the complete work, with the same figures, colouring and arrangement to be observed, and the work itself an entire copy of them; and if they passed his examination in Madrid as an act of condescension on the part of the supplicant, emanating from his desire for peace, why, if as he says he was responsible, did he not then point out the defects he{44} might have noted? He did not do so; then what is to be inferred from his having concealed them, if he noticed them? Obviously, and no dissimulating artifice can hide this, it may be gathered that his object was for the expositor to be in error, receive indignant public censure, and lose all the merit and status won by his work. But not wishing to believe such malevolence, because other proofs would be required of it, it must be admitted either that he found no defects in the studies or designs, and therefore the painting on the dome, which is the same, has none, or that D. Francisco was most culpable who, knowing of them, said nothing and allowed them to be copied.

The expositor has never departed from that friendly subordination, nor attempted to oppose D. Francisco Bayeu with the proud spirit of which he is accused; a proof of this is what has been said about the designs; another, the placing of the principal façade; and, lastly, the many visits he paid him at his own house, even though they were not returned. On being informed that the Chapter wished Bayeu to inspect the work on the dome, he arranged for him to do so, which he did, accompanied by the chief Presbyter Allué, and in his presence admitted and acknowledged the perfection of the work, saying that what he had been informed was not true; he also saw the designs for the triangles, and approved of them.

In face of all this, the expositor finds that the same bitter opposition which he had thought would cease, still continued, because the sense of truth may be suspended but not extinguished, but seeing that there is no hope of staying the torrent of provocations that{45} insult his honour and fame, and that an honoured professor cannot stand for ever against the opposition of his enemies, whose only object is to work him ill; notwithstanding that he thought he must finish the work on the triangles, he has at last been undeceived by the letter which the chief Presbyter Allué had just sent to him, of which he sends you a complete copy. After the calumnies he has had to endure, the slights and contempt with which he is treated will not permit him to continue to expose himself to some greater misfortune. He now humbly shows, and at the same time sets forth that he has heard that some figures were to be altered in the dome, and although the expositor cannot be sure that you will allow yourselves to be guided by the declamatory voice of the ignorant public, or the opinion of rivals, the right he has to defend his honour leads him to forestall you. Before a daub is put in the Church that will obscure and deprive it of merit, and leave a permanent witness of the ignorance which is a reproach: which is now the only thing in the matter that interests him, and regarding which he appeals to you—because the will of the owner in his own house does not let go the reins of liberty to such an extent, merely in order to exercise his authority, as to permit without cause, and quite uselessly, great detriment to another on a point so delicate as honour—the expositor thinks the best way to appease the want of confidence he presumes in others and to assert his own opinion, is that a person expert in the art, authorised in his profession, and whose opinion would be impartial, should minutely inspect the work, and when his criticism detects his{46} unskilfulness and error, or testifies to his sufficiency and skill, he will watch with indifference any mutilations executed. Therefore he humbly begs that you will arrange for the work in the dome to be seen by one of the members of the San Fernando Academy, one of the most renowned, as D. Mariano Maëlla or D. Antonio Velazquez, at the expense of the expositor, and after careful inspection his declaration be accepted as testimony.—Zaragoza, March 17, 1781.

Francisco de Goya.

Upon the receipt of this letter, which may be left to speak for itself, the worthy and sorely tried Allué seems to have invited the mediation of Father Salzedo, who was, perhaps, the only man to whom the irascible Goya might be expected to listen. Salzedo wrote the painter a long, earnest epistle, in which he appealed to his better judgment and prudence, cited instances of humility in the life of Christ for his guidance, and demonstrated the practical advantages that would be derived from doing his work to the satisfaction of the Building Committee. The good father did not hesitate to tell his friend that he had taken up a wrong attitude towards his brother-in-law and the Cathedral authorities, and plainly exhorted him ‘with all generosity and Christian charity, to submit your studies to Bayeu’s opinion, in order to please God by your{47} humility, edify the public, and give pleasure to your friends.’ And he adds in conclusion: ‘My dictum, as your greatest admirer, is that you submit to the demands of the Committee, have your studies taken to your brother’s house, and say to him in the best manner possible: This is required by the Chapter—here they are; examine them to your satisfaction, and put your opinion in writing, doing this as God and your conscience shall dictate, etc. And then await the result.’

The foregoing letter was dated March 30, 1781. On April 6, Goya wrote a conciliatory note to Allué, promising to make fresh studies in consultation with Bayeu. Eleven days later the Committee approved the new designs and expressed their pleasure at finding him reconciled to his brother-in-law. But the truce, for such one supposes it to have been, did not last. From a minute in the report of the Building Committee’s proceedings on May 28, it is recorded that Goya, in a ‘not very courteous’ manner, had told Allué that he was only losing his reputation in Zaragoza and desired permission to return to Madrid as soon as possible: ‘The Committee resenting this further affront, resolved: First, that the Professor be paid for{48} his painting. Second, that under no circumstances would he be permitted to continue to paint any more in this Church, but that this need not deter the Director from giving some medals to his wife, in virtue of her being the sister of D. Francisco Bayeu, who was so worthy of this and other considerations from the Committee, by reason of his skilful work in this church.’

The source of the trouble was the failure of the Committee to accept Goya at his own estimate, which was certainly the true one, as the superior of Bayeu. The young painter doubtless did his best to follow the advice of Father Salzedo, but he wore the robes of humility with a bad grace, and was impatient of ignorant and pedantic criticism. His position had become untenable. The painter received his payment, his wife accepted her medals, and they left Zaragoza for Madrid in June 1781.

Goya was indulging no empty boast when he intimated, in his memorial to the Building Committee, that his renown in Madrid was widely acknowledged. He was no sooner back in the capital than the Conde de Florida Blanca sent him a royal order to paint one of the pictures for the Church of San Francisco el Grande. The favoured minister also presented him to the{49} Infante don Luis, the brother of the King and husband of Maria Teresa Vallabriga, who at once conceived a great liking for the painter. He spent a month at the palace of Arenas de San Pedro, and was entertained with great hospitality, while he executed portraits of the Infante’s family. He also painted for the Consejo de las Ordenes several devotional pictures for the Calatrava College at the Salamanca University. In his leisure hours he worked at his picture in the Church of St. Francis. This work was not completed until November 1784. The pictures were ceremoniously unveiled on the 8th of December, in the presence of the King and his court. The occasion was a triumph for Goya. Other pictures had been painted by Bayeu, Mariano Maëlla, Gregorio Farro, Antonio Velazquez, Joseph del Castillo, and Andres Calleja. But their work was eclipsed by the composition in which the magic brush of the Aragonese represented San Bernardino de Siena. The saint is shown with a crucifix in his hand, standing on a rock, preaching, by the light of a brilliant star, to the wonder-filled King Alfonso of Aragon and his court.

Great was the admiration which this picture won for the artist, but, as was usual in Spain, he{50} experienced much difficulty in obtaining payment for his work. In April 1785 we find Goya, Farro, and Castillo memorialising the Conde de Florida Blanca for pecuniary acknowledgment of their labours, explaining that they had each spent two years in making sketches and studies and in the execution of their several pictures, and pointing out that they are obliged to gain their livelihood with their work and ‘have no income or assistance, like others who have the good fortune to serve his Majesty.’ This memorial was despatched with a covering letter from Antonio Ponz, who emphasises the fact that the painters are in need, and hopes that their request will be complied with, ‘in order that these poor men may not lose heart and that reward shall hearten them to fresh work.’ Three months late Florida Blanca arranged with the general directors at the post-office to hand the artists ‘six thousand reals for the present until something else is arranged.’ This payment is duly noted on the memorial, and a later marginal order, presumably in the Count’s handwriting, reads: ‘Pay another 4000 reals to each, although the pictures are nothing wonderful, but theirs are the best.’ This grudging eulogy was in striking contrast with the enthusiastic praise bestowed upon{51} Goya’s pictures for the Salamanca College by the Consejo de las Ordenes, who instructed Jove-Llanos to assure the artist that he was ‘singularly satisfied with the care and diligence with which he had finished the paintings and with their eminent merit.’

In the year of his return to Madrid Goya’s father died, and the painter sent for his mother and his brother Camilo to join him. He obtained for Camilo a chaplainship at Chinchón, but his mother soon wearied of the unaccustomed noise and bustle of the city and retired to Zaragoza, where she lived on a pension of five reals per diem provided by Goya. The artist at this time may have found some difficulty in providing for his household; for his family, if not long-lived, was numerous, but it is unlikely that he ever felt the pinch of poverty. We can well believe that he was insistent in obtaining the reward of his labours, especially when he was working for princes who, in his view, were living a life of gilded pauperism, and the stress which Ponz lays upon the needs of these ‘poor men’ is far removed from the attitude assumed by Goya. In the letter, in which he applies for payment, he does not plead for a dole in relief of his poverty, but demands the remuneration which{52} is justly due to him. This is the only recorded instance of his being in financial straits. From this time his career is one of eventful and interrupted but assured success. Fame and fortune attended him on either hand. In 1785 Andreas Calleja died, and Goya succeeded him as deputy director of the Academy of San Fernando, with an annual salary of twenty-five doubloons. Four years later, on the death of Cornelio van der Goten, Charles IV., who had just succeeded his father Charles III., appointed him a Painter of the Chamber, with a salary of 15,000 reals, which was increased in 1799 to 50,000 reals a year, with the rank of first painter to the King.

In this period of his greatest prosperity, Goya was courted not only for the sake of his art, but also for his personal qualities. He was popular with men, while women eagerly contended for his favour. A revolutionary, he became the friend of the King, while the Queen and the Countess of Benavente delighted in his companionship. He went from palace to palace and from fête to fête, observing, working, studying, revelling in the life by which he was surrounded and in which he played a full part. This lover of freedom could breathe in an atmosphere of corruption; this son of the soil{53} could play the courtier with a will. ‘If we are to understand his genius rightly,’ says C. Gasquoine Hartley, in A Record of Spanish Painting, ‘all contradictions are solved when we realise that he was an onlooker at, rather than an operator in, many incidents of his life.’ This half-hearted attempt to condone the irregularity of his life at this period is at variance both with what we know of Goya’s temperament and with the facts. He was an actor as well as an interpreter of the scenes which he represents, and many of his pictures, which are regarded as biting satires of the follies and vice of his age, are quite as plausibly explained as the expression of personal animus and party feeling. Certain people have discovered in Goya a moralist after the style of Hogarth, using his brush in the sacred cause of morality, to expose the vices of his time, laying bare the baseness of his contemporaries in order to inspire contempt and horror of their conduct, stigmatising the habits of the court of Charles IV., and castigating the hypocrisy, ignorance, and immodesty of the men and women who surrounded the royal family. But while in the later works of his mature age he employed his brush and needle to this purpose, it is more probable, as Lafond{54} concludes, that under Charles IV. and Maria Luisa, Goya drew and engraved, as La Fontaine wrote his fables: for the pleasure of producing them, from the necessity of multiplying them, not troubling himself about questions of morality or of the lessons which his pictures should teach. ‘The truth is,’ says his French biographer, ‘that, mixed up in the intrigues of the Court and involved in personal quarrels, he takes the part now of one, now of another, using his pen to scratch his adversaries of to-day who are his allies to-morrow.’ In all his works he imbued the subject with the quality of his thought as well as with the charm of his colour and the skill of his draughtmanship. Of all the artists of his class, says the Boletin de la Sociedad Española de Excursiones, none put into their studies more meaning and personal opinion. If he painted a scene he attached to it a proverb or a significant ejaculation; if he produced a portrait he left upon the likeness his opinion of his model; if in many cases it amounted to a positive caricature, he could no more help seeing his subject in that guise than his subject could avoid so appearing to the artist.

With regard to Goya’s personal life at this period it is not necessary to say much, but it{55} would seem to have been consistent with our knowledge of him and of his surroundings. Lafond reminds us that his wife bore him twenty children and continued to love him in spite of his endless infidelities. Mr. Rotherstein declares that while it would be idle to pretend that he was faithful to his wife, it is undeniable that he was deeply attached to her during her lifetime. With the single exception of his devotion to the unfortunate Duchess of Alba, says the same writer, his intrigues seem to have been as much caprices on the part of his sitters as his own. But these caprices were, as it has been said, endless. ‘We have only to look at the master’s self-portrait,’ writes Richard Muther, ‘at this man with the bull-neck and full, sensual lips, to understand that the countless stories which got about on the subject of his relations with the women of high society in Madrid were not all inventions of the fancy. Goya must have been a terror to all their husbands. In all the most aristocratic salons the women were at his feet; and perhaps they appreciated the difference between this sturdy man of the people and their decadent lords and masters. In a word, Goya at this time not only painted Rococo, but lived himself to its full the wild passionate life{56} of that Rococo period.’ And again, in the Boletin de la Sociedad Española de Excursiones, we get the shrewd and common-sense conclusion that ‘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.’

It would have been strange indeed if Goya had resisted the temptations by which he was surrounded; it is remarkable under the circumstances that he remained unspoiled. The King, as we have seen, was his friend, the Queen confided to him her most delicate secrets, the all-powerful Prince de la Pax made him welcome at Aranjuez, and the most distinguished women of the day delighted in entertaining him. Writing to his friend Zapater about his success at this period, he said: ‘I had established for myself an enviable mode of life; I no longer danced attendance in an ante-chamber; if anybody wanted anything of mine he had to come to me. I was much sought after, but if it was not anybody in a high position, or to oblige a friend,{57} I worked for none.’ He was a privileged guest at the palaces of the Marchioness of Santa Cruz and of San Carlos; Brunetti and the Countess of Benavente fêted him. His relations with the beautiful and vivacious Duchess of Alba are too well known to call for more than a passing mention. The artist painted at least a dozen portraits of the Duchess, in one of which he presents himself in company with his inamorata. He introduced her piquant features into the frescoes of San Antonio de la Florida. She is the model for the nude and clothed Maja which hang in the Prado Museum. Tradition has it that the clothed Maja was painted to meet the wishes of the Duke, who expressed a desire to inspect the master’s work. The story is almost comical to any one who has stood in front of the two pictures. Nothing but the most conventional views upon the subject of the nude could make the naked study more offensive in the eyes of a husband than the one in which the young woman, ‘naked in spite of her dress,’ appears to challenge the continence of all the St. Anthonys of Christendom.

Of these pictures Mr. Charles Ricketts writes in an illuminating chapter on The Masterpieces of the Prado: ‘Goya’s two pictures are still vivacious{58} and fresh. In “La Maja,” a nude, he has painted the 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 workmanship, touches of colour—too many perhaps. The Duchess of Alba (La Maja) 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. Her beauty and daring live on the two canvases; this one scandal in the nineteenth century has endowed the world with those pictures, and they are now in the Prado. So ends the adventure.’

The scandal which associated Goya’s name with that of the Duchess of Alba, fanned, it may be suspected, by the jealousy of the Countess of Benavente, could not be concealed, and by the order of Maria Luisa, the Duchess was banished in 1795 to the seclusion of her estate at San Lucar. The painter immediately obtained from the King a prolonged leave of absence and accompanied her into exile. On the journey to San Lucar an accident happened to their carriage, and Goya with his characteristic energy set to{59} work to repair the defect. An iron bar belonging to the coach was buckled; a fire had to be lighted and the iron made straight. The heat and the unwonted exertion which the operation entailed was followed by a chill, and from this chill resulted the deafness which, in later years, became complete. The Duchess was recalled in the following year—this exercise of royal clemency being apparently the only means of securing the return of the painter to Madrid—and died in the same year in the fullness of her exquisite and inspiring beauty.

The period of Goya’s greatest popularity (1780-1800) was the period of his greatest activity. He was high in the favour of the Court. Much of his time was absorbed in painting portraits of his royal and aristocratic patrons. At the same time he never lost touch with the commonalty, nor his powers to depict, with sympathy and understanding, the life of the country—the bustling, laughing, loving, wrangling, vibrating life he loved and to which, by birth and temperament, he belonged. It is probable that he was never a courtier at heart. His effrontery and uncompromising independence, combined with incisive wit and physical strength, made him at once a singular and incongruous{60} but popular figure in the Court circles, while his frank camaraderie and his amazing prowess in the national games and feats of strength, and above all, the boldness and skill of his demeanour in the bull-ring—in which he is said to have been the equal of the professional espada—won for him the enthusiastic admiration of the hero-worshipping people of Madrid. He seems to have been at no pains to disguise the real bent of his nature. The story runs that he would frequently leave the royal palace to pass the night in the most disreputable taverns and bodegas in the suburbs of Madrid, drinking, dicing, and merrymaking with the night-birds of the capital.

But Goya’s artistic output showed no signs of falling off either in quality or amount, and his marvellous rapidity of workmanship enabled him to produce an almost incredible number of canvases. In a biography and review of this size and scope it is not possible to present a leisured review of his pictures. We must be content with a brief notice of the more important among them, but the illustrations at the end of the volume which are produced in such wealth, and which constitute the chief interest of this book, will speak more eloquently than words. Of Goya’s methods of painting many stories are{61} told, from which it might be concluded that he employed for the purpose every instrument known to art with the solitary exception of a brush. Gautier, who declared his mode to be as eccentric as his talent, has exhausted all the facts and legends relating to his brush-work (if so it can be called) in the following vivacious descriptive passage: ‘He kept his colours in tubs, and applied them to the canvas by means of sponges, brooms, rags, and everything that happened to be within his reach. He put on his tones with a trowel, as it were, exactly like so much mortar, and painted touches of sentiment with large daubs of his thumb. From the fact of his working in this offhand and expeditious manner, he would cover some thirty feet of wall in a couple of days. This method certainly appears somewhat to exceed even the licence accorded to the most impetuous and fiery genius; the most dashing painters are but children compared to him. He executed, with a spoon for a brush, a painting of the “Dos de Mayo,” where some French troops are shooting a number of Spaniards. It is a work of incredible vigour and fire.’

The vigour and fire which Gautier finds in this picture is to be observed in varying degree in{62} all Goya’s works. These qualities were the results of his temperament, which moved him to fling his ideas upon the canvas before they could escape him, and imbued him with a constant desire to be rid of them and at work on something else. ‘His whole art,’ says Muther, ‘seems like a bull-fight; for everywhere he sees before him some red rag, and hurls himself upon it with the fury of the toro.’ Nor did his sitters escape the consequences of his impetuosity. Many of his portraits were painted in a day, but the sitting lasted not a few hours merely but the whole of the day, during which time, Mr. Rothenstein tells us, ‘Goya, inexorable towards his model, worked in absolute silence with extraordinary concentration and vigour.’ The same writer relates, as an example of his nervousness and irritability in his studio, the story that the Duke of Wellington so exasperated Goya while he was painting his portrait by passing comments upon his work while the picture was in progress, that he took a sword from the wall and forced his noble sitter to beat a retreat from his studio. Other authorities state that it was with a pair of pistols that he put the English Duke to flight. After all, the weapon is not a material point in the story.{63}

A man who worked at this pressure might be expected to develop a tendency to scamp his work, but while many of Goya’s compositions are mere sketches, they are all finished according to his theory that ‘a picture is finished when its effect is true.’ The many compositions Goya executed for the Countess of Benavente, until recently at the Alameda Palace, comprised the most representative exhibition of Goya’s genius. The collection included many pictures painted with exceptional delicacy. The most important of these pictures, the Romeria de San Isidro, is a wonderful canvas containing a mass of details which astonish by their clearness and finish. The ‘Coach attacked by Brigands’ is one example among many of his skill in catching an instantaneous motion and transfixing it upon the canvas. Among the Alameda paintings are some repetitions of the designs for the tapestry factory. The exuberant gaiety in these pictures is in amazing contrast with the ‘San Bernard’ or the terrifying cartoon of ‘Saturn devouring his Children.’ Goya can be simple and bizarre, idyllic and grotesque, fascinating and appalling—his vitality emphasises every facet of his imagination. The examples of phases of his many-sided vision are inexhaustible. He makes{64} demons terrible by their humanity, and men and women horrible by their diabolical sinisterism. He paints you a fête or a funeral, a picnic or a hanging, with the same facility and artistic assurance; be the mood he would portray gay or gloomy, the scene brilliant or shuddersome, the beauty that of a child, a blushing maiden or a dazzling Maja, he never hesitates, nor does he often come short of success.

In his portraits he is a realist—versatile, vivid, often unflinching in his brutality, unsurpassed, when he wills it, in perfection of treatment and intention. His finish is the fulfilment of his purpose, which has nothing in common with finish in the sense of elaboration. True, many of his likenesses are ‘washed in with a certain impatience, almost as if the painter had tired of his subject’ (C. Gasquoine Hartley, in A Record of Spanish Painting); true again, the restlessness of his temperament made him inclined to seize on a characteristic rendering of pose and feature: but his portraits reflect the idea in his mind; they express the always very definite something he has to say; the effect is true and the picture is finished. It was his method to arrange his canvas, his model and all his accessories, and then remain wrapped in profound reflection. When{65} his study of his model was ended he set to work, either to materialise his inspiration in a swift realisation of a personality, or to produce a suave, lingering piece of workmanship which recalls the refinement of Gainsborough in its elaborate, exquisite detail.

Goya, by virtue of his portraits, has been rightly acclaimed the legitimate descendant of Velazquez, and, like the great Court painter of a previous century, he is a magnificent exception. But the comparison between the two masters cannot be pushed too far. Velazquez was a realist to whom the world appeared as a beautiful vision; Goya was a realist to whom life was always a drama and not infrequently a satiric melodrama played in the tempo of a farce. Velazquez depicted men and women at their noblest; Goya, when he was in the mood, detected the worst that was in them and he exposed it with a flourish. The grandeur of the times which we discern in the portraits of Velazquez is the grandeur of the artist’s conception and treatment. The equestrian effigies of Philip III. and Philip IV. reveal the magnificence and nobility of conscious kingship which neither of the monarchs possessed; the royal likenesses convey to us a prosperity{66} which impoverished Spain did not enjoy under the rule of his kingly sitters. Thus it is curious to find that some critics, but particularly the Conde de la Viñaza, should see in Goya’s work a similar determination to idealise and glorify the characters of his royal patrons. ‘The celebrated canvas of the family of Charles IV.,’ writes Goya’s latest Spanish biographer, ‘together with the equestrian portraits’—the composition of which, as Mr. Rothenstein reminds us, he may well have learned from Velazquez—‘of Maria Luisa and her husband, of Ferdinand VII. and Godoy, show forth a grandeur of mind and intellectual and moral qualities which these people did not possess. The Godoy represented by Goya as though he were a sort of Marquis de Pescara, although he never wore his uniform except at sham fights, recalls the fact that Velazquez also, flattering the ridiculous vanity of the Count-Duke of Olivarez, painted his portrait in a suit which was not his own.... Goya painted moral life hyperbolically idealised in his effigies of the kings, because he was painter to the Household and protected by the Crown and the Court, although he was rather the protector of his protectors. In all the other portraits of statesmen, politicians, literati,{67} scientific men, actors, bull-fighters, priests and artists, Goya harmonised exactly the body and the mind. How marvellously he caught the faces of the men of great minds! How beautifully the moral and intellectual qualities of the person represented are shown!’

A second and more cautious reading of the foregoing passage was required to convince us that it was written without sarcasm, and was meant to express a sober estimate of the qualities which the writer discovered in the pictures referred to. Personal taste, as we have remarked elsewhere, counts for much in the whole field of art, and in the opinion which is quoted the Conde de la Viñaza has the field practically to himself. Nearly all Goya’s critics and admirers are united in their appreciation of the merciless and remorseless frankness, the pitiless satire, the mocking, saturnine faithfulness of the likenesses. Sir William Stirling-Maxwell misses the point of the equestrian portrait of Charles IV. when he remarks that ‘the poor imbecile king, in the blue uniform and cocked hat of a colonel of the guards, mounted on a sober brown charger,’ is ‘an example of the dignity which may be conferred, by a skilful hand, on the most ordinary features{68} and expression, without sacrificing the resemblance.’ But who beside Viñaza and Stirling-Maxwell could detect anything but a burlesque of kingly dignity in this grandly-uniformed, coarsely-made and coarse-faced Bourbon who sits ‘asthmatic and fat, upon his fat asthmatic horse, with his fat asthmatic dog’—a study which moves a German critic to remark, ‘How like a Moloch he appears, an evil god who has battened upon the life-blood of his people.’

The portraits of his sensuous, passion-ridden queen are equally fearless, true even to brutality. Maria Luisa was a courtesan seated upon the throne of Spain. Velazquez, it has been wisely said, redeemed the face of Mariana of Austria in his portrait by making her unapproachable icy pride the keynote in his composition. Goya extenuates nothing. He shows the queen, décolletée to vulgarity in her insolently vulgar gown, with gleaming arms and bosom exposed as a snare, which is watched over by the greedy, hawk-like eyes. It is the woman she was, the ‘woman who loved men better perhaps than she was loved by them,’ the courtesan that the artist knew and flattered and despised. Of the picture of the ‘Family of Charles IV.,’ with its fourteen life-size figures, it has been written that it{69} ‘mirrors the hidden merriment with which Goya recorded the Court history.’ Here is a faithful exposition of Goya’s estimate of the Spanish royal family; an estimate which has never been so remorselessly expressed by any other delineator of royal groups. They are depicted in their resplendent uniforms and rich gowns, they have all the dignity that is derived from gorgeous trappings, but Goya has not spared them, or us, a tittle of their pitiful stupidity, their coarse insolence, their mental and moral degeneracy. ‘The heads are admirably painted, as Gautier admitted, ‘and are full of life, delicacy and intelligence’; but the French critic’s general verdict upon the group represented is his best tribute to the genius of the painter;—‘a grocer’s family who have won the big lottery prize.’

The more closely one studies these royal portraits the more one becomes convinced of their truth. To-day they remain as real to us as the sympathetic, Velazquezesque likenesses of the painter Bayeu in the Prado, or of Dr. Peral in the National Gallery. It is almost impossible for any one to be in a position to award the palm for supreme excellence among Goya’s portraits, for besides being so numerous, they are widely distributed among the aristocratic families of{70} Spain, and many are practically inaccessible to the student. There are fewer than two dozen of his portraits in the Prado, only two in the National Gallery, and one in the Louvre. Few people are familiar with more than a certain number of his portraits. For this reason there are many different opinions as to the comparative merit of his pictures, but the individual opinions all constitute a remarkable tribute to the painter’s genius in catching the likeness and reflecting the character of his subjects.

Of the portrait of Villanueva, Señor Caveda writes that ‘it not only faithfully represents the features of the famous architect and the expression of him as a whole, but reveals in him the goodness of soul that animates him, and the noble simplicity of character which is so skilfully transmitted in all Goya’s impressions.’ Señor Mariano Nonqués, referring to the portrait of Moratin, now in the possession of Don F. Silvela, declares that ‘it may rightly be said without any appearance of exaggeration that this effigy is painted with the mind and with a spontaneity which is clearly seen, since there is nothing in it that reveals difficulty in the work, or any preconceived idea of imitating any other painter in its execution,’ and he adds that,{71} by reason of the individuality it discloses, it should be considered one of the best likenesses painted by Goya. According to the painter Carlos Luis de Ribera, the genius of ‘La Tirana’ may be seen in the head of the portrait of the distinguished actress, Rosario Fernandez. ‘In it, as in all his (Goya’s) works,’ says this authority, ‘there is that air of truth which so few painters have attained; there is brilliancy and freshness without pretension or exaggeration, the model is simple and convenient, and while it makes no show of strength it is not weak. Its execution springs as much from sentiment as that of all his canvases, because it was never sought after by Goya, but was the consequence and result of his spontaneity and intuition.’ Again, of his portrait of José Luis Munarriz, the eminent critic, Don Francisco Maria Tubina, writes: ‘There is something on the canvas in addition to perfection in the technique, the beautiful development of the subject and the exact likeness; the immaterial part must be recognised and appreciated—the inner vigour Goya gives the character, which illumines the features with the glow of the soul. Munarriz is represented to us in the picture as the fancy imagines him, as we see him in his biography, ingenious and lively in thought, dis{72}tinguished in form, kind and firm in temperament, prudent in judgment, and with a mind always directed upon things which elevate and ennoble. Munarriz the literary man,’ he says in conclusion, ‘is the Munarriz of the picture, the one being explained by the other.’ And read, also, what the Boletin de la Sociedad Española de Excursiones contains concerning the two portraits of Doña Antonia de Zárate, now in the possession of Señora Vinda de Albacete: ‘But where Goya shows the most exquisite sensibility and profound psychology is in these two portraits of one person, in which he incorporates 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 Zárate. Though in the first portrait he represented her smiling 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 presentment of a soul rather than a person, before this face enveloped in transparent veils, with life showing in the eyes, and in that life a melancholy realisation of approaching death.’

Goya’s portraits, as we have said, are so numerous that it is only possible to deal here with a{73} brief selection of them. In his large and varied gallery he displays so much versatility that it appears impossible that they could all have been conceived by the same mind and painted by the same hand. His treatment is alternately rough to the verge of violence and as smooth as the work of a miniaturist; his tones are crude and heavy or luminous and glowing, as the sitter appeals to his mind; he makes his queen a confessed harlot and his little grandson the incarnation of dainty boyhood. The portrait of his wife, now in the Prado, is a work of the highest excellence, so are the beautiful representations of the Duchess of Alba, the vivid impression of Asensi, the delicious portrait of the Marquesa de Pontejos, the Gainsboroughesque study of the Conde de Florida Blanca, the equestrian painting of General Palafox, the dashing, almost contemptuously vivid likeness of Godoy, the striking portrait of Guillemardet so enthusiastically eulogised by M. León Legrange (Gazette des Beaux-Arts), and those of the Duke of Osuna, of Felix Colón, Jove-Llanos and Ventura Rodriguez, of Martincho and Romero, the bull-fighters, of Pignatelly, General Urrutia, of the royal children, and of himself, painted when still young—each portrait bears the stamp of Goya’s genius,{74} each expresses an individuality in his individual style, each is finished because its effect is true.

Goya’s portrait of the Duke of San Carlos, the most loyal friend of the son of Maria Luisa, has won the admiration of many painters and critics. The head is beautifully painted, the posing is natural and graceful, the figure lives and breathes. For this ‘miracle of art,’ as Viñaza styles it, Goya used only a few colours, which he spread over the canvas with an energetic and grandiose brush, each stroke being the expression of an æsthetic thought and the perfection of the technique of painting. The portrait, ‘which legitimises Goya’s descent from Velazquez,’ is said to be like the work of Rembrandt in its clare-obscure, of Watteau in its correctness, and of Titian in its delicacy and freshness. But there is no end to the expressions of admiration which Goya has inspired. Eduardo Rosales went to Zaragoza annually to visit Goya’s portrait of the Duke of San Carlos, and on one occasion, when he had been lifted by a friend that he might study the face of the portrait, he is reported to have exclaimed, ‘My friend, such painting will never be seen again.’

In 1798 Goya was intrusted with the decoration of the newly built church of San Antonio{75} de la Florida, which had sprung into existence in 1720 as a primitive hermitage, had been destroyed when the El Pardo road was made in 1768, was re-erected two years later, and in 1792 was replaced by the present elegant edifice, which was built at the expense of the royal patrimony, after the plans of the celebrated architect, Ventura Rodriguez. The outside of the building is of good architectural style, the interior is small and elegant, and well suited to the rank and fashion which frequented it. The Church was opened for worship on July 1, 1799, and we read that ‘Madrid went wild with excitement at the glory of Goya’s achievement.’

Don Juan de Dios de la Rada y Delgado, who supplied the text for the volume of aquafortis engravings of these frescoes which D. José Moria Galvan y Candela executed in 1897, tells us that they were wholly in accord with the conditions of the time. But the sentiment of Mr. Rothenstein is nearer to the truth when, in speaking of these frescoes, he says that he can remember nothing which gave him so clear an idea of Goya’s cynicism. ‘Imagine,’ he writes, ‘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.{76} One’s nostrils expect an odour of frangipane rather than incense, and it must be admitted that Goya’s frescoes do not strike a discordant note in this indecorously holy place.’

The subject of the main composition covers the cupola, and contains upwards of a hundred figures considerably over life-size. The picture illustrates the miracle ascribed to St. Anthony of Padua, who restored to life the corpse of a murdered man in order that he might reveal the name of his assassin and rescue an innocent man who was about to be executed as the perpetrator of the crime. The scene is enclosed by a painted railing which surrounds the entire composition. We see the saint standing on an eminence against a luminous background. His life-giving words have just restored the corpse to consciousness. The man leans forward, supported in the arms of a companion, with his hands clasped in an attitude of profound veneration, his expressive face looking fixedly upon the saint with a gaze of surprise and gratitude. The central figures are surrounded by a motley crowd of men, women, and children, some of whom express their astonishment by eloquent gestures, while others appear indifferent to the miracle that is being performed, and one or two frolicsome{77} boys are seen astride the figured railing. On the spandrils, the intrados, the curvilineal triangles of the arches, and behind the high altar, are groups of angels and cherubs. The angels are beautifully clothed and almost wanton in their human loveliness, the babes are entirely without the illusion of divine origin. It has been said that in this composition Goya perfectly interpreted the spirit of the Church de la Florida; certain it is that these angels with ‘the skin of a camellia, eyes of fire, and the beauty of a harlot,’ which move with audacious freedom of attitude, ‘not in pure spheres of blessedness, but in an atmosphere of atoms of gold illuminated by an Asiatic sun, are the strangest and most beautiful creatures that ever adorned a consecrated house.’

‘The frescoes of la Florida,’ comments C. Gasquoine Hartley, ‘are yet another witness of the truthful humour of Goya’s insight, but not one of his countrymen realised the irreverent irony of his work.’ ‘The figures are as full of piquant intention,’ declared Richard Muther, ‘as can be found in the most erotic paintings of Fragonard.... It is an artistic can-can; it is Casanova transferred to colour. All that the Church painting of the past had created is despised, forsaken;{78} and this satire upon the Church and all its works was written in the land of Zurbarán, of Murillo.’ The Conde de la Viñaza alludes to Goya as an artist who painted pictures with religious subjects, but not religious pictures. ‘I do not know,’ he says, ‘a more profane master than this Velazquez, Rembrandt, Vicelli and Veronese rolled into one.’ And he instances his monumental painting at la Florida to illustrate his contention: ‘An admirable energy, the most splendid scale of tones. What relief! What a magic of colour! What a beautiful lesson the light of nature receives there! On the other hand, what lack of religious feeling and spirituality in those frescoes!’ And having denounced in the angels the silkiness of their skins, the brilliance of their eyes, and the wantonness of their beauty, he adds, ‘the miracles of the exemplary man of Padua are familiarly treated as a spectacle of wandering rope-dancers might be!’

It has been said that the King was incensed against the artist for introducing renowned ladies of his court in the faces of the winged archangels, and it is generally believed that the most aristocratic persons of the capital are represented in the frescoes, but if Charles IV. resented his choice of models, he had a most{79} amiable way of expressing his displeasure. Goya himself, writing to Zapater, admitted that ‘the King and Queen are mad on your friend Goya,’ but the madness took the form of a royal order, dated October 31, 1799, which reads: ‘H.M. wishing to reward your distinguished merit and to give in person a testimony 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 50,000 reals, which you will receive from this date free of rights, and also 500 ducats a year for a carriage: and it is also his pleasure that you occupy the house now inhabited by Don Mariano Maëlla should he die first,’ etc.

Certainly the frescoes in his own day were extolled as the most important work ever done by Goya’s marvellous brush; he closed the eighteenth century with creations that won for him his greatest contemporary fame and raised him to the summit of his art. If nothing could be further removed from religious inspiration, nothing human could reveal more enchanting beauty, more exquisite grace. These frescoes were praised as ‘an inimitable symphony of light and colour.’ It is not in our province either to{80} accept or to refute the claim that ‘they raise the most common things of Goya’s time to the high spheres of Spanish mystic realism.’ Goya’s contemporaries did not realise that the paintings outraged the canons of propriety and probability, and in later times Señor Rada finds that the painter, in this work, rises always to the regions of mystery, where only genius can penetrate, and responds to the peculiar influence of a temple which seems rather to inspire loving human aspirations, than mystic thoughts of infinite abstraction. ‘Apart from the fact that Goya was a believer and respectful to all that pertained to religion,’ urges Señor Rada, ‘in the principal subject of this painting (the “Cupola”) he is as manifestly mystic and delicate 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 always will be.’

Goya’s Spanish apologists may well be justified in their contention that his originality forced him to disregard the classic rules and{81} mannerism of traditional Spanish religious art. They see no impropriety or extravagance in surrounding the figure of a revered saint with a crowd of roysterers, prostitutes, cut-purses and Manzanares rascals. And, after all, the point is scarcely worth arguing. Again, when it is protested that Goya’s archangels and seraphim were rather beautiful women than angelic spirits—well! what better conception could there be of angels than the perfections of a charming woman? That is Señor Rada’s retort: ‘The naturalist Goya, surrounded by the seductive beauty of his time, could not conceive or even presume that the chosen beings who sing eternal praises in the ethereal regions of celestial glory were any different. More in accord doubtless, with our pious traditions and with Christian spiritual belief are the glories of Juan de Juanes and Murillo; but each artist has his peculiar temperament as well as his special gamut of colour, and to ask Goya to paint angels like those great Christian artists would be the same as asking the painters of a previous epoch to paint pictures of popular scenes like Goya’s.’

The logic of the foregoing is presumably sound, although the conclusion seems to us to support those who contend that Goya’s temperament{82} rendered him an unsuitable person to translate religious episodes into colour. We remember, as Señors Rada and Pedro de Madrazo assert, that Goya was ‘a believer’ and ‘respectful in everything pertaining to religion,’ and we recall also that in their joint will the painter and his wife describe themselves as ‘firmly believing and confessing the mystery of the Holy Trinity ... and all other mysteries and sacraments, believed and confessed by our Holy Roman Catholic Apostolic Mother Church, in whose true faith and belief we have lived.’ But we cannot, at the same time, forget that Goya’s detestation of the priesthood was violent and unresting. If he caught the spirit of ecstasy in his picture of San José de Calasanz receiving the Host at the hands of a priest, he also painted a representation of Santas Justa and Rufina. This picture has been described as the most profane and inappropriate work of the Aragonese genius. It is stated that he selected as his models a pair of well-known cocottes of Madrid, giving, it is said, the caustic, uncanonical explanation, ‘I will cause the faithful to worship vice!’ Goya may have called himself an orthodox conformer to the national church, but his contempt for his ecclesiastical patrons and those who practised the{83} devotions which he mechanically professed, is avowed.

But apart from their religious significance, or their lack of it, these frescoes of the Church of San Antonio de la Florida reveal Goya at his best as a daring draughtsman and fine colourist. The energy, the spontaneity, the light and the relief, the magic of his paint—all are revealed in this work, which occupied him only three months. And what better proof could one desire of the truth of his own contention: ‘In nature colour exists no more than line—there is only light and shade.’ Goya knew how to produce abundant life with simply white lead, the black of smoke, green and vermillion. Richness of colour does not consist in an infinite variety of tints, but in the harmonious variety of tones and in the skilful selection of the key in which the picture is painted. Here Goya surpassed himself in the effect he produced with a palette that was severe in its simplicity, but the processes employed by the master to obtain his wonderfully vivid and charming tones were so varied that they cannot be exactly determined. Of the result, Paul Lafond writes, it is ‘as true as Velazquez, as energetic and as light as Rembrandt, as delicate as Titian, as spiritual as Tiepolo, with{84} infinite perspectives like those of Tiepolo and Veronese, and as refined as Watteau.’

The painting of the frescoes of San Antonio de la Florida won for Goya, as we have seen, the coveted office of first painter to the Court. It was at this same time he began to paint less and to take up the needle as a new force of expression. His first work was the series of designs known as ‘Los Caprichos’ in which the spectator is transported into some ‘unheard of, impossible, but still real world’—a world peopled with dapper majas, handsome hidalgos, hideous old men and hags more horrible than the witch of Endor, gluttonous priests, spectres and sorceresses, devils and desperadoes and corpses, all the myriad diabolical and terrifying shapes and phantasies in which Goya set down his vision of humanity. The origin, the inspiration and the object of these etchings are still matters of speculation. It is generally agreed that the painter executed the first drafts for these plates after his return from San Lucar. His deafness aggravated by a serious illness, from which he made a slow and painful recovery, obliged him to give up the fatiguing work with palette and brush, and it may well be that he, whose spirit never rested and whose hand was never idle,{85} fell into a habit of preserving his impressions on paper in order to distract his tormented imagination from brooding over his sufferings. It was at a later date that he transferred these drawings on to the copper plates. It may be reasonable to assume, as some have done, that the part of philosopher which he had developed leisurely during his days at Court, as well as the vein of moralist and castigator of vice, was quickened in him by satiety and physical pain. The Conde de la Viñaza appears to believe that Goya suddenly awakened to his power as a caricaturist, and that, irritated at the moral ugliness of his contemporaries, and at the vile coterie which surrounded the King and Queen, he began to inveigh unflinchingly against lasciviousness, covetousness, rapacity, hypocrisy, and ignorance, against the court parasite and the court harlot, the miser and the monk, the women who sold their daughters and the monsters who bought them, against insolent pomp, ecclesiastical rottenness and venal stupidity. Yet probably the view of Gautier is nearer the truth. He assumes that the now popular painter was ‘merely producing so many capricious sketches, when he was in truth drawing the portrait and writing the history of Spain of former days, under the belief{86} that he was serving the ideas and creed of modern times. His caricatures will soon be looked upon in the light of historical monuments.’

Extraordinary as these pictures are by reason of their fancy, their beauty, their saturnine wit, their ‘Gargantuan spirit,’ as well as by the technical skill and originality they display, they are even more extraordinary by reason of the favour with which they were at first received by the people against whom they were directed. At first the plates were issued separately and were passed from hand to hand among the etcher’s friends. But in 1799, probably the year in which the series was completed, a prospectus was issued, advertising the publication of an edition of seventy-two plates. Goya, for unknown reasons, objected to this edition, and the issue was never made. In the meantime the satire of these tumultuous cartoons was discovered by the objects of his ridicule. Godoy, the old Duchess of Benavente, the Queen’s favourites, were the first to be identified, then effigies of the Queen herself and her illustrious lord were recognised upon the plates. The scandal of these allusions aroused an outburst of indignation, instigated, in great measure, by the caricatured and crucified clergy.{87} The office of the Inquisition was moved to take action, and Goya’s popularity and influence were powerless to avert the inevitable catastrophe. Rescue came from the most unexpected quarter. In 1803 the King caused an edition of 240 copies of 80 plates, which had already been printed, as well as the plates themselves, to be acquired by the state, with an order that he had commanded their publication.

It is difficult to account for this splendid action from such a King as Charles IV. Was he so impressed by the merits of these etchings that he was prompted to rescue them from the Inquisition in the interests of art—a magnanimity of spirit ‘of which his character gives no promise’? Probably he was merely insensible to the satire of the pictures. The ‘Caprichos’ were dedicated to the monarch by the artist—a subtle jest on the stupidity of the King, who, Muther concludes, ‘was not even in a position to grasp the meaning of the plates.’ We learn that Charles remunerated Goya by granting his son a pension of 12,000 reals. A reproduction of the letter from the painter referring to this arrangement is as follows:{88}—

{89}

### TRANSLATION

Your Excellency,—I am in receipt of H.M. Royal Order which your excellency communicated to me on{90} the 6th inst., accepting the offer of my work, the caprices on eighty copper plates 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 precaution amounting to 240 copies of 80 prints each copy, in order not to defraud H.M. 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 H.M. has been pleased to concede to my son, for which I give my best thanks to H.M. and to your excellency.

Your excellency has not replied to a letter of mine, in which I said that the portraits were finished, and also the copy of your excellency’s by Esteve which only lacked the inscription for which he has asked me several times. I also suggested that if your excellency approved I would get the frames made for the originals and would myself go and put them where your excellency might order, so that you might have the pleasure of finding them in their places.

I only desire your excellency’s orders and that you keep well. May God preserve your excellency’s valuable life for many years.—Madrid, October 9, 1803.—Your excellency’s obedient and grateful servant,

Francisco de Goya.

To his Excellency Señor Don Miguel Cayetano Soler.

The technical excellence of the Caprichos makes them comparable with those of Rembrandt, while{91} in their meaning and character they may be likened to the work of Daumier. There are the peculiar qualities of Goya’s etching, which recall the truth and naturalness of Fernando Boll, the movement and life of Lievens and Konninck, and the expression and charm of Von Vliet? These artists, whose best individual qualities are all combined in Goya, were pupils of Rembrandt. ‘Only Hokusai,’ writes Mr. Rothenstein, ‘was capable of such monstrous gaiety, such stinging satire, and he alone could have lent probability to such monstrous phantasy; Hogarth was too sermonising, Rowlandson too rollicking; a certain diabolical side of his nature, which Goya allowed to be seen both in the “Caprichos” and “The Disasters,” has probably prevented his etchings gaining a footing in England.’ Certain it is that Goya’s prints are rarely to be met with in this country—a fact that caused the writer of this book to spare no effort in order to include in the illustrations, reproductions of every etching and lithograph, as well as of every portrait or picture of Goya’s, of which he could secure an impression.

It is one thing to admire, even to understand, the technique of the ‘Caprichos,’ but to understand the precise significance of many of the{92} plates is almost impossible. Perhaps the titles printed by Goya beneath the plates are the best guide to their meaning. The only reward to be derived from reading ingenious meanings into the prints is the personal interest one finds in the exercise. The series may be divided into three classes; the first are humorous satires of the foolishness and rottenness of the life of the period; the second are scathing assaults upon the ignorance and greed of the priesthood and the corruptness of the civic institutions; and the last are visions of witches and demons, which may be classed as pure phantasies. There is a depth of meaning in every plate, for Goya reproduces for us in them not only what he has seen, but what he has felt. The first plate illustrates a marriage of convenience, and we are shown the girl-bride being presented to her hideous suitor by her more hideous mother. Over and over again we are presented with this type of the ‘complaisant mother,’ which has been described by Théophile Gautier in illuminating prose. ‘It is impossible’ he writes, ‘to fancy anything more grotesquely horrible, more viciously deformed. Each of these frightful old shrews unites in her own person the ugliness of the seven capital sins; compared to them the{93} Prince of Darkness himself is pretty. Just fancy whole ditches and counterscarps of wrinkles; eyes like live coals that have been extinguished in blood; noses like the neck of an alembic covered with warts and other excrescences; nostrils like those of an hippopotamus rendered formidable by stiff bristles; whiskers like a tiger’s; a mouth like the slit in the top of a money-box, contracted by a horrible and convulsive grin; a something between the spider and the multiped which makes you feel the same kind of disgust as if you had placed your foot upon the belly of a toad.’ The description is horrible even as Goya’s engravings are horrible, and as excellently true as the work by which it was inspired.

It is not possible in the space at our command to review these ‘Caprichos’ in detail, and fortunately it is not necessary. The reader can examine the plates for himself and study their details. He will remark the skill with which the engraver endows ‘The Garroted Man’ with its sombre, gruesome tone; the sense of the unavailing, despairing effort with which the living skeleton in ‘And yet they do not go’ (Plate 369) supports the slab of stone which must inevitably fall and crush the crouching,{94} scarcely human wretches who anticipate their fate with expressions of such lurid horror. One can feel the violence of the wind that buffets the women in ‘A Bad Night’; we enter into the terror of the woman who is employed in her hideous task in ‘Tooth Hunting.’ Here indeed, ‘horror confronts us; corruptness is imagined with an unapproachable depth of grotesqueness.’ In all the realm of art there is nothing to compare with the horror and grotesquerie of these Caprices.

Goya’s next work was the thirty-three plates of ‘The Tauromachia.’ This series of engravings was so brilliant in execution and appealed so strongly in their theme and treatment to the Spanish national affection for the bull-ring, that doubtless they would have brought the etcher even greater contemporary fame than the larger series, but for some unexplained reason, they were not publicly issued until after his death and the death of his only surviving legitimate son. In the ‘Tauromachia’ Goya made less use of aquatint and aquafortis, and, as in his later etchings, relied more and more upon the needle to produce his effects. These scenes of the bull-ring represent the different phases of the combat and the surpassing feats of its most famous{95} exponents. The ‘Caprices’ may appeal more strongly in some respects, but the drawing in the plates of the ‘Tauromachia’ is extremely light and facile, and the illusion of vigorous movement is seen in them all.

In 1803 Goya was fifty-seven years old. The corruption in high places, against which he had hurled his darts, was fast driving Spain into the grasp of the world-power which was menacing all Europe. Napoleon’s ambitious designs embraced the mastership of the Peninsula, and he was already maturing his plans to that end. In 1803 the English and French were again at war. Napoleon demanded, under the treaty of St. Ildefonso, that Spain should declare war against England. Godoy strove fiercely to resist the will of the tyrant. Napoleon ordered the dismissal of Godoy. Spain purchased her neutrality in hard cash, and Godoy was retained. In 1804 Napoleon was proclaimed Emperor, and the neutrality of the Spaniards was reduced to such a farce beneath the grinding importunities of the imperial ally that Pitt declared war against Spain in December of that year. The battle of Trafalgar was fought on October 21, 1805, but before the end of the year Napoleon had entered{96} Vienna and won the battle of Austerlitz. Before the awful menace of his growing power, Godoy sued for the favour of the conqueror in gold drawn from the Spanish funds. The Emperor accepted the money without relaxing his animus against the despised favourite, who was forced to approach England with proposals for an anti-French coalition. His overtures were ignored. The Queen and the King heaped new honours upon the Prince of the Peace, but his end and that of his august patrons was near. Ferdinand’s party was working the country into a ferment of hatred against Godoy, and Napoleon’s inflexible aversion sealed his doom. In 1807 Ferdinand truckled to the ‘Scourge of Europe’ by asking for a lady of Napoleon’s family for a wife, while Godoy urged upon Napoleon the occupation of Portugal as a preliminary to the introduction of French troops into Spain. In October 1807 Portugal proving refractory, Junot and a strong force encamped on Spanish soil and were made welcome by the Prince of the Asturias and the Prince of the Peace, both of whom regarded the invasion of the French as a friendly move, in support of their respective interests.

In the same month the Court was stricken by the exposure of the plot and counterplot planned{97} by the rascally favourite and the intriguing Crown Prince. Godoy was charged by Ferdinand with the intention of killing the King and his family and seizing the throne; Ferdinand was surprised in a plot which embraced the imprisonment if not the death of his father. The Prince of the Asturias was placed under arrest, and the King applied to Napoleon for his advice. Junot marched into Portugal; French troops poured into Spain; the Portuguese Regent, at the advice of Lord Strangford, transferred his court to Brazil. On March 17, 1808, the troops, in favour of Ferdinand, prevented Godoy from leaving Aranguez, and two days later threw him, bruised and bleeding, at the feet of the Prince of the Asturias, who gave his father to understand that, by virtue of the presence in the capital of his friends the French, he was absolute master of the situation. Charles IV. signed a decree which made Ferdinand VII. sovereign of Spain. A few days later he put his name to a private withdrawal of his abdication; and this document was forwarded to Napoleon, with a letter offering to conform to whatever the Emperor might order with regard to him, his queen, and the Prince of the Peace. Napoleon came south towards Spain. Ferdinand, who hastened north to meet him, entered Bayonne to{98} find himself a prisoner. Charles IV., with Maria Luisa and Godoy, followed to Bayonne, and Ferdinand was compelled to restore the crown to his father, who transferred it to Napoleon. The cash consideration the King was to receive for his sovereignty was never paid.

While these base traffickings were occupying the King and his family, the gallant loyalists of Madrid had risen against the French and suffered massacre on the terrible Dos de Mayo. Once again the country was in arms; the Spaniards fought—to instance only the sieges of Zaragoza and Valencia—with superb valour, but the Junta continued its servile negotiations with Napoleon, and Joseph Buonaparte, King of Naples, was summoned by his brother to rule over Spain. On July 9, 1808, Joseph I. set foot in his new kingdom. On the 17th the French were defeated in the battle of Baileu, and the victorious Spanish troops advanced over the Sierra Morena to Madrid. The new king fled the capital. Napoleon in person took command of the army which was to reconquer Spain, and advanced into the heart of Castile. The left division of the Spanish army was defeated on November 11, the right was driven into the mountains of Aragon, the centre was completely crushed at Tudela on{99} November 26. A fortnight later the Emperor entered Madrid, and Joseph I. was restored to the throne of Spain.

Goya’s position was rendered acutely difficult by these drastic changes. The first painter of the exiled King, the favourite of his dispersed courtiers, what could he do in the court of the hated Joseph Buonaparte? It may be surmised that ‘the good old Goya,’ as Gautier familiarly styles him, hated the new order of things, but he was no visionary patriot burning with the fire of useless sacrifice. His love of country was not love of Charles IV. or his son; he loved Spain not less because Maria Luisa and Godoy were out of it. And as he asked himself what action he should take, he saw the Prince of the Asturias submit himself to the new ruler, and with him Jove-Llanos, Mazarrado and Urquijo, the Dukes of Fernan Nuñez and del Parque, the Count of Santa Colonna, the Cardinal of Bourbon—to mention a few only among the nobles. Goya’s comrades also, the Court painters, Mariano Maëlla, Francisco Ramos, and Pablo Racio, acknowledged the ‘intrusive king’! Goya hesitated no longer. He took the oath of allegiance to Joseph I. He was made a knight of the Legion of Honour. He painted the usurper’s portrait, and some time{100} later accepted, with Napoli and Maëlla, the commission to select from the treasures of the royal gallery fifty of the most beautiful pictures which were to be sent to the Louvre.

But though the old order had changed and Goya had changed with it, his spirit was full of bitterness. He had witnessed the butchery and slaughter of the French soldiers; he hated the sound of the clanking of the spurs of Murat’s hussars on the pavements of Madrid.

Already he had painted two pictures, the ‘Dos de Mayo’ and ‘Un Episodio de la Invasión Francesca.’ One has only to study these two pictures of realised terror, in the Prado, to understand the painter’s hatred of the French and the brooding melancholy which the events of the rising in Madrid had fastened upon his soul and darkened his life. De Amicis, the Italian author, writes, with a fine appreciation of the stirring realism of these works: ‘Nothing more tremendous can be imagined: one can give no more execrable form to power, nor frightful aspect to desperation, nor a more ferocious expression to the fury of a fray. In the first one there is a dark sky, the light of a lantern, a pool of blood, a pile of bodies, a crowd of men condemned to death, and a line of French soldiers{101} in the act of firing; in the other are horses with their veins cut, and horsemen dragged from their saddles, stabbed, trodden upon, and lacerated. What faces! What attitudes! One seems to hear the cries and see the blood running: the veritable scene could not cause more horror. Goya must have painted these pictures with his eyes glaring, foam at his mouth, and with the fury of a demoniac; it is the last point which painting can reach before being translated into action; having passed that point one throws away the brush and seizes the dagger; one must commit murder in order to do anything more terrible than those pictures; after those colours, comes blood.’

Goya retired to the seclusion of his house outside the gates of the capital, only opening his doors to a few old friends, among whom were Cean Bermudez the art critic, Carnicero the illustrator of Don Quixote, Castillo the painter, and Selma the engraver. The old painter had become completely deaf, and, in these dark days of change and violence, the bitterness of his spirit found further expression in the ‘Desastres de la Guerra’—‘the cry of a just soul against the iniquity of warfare.’ With passionate vigour he depicted the horrors of the French invasion{102} and lashed with his satire the barbarities of the conquerors. The new series was begun in the year 1810. They reproduce all the sad and abominable events which had culminated in the accession of Joseph Bonaparte. Callot, in his scenes of the barbarities of the Thirty Years’ War, did not attain the fire, the power, or the purpose of these plates. All the horrors of warfare and its heroism and the stupidity of war are depicted here with searching truth. The technique of the plates is unsurpassed. We see starving men made bestial with terror, dead bodies stripped and mutilated, women outraged, and children butchered before the eyes of their frenzied mothers. And again we are shown the superb heroism of the women who, armed only with hatchets and stones, withstood the onslaught of the dragoons; we are made to realise the intrepid loyalty of those men and women who fought side by side on the terrible Dos de Mayo; we witness the masculine daring of the women who took the match from the hands of the dead artillerymen and continued to work the guns. Every phase of warfare, its famine and desolation, its hunger and disease, its heroism and its savagery, are depicted in this impeachment of Militarism. The utter uselessness of war is em{103}phasised in the haunting echo which runs through all the plates—‘To what end?’ The wasteful sacrifice of human lives is forced upon Goya’s audience by an engraving in this series inscribed with the word ‘Nada’ (Nothingness). Gautier in his rare volume, Travels in Spain (so rare that I need make no apology for again quoting from it), writes of this plate: ‘Among these drawings which admit of an easy explanation, there is one fearfully terrible and mysterious, the meaning of which, that we can dimly understand, fills you with horror and affright. It is a corpse, half-buried in the earth; it is supporting itself on its elbow, and, without looking at what it is writing, traces with its bony hand, on a paper placed near it, one word—“Nothingness”—which is alone worth the most terrible things Dante ever penned. Around its head, on which there is just enough flesh left to render it more frightful than a mere skull, flit, scarcely visible in the darkness of the night, a number of monstrous spectres, lighted up here and there by flashes of vivid lightning. A fatidical hand holds a pair of scales, which are in the act of turning upside down. Can you conceive anything more sinister or more heartrending?{104}’

The ‘Disasters’ were not published in a series until 1863, when the Academy of San Fernando acquired eighty plates and issued the engravings with a brief introductory note. In this introduction the writer says: ‘The collection which Goya designated by the name of Ravages or Disasters of War, is indisputably one of the most notable of the kind that he produced. In it is all the strength of his lively imagination, exalted and excited by a deep patriotic feeling in those terrible moments when an unjust foreign invasion essayed to humiliate the pride and hauteur which are a characteristic of the Spaniard. What matter for surprise then that a Spaniard, an Aragonese, a man with the stern independent character of Goya, should allow himself to be carried away very often by exaggeration and caricature?... On the other hand, this work breathes novelty in the subjects, originality in the types, fire in the composition, boldness and firmness in the colouring, decision and even fineness in the design.... In order that nothing shall be lacking in this collection, there is given on each plate the inscriptions which afford another proof of the artist’s genius. These inscriptions, concise, incisive, and piquant, add character, if that be possible, to what the pencil had already{105} accomplished; the brief phrases, at times a single word, reveal by their sense of rapidity the fugitive idea which his mind had conceived in a moment, and which, in little more than another moment, his hand had represented.’

A very interesting series of drawings and etchings are preserved in the Print Room of the British Museum. Of these ten are reproduced in this book for the first time. The Goya collection in the Museum consists of eight original drawings, a holograph letter of Goya and no fewer than two hundred and eighty-one separate works, comprising etchings and lithographs of the Proverbs, Caprices, Tauromachia, and Disasters of War, and the subjects after Velazquez. They are all in a splendid state of preservation. Of the selection made for the present volume (Nos. 601-12), the portrait of the Duke of Wellington (601) and ‘A Lost Soul’ (605), have been reproduced by Mr. Rothenstein. The sketch of the Duke, whom Goya in the letter referred to, writes ‘Weelingthon,’ served the painter in executing the large portrait. It was made on the day following the battle of Salamanca (1812), when Marmont was defeated on the field of Arapiles. The ‘Lady and Gentleman on Horseback’ (No. 602) have not been identified, although the picture{106} is evidently a portrait. The head of Fray Juan Fernanez (No. 603), drawn at the moment of his last breath, is a very powerful sketch. In No. 609 the artist depicts misery in a few masterly touches, and in Nos. 607, 608, and 609 he illustrates proverbs with his peculiar freakish fancy. The study of bulls (610) is another spirited sketch. The remaining plates represent scenes of the bull-ring.

Goya still brooded over the misfortunes which the Royal family and their hated favourite between them had brought about by folly, ignorance, and baseness; and over the sufferers, the common people, who still sacrificed their lives to reinstate their corrupt but accustomed oppressors. But the end was near. The leading patriots, assembled at Cadiz, were engaged in framing a constitution which was to mark the commencement of modern Spain. Meanwhile Wellington was driving the French troops before him—Olivenza, Fuentes de Oñoro, Almeida, Albuera, Ciudad Rodrigo, and Badajoz indicate the line of their retreat. The country was being drained and devastated to provide money for continuing the war. Joseph was providing bull-fights and shows to divert the mind of the Madrileños from the national misery. Napoleon was overwhelming his{107} brother with blame for a state of affairs which was neither of his making nor controlling. Madrid, cut off from supplies, was wasted by an appalling visitation of famine which lasted from September 1811 to August 1812, when Wellington’s liberating army reached the capital to find that Joseph had already beaten a retreat. The Napoleonic rule was over. Joseph returned to Madrid, but it was only to pack up his belongings, to loot churches and palaces and retire with the plunder to France. On June 21, 1813, Wellington met the retiring intruders at Vittoria, and Joseph, with a greatly diminished burden of treasure, barely escaped with his life. Thereafter Napoleon abandoned his schemes of Spanish conquest; Ferdinand, the prisoner of Valençay,—who had danced in captivity while his country bled, who still sought a marital alliance with the house of Buonaparte, who had slobbered his felicitations on the birth of the King of Rome and congratulated the Emperor upon his victory over the Spaniards—Ferdinand was now free to receive the welcome which his loyal countrymen were eager to give him.

Ferdinand ‘the desired,’ after swearing to respect the new constitution, re-entered Spain in March 1814 amidst an incredible outburst of{108} popular enthusiasm. Two days before he reached Madrid every member of the Cortes and every known friend of the constitution was thrown into prison. By the publication of the decree of Valencia he proclaimed himself an autocrat, by his acts he proved himself a tyrant. He re-established the Inquisition, he decreed the ancient taxes; the country, desolated by war waged on his behalf, was thrown into lamentable disorder by the greed of the coarse and ignorant bloodsuckers whom the King gathered around him. Charles IV. was a paternal sovereign, and Joseph I. was an enlightened ruler beside Ferdinand VII. Neither Liberals nor Conservatives were safe. He imprisoned the men who had striven and bled to effect his return; he persecuted without mercy those who had sworn allegiance to Joseph. Goya was one of the first and fiercest, according to Lafond, to acclaim the return of the King. For a time he sought refuge from his sovereign in the house of his friend José Duaso y Latre, who kept him in hiding for three months. At the expiration of that time he found that Ferdinand was inclined to condone his defection. It is reported that he pardoned him with the words, ‘In our absence you have deserved exile, nay worse, you have{109} merited death; but you are a great artist, and we will forget everything.’

So ‘the good old Goya’ was reinstated as Court painter, and he executed several portraits of the new sovereign. It is evident from these likenesses that the painter recognised the weakness and worthlessness of Ferdinand. He viewed his sitter in the same clear, critical, uncompromising spirit with which he had gazed on his royal parents; he painted the weak, shifty, uncultured despot as he was. The equestrian portrait of Ferdinand VII. is commonplace. His portrait of the monarch in his gorgeous mantle is almost a caricature of royalty, and in his other likenesses he betrays his antipathy to the restored Bourbon. That Goya’s palette still emitted ‘rays of prodigious art’ when he painted people who were congenial to him, is shown by many of the portraits of this period; for instance, by that of the Marquis de San Adrián, of Don Ignacio Garcini and his wife, of Don Evaristo Pérez de Castro, and by the beautiful study of Goya’s little niece, La Felicianæ, which is one of the tenderest and most delicate of all his portraits.

Another royal commission entrusted to Goya was to paint episodes of the war, especially of the siege of Zaragoza. Accompanied by his pupil{110} Luis Gil Ranz, he set out to obtain studies. Owing to the exaltation of the populace the journey is said to have abounded in incidents and perils. The language of signs which Ranz employed in conversing with his deaf master caused them to be mistaken for spies. They were forced to seek sanctuary at Renales, the pupil’s native town, where they waited until a favourable opportunity offered for their return to Madrid.

The melancholy which had settled upon Goya after the accession of the intrusive King increased with advancing age. In the seclusion of his house (the house in which he had entertained the noblest of the Court circle—the Deaf Man’s House, as it came to be called by the Madrileños) he beguiled the time by painting the walls with fantastic and gruesome visions which gave it an awesome and startling appearance. But the brilliant fancy had been obscured by the national vicissitudes he had witnessed and the haunting memories of the war obsessed his imagination. These paintings, which are now preserved in the Prado, produce a painful impression; they would seem to be the creations of a fevered brain.

In 1817 Goya visited Seville to paint the{111} picture of Santas Justa and Rufina for the Cathedral, to which reference has been made. On his return he designed a new series of Caprices, and executed many portraits and miniatures on ivory. It was at this time, too, that he made his first essay in lithography. The earliest of these lithographs is a fine brush drawing of an old woman spinning. It is signed and dated February 1819. Among the drawings upon stone that were executed about this period, the two most important are ‘Los Chiens,’ a bull attacked by dogs, and the splendid diabolical scene of a man being dragged along by demons. This last, which is in the Print Room of the British Museum, has special interest, as it is the first known wash drawing made upon the stone. M. Lefort mentions six other lithographs which were executed at Madrid before the journey to France: a duel between two people, a young woman reading to two children, a monk, a girl sitting on the knee of an old woman with other women in the background, a drunkard and a woman, and a peasant assaulting a girl.

The date of the execution of ‘Los Proverbios,’ the fourth series of Goya’s etchings,—‘the last thunderbolt of his genius,’—is uncertain. Probably they belong to those years when,{112} under the weight of distress of spirits in his lonely home on the Manzanares, he sketched the world within him as it appeared to his gloomy imagination. The plates are without explanatory titles, and their meaning is obscure. Mr. Rothenstein finds in the larger size and broader execution of the plates themselves the reason for his belief that these are the last etchings by Goya’s hand before his failing eyesight forced him to lay aside the needle. The plates were first printed in 1830. This edition was edited with little care, and in 1864 a second edition was undertaken by the Academy of San Fernando. There were eighteen of these plates, but three more, reproduced much later in L’Art, may be placed among them.

There remain several important etchings; among them the three fine and impressive plates of ‘The Prisoners’ come first in importance. In these, as Mr. Rothenstein has said, ‘Goya’s powers as an etcher and his sympathy for suffering are demonstrated in a striking and singularly direct manner.’ Beneath the prints he has written in three sentences, his last protest against injustice: ‘The safe guarding of a prisoner does not necessitate torture’; ‘If he is guilty, why not kill him at once?’ ‘So much{113} barbarity in the treatment equals the crime committed.’ The first proofs of these prints Goya gave to his friend, Cean Bermudez. The plates known as Obras Sueltas were not, as far as we know, printed in Goya’s lifetime. They show a man swinging a woman on a swing, with a cat watching her from the bough of a tree; a bull-fighter with a bull lying down behind him; and two representations of majas. They were first etched at Bordeaux, and from the somewhat crude style of the work, probably were the last prints executed by Goya.

Among several unconnected prints we may mention the superb engraving of ‘The Colossus,’ which seems like an etching at first glance and has defied the attempts of experts to explain the highly complicated process of its execution. As an illustration of Goya’s resources for producing a marvellous impression, this piece constitutes a veritable tour de force. The giant is placed in a vast landscape, and beside his uncouth might and Herculean muscles, cities and villages seem diminutive and insignificant atoms of the soil on which he rests. He is frightened into wakefulness by the morning sun which touches his mighty head and shoulders; they seem as if the summit of a{114} mountain, while his feet are yet in the shadow of night. A mysterious, pale, fantastic effect of moonlight throws a peculiar atmosphere about the figure. As we have already remarked, the process by which the effect is obtained remains inexplicable. According to a statement made by Goya’s grandson, the engraver employed a very soft metal plate from which only three impressions could be taken. One of these impressions is in the National Library of Madrid. A brilliant and rare old engraving of ‘A Blind Guitar Player,’ a large but inferior plate of a popular scene, and three etchings of religious subjects, complete the list of Goya’s miscellaneous etchings.

In June 1824, at the age of seventy-six, Goya set out for France. Before starting he painted his ‘San José de Calasanz receiving the Sacrament’—perhaps his finest religious composition. The work was scarcely dry when he sought and obtained the King’s permission to take the mineral waters at Plombières in France. The remainder of his life’s story is soon told. In Paris he made the personal acquaintance of Vernet, and found delight in the works of Gros, of Géricault, and of Delacroix. The last master did honour to Goya by copying every plate of the ‘Caprichos.’ But the full life of Paris was too{115} overwhelming for the old painter, and having obtained in January 1825 a six months’ extension of leave from the King, he settled down in Bordeaux with his devoted friends, Mme. Weiss and her daughter. In the little Spanish colony on the pleasant banks of the Garonne, he had for companions Joseph de Carnerero, the marine painter, Antonio de Brugada, the members of the family of Goicoechea, and Pio de Molina, and Moratin, whose portraits he painted. But these pictures do not represent his full powers; the colours are heavy and sometimes crude; he worked with double magnifying glasses and a stout lens. But in his engraving, and especially in his series of lithographs, ‘Les Taureaux de Bordeaux,’ which Mr. Rothenstein describes as ‘the most remarkable compositions of his life, certainly the greatest and most significant lithographs in the history of the art,’ his old powers shine forth again in undimmed brilliance.

In 1826 the feeling of home-sickness drew him back to Madrid. At Court he was received with every mark of respect. The King granted him a superannuation salary of 50,000 reals and permission to return to France, ‘in order that he may again take the baths which have done him so much good.’ His Majesty requested him to{116} sit to Vicente López y Portaña, in order that he might possess a picture of ‘the greatest painter Spain has seen since Velazquez.’ López painted ‘the good old Goya’ life-size, seated full-face, palette in the left hand, brush in the right, and wearing an unbuttoned frockcoat. The portrait was executed in a few hours, for at the second sitting Goya carried away the portrait, assuring the painter that he would only spoil the likeness if he persevered any further with ‘his niggling brush.’ It is said that he took palette and brush and essayed a portrait of López, but his hand, cold and trembling, refused to respond to the call made upon it, and the attempt was a failure.

The royal pension and permission to return to France is dated July 17, 1826. Accompanied by his grandson, Mariano, he betook himself again to Bordeaux. His declining years were cheered by the affectionate attentions of his young compatriot, Antonio de Brugada, who attended him in his infrequent strolls, suffered patiently his querulous moods, and even played to him on the piano the national airs which the old man could not hear. In one last flash of his genius Goya painted an admirable portrait of Juan Maguiro. It was his last work, and{117} beneath the signature he inscribed his age—eighty-one years.

In March 1828 a premonition that his end was near filled Goya with a strong desire to see his son once more before he died. When he heard that his wish was to be realised he wrote to his son: ‘Dear Xavier,—I can only tell you that this great pleasure has somewhat indisposed me and I am in bed. God grant that I can see you when you come, and then I shall be quite satisfied. Good-bye.—Your father, Francisco.’ Xavier reached Bordeaux on March 13. Three days later Goya had a paralytic seizure, and surrounded by his family and his intimate friends, ‘the greatest painter that Spain has seen since Velazquez,’ breathed his last.

On the following day the remains of Goya were buried in the Goicoechea family vault in the Grand Chartreux Cemetery of Bordeaux, and the following inscription was engraved on the stone:{118}—

✝
SEPULTURA
DE LA FAMILIA
DE
GOICOECHEA
——
AL MEJOR DE LOS PADRES
——
EL AMOR FILIAL
ELEVA ESTE MONUMENTO
A LA MEMORIA
DE Dn MARTIN MIGUEL
DE GOICOECHEA
DEL COMMERCIO DE MADRID
NACIO EN ALSASUA
REYNO DE NAVARRA
EL 27 DE OCTUBRE DE 1755
Y FALLECIO EN BURDEOS
EL 30 DE JUNIO DE 1825
——
ROGAD Á DIOS POR SU ALMA
——
HIC JACET
FRANCISCUS A GOYA ET LUCIENTES
HISPANIENSIS PERITISSIMUS PICTOR
MAGNAQUE SUI NOMINIS
CELEBRITATE NOTUS
DECURSO, PROBE, LUMINE VITAE
OBIIT XVI. KALENDAS MARCII
ANNO DOMINI
M.DCCC.XXVIII.
AETATIS SUAE
LXXXV.
——
R. I. P.
{119}

Goya’s remains were removed to Spain at the end of the nineteenth century. On the afternoon of May 11, 1900, the body was placed in the San Isidro Cemetery, Madrid, by the side of his old friends Menéndez Valdés and Leandro Moratin. Already in 1888 the Cortes had voted a sum of money for the creation of a suitable monument, and a magnificent cenotaph now marks the resting-place of the last great Spanish painter.

Printed by T. and A. Constable, Printers to His Majesty
at the Edinburgh University Press

{120}

{121}

## CATALOGUE OF THE WORKS OF GOYA

### PORTRAITS

1. King Charles III.

The King is standing in hunting costume, wearing a black three-cornered hat, ample grey cloak, gaiters, etc. In his right hand a carbine, in his left, white gloves. At his feet his favourite white dog is lying, with collar inscribed ‘Rey nuestro señor.’

Background, an arid landscape, with shrubs; mountains beyond. (A copy is to be found in the Royal Palace, Madrid, and another in the possession of the Duque de Fernan Nuñez.)

The Prado, Madrid. Doubtful.

2. King Charles III.

The King wears court dress.

Portrait painted in 1787.

The Bank of Spain, Madrid.

3. The Family of King Charles IV.

This important composition includes fourteen full-length figures. The King standing in the centre; at his right the Queen, holding by the hand the Infante Don Francisco de Paula. To the right of the Queen, the Infanta Doña Maria Isabella; the Prince of the Asturias and his wife, Marie Antoinette; the Infante Don Carlos; the Infanta Maria Josefa, sister of the King; further on, the artist painting. To the left of the King, the Infante Don Antonio; Prince Louis of Parma and{122} his wife, carrying their infant in her arms; and the Infanta Charlotte-Joaquine.

Canvas 2·80 by 3·36.

The Prado, Madrid.

4. Studies for the preceding picture.

(a) King Charles IV.

(b) Queen Maria Luisa.

(c) The Infante Ferdinand.

(d) The Infante Don Carlos. The Prado, Madrid.

(e) The Infante Don Francisco de Paula.

(f) The Infante Don Antonio, Brother of Charles IV.

The Prado, Madrid.

(g) Prince Louis of Parma, Son-in-law of Charles IV.

The Prado, Madrid.

(h) Princess Isabella, afterwards Queen of Naples.

(i) Doña Maria Josefa, Sister of Charles IV.

(j) The Infant Son of Prince Louis of Parma, represented with a toy guitar in his hands.

This sketch was sold in Paris in 1873 for 12,800 francs.

(k) Maria Luisa, Princess of Parma.

The Prado, Madrid.

5. King Charles IV.

The King in Court dress.

Ministerio de Hacienda, Madrid.

6. Repetition of the preceding.

The University of Madrid.

7. Repetition of the preceding.

Escuela de Ingenieros de Caminos.{123}

8. King Charles IV.

The King wears a gorgeous crimson costume.

Boadilla del Monte.

9. King Charles IV.

The King, in Court dress, is represented standing.

The War Office, Madrid.

10. King Charles IV.

The King wears the uniform of the Royal Body-guard. He is standing.

11. King Charles IV.

The property of the Marqués de Casa Torres, Madrid.

12. King Philip IV.

The King is hunting the wild boar. This picture by Goya is a copy of the painting by Velazquez, now in the National Gallery, London, which was in the Royal Palace, Madrid, until it was presented by Ferdinand VII. to the late Lord Cowley, of whom it was purchased for the National Gallery in 1846.

The hunt is taking place in an enclosed space of ground, in the front of which there are many spectators; hills and foliage fill the background. Among the numerous small figures in the picture are portraits of King Philip IV., the Count-Duke of Olivares, the Cardinal Infante, Don Fernando de Bourbon; the arquebus-carrier of the King, Don Juan Mateos.

Queen Isabella de Bourbon and her maids of honour are present in their coaches.

Prado, Madrid.

13. King Charles IV.

A life-size figure of the King, standing; he wears hunting costume.

Capodimonte, Naples.

14. King Charles IV.

A repetition of the preceding.

The Royal Palace, Madrid.{124}

15. King Charles IV.

The King wears the uniform of the Royal Body-guard. He is standing, bare-headed, with a cane in his hand.

The Prado, Madrid.

16. King Charles IV.

This is a repetition of the preceding, on canvas.

The Royal Palace, Madrid.

17. King Charles IV.

The King, mounted on a piebald horse, is in the uniform of the Royal Body-guard.

The Prado, Madrid.

18. Maria Luisa of Parma, wife of Charles IV.

The Queen carries an open fan in her right hand.

Academia de la Historia, Madrid.

19. Maria Luisa of Parma.

A repetition of the preceding.

20. Maria Luisa of Parma.

A repetition of the preceding.

Don Luis de Navas, Madrid.

21. Maria Luisa of Parma.

The Queen wears a large hat, and has a fan in her hands, which are crossed.

Boadilla del Monte.

22. Maria Luisa of Parma.

Repetition of the preceding. Canvas.

Don Aureliano de Beruete, Madrid.

23. Maria Luisa of Parma.

This is a copy of the preceding.

24. Maria Luisa of Parma.

Ministerio de Hacienda, Madrid.

25. Maria Luisa of Parma.

Repetition of the preceding.

The University of Madrid.{125}

26. Maria Luisa of Parma.

Repetition of the preceding (full-length portrait).

The Queen wears a hat with feathers.

The War Office, Madrid.

27. Maria Luisa of Parma.

Repetition of the preceding.

The Queen wears a lace dress.

The figure is three-quarter length.

Inscribed ‘Maria Luisa de Parma.’

Casa de la Diputacion, Madrid.

28. Maria Luisa of Parma.

This is a companion picture to No. 10 (Charles IV.).

The Queen wears a turban as head-dress.

A three-quarter length portrait.

The Marqués de Casa Torres, Madrid.

29. Maria Luisa of Parma.

The Queen wears a bright-coloured gown, and for head-dress a turban.

This is the companion picture to No. 11 (Charles IV.).

Capodimonte, Naples.

29A. Maria Luisa of Parma.

Repetition of No. 28.

The Royal Palace, Madrid.

30. Maria Luisa of Parma.

The Queen is represented full face, a turban on her head; heavy ear and finger rings; a fan in her right hand.

The property of Mr. Havemeyer, New York.

31. Maria Luisa of Parma.

The Queen is dressed in black, and wears a mantilla.

Formerly in the possession of Godoy, Prince of the Peace.

The Prado, Madrid.{126}

32. Maria Luisa of Parma.

Equestrian portrait of the Queen in the uniform of the Royal Body-guard.

The Prado, Madrid.

33. Maria Luisa of Parma.

The Queen wears a black dress and mantilla.

The Royal Palace, Madrid.

34. Maria Luisa of Parma.

The Queen is reclining on a couch.

35. Maria Luisa of Parma.

The property of General Sir J. Meade, London.

36. Maria Luisa of Parma.

The Queen carries a child in her arms.

The property of M. Billotte, Paris.

37. Equestrian Portrait of King Ferdinand VII.

The King is mounted on a charger. He wears a tight-fitting coat, riding breeches and boots; a hat with a white feather. The right arm is extended.

Academia de San Fernando, Madrid.

38. King Ferdinand VII.

Sketch of the preceding in oils.

39. King Ferdinand VII.

The King is standing dressed in general’s uniform.

The Prado, Madrid.

40. King Ferdinand VII.

In coronation robes.

The Prado, Madrid.

41. King Ferdinand VII.

Repetition of the preceding.

Signed ‘F. Goya.’

Palacio del Canal Imperial de Aragon, Zaragoza.{127}

42. King Ferdinand VII.

A study of the entire figure.

The Post Office, Madrid.

43. King Ferdinand VII.

Casa de la Diputacion, Pamplona.

44. King Ferdinand VII.

A study on canvas.

Ministerio de la Gobernacion, Madrid.

45. King Ferdinand VII.

Study on canvas.

46. King Ferdinand VII.

A bust. On his shoulders the royal purple cloak with ermine collar. He wears the insignia of the Golden Fleece.

The property of the Vizconde de Val de Erro, Madrid.

47. The Infanta Margarita and Playmates.

After Velazquez (Las Meninas).

The property of Herr Steinmeier, Cologne.

48. The Family of the Infante Don Luis de Bourbon, Brother of Charles III.

Don Luis and his wife are seated at a round table; their two children near them. A hairdresser is powdering the lady’s hair; she wears a dressing-gown. Members of the household are present, and Goya himself is represented with his palette and brushes in hand. Heavy curtains in crimson and blue velvet form the background.

Boadilla del Monte.

49. The Infante Don Luis de Bourbon.

A study.

It bears on the reverse the inscription: ‘Retrato del Serenissimo Señor Infante Don Luis Antonio de Borbon, que de q a 12 de la Mañana, dia 11 de Sept. del año 1783, hacia Don Francisco Goya.’

Boadilla del Monte.{128}

50. The Infante Don Luis de Bourbon.

Repetition of the preceding.

51. The Infante Don Luis de Bourbon.

Three-quarter portrait, in Court costume.

Boadilla del Monte.

52. The Infante Don Luis de Bourbon and the Architect Don Ventura Rodriguez.

The property of M. Joan Stchoukine, Paris.

53. The Infante Don Luis Maria de Bourbon, Archbishop of Toledo, as a Child.

With the inscription: ‘Al S D Luis Maria, hijo del Ser Infante D Luis y de la muy ilustre S D Mar. Ter. Vallabriga a los seis años y tres meses de edad.’

Boadilla del Monte.

54. The Infante Don Luis Maria de Bourbon.

Boadilla del Monte.

55. The Infante Don Luis Maria de Bourbon.

Repetition of the preceding.

The property of the Marqués de Casa Torres, Madrid.

(Another copy in the Church of Monserrat at Rome.)

56. Doña Maria Teresa de Vallabriga, Condesa de Chinchon, Wife of the Infante Don Luis de Bourbon.

Companion picture to No. 49. Bears the date 1783. It bears an inscription and the artist’s name.

57. Doña Maria Teresa de Vallabriga, Condesa de Chinchon.

Repetition of the preceding.

58. Doña Maria Teresa de Vallabriga, Condesa de Chinchon.

Three-quarter length portrait.{129}

59. Doña Maria Teresa de Vallabriga, Condesa de Chinchon.

Equestrian portrait.

60. Doña Maria Teresa de Bourbon.

Bears an inscription by the painter.

Boadilla del Monte.

61. Doña Maria Teresa de Bourbon.

Full-length figure, standing.

Boadilla del Monte.

62. Doña Maria Teresa de Bourbon.

Boadilla del Monte.

63. Doña Maria Teresa de Bourbon.

The entire figure, seated.

Boadilla del Monte.

64. King Joseph Buonaparte.

This portrait is in private hands.

65. The Emperor Francis of Austria.

Doubtful.

His right hand holds a telescope, his left rests on a cannon marked with the letter N. White uniform.

66. Doña Manuela Giron y Pimentel, Duquesa de Abrantes.

Bears her name and the painter’s signature, 1816.

The property of the Dowager Duquesa de Abrantes, Madrid.

67. Æsop.

After Velazquez.

The property of M. Sortez, Paris.

68. 13th Duque de Berwick y Alba.

Half-figure, on canvas.

The property of the Duque de Medina Sidonia, Madrid.{130}

69. 13th Duque de Berwick y Alba.

Private property, Madrid.

70. Doña Maria Teresa Cagetana de Silva, Duquesa de Berwick y Alba.

Painted in 1795.

She is represented full face, her hair falling on her shoulders; a coral necklace and gold bracelets. Her right hand points to the painter’s signature. She is dressed in white with a large flame-coloured sash. At her feet is a pet-dog. Landscape background.

Signed left-hand bottom corner.

71. Doña Maria Teresa Cagetana de Silva, Duquesa de Berwick y Alba.

The property of Sir Julius Wernher, Bart., London.

72. The Duquesa de Alba.

In black, and wearing a mantilla. On her forefinger is a ring, on the bezel of which is inscribed the name ‘Alba.’

Signed by the artist.

The property of M. P. Soliège, Paris.

73. The Duquesa de Alba.

The property of Don Rafael Barrio, Madrid.

74. The Duquesa de Alba.

Life-size bust.

The property of the Duque de Medina Sidonia, Madrid.

75. The Duquesa de Alba.

Half-length figure, life size.

Dressed in green. She wears a fichu. Her hair is powdered.

The property of M. Bamberger, Paris.

76. The Duquesa de Alba.

Formerly in the Urzaiz Collection in Seville.{131}

77. Conde de Altamira.

He is seated. The head is shown in profile. Full-length, life-size figure on canvas.

The Bank of Spain, Madrid.

78. Doña Maria Ignacia Alvares de Toledo, Condesa de Altamira.

On canvas, full-length figure, life size.

The Countess is represented with her daughter.

The property of M. Leopold Goldschmidt, Paris.

79. Altamirano, Auditor to the Court of Seville.

He is bare-headed, wears a brown suit, with a frill and light-flowered vest.

Oval canvas, life-size bust.

The property of Messieurs Boussod and Valadon, Paris.

80. Don José Maria Arango, the Andalusian Painter.

Painted in 1816, when he was twenty-nine.

The property of Don J. Masensio, Seville.

81. Don Gabriel de Aristizabal, Lieutenant-General of Marines.

Standing, half-length, he wears the gala uniform of a lieutenant-general of the Armada. In a buttonhole is seen the Cross of Charles II.

It bears an inscription.

Formerly in the Naval Museum, Madrid.

82. Azara, the Naturalist.

He wears the uniform of a naval brigadier. Half-length portrait.

Azara family, Madrid.

83. The Marquesa de Baena.

The property of Don J. Zuloaga, Eibar.

84. Doña Feliciana Bayeu.

She wears a silk handkerchief round her neck; in her hair blue and pink ribbons.{132}

An inscription in left-hand bottom corner.

Life-size bust, on canvas.

The property of Don C. Ferriz, Madrid.

85. Don Francisco Bayeu y Subias, Goya’s Brother-in-law.

He is seated almost full face, wears a grey suit, and holds a brush in his right hand.

The Prado, Madrid.

86. Don Francisco Bayeu y Subias.

He stands before a canvas; holds a brush in his right hand.

The Museum, Valencia.

87. Don Ramon Bayeu and his Wife.

88. Father-in-law and Mother-in-law of Goya.

Two miniatures.

The property of Don Alejandro de Pidal, Madrid.

89. Don Manuel Lapeña, Marquis of Bondad Real.

Bears the inscription ‘D. Manuel Lapeña. P^r Goya año 1779.’

Photo by Moreno.

Canvas 2·25 by 1·40.

The property of Don Joaquín Argamasilla, Madrid.

90. The Marquesa de Caballero.

Bears the inscription ‘Exma Sra. Mar de Caballero, Goya 1807.’

Canvas 1·06 by 0·54.

Photo by Moreno. Reproduction Plate 55.

The property of the Marqués de Cervera, Madrid.

91. Don Francisco, Conde de Cabarrus.

Painted in 1788 for the sum of 4500 reales.

Photo by Moreno.

Canvas 2·10 by 1·27.

The Bank of Spain, Madrid.

92. The Marquesa de Cadalso.

Canvas 1·06 by 0·84.{133}

Half-length figure, life size.

She wears flowers in her hair, and carries a fan in her hand.

The property of ‘D. G.,’ Madrid.

93. Don Juan Camaron y Melia, Director of the Academia de San Carlos in Valencia.

Bears the inscription ‘D. Joh. Camaron y Melia en la Edad de 38 A.’

Canvas 0·65 by 0·56.

The property of Feligre Calvo, Madrid.

94. Don Pedro Rodriguez, Count of Campomanes.

Viñaza, p. 269.

95. Doña Francisca Caudado.

Dressed in gauze, with a black mantilla and long yellow kid gloves. She is seated at the foot of a tree.

Viñaza, p. 264. Canvas 1·63 by 1·18.

The Museum, Valencia.

96. Doña F. Caudado.

Yriarte, p. 147.

Canvas 1·020 by 0·745.

Herr Gans, Frankfurt am Main.

97. Don Manuel Cantin y Lucientes.

Canvas 0·55 by 0·44.

98. Don M. Careda.

99. Don Isidoro de Castagnedo.

100. Don Juan Augustin Cean Bermudez.

101. The Wife of D. Juan Augustin Cean Bermudez.

102. Don Felix Colon y Lariategui, the Author.

103. Don Joaquin, Archbishop of Valencia.

104. The Secretary of the Archbishop of Valencia.

105. Doña Lorenza Correa, the Singer.

106. Joaquin Rodriguez Costellares, the Bull-fighter.{134}

107. Don Joaquin Maria de Ferrer, President of the Council of Ministers.

108. Doña Manuela de Alvarez Coiñas y Tomas de Ferrer.

109. Don Mariano Ferrer.

110. Don José Moñino, Conde de Floridablanca y Goya.

111. Don José Moñino, Conde de Floridablanca.

112. Don José Moñino, Conde de Floridablanca.

113. Don Antonio Faraster.

114. Jacques Galos, the Printer.

115. Don Manuel Garcia, the celebrated Musician.

116. Don Ignacio Garcini, the Engineer.

117. Doña Josefa Castilla Portugal de Garcini.

118. Joaquin Rodriguez Costellares, the Bull-fighter.

119. Joaquin Rodriguez Costellares, the Bull-fighter.

120. Don Juan Antonio Cuervo, Director of the Academia de San Fernando.

121. Doña Maria Ildefonsa Dabalos y Santa Maria.

122. Don Juan Martin, nicknamed El Empecinado.

123. Doña Tadea Arias de Enriquez.

124. Don Carlos España, Conde de España.

125. Doña Josefa de Alvarado Lero, Marquesa de Espeja.

126. Don Rafael Esteve y Vilella.

127. Fray Miguel Fernandez.

128. Don Carlos Gutierrez de los Rios, Duque de Fernán Nuñez.

129. Monsieur Gasparini.

130. Don Miguel de Muzquiz, Conde de Gausa.

131. Don Manuel Godoy, Prīncipe de la Paz.

132. Don Manuel Godoy, Prīncipe de la Paz.{135}

133. Doña Juana Galarza de Goicoechea.

134. Don Cornelio van der Gosen.

135. Don Francisco de Goya y Lucientes.

136. Don Francisco de Goya y Lucientes.

137. Don Francisco de Goya y Lucientes.

138. Don Francisco de Goya y Lucientes.

139. Don Francisco de Goya y Lucientes.

140. Don Francisco de Goya y Lucientes.

141. Don Francisco de Goya y Lucientes.

142. Don Francisco de Goya y Lucientes.

143. Don Francisco de Goya y Lucientes.

144. Don Francisco de Goya y Lucientes.

145. Don Francisco de Goya y Lucientes.

146. Don Francisco de Goya y Lucientes.

147. Don Francisco de Goya y Lucientes.

148. Don Francisco de Goya y Lucientes.

149. Don Francisco de Goya y Lucientes and the Duquesa de Alba.

150. D. Francisco de Goya y Lucientes and Dr. Arieta.

151. Doña Josefa Bayeu y Goya, the Painter’s Wife.

152. Doña Hermengilda Goya y Bayeu, Daughter of the Painter, aged 18 months.

153. Don Francisco Javier de Goya y Bayeu, Son of the Artist.

154. Don Francisco Javier de Goya y Bayeu.

155. Don Francisco Javier de Goya y Bayeu.

156. Doña Gracia Lucientes y Goya, Mother of the Painter (?).

157. Doña Gracia Lucientes y Goya (?).

158. Doña Gumersinda de Goicoechea y Goya, Daughter-in-law of the Painter.{136}

159. Mariano de Goya y Goicoechea, Marques de Espinar, Grandson of the Painter, as a Child (ten years).

160. Doña Rita de Goya.

161. Don J. M. de Goicoechea.

1789.

162. The same.

Signed, 1810.

163. Mariano de Goya, Grandson of the Painter.

164. Ferdinand Guillemardet, French Ambassador.

1798.

165. Condesa de Haro.

Madrid.

166. The Minister Jovellanos.

Madrid.

167. The same.

Gijon.

168. The Painter Asensio Julia, ‘el Pescadoret.’

Signed. The Comtesse de Paris.

169. The same.

M. Bamberger.

170. The Milkmaid of Bordeaux.

Madrid.

171. Francisco Larrumbe.

The Bank of Spain, Madrid.

172. The Marquesa de Lazan.

Madrid.

173. The Bookseller of the Calle Carretas.

174. The Actress Rita Luna.

Madrid.{137}

175. Manuel Lucientes, aged twelve.

Zaragoza.

176. Llorente, Historian of the Inquisition.

Doubtful. Madrid.

177. The Duque de San Carlos.

1815. Zaragoza.

178. The Actor Isidoro Maiquez.

Madrid.

179. Don Juan Antonio Melon.

180. Menippus (after Velazquez).

181. The Conde de Miranda.

182. The Condesa Miranda de Castañar.

183. Don Pedro Mocarte, the Singer.

184. Doña Maria Amalia Zuargo de Acedo, Marquesa de Monte Hermoso.

185. Doña Vincenta Solis, Duquesa de Montellano.

186. The Family of the Condesa de Montijo.

187. Don Leandro Fernandez de Moratin, the Poet.

188. Don Leandro Fernandez de Moratin, the Poet.

189. Marshal Mouchy, Governor of French Guiana.

190. Don Juan Bautista de Muguiro.

191. Don José Luis de Munárriz.

192. Marqués de Nibbiano.

193. Don Manuel Osorio.

194. Don Pedro de Alcantara Tellez Giron y Pacheco, Marqués de Penafiel, 9th Duque de Osuna; with his wife, Doña Maria Josefa Pimentel Tellez Giron Borga, Condesa and Duquesa of Benavente and Osuna, and their four eldest children—D. Francisco de Borga, 10th Duque; D. Pedro de Alcantara, Prīncipe de Anglona;{138} Da. Josefa Manuela, later Marquesa de Camarasa; and Da. Joaquina Maria del Pilar, Marquesa de Santa Cruz.

195. Cardinal Lorenzana.

Toledo.

196. Admiral Mazaredo.

Madrid.

197. The Toreador Martineto.

Madrid.

198. The Poet Melendez Valdez.

Barnard Castle.

199. José Pio de Molina.

199A. Don Evaristo Perez de Castro.

Madrid.

200. The 9th Duque de Osuna.

Paris.

201. The 10th Duque de Osuna, aged ten.

Doubtful. Madrid.

202. The same.

Paris.

203. The Duquesa del Parque.

Madrid.

204. Doctor Peral.

National Gallery, London. Presented in 1904.

205. General Palafox, Duque de Zaragoza.

Equestrian portrait. The Prado.

206. Manuel Garcia de la Prada.

1810. Paris.

207. Antonio Cobos de Porcel.

Painted on wood.

Granada.{139}

208. Doña Isabel de Porcel.

National Gallery, London.

209. Don Manuel de la Prada.

Paris.

210. Tiburcio Perez.

Madrid.

211. Don Mariano de Urquijo.

Academia de la Historia, Madrid.

212. Tomas Perez Estala.

Madrid.

213. Don Pantaleon Perez de Nenin.

1808. Madrid.

214. Don Ramon de Pignatelli.

Several copies at Zaragoza and Madrid.

215. The Marquesa de Pontejos.

216. Don Martin Zapater y Claveria.

1790. Zaragoza.

217. The same.

1797. An oval. Zaragoza.

217A. Don Ramon de Posada y Solo.

Madrid.

218. The Conde de Puñonrostro.

Madrid.

219. General Ricardos.

Madrid.

220. The Architect Ventura Rodriguez.

Madrid.

221. The same.

Copy of a picture which is lost.

Academia de San Fernando, Madrid.

222. Bishop Rojas.

Doubtful.

Academia de la Historia, Madrid.{140}

223. Don Manuel Romero, Minister of Joseph Buonaparte.

Madrid.

224, 225, 226. The Toreador José Romero.

Madrid and Seville.

227. The Marqués de San Adrian.

Madrid.

228. The Marquesa de San Adrian.

Madrid.

229. Doña Joaquina Tellez Giron, Marquesa de Santa Cruz.

Madrid.

230. Marquesa de Santiago,

Mentioned by Conde de la Viñaza.

231. Don Miguel Cayetano Soler.

Mentioned by Goya himself.

232. Don Ramon Satué, Alcalde de Corte.

1823. Madrid.

233. Manuel Silvela.

Madrid.

234. Doña Maria Apodaca de Sesma.

Madrid.

235. The Marquesa de la Solana.

Madrid.

236. The Engraver Selma.

Engraved by Selma himself.

237. Don Bartolomé Sureda.

In possession of Señora Sureda.

238. Doña Teresa Sureda, Wife of preceding.

Companion picture of preceding; in possession of Señora Sureda.{141}

239. The Conde de Teba.

Mentioned by the Conde de la Viñaza.

240. The Actress Maria del Rosario Fernandez, surnamed La Tirana.

Academia de San Fernando, Madrid.

241. The same.

Painted in 1794. Madrid.

242. ‘Tio Paquete,’ a well-known Madrid Mendicant.

Madrid.

243. The Duque de Trastamara, aged twelve.

Madrid.

244. The Marques de Tolosa.

The Bank of Spain, Madrid.

245. General Urrutia.

The Prado, Madrid.

246. Don José de Vargas Ponce, Naval Officer and Man of Letters.

Signed by Goya.

Academia de la Historia, Madrid.

247. The Architect Don Juan de Villanueva.

Academia de San Fernando, Madrid.

248. The Marqués and Marquesa de Villafranca with their Son.

In the possession of the Duque de Medina Sidonia, Madrid.

249. The Marquesa de Villafranca.

Same owner.

250. The Dowager Marquesa de Villafranca.

Same owner.

251. Doña Catalina Viola.

Mentioned by the Conde de la Viñaza.{142}

252. The Duke of Wellington.

Unfinished. Equestrian portrait.

Strathfieldsaye.

253. The same.

Madrid.

254. Don Bernardo Yriarte, a Collector of Pictures.

Paris.

255. Don Toro Zambrano.

The Bank of Spain, Madrid.

256. Doña Antonia Zarate.

Madrid.

257. The same.

Madrid.

258. Doña Lola Jiménez.

Paris.

259. A Lady about twenty-five years of age, believed to have been the Painter’s Mistress.

M. Bamberger, Paris.

260. A Lady playing a Guitar, said to have been the Painter’s Mistress.

M. de Pommereal, Paris.

261. Ferdinando IV., King of Naples.

Marqués de la Vega Inclan, Madrid.

Portraits unidentified:—

262. Group of Heads.

Formerly at San Telmo, Seville. Comtesse de Paris.

263. An Actor.

Formerly in the collection of Don V. de Carderera.

Madrid.

264. A Child.

A boy of about seven years.

Mme. de Lacy, Bordeaux-Caudéron.{143}

265. Victoriano Her ...

An infant. Signed ‘F. Goya, Año 1806.’ Doubtful.

Herr Kleinschmidt. Cassel.

266. A Spanish Gentleman.

Painted in 1815. Museum, Castres.

267. A Spanish Gentleman of the Old School.

Don Manuel Soler y Alarcon, Madrid.

268. A Spanish Gentleman.

Doubtful.

Formerly in collection of Don Sebastian de Borbon y Braganza, Aranjuez.

269. A Spanish Gentleman of the early years of the nineteenth century.

M. Ch. Cherfils, Biarritz.

270. A Spanish Gentleman in costume of the seventeenth century.

Doubtful.

Formerly in Collection Cepero, Seville.

271. A Spanish Gentleman.

Don José Toran, Valencia.

272. A Spanish Gentleman.

Don Enrique Salazar, Bilbao.

273. A Spanish Gentleman.

Formerly in Collection Candamo, Paris.

274. An Old Man.

Formerly in collection of Don Sebastian de Borbon y Braganza, Aranjuez.

275. An Old Man.

Signed ‘Fco. Goya.’

Don José Lázaro Galdeano, Madrid.{144}

276. A Little Girl.

In a white dress.

Don Patricio de Lozano, Madrid.

277. A Little Girl.

Of five or six years, in peasant’s dress.

Marqués de Casa Torres, Madrid.

278. A Little Girl.

Of about five years.

Mme. de Lacy, Bordeaux-Caudéron.

279. A Little Girl.

In company of a dog.

Mme. de Lacy, Bordeaux-Caudéron.

280. A Girl.

Royal Museum of Painting and Sculpture, Brussels.

281. A Girl.

This portrait was long regarded as a presentment of Charlotte Corday.

Heirs of Baron N. de Rothschild, Paris.

282. A Girl.

M. C. G——, Paris.

283. A Woman. Seated figure.

Purchased Antwerp, 1898—29,000 francs.

The Louvre, Paris.

284. A Woman. Standing figure.

The Louvre, Paris.

285. A Woman, in a garden.

M. C. G——, Paris.

286. A Woman, seated on a sofa.

Purchased in Paris, 1882—1100 francs

{145}

M. C. G——, Paris.

287. A Woman.

Head covered with white mantilla.

This picture was at the San Telmo, Seville.

Comtesse de Paris.

288. A Woman.

White dress, black ribbons.

Don Aureliano de Beruete, Madrid.

289. A Woman.

Don Joaquin Gutierrez Martin, Madrid.

290. A Woman.

In décolletée dress; black mantilla.

M. Dannat, Paris.

291. A Woman.

In ‘Maja’ costume.

Don José Maria Cienfuegos, Gijon.

292. A Woman.

This canvas has been considerably cut from its original dimensions.

M. H. Rouart, Paris.

293. A Woman.

In décolletée dress.

M. H. Rouart, Paris. Doubtful.

294. A Woman.

Her face framed in black mantilla.

Painted on panel.

Formerly in Wilson Collection. Paris sale, 1881.

295. A Woman.

With curling chestnut hair upon her forehead; bodice décolletée.

Signed ‘Goya.’

Purchased in Paris, 1900—7500 francs.

Formerly in Debrousse Collection.

296. A Woman.

In pink dress, with hair powdered.

Marqués de la Ve a Inclan, Madrid.{146}

297. A Woman.

In ‘Maja’ costume; her long black hair falls about her shoulders.

Mme. de Lacy, Bordeaux-Caudéron.

298. A Woman.

Seated figure; a little dog in her lap. M. C. G——, Paris.

299. A General of the French Republic.

Sold in Paris for 3600 francs.

Tapestry Cartoons.

300. A Nun.

Painted at Bordeaux.

Aranjuez.

The following Oval Busts were formerly in the Palace of San Telmo, Seville:—

1. King Charles IV.

Oval Bust. Life size.

In the possession of the Comtesse de Paris.

2. Queen Maria Luisa.

Oval Bust. Life size.

Companion picture to the foregoing.

Comtesse de Paris.

3. The Infante Fernando, Prince of the Asturias (afterwards Fernando VII.).

Oval bust. Life size.

Comtesse de Paris.

4. The Infanta Doña Isabel, afterwards Queen of Naples.

Comtesse de Paris.

{147}

### HISTORICAL SUBJECTS

1. The 2nd of May 1808.

The people of Madrid attacking the French cavalry in the Puerta del Sol.

The Prado, Madrid.

2. The 3rd of May 1808.

A group of Spanish patriots being shot by French troops at Madrid.

The Prado, Madrid.

3. Episode of the War of Independence.

A heap of slain in the foreground.

Aranjuez.

4. Episode of the War of Independence.

Two women defending themselves against the French soldiery.

Aranjuez.

5. Episode of the War of Independence.

Women, one with a child, struggling against French soldiery.

Biarritz.

6. A Battle.

Women endeavouring to come between the French troops and the Spanish peasantry. Doubtful.

Hamburg.

7. A Battle.

Marqués de Casa Torres, Madrid. Doubtful.

8. An Assembly of Notables.

Museum of Castres, France.

9. Sketch of the preceding, described as ‘The Congress.’

Royal Museum, Berlin.{148}

10. Promulgation of the Decree of Expulsion against the Jesuits.

Sketch. Sold in Paris for 500 francs.

11. Execution of the Decree of Expulsion against the Jesuits.

Sold in Paris in 1898.

12. Making Cannon-balls by Moonlight in the Hills of Tardienta.

The Royal Palace, Madrid.

13. Making Powder in a Valley of the Sierra de Tardienta.

The Royal Palace, Madrid.

14. The Tribunal of the Holy Inquisition.

Academia de San Fernando, Madrid.

By a decree dated 12th September 1901 it was ordered that the pictures at the Academia de San Fernando be transferred to the Prado Museum.

15. The Inquisition: Judges, Monks, and Condemned.

The Royal Museum, Brussels.

16. Dungeon of the Inquisition.

The Bowes Museum, Barnard Castle, England.

17. Monk flogging a Woman; several Onlookers.

Don José de la Bastida, Madrid.

18. The Flagellants.

A procession of penitents advancing in order and scourging each other.

Academia de San Fernando, Madrid.

19. The Garotte.

Clothed in a san-benito, the criminal has just expired. A crowd, horrified.

Museum, Lille.{149}

20. The Pilgrimage to Lombas.

Sold in Paris, 1875.

21. The Procession.

Monks and pilgrims traversing a barren country.

Conde de Candilla, Madrid.

22. Hannibal surveying Italy from the Apennines.

This picture earned for Goya the second prize offered by the Academy of Parma in 1772.

### VARIOUS SUBJECTS

1. Venus.

Mentioned by the Conde de la Viñaza as forming part of Godoy’s collection at Madrid.

2 and 3. The Madhouse.

Academia de San Fernando, Madrid, and copy in the collection of Don A. de Beruete, Madrid.

4. ‘La Maja Vestida’ and ‘La Maja Denuda.’

The two famous pictures in the Academy of San Fernando at Madrid are regarded as portraying a favourite of Manuel Godoy, the ‘Prince of the Peace’; others maintain that they are portraits of the painter’s mistress. Both paintings are from the same model. The one represents a young and beautiful woman reclining at full length upon a couch, her shoulders sustained by soft cushions, her head somewhat advanced by her hand crossed at the back of her neck, the upper part of the left arm supported by the cushions. Her lustrous, expressive eyes are turned towards the spectator. She is habited in Oriental costume, a diaphanous yellow vest, and clinging skirt beneath, of tender rose colour, revealing the contour of the lower limbs.

The second figure is entirely nude, and in precisely the same attitude as the companion picture. Relieved of the head-dress, her curling tresses fall luxuriantly{150} about her shoulders; the lace-bedecked pillows and drapery upon the couch in charming contrast with the lovely flesh-tints. In short, these life-size figures are amongst the choicest examples of the master. Had Goya always painted thus it had been vain to blame, and useless to praise him.

5. The Majas of the Balcony.

Two young women are seated on a balcony, one in a white robe with black mantilla, the other in a dark dress with white mantilla. Behind them two attendant cavaliers.

Duque de Marchena, Madrid.

6. The Majas of the Balcony.

Repetition of foregoing with variations.

Comtesse de Paris.

7. The Majas of the Balcony.

Repetition.

Formerly at Salamanca. Bought in Paris, 1875, by ‘C.G.’

8. The Majas at the Theatre.

In the front of a box three young ladies are seated; a gentleman standing behind.

Don Joaquin Miguel y Polo, Valencia. Doubtful.

9. A Cavalier playing the Guitar.

The Prado, Madrid.

10. A Cavalier.

He is represented smoking a cigarette. A lace frill about his neck; a black cape is thrown across his left shoulder.

Academia de Bellas Artes, Cadiz. Doubtful.

11. A Maja, veiled.

Standing on a terrace, the lady lightly lifts a black scarf from her head. Black skirt, red shoes. To her left a block of stone; a cloak on the ground.

Herr H. O. Miethke, Vienna. Doubtful.{151}

12. Two Girls.

Two girls in white mantillas are followed by a young man.

W. Rotheinstein, Esq., London.

13. Two Girls at a Window.

Are exchanging pleasantries with a student passing the house.

Doña S. España, Briviesca.

14. Youth.

A girl is confiding the contents of a letter to another. In the distance young women are hanging linen to dry.

Museum, Lille. Doubtful.

15. Old Age.

Two faded beauties in ball-dress are discussing their earlier days. One is looking in a mirror, on which is inscribed, ‘Que tal?’ (Can this be me?). In the middle distance, Time, with a besom, prepares to sweep them from the world. Companion picture to the preceding.

Museum, Lille. Doubtful.

16. The Knife-Grinder.

Bare-headed, in his shirt sleeves, engaged at his trade.

Formerly in the Esterhazy Collection, Vienna; now in the National Gallery, Buda-Pesth.

17. The Water-Carrier.

A woman holding in her right hand a large pitcher which rests upon her hip. From her left hand is suspended a basketful of tumblers. Companion picture to the preceding.

Formerly in the Esterhazy Collection; now in the National Gallery, Buda-Pesth.

18. Girl delivering a Letter.

Formerly in the collection of Don Ricardo Heredia.

Paris sale, 1890.{152}

19. Children at Play.

Stirling-Maxwell Collection, Keir, Perthshire.

20. Children Playing.

Stirling-Maxwell Collection, Keir, Perthshire.

21. Children Playing.

M. Mège, Paris.

22. The School.

A number of young urchins look on at the schoolmaster whipping one of their number.

M. Mège, Paris.

23. Fight between Brigands and Soldiers.

The scene is on the bank of a river.

Sold from the collection of Don Eustaquio Lopez, 1866.

24. Priest and Brigand.

At the gate of a convent the bandit El Margaroto points with a carbine at Fra Pedro de Zaldivia, who offers the brigand a pair of shoes.

M. Lafitte, Madrid.

25. Priest and Brigand.

Fra Pedro de Zaldivia seizes the carbine of El Margaroto, and brings retribution upon the bandit. Three brethren are hastening to the monk’s assistance.

M. Lafitte, Madrid.

26. Brigands in a Convent.

Fight between monks and bandits.

M. Lafitte, Madrid.

27. Priest and Brigands.

A bandit attempts to escape. The monk, having possession of a carbine, wounds him in the leg. In the background a horse is galloping away.

M. Lafitte, Madrid.{153}

28. Priest and Brigand.

El Margaroto submits to the priest, who, master of the situation, in turn threatens the brigand.

M. Lafitte, Madrid.

29. Priest and Brigand.

The bandit, conquered, yields to the priest, who binds him securely. In the background countrymen are hastening to the scene.

M. Lafitte, Madrid.

30. Bandits.

A post-chaise held up by Spanish highwaymen.

Marqués de Castro Serna, Madrid.

31. Bandits.

Two women are supplicating brigands to spare their lives; a third is lying dead.

In this picture the colour is said to be wholly laid on with a knife.

Mentioned by Z. Aranjo.

32. Brigands stopping a Carriage.

Marqués de Riscal, Madrid. Doubtful.

33. Brigands.

A brigand is holding a woman to the ground; a monk, inactive, is contemplating the scene. In the background, two women, stripped, are tied to trees.

Formerly in possession of Don Constantino Ardanaz. Mentioned by Aranjo.

34. Brigands.

A kneeling woman struggling with a bandit. In the distance two bandits are carrying a dead woman.

Formerly in the possession of Don Constantino Ardanaz, Madrid. Mentioned by Aranjo.

35. Brigands.

At the entrance to a cave a bandit is murdering a woman bound to a rock.

Marqués de la Romana, Madrid.{154}

36. Brigands.

Slaughter of a group of men, women, and children.

Marqués de la Romana, Madrid.

37. Brigands’ Cave.

In the cave, brigands are stripping women whom they have captured.

Marqués de la Romana, Madrid.

38. Brigands’ Cave.

A brigand slaughtering a woman.

Marqués de la Romana, Madrid.

39. Brigands’ Cave.

Bandits asleep.

Marqués de la Romana, Madrid.

40. The Promenade.

A lady and gentleman conversing as they walk. Tradition has it that the two persons represented are the Duquesa de Alba y Goya.

Marqués de la Romana, Madrid.

41. The Plague Terror.

The stricken ones, stretched upon the ground, are tended by scared doctors.

Marqués de la Romana, Madrid.

42. Interior.

Several women have met together for a gossip.

Marqués de la Romana, Madrid.

43. The Monk’s Visit.

A monk and a young woman.

Marqués de la Romana, Madrid.

44. Brigands Quarrelling.

Museum, Besançon.

45. Brigands Quarrelling.

An old man, seated, is looking on.

Museum, Besançon.{155}

46. A Cannibal Scene.

Eight men are gathered round a fire; one is grinning, and holding in his right hand a human arm, in his left a head. His companions, naked like himself, are engaged in the orgie.

Museum, Besançon.

47. A Cannibal Scene.

At the foot of a cliff men occupied in stripping and carving corpses.

Museum, Besançon.

48. The Funeral of the Sardine.

An episode at the close of the carnival at Madrid. Men and women are masquerading on the banks of the Manzanares.

Academia de San Fernando, Madrid.

49. A Carnival Scene.

Masked figures dance extravagantly at the entrance of a cave.

M. Ch. Cherfils, Biarritz.

50. A Carnival Scene.

A singer entertaining his audience.

Museum, Bayonne. Doubtful.

51. A Masquerade.

In the foreground two principal figures are dancing; others engaged in flirtation and conversation.

Duquesa de Villahermosa, Madrid.

52. Children’s Masquerade.

Don Patricio Lozano, Madrid.

53. Bal Champêtre.

Groups of peasants dancing under an arch.

Mentioned by Aranjo.

54. Bal Champêtre.

A village population dancing; spectators on a hill.

Paris.{156}

55. Bal Champêtre.

Same subject as Goya’s tapestry cartoon.

Conde de Torrecilla, Madrid.

56. A Popular Pastime.

Near an old city-gate in ruins delighted spectators are regarding a number of girls dancing.

Formerly in collection of Don Eustaquio Lopez. Sold 1866.

57. A Fête.

Don Juan Perez Calvo, Madrid.

58. Outside the Booth.

Mountebanks attracting an audience at a fair.

Marqués de Castro Serna, Madrid.

59. The Tight-Rope Dancers.

A comic troupe, in which it is said there is an allusion to Queen Maria-Luisa and Godoy.

Marqués de Castro Serna, Madrid.

60. The Greasy Pole.

The pole is erected in the foreground; in mid-distance a village built on a rock; mountainous background.

Marqués de Casa Torres, Madrid.

61. The Bonfire.

Don Cristobal Ferriz, Madrid.

62. The Bonfire.

Repetition of preceding.

Conde de Villagonzalo, Madrid.

63. The Puppet Merchant.

A toyman offering his wares; women and children around him; a gentleman seated, whose features recall those of the painter.

Formerly in Martinet Collection. Paris sale, 1896.{157}

64. The Balloon.

A balloon rises, while a considerable group of persons watch its ascent.

Formerly in Madrazo Collection, Madrid.

65. The Siesta.

Two couples asleep on a lawn.

66. The Picnic.

Same subject as No. 1 of Goya’s tapestry cartoons.

Marqués de Torrecilla, Madrid.

67. The House of the Cock.

The patio of an inn. Reproduced as No. 3 of Goya’s Tapestry Cartoons.

Formerly in Yriarte Collection. Paris sale, 1898.

68. The Inundation.

Marqués de Castro Serna, Madrid.

69. The Hurricane.

Surprised by a tornado, a crowd of people run distractedly.

Formerly in collection Eustaquio Lopez. Sale, 1866.

69A. The Burning Village; an Episode of War.

The inhabitants fleeing from their burning houses.

Marqués de Castro Serna, Madrid.

Reproduction of Disasters of War, No. 44.

70. An Aragonese.

Formerly in collection of M. Vallet, Bordeaux.

71. Peasants.

A group of three; a young man, a girl, and an old woman.

Formerly in collection Vallet. Paris sale, 1884.

72. The Angler.

On the bank of a winding river a solitary figure.

Formerly in collection of Don J. M. d’Estoup de Murcia. Doubtful.{158}

73. Country Scene.

Formerly in collection of Don J. M. d’Estoup de Murcia. Doubtful.

74. Sea Piece.

Formerly in collection of Don J. M. d’Estoup de Murcia. Doubtful.

75. The Infuriated Dog.

The maddened animal tries to break away from his chain.

M. Carvalhido, Paris.

76 and 77. Sketches.

Two sketches for equestrian portraits; one for that of the Duke of Wellington and the other for that of General Palafox. Both sketches mentioned by Conde de la Viñaza.

78. The Bride’s Toilette.

A maid is drawing on the bride’s stockings.

Conde Esteban de Collantes, Madrid.

79. Can she say ‘Yes’?

Reproduction of Caprice No. 2. Doubtful.

80. Scraping Acquaintance.

Reproduction of Caprice No. 35.

Conde Esteban de Collantes, Madrid.

81. One of the Fates!

Reproduction of Caprice No. 44.

Museum, Bordeaux.

82. Even unto Death!

Reproduction of Caprice No. 55.

Formerly in the collection Lacour, Bordeaux.

Doubtful.

83. The Register.

Reproduction of Caprice No. 57.

Monsieur ‘X,’ Florence. Doubtful.{159}

84. ‘Swallow that, you dog!’

Reproduction of Caprice No. 58.

Monsieur ‘X,’ Florence. Doubtful.

85. ‘You will not always escape!’

Reproduction of Caprice No. 72.

Paris sale, 1899. Doubtful.

86. ‘It is better to let it alone.’ (Mejor es holgar.)

Reproduction of Caprice No. 73.

Paris sale, 1899, with preceding. Doubtful.

87. Two grotesque half-length figures.

Formerly in the Spanish Gallery of the Louvre. M. Comartin, Paris.

88. Caprice.

Marqués de Casa Jimenez.

89. Caprice.

A monk throwing books and papers in the fire.

Formerly in collection of Don Constantino Ardanaz, Madrid.

90. Caprice.

Don Alejandro Pidal, Madrid.

91. Caprice.

Three balloons in the air; one carrying a donkey, the second a bull, the third a child.

Formerly in Madrazo Collection, Madrid.

92. Caprice.

Doña Carmen Berganza de Martin, Madrid.

Signed ‘Goya, año 1795.’

93. Caprice.

Tradition says that two of the persons represented in the picture are Don Luis Berganza and a little negress picked up by the Duquesa de Alba. In the right-hand corner is written ‘Luis Berganza, año 1795, Goya.’

Doña Carmen Berganza de Martin, Madrid.{160}

94. Caprice.

Mme. de Lacy, Bordeaux-Caudéron. Doubtful.

95. Caprice.

Mme. de Lacy, Bordeaux-Caudéron. Doubtful.

96-117. Caprices.

Formerly in collection Leon Daguerre Hospital de Madrid. Doubtful.

118-133. Caprices.

Formerly in collection of Don José Maria d’Estoup de Murcia. Doubtful.

134. Dogs and Hunting Accessories.

Design for tapestry. The Prado, Madrid.

135. Dead Turkey.

The Prado, Madrid.

136. Dead Birds.

The Prado, Madrid.

137. Bull-Fight.

The bull is charging. Village background.

Academia de San Fernando, Madrid.

138. Bull-Fight.

A stirring scene in a provincial arena.

Mme. de Lacy, Bordeaux-Caudéron.

139. A Galloping Picador.

The Prado, Madrid.

140. Death of the Picador.

The picador is impaled on a horn of the bull.

At the Carlin sale, Paris, 1872—4600 francs.

141. Bull-Fight.

The scene is enacting in a cloud of dust. A picador extricating himself from his disembowelled horse.{161}

142. Bull-Fight.

The picture represents an arena divided after the manner of lists at a tournament; a bull on either side of the barrier attacking or attacked.

Sold in Paris, 1875, for 7500 francs.

143. Bull-Fight.

A dense crowd in the foreground watching the course of the contest.

M. Sigismond Bardac, Paris.

144. Bull-Fight.

The bull has overthrown a toreador, whose companions hasten to his assistance. Companion to the preceding.

M. Sigismond Bardac, Paris.

145. Retaliation.

Three bulls have turned upon their custodians and borne them to the earth.

W. Mackay, Esq., London.

146. Bull and Picador.

A picador, accompanied by chulos and toreadors, attacks the bull.

Marqués de Baroja, Madrid.

147. Bulls at Home.

Bulls enclosed in their arroyo under the care of horsemen and picadors in laced costumes.

Carlin sale, Paris, 1872—5100 francs.

148. Bull at liberty in the Place de Madrid.

Duque de Veragua, Madrid.

149. Bulls attacking a Procession.

Sir J. G. J. Sinclair, Bart., Thurso Castle, Caithness.

150. The Madhouse.

In a large hall, lunatics engaged in various forms of dementia.

Academia de San Fernando, Madrid.{162}

151. The Madhouse.

A repetition of the foregoing.

Don Aureliano de Beruete, Madrid.

Pictures from Goya’s house presented to the Prado Museum by Baron d’Erlanger:—

152. Meeting of Witches.

153. La Romeria de San Isidro.

Man playing on guitar to a group of people.

154. Galician Shepherds Fighting.

155. The Procession.

156. Caprice.

Flying persons pointing to a castle.

157. The Fates.

158. The Maja.

Said to be a portrait of the Duquesa de Alba.

159. Saturn devouring his Children.

160. Dog swimming in a Rough Sea.

161. Judith and Holofernes.

162. Two Monks.

163. Listening to the News.

164. Woman laughing at a Suffering Man.

165. Wizards preparing a Philtre.

### PAINTINGS FROM THE ALAMEDA OF OSUNA

M. Paul Lafond enumerates twenty-three pictures formerly at the Alameda de Osuna, sold some years ago, and now dispersed.

The collection of the Duque de Montellano includes:—

1. The Swing.

Girl, on a swing pushed by a young man.{163}

2. The Greasy Pole (climbed by Children).

3. The Accident.

A girl falling off a donkey.

4. A Coach stopped by Brigands.

The collection of the Marquesa de Villamayor includes:—

5. Building the Church.

Two workmen carrying a wounded comrade.

6. The Procession.

The collection of Don Ricardo Traumann includes:—

7. Summer.

Same subject as The Harvesters (Tapestry Cartoons).

The collection of Don Pedro Fernandez Duran includes:—

8. The Hermitage of San Isidro.

9. The Wounded Mason.

Same subject as No. 34 of the Tapestry Cartoons.

In the Prado is:—

10. The Romeria de San Isidro.

Madrid and the Manzanares are seen in the background.

In the National Gallery, London, besides those already enumerated, are:—

11. The Bewitched.

A priest pouring oil into a lamp held by a goat.

12. The Picnic (La merienda campestre).

The present possessors of the following are unknown:—

13. Bulls Grazing.{164}

14. Spring.

Same subject as The Flower Girl, No. 31 Tapestry Cartoons.

15. The Vintagers.

Same subject as No. 33 Tapestry Cartoons.

16. Winter.

Same subject as The Snow, No. 36 Tapestry Cartoons.

17. The Rustic Dance.

Same subject as No. 2 Tapestry Cartoons.

18. Caprice.

Man kneeling watches demons.

19. A Witches’ Conventicle.

20. Caprice.

Three nude persons consulting a witch.

21. Caprice.

Cloaked man crossing a mountain.

22. Don Juan and the Comendador.

23. The Poor.

Same subject as No. 35 Tapestry Cartoons.

### DRAWINGS AND STUDIES

M. Paul Lafond enumerates:—

One set of 228 drawings.

The Prado, Madrid.

Another set, now broken up, including 300 pieces.

Another set of 38.

Belonging to Don Aureliano de Beruete.

Another set of 20.

Sold in Paris in 1869.{165}

Another set of 38.

In the possession of the Marqués de Casa Jimenez.

Another set of 3.

Belonging to M. Cherfils, of Paris.

Another set of 4.

Sold in Paris, 1899.

Another set.

Belonging to Don Mariano Fortuny.

Another set of 6.

Sold in Paris, 1869.

Another set of 3.

Belonging to Don Ricardo de Madrazo.

Another set.

Belonging to Don B. Montanez.

Another set of 9.

Belonging to M. H. Rouart.

Another set of 2.

Belonging to M. A. Beurdelez.

And 81 different drawings and studies. Scattered through various collections, and some of doubtful origin.

### DECORATIVE PAINTINGS

1. Agriculture.

Represented by a female figure, amply draped, holding a sickle, and gracefully accepting fruit and flowers. In the upper part of the picture, which is painted in distemper on canvas, are two signs of the Zodiac, Scorpio and Libra. Landscape background. Circular medallion.

Library of the Minister of Marine, Madrid.{166}

2. Industry.

In the foreground two women are busy at their spinning-wheels. In the distance other figures are occupied in similar work. Circular medallion.

Library of the Minister of Marine, Madrid.

3. Commerce.

Seated at a table two figures in Moorish costume are writing; in the mid-distance two others are examining a book. In the foreground bales of goods and a stork. Circular medallion.

Library of the Minister of Marine, Madrid.

4. An Allegory.

In the upper part of the picture Fame is sounding a trumpet. The heraldic shield of Madrid is supported by a classic figure; while a child holds aloft a medallion on which is inscribed ‘2 de Mayo.’ The date is an allusion to the massacre in the streets of Madrid and the downfall of Joseph Buonaparte.

Ayuntamiento, Madrid.

5. An Allegory.

In the foreground a child leans against a column having upon it geometric figures; two children support a tablet inscribed with algebraic numbers. In the background groups of students. The arms of Spain prominent in the centre of the picture.

6. Truth the Daughter of Time.

A small picture in the collection of Don José Martinez Espinosa, Madrid.

7. The Apotheosis of Music.

On a rock from which a cascade descends, a presiding genius is seated; near her, in the air, three nude figures are floating; one holds a baton with which he is conducting an angelic choir, another bears a trumpet, and a third the cymbals. A group composed of three mortals hearken attentively.

In the possession of Don Luis Navas, Madrid.{167}

8. Spain creating History.

Old Chronos is taking by the hand a figure bearing the records of Spain. A classic figure, seated, pen in hand, prepares to enrol the chronicles.

In the possession of Don Luis Navas, Madrid.

### RELIGIOUS SUBJECTS

1. Apparition of Our Lady of the Column.

Painted upon the altar-screen of the church of Fuendetodos, Aragón.

2. Our Lady of Sorrows.

Goya mentions this painting in a letter to his friend Zapater in 1775, but its situation is unknown.

3. The Symbol of the Trinity.

The emblematic triangle: angels and archangels adore the holy token.

A fresco in the church of Notre-Dame del Pilar, Zaragoza.

4. Our Lady, Queen of Martyrs.

The Virgin, seated enthroned on clouds, is surrounded by angels, saints, and martyrs.

A fresco in the church of Notre-Dame del Pilar, Zaragoza.

5. Our Lady, Queen of Martyrs.

Goya’s study for the preceding fresco.

Chapter of the church of Notre-Dame del Pilar, Zaragoza.

6. Two Divine and two Cardinal Virtues: Faith, Charity; Fortitude and Patience.

Frescoes in the church of Notre-Dame del Pilar, Zaragoza.{168}

7. St. Brulno, Bishop of Zaragoza.

Full length. Is in the attitude of benediction; in his left hand a pastoral staff.

Church of Notre-Dame del Pilar, Zaragoza.

8. St. Bernard of Sienna preaching before Alfonso, King of Aragon.

The king and his courtiers are surrounded by a large congregation attending the sermon. In the crowd Goya is himself represented.

Church of San Francisco el Grande.

9. St. Bernard.

A study for the preceding picture.

In the collection of the Marqués de Torrecilla, Madrid.

10. St. Bernard.

A second study for the same subject.

Belonging to the Zapater family, Zaragoza.

11. St. Bernard.

A third study for the same subject. The figure of Goya is omitted.

In the collection of the Marqués de Torrecilla, Madrid.

12. The Assumption.

Altar-screen of Chinchon parish church.

13. The Immaculate Conception.

Full length, life size.

Calatrava College, Salamanca.

14. St. Benedict.

Full length, life size.

Calatrava College, Salamanca.

15. St. Bernard.

Full length, life size.

Calatrava College, Salamanca.{169}

16. St. Raymond.

Full length, life size.

Calatrava College, Salamanca.

17. The Marques de Lombay, afterwards canonised as St. Francis of Borgia, quitting his Family in order to live the Spiritual Life.

Valencia cathedral.

18. A study for the preceding subject.

In the possession of the Marqués de Santa Cruz, Madrid.

19. St. Francis of Borgia exhorting a Dying Man to Repentance.

Valencia cathedral.

20. A study for the preceding subject.

Marqués de Santa Cruz, Madrid.

21. The Betrayal of Christ.

Jesus in the midst of a crowd. Judas points Him out to the Roman soldiery.

Toledo cathedral.

22. A sketch for the preceding subject.

Don Luis Rotondo, Madrid.

23. Christ crucified.

This picture, although ascribed by some to Goya, is believed to be by his brother-in-law, Francisco Bayeu.

Toledo cathedral.

24. A Pietá.

Archbishop’s palace, Toledo.

25. Death of St. Joseph.

Church of Santa Ana, Valladolid.

26. Death of St. Joseph.

Don A. de Beruete, Madrid.{170}

27. SS. Bernard and Robert.

A kneeling man receiving baptism from the saints.

Church of Santa Ana, Valladolid.

28. St. Luitgarde praying before a Crucifix.

A palm branch in the foreground.

Church of Santa Ana, Valladolid.

29. St. Omeline praying.

Church of Santa Ana, Valladolid.

30. Miracle of St. Antony.

A corpse, resuscitated, rises from the tomb at the bidding of the saint.

Church of St. Antonio de la Florida, Madrid.

31. Miracle of St. Antony.

Sketch for the principal group of preceding.

Conde de Villagonzalo, Madrid.

32. Angels and Cherubim.

Church of St. Antonio de la Florida, Madrid.

33. Sketch for preceding.

Conde de Villagonzalo, Madrid.

34. Christ crucified.

The Prado, Madrid.

35. Holy Family.

The Prado, Madrid.

36. Holy Family.

Duque de Noblejas, Madrid.

37. Saints Justa and Rufina, the Guardians of Seville.

In the distance, the Giralda. Signed.

38. Sketch for preceding.

Don Pablo Bosch, Madrid.

39. St. Joseph de Calasanz.

Church of St. Antonio, Madrid.{171}

40. Study for preceding, with some differences.

M. Leon Bonnat, Paris.

41. St. Peter offering Bread to a Figure emerging from a Tomb.

Cathedral, Valladolid.

42. St. Blas.

Church of Urrea de Gaen, Aragon.

43. St. Francis. Pictures said to be in America.

44. St. John. Pictures said to be in America.

45. The Possessed.

A priest expelling devils.

The Prado, Madrid.

46. Tobias and the Angel.

Pascual Galvo family, Valladolid.

47. Tobias and the Angel.

Sketch. Zapater family, Zaragoza.

48. Apparition of St. Isidore to King Ferdinand III. under the Walls of Seville.

Don A. Canovas, Madrid.

49. The Nativity.

Don P. Lozaño, Madrid.

50. St. Peter.

Don A. Pidal, Madrid. Signed.

51. The Garden of Olives.

Schools of San Antonio, Madrid. Signed.

52. St. Isabel tending Lepers.

Sketch. Don C. Velasco, Madrid.

53. Bishop in Ecstasy.

Zapater family, Zaragoza.

54. Head of John the Baptist.

Conde de Villagonzalo, Madrid.{172}

55. The Murder of St. Thomas à Becket.

Sold in Paris, 1892.

56. St. Hermengilde in Prison.

Sketch. Don C. Velasco, Madrid.

57. A Thanksgiving.

In a church a young woman with her infant kneels before the priest, who pronounces the benediction.

Formerly in the Madrazo Gallery, Madrid.

58 and 59. Studies for the preceding.

Respectively in the possession of the Marques de Torrecilla and Conde Esteban de Gollantes, Madrid.

60. The Viaticum.

A priest, accompanied by many figures, carries the Viaticum to a dying man.

Mme. de Lacy, Bordeaux-Caudéron. Doubtful.

61. Interior of the Church of La Seo, Zaragoza.

A priest preaching to his congregation.

Mme. de Lacy, Bordeaux-Caudéron. Doubtful.

62. Interior of a Church, with Figures.

Formerly in the Aroza Collection, Paris.

### THE TAPESTRY CARTOONS

A series of forty-six Cartoons executed by Goya between 1776 and 1791, for reproduction on tapestry. The Prado, Madrid.

1. Lunch on the Banks of the Manzanares.

2. The Dance at San Antonio de la Florida.

Dancing on the banks of the Manzanares.

3. The Scuffle at the Venta Nueva (New Inn).

4. Al fresco scene.

Couples courting in a wooded Andalusian scene.{173}

5. The Toper.

6. The Parasol.

Youth holds a parasol over a girl.

7. The Kite.

8. The Card-Players.

9. Children playing with a Bladder.

10. Children gathering Fruit.

11. A Blind Man playing the Guitar.

12. La Feria; or, the Fair of Madrid.

13. The Crockery Seller.

14. The Soldier and the Girl.

15. La Acerolera.

Girl passes through a group of men.

16. Playing at Soldiers.

17. Children playing with a Cart.

18. Playing at Pelota.

19. The See-Saw.

20. The Washerwomen.

21. La Novillada.

A village bull-fight.

22. The Dog.

23. The Fountain.

24. The Tobacco Guard (Preventive Service).

25. The Child in the Tree.

26. The Child and the Bird.

27. The Woodcutters.

28. The Singer.

29. The Rendezvous.

30. The Doctor.

31. The Flower-Girl.{174}

32. The Harvesters.

33. The Vintagers.

34. The Wounded Mason.

35. The Poor Woman.

36. The Snow.

37. A Village Wedding.

38. Women at the Fountain.

39. Playing at Giants.

40. The Swing.

41. Fighting on Stilts.

42. Girls tossing a Manikin in a Sheet.

43. Children climbing a Tree.

44. Blindman’s-Buff.

45. Child on a Sheep.

(46. The Hunter and his Dogs.)

Sometimes included in the list.

### THE CAPRICES (LOS CAPRICHOS)

A set of eighty engravings in aqua-fortis and aqua-tinta, executed between 1796 and 1812. A facsimile edition was published by the Artistic Library of Barcelona in 1885, and another by Messrs. Boussod and Valadon at Paris in 1888:—

1. Francisco Goya y Lucientes, Painter.

2. El sí pronuncian....

‘They say yes, and give their hand to the man that first presents himself.’

3. Que viene el Coco.

‘Here comes the Bogey!{175}’

4. El de la Rollona.

A lackey with a man dressed as a child in leading-strings. Believed to symbolise the helplessness and dependence of the rich on their servants.

5. Tal para qual.

‘Birds of a feather flock together.’

6. Nadie se conoce.

Masked persons in conversation. Supposed to suggest that in this world we know each other only by appearances, which are really misleading.

7. Ni así la distingue.

‘Not thus can he distinguish her.’ A gallant scanning a young woman through an eye-glass. Similar meaning to preceding.

8. Que se la llevaron.

‘Kidnapped!’ A woman carried off by masked and hooded men.

9. Tántalo.

‘Tantalus.’ A man, wringing his hands, supports a swooning woman. Possibly points the same moral as the saying, Si vieillesse pouvait....

10. El amor y la muerte.

‘Love and death.’ A woman supporting a dying man.

11. Muchachos al aíro.

Four Andalusian brigands seated round a tree.

12. A caza de dientes.

‘Tooth-hunting.’ A woman trying to extract the tooth of a man hanging.

13. Están calientes.

‘They are hot.’ Monks at table. An ironical suggestion in the title.{176}

14. Qué sacrificio!

‘What a sacrifice!’ Young girl bestowed in marriage on an ugly old man.

15. Bellos consejos.

‘Good counsel.’ Duenna gives worldly advice to a young girl, who listens with attention.

16. Dios la perdone....

‘May God pardon her—it was her mother.’ Young lady turns scornfully from a beggar-woman. A rebuke to upstarts, forgetful of the ties of kindred.

17. Bien tirada está.

Girl drawing up her stocking in presence of an aged duenna.

18. Y se le quema la casa.

‘And his house is burning.’ Old man, seemingly drunk, does not perceive that his house is on fire.

19. Todos caer.

‘All will fall.’ Women pluck a bird which has a man’s head. Similar fowls hovering above. Suggests that men of all classes, undismayed by the fate of others, fall a prey to women.

20. Ya van desplumados.

‘They are already plucked. Young women, encouraged by old men, chasing birds furnished with men’s heads.

21. Qual la descañonan.

‘How they pluck her!’ Lawyers, in feline shape, plucking a bird provided with a woman’s head.

22. Pobrecitas!

‘Poor little things!’ Two women, hooded, escorted or annoyed by two cloaked men.

23. Aquellos polvos.

‘Dust and Ashes.’ A female victim of the Inquisition listening to the sentence read by a familiar of that tribunal.{177}

24. No hubo remedio.

‘There was no remedy.’ A woman, stripped to the waist and mounted on an ass, is led away by the officers of the Inquisition.

25. Si quebró el cántaro.

‘Because he broke the pitcher.’ Mother chastising her boy.

26. Ya tienen asiento.

‘Now they have seats.’ Two women, nude from the waist downwards, carry their chairs on their heads. Meaning obscure.

27. Quién más rendido?

‘Which is the more bored?’ A gallant paying his oft-repeated compliments to a lady, who is weary of such empty homage.

28. Chitón!

‘Hush!’ A lady of fashion makes a sign to an old dame leaning on a stick. Allusion to the fashion in Spain of confiding billets doux to beggars at the church doors.

29. Esto sí que es leer.

‘This is what he calls reading.’ A man of fashion reads in a desultory manner, while his valets attend to his toilette. Possibly a skit on some minister of state.

30. Porqué esconderlos?

‘Why hide them?’ A miser, possibly an ecclesiastic, endeavours to hide some bags of money from four persons who deride him. May be intended as a skit on the clergy, whose wealth was a matter of common knowledge.

31. Ruega por ella.

‘She prays for her.’ Girls at their toilette, and an old woman praying. Meaning obscure.{178}

32. Porque fué sensible?

‘Why was she sensitive?’ A young girl weeping in a dungeon. This may imply that people of excessive sensibility carry their own prison or torture-chamber with them.

33. Al Conde Palatino.

‘To the Count Palatine.’ A richly dressed charlatan extracting teeth. Allusion, probably, to the practice of such gentry of representing themselves as physicians to foreign potentates.

34. Las riende el sueño.

‘Sleep comforts them.’ Women asleep in prison.

35. Le descañona.

‘They shave him.’ Young man shaved by girls.

36. Mala noche.

‘A bad night.’ Women out in a stormy night.

37. Si sabrá más el discípulo?

‘Will the pupil know more [than the master]?’ A donkey, of dignified demeanour, teaching a little ass.

38. Brabisimo!

‘Bravissimo!’ A donkey applauds a monkey who plays on the guitar. Possibly a skit on Charles IV. and Godoy.

39. Asta su abuelo.

‘As far as his grandfather.’ An ass contemplates the portraits of other asses. Satire on those who seek to establish long pedigrees for themselves.

40. De qué mal morirá?

‘Of what will he die?’ An ass feels a dying man’s pulse. Perhaps a reflection on the faculty was intended.

41. Ni más ni menos.

‘Neither more nor less.’ 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.{179}

42. Tú que no puedes.

‘Thou who canst not....’ Two men staggering under the weight of two asses. The men represent the people, the asses perhaps the governing classes.

43. El sueño de la razon produce monstruosos.

‘The sleep of reason induces monstrous thoughts.’ Bats and owls fly round a sleeping man, and place a pencil in his hand wherewith to reproduce his vision.

44. Hilan delgado.

‘They spin linen.’ Old women spinning.

45. Mucho hay que chupar.

‘There is a lot to taste.’ Around a basket full of new-born children sit three topers. Meaning obscure.

46. Corrección.

‘Correction.’ Fantastic figures with heads of birds and animals. Said to be an allusion to the Holy Office.

47. Obsequio à el maestro.

‘Homage to the master.’ Wizards and witches offering a new-born infant to their chief.

48. Soplones.

‘Blowers.’ Devil on a cat is rousing some sleeping monks.

49. Duendecitos.

‘Little ghosts.’ Three monstrous beings in clerical garb. Attack on the clergy.

50. Los chinchillas.

Two persons with costumes heraldically decorated, their eyes closed, and with padlocks on their ears, are being fed by a third, blindfolded, and with ass’s ears. Allusion to the aristocracy, represented to be the victims of superstition and ignorance.

51. Se repulen.

‘They polish each other’s nails.’ Three demons clawing each other.{180}

52. Lo que puede un sastre!

‘What a tailor can do!’ Devotees prostrate themselves before an ecclesiastical vestment hung on a tree. The meaning is obvious.

53. Que pico de oro!

‘What an Orator!’ A parrot preaching to friars and others.

54. El vergonzoso.

‘How shameful.’ A man is eating from a dish held by another person. The suggestion does not lend itself to explanation.

55. Hasta la muerte.

‘Till death.’ A hideous old crone trying on a head-dress before a mirror to the amusement of a number of spectators.

56. Subir y bajar.

‘Ascent and fall.’ A monstrous satyr, representing Vice, is holding up a manikin [Godoy], while other figures are falling headlong.

57. La filiación.

‘Well mated.’ An espousal ceremony. The bride has an animal’s head, and carries her own face in her lap. The bridegroom is a hideous and repulsive-looking dwarf. A woman makes an entry in a book. Meaning obscure.

58. Trágala, perro.

‘Swallow that, dog!’ A monk threatens with an enormous syringe a kneeling priest surrounded by other monks.

59. Y aun no se van!

‘And yet they do not go!’ Two withered wretches uphold a slab of stone which threatens to overwhelm them. Not impossibly this may symbolise the determined clinging to life of even the most wretched.{181}

60. Ensayos.

‘Essays.’ An enormous goat surveys a nude man and woman who are rising in the air. Meaning obscure.

61. Volaverunt.

A handsome young woman flying through the air supported by three crouching figures. Said to represent the Duquesa de Alba.

62. Quien lo creyera?

‘Who would believe it?’ Two naked wretches fighting in mid-air are falling into the jaws of monsters.

63. Miren que grabes!

‘How grave they are!’ Men with the heads of birds and donkeys riding on grotesque-looking beasts.

64. Buen viaje!

‘Bon voyage!’ Winged monsters or witches flying through the darkness.

65. Donde va mamá?

‘Where is mamma going?’ A fat woman carried through the air by three demons, one of whom rides an owl. A cat holds a parasol over the group.

66. Allá va eso.

‘Beware!’ A man and a woman with outspread wings flying in the company of a cat and a serpent.

67. Aguarda que te unten.

‘Wait till you have been anointed!’ A goat leaps upwards while two grotesque wretches endeavour to anoint its hoofs. Alleged by some to be a derisive allusion to the sacrament of extreme unction.

68. Linda maestra!

‘Pretty mistress!’ Two witches preceded by an owl.

69. Sopla.

‘She blows!’ Woman using a child as a bellows.{182}

70. Devota profesion!

‘Devout profession!’ A woman with ass’s ears, seated astride a satyr, recites from a book at the direction of two ecclesiastics.

71. Si amanece, nos vamos.

‘The dawn is breaking, we’ll be off.’ Breaking up of a witches’ party.

72. No te escaparás.

‘You will not escape.’ A girl trying to elude winged creatures with men’s heads.

73. Mejor es holgar.

‘It’s better to do nothing.’ A man assists a woman to disentangle a skein. Girl stands by amused.

74. No grites, tonta.

‘Don’t grizzle, idiot.’ A girl alarmed at two comical monkish phantoms. A variation of the artist’s favourite theme of bogeys raised by monks.

75. No hay quién nos desate?

‘Will no one set us free?’ A man and a woman tied to the same tree. Satire on marriage.

76. Esta Vmd? pues, como digo, etc....

‘Are you there? Well, then, as I say.... Well, be careful! If not....’ Nonsensical orders issued by a fat, ridiculous-looking officer.

77. Unos á otros.

‘From one to the other.’ Old dotards attacking a third who is playing at ‘ball.’ May be intended to convey a satire on the aged who pretend to the activities and energy of youth.

78. Despacha, que despiertan.

‘Be quick, they waken.’ An old woman apparently awaking her fellow-servants.{183}

79. Nadie nos ha visto.

‘Nobody has seen us.’ Monks drinking in a cellar.

80. Ya es hora.

‘It is the hour.’ Monks stretching themselves and yawning.

Sometimes included in Los Caprichos are the following:—

81. Sueño de la mentira y de la inconstancia.

‘A dream of falsehood and inconstancy.’ In the collection of Don V. Carderera.

82. Women lamenting, while a Man gives a Dog some Medicine.

Very rare.

83. Woman sleeping in a Prison, her Feet chained to the Wall.

Very rare.

### THE DISASTERS OF WAR

A set of eighty prints in aqua-tinta. Published by the Academia de San Fernando in 1863:—

1. Tristes presentimientos....

‘Sad presentiments.’ An emaciated man, symbolical of the Spanish people, kneels in a supplicating attitude, and regards the sky, which is filled with portentous monsters.

2. Con razón ó sin ella.

‘With or without reason.’ Two peasants attacking French troops.

3. Lo mismo.

‘All the same.’ Similar subject.

4. Las mujeres dan valor.

‘Women inspire courage.’ Women resisting soldiers.{184}

5. Y son fieras.

‘And are like wild beasts.’ Similar subject.

6. Bien te se está.

‘A good thing.’ French soldiers dying.

7. Que valor!

‘Courage!’ The Maid of Zaragoza.

8. Siempre sucede.

‘What always happens.’ French soldiers put to flight.

9. No quieren.

‘They will not.’ Women resisting soldiers.

10. Tampoco.

‘Nor they.’ Similar subject.

11. Ni por esas.

‘Not for these.’ Similar subject.

12. Para eso habeis nacido?

‘Were you born for this?’ Man falls dying on a heap of slain.

13. Amarga presencia.

‘A bitter sight.’ Woman witnessing maltreatment of her husband by soldiers.

14. Duro es el paso.

‘Hard is the way.’ Hanging of prisoners.

15. Y no hay remedio.

‘And there was no remedy.’ Execution of prisoners.

16. Se aprovechar.

‘They avail themselves.’ Troops stripping the slain.

17. No se convienen.

‘They do not agree.’ Battle piece. Dispute between French officers.{185}

18. Enterrar y callar.

‘Bury and be silent.’ Weeping man and woman gaze on a heap of slain.

19. Ya no hay tiempo.

‘There is no time.’ Fruitless appeal by women to a French officer.

20. Curarlos y a otra.

‘To heal them and each other.’ Wounded guerrillas.

21. Será lo mismo.

‘It will be the same.’ Wounded men; woman weeping.

22. Tanto y más.

‘As many and more.’ Heap of slain.

23. Lo mismo en otras partes.

‘The same elsewhere.’ Similar subject.

24. Aun podrán servir.

‘They are still of use.’ Sick people carrying the wounded.

25. Tambien estos.

‘And there also.’ Wounded in an ambulance.

26. No se puede mirar.

‘That cannot be seen.’ People lying on the ground threatened by the muskets of the troops.

27. Caridad.

‘Charity.’ Corpses being thrown into a ditch.

28. Populacho.

‘The populace.’ Mutilating a corpse.

29. Lo merecia.

‘He deserved it.’ Soldier’s body being dragged by cords.{186}

30. Estragos de la guerra.

‘The tragedy of war.’ Men and women projected headlong into a cellar.

31. Fuerte cosa es!

‘Might is stronger than right!’ Prisoners being hanged by the French.

32. Por qué?

‘Why?’ Prisoner being tortured by three soldiers.

33. Que hay que hacer mas?

‘What more is there to do?’ Similar subject.

34. Por una navaja.

‘For a knife.’ Corpse of executed assassin on a scaffold.

35. No se puede saber por qué.

‘No one knows why.’ Eight men garrotted with labels round their necks.

36. Tampóco.

‘Neither.’ French soldier watches a man hanging from a tree.

37. Esto es peor.

‘This is worse.’ Mutilated corpse impaled on a tree.

38. Barbaros!

‘Barbarians!’ Execution of a prisoner.

39. Grande hazaña—Con muertos!

‘Great prowess—With the dead!’ Three horribly mutilated corpses.

40. Algun partido saca.

‘He turns it to account.’ Man fighting a wild beast.

41. Escapan entre las llamas.

‘They escape through the flames.{187}’

42. Todo va revuelto.

‘Everything in confusion.’ Friars fly hither and thither.

43. Tambien esto.

‘These also.’ Similar subject.

44. Yo lo ví.

‘I saw it.’ People flying from a village. Mother dragging away her children.

45. Y esto tambien.

‘And this also.’ Similar subject.

46. Esto malo.

‘This is bad.’ Soldiers slaughtering monks.

47. Así sucedió.

‘Thus it happened.’ Soldiers, watched by a monk, despoiling a church.

48. Cruel lástima!

‘Cruel misfortune!’ A man imploring succour near a heap of slain.

49. Caridad de una muger.

‘A woman’s charity.’ Women tending the wounded.

50. Madre infeliz.

‘Unhappy mother!’ Child, weeping, beholds its mother carried off by soldiers.

51. Gracias á la almorta.

‘Thanks to the blue vetch.’ Woman distributing grain to the afflicted.

52. No llegan á tiempo.

‘Too late.’ Women arrive too late to help a companion.

53. Espiró sin remedio.

‘He died without help.’ Group of persons round a corpse.{188}

54. Clamores en vano.

‘No help.’ Starving people vainly beseech a French dragoon for help.

55. Lo peor es pedir.

‘To beg is the worst of all.’ Starving men vainly appeal for help to a French lady.

56. Al cementerio!

‘To the cemetery.’ Corpse being carried to the graveyard.

57. Sanos y enfermos.

‘The quick and the dead.’ The hale and the sick both taking refuge in a vault.

58. No hay que dar voces.

‘Of no use to cry.’ Group of starving and afflicted persons.

59. De qué sirve una taza?

‘Of what use is one cup?’ Woman carrying a cupful of nourishment to a group of starving women.

60. No hay quien los socorra.

‘There is nobody to help them.’ Three men prostrate, another standing; all feel the approach of death.

61. Si son de otro linaje?

‘Are they of another race?’ Frenchmen remain indifferent to the appeal of some starving wretches.

62. Las camas de la muerte.

‘The deathbeds.’ Women weeping over a heap of slain.

63. Muertos recogidos.

‘The dead collected.’ A heap of slain.

64. Carretadas al cementerio.

‘Cart-loads for the cemetery.’ Carts being loaded with corpses.{189}

65. Qué alboroto es este?

‘What means this tumult?’ A French officer writes at a table. People taking to flight.

66. Extraña devocion.

‘Strange devotion.’ People adoring relics carried on the back of an ass.

67. Esta no lo es menos.

‘This is not less so.’ Procession of the image of Our Lady of Sorrows.

68. Qué locura!

‘What madness!’ A monk, surrounded by objects of popular devotion.

69. Nada.

‘Nothing.’ A spectre emerging from the tomb writes the word ‘Nada’ on a sheet of paper.

70. No saben el camino.

‘They do not know the way.’ A procession of ecclesiastics tied together by ropes. ‘The blind leading the blind.’

71. Contra el bien general.

‘Against the general good.’ An old man with bat’s ears writing in an open book. An allusion probably to some unpopular statesman.

72. Las resultas.

‘The consequences.’ The above personage and other vampires drinking the blood of a corpse, representing Spain.

73. Gatesca pantomima.

‘Cat’s pantomime.’ A monk, birds of prey, and others doing homage to a cat (Godoy?).

74. Esto es lo peor.

‘This is the worst.’ A wolf signing a document; a monk in attendance.{190}

75. Farándula de charlatanes.

‘Meeting of quacks.’ Monks with heads of asses, parrots, and pigs.

76. El buitre carnivoro.

‘The carnivorous vulture.’ A huge vulture pursued by a crowd of monks and soldiers.

77. Que se rompe la cuerda.

‘May the rope break.’ King Joseph represented walking on a rope.

78. Se defiende bien.

‘He defends himself well.’ A horse (Spain) defending himself against wolves.

79. Murió la verdad.

‘Truth died.’ Truth represented as a young woman crowned with laurels.

80. Si resucitará?

‘Will she revive?’ The same figure appearing about to arise from the grave.

(79 and 80 appear to refer to the abolition of the Constitution by Fernando VII.)

81. Fiero monstruo.

‘Bold monster.’ An enormous cat devouring human beings.

82. Esto es lo verdadero.

‘There is Truth.’ Truth is represented by a young woman leaning on the shoulder of a husbandman.

(81 and 82 are not usually included in the series Disasters of War.){191}

### LA TAUROMAQUIA (TAUROMACHIA)

A set of thirty-three prints in aqua-fortis and aqua-tinta finished about 1815.

1. Hunting Bulls across Open Country in the Olden Time.

2. Hunting the Bull on Foot.

3. Moors hunting the Bull across Country.

4. Moors bull-fighting in an Enclosure.

5. The Moor Gazul is the first to fight the Bull according to modern rules.

6. Moors using their Burnouses to irritate the Bull.

7. Origin of the Banderilla.

8. Moor attacked by a Bull.

9. Spaniard wearing a Turban killing a Bull in the Arena.

10. Charles V. kills a Bull in the Arena at Valladolid.

11. The Cid spearing a Bull.

12. People hamstringing a Bull.

13. Horseman places some Banderillas without the Help of the Chulos.

14. The Student of Falces, enveloped in his Cape, plays with the Bull.

15. The famous Martincho plants Banderillas.

16. Martincho seizes the Bull by the Tail and the Horns.

17. Moors using Donkeys instead of Horses.

18. Intrepidity of Martincho at Zaragoza.

19. Similar Exploit.

20. Exploit of Juanito Apiñani at Madrid.{192}

21. Spectators killed by the Bull at Madrid.

22. The Woman Picador, Pajuelera, at Zaragoza.

23. Mariano Ceballos in the Arena.

24. Ceballos mounted on a Bull.

25. Bull being baited with Dogs.

26. Picador overthrown by the Bull.

27. Fernando del Toro in the Arena.

28. Rendon killing a Bull with one Blow at Madrid.

29. Pepe-Illo in front of the Bull.

30. Pedro Romero in the Arena.

31. Flaming Banderillas.

32. Bull overthrowing Picadors.

33. Death of Pepe-Illo in the Arena.

The plates 34 to 40 do not properly belong to the series.

34. Variation of plate No. 24.

35. Combat between the Bull and Picadors mounted on Donkeys harnessed to a Carriage.

36. Scene in the Bull-Ring.

37. Bull carrying a wounded Toreador impaled on his Horns.

38. Bull carrying dead Toreador impaled on his Horns.

39. Variation of plate No. 25.

40. Variation of plate No. 18.

41. The Bulls. A study of the animals in various attitudes.

This plate belongs to Monsieur Lucas of Paris, and does not properly belong to this set.{193}

### LOS PROVERBIOS (THE PROVERBS)

A collection of eighteen plates, now the property of the Academia de San Fernando, Madrid.

1. Six Women tossing a dead Donkey and some Puppets in a Blanket.

2. Soldiers flying from a Tree draped to represent a Ghost.

3. Ten Persons seated on a rotten Branch over an Abyss listening to an Orator.

4. A gigantic Peasant dances, with Castanets, before Mannikins.

5. A Man riding on a winged Monster carries off a Woman.

6. A Man, seemingly in a Condition of Fury, throws down an old Man, who begs for Mercy.

7. A Man and Woman joined together at the Shoulders. A Crowd kneels before the Man.

8. Persons apparently preparing to run a Sack-Race.

9. A fantastic Personage offers some Kittens to two Women.

10. A Woman dragged along by a Horse. In the Background an Animal about to devour a Woman.

11. A two-headed Woman pursued by two Persons, who give up the chase.

12. Majos and Majas dancing.

13. Men, with wings attached, attempting to fly.

14. Two fantastic Persons exchange Salutations; an odd Crowd of Spectators.

15. Monk preaching, while a Soldier throws himself into an Abyss.{194}

16. Angry Woman quarrelling with a three-armed Man.

17. Persons deriding a blind Man, who is defended by a Dog.

18. An old Man attended by Monsters approaches a Corpse.

The following plates do not properly belong to the series:—

19. A Crowd watching some Trees tricked out as Ghosts.

Belongs to M. E. Lucas.

20. A young Woman rides a Horse on a Trapèze.

21. Moors offering an open Book and a Collar to an Elephant.

The property of M. E. Lucas. Published in 1877 under the title of ‘Otros leyes por el pueblo’ (Other laws for the people).

Printed by T. and A. Constable, Printers to His Majesty at the Edinburgh University Press

{195}

PLATE 1.

THE FAMILY OF CHARLES IV.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{196}

PLATE 2.

THE INFANTE DON CARLOS.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{197}

PLATE 3.

THE INFANTE FRANCISCO DE PAULA ANTONIO.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{198}

PLATE 4.

THE INFANTA MARIA JOSEFA.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{199}

PLATE 5.

THE INFANTE DON ANTONIO, BROTHER OF CHARLES IV.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{200}

PLATE 6.

THE INFANTE DON CARLOS MARIA ISIDRO.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{201}

PLATE 7.

KING CHARLES IV.

(Ministerio de Hacienda, Madrid.)

{202}

PLATE 8.

KING CHARLES IV.

(Ministerio de Hacienda, Madrid.)

{203}

PLATE 9.

KING CHARLES IV.

{204}

PLATE 10.

KING CHARLES IV.

(Royal Palace, Madrid.)

{205}

PLATE 11.

KING CHARLES IV.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{206}

PLATE 12.

KING CHARLES IV.

(Marques de Casa Torres, Madrid.)

{207}

PLATE 13.

QUEEN MARIA LUISA.

(Don A. de Beruete, Madrid.)

{208}

PLATE 14.

QUEEN MARIA LUISA.

(Don José Lázan.)

{209}

PLATE 15.

QUEEN MARIA LUISA.

(Ministerio de Hacienda, Madrid.)

{210}

PLATE 16.

QUEEN MARIA LUISA.

(Marques de Casa Torres, Madrid.)

{211}

PLATE 17.

QUEEN MARIA LUISA.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{212}

PLATE 18.

QUEEN MARIA LUISA.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{213}

PLATE 19.

FERDINAND VII.

(Academy of St. Ferdinand, Madrid.)

{214}

PLATE 20.

FERDINAND VII.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{215}

PLATE 21.

FERDINAND VII.

(Prado, Madrid.)

PLATE 22.

FERDINAND VII.

(Ancient Collection of Eustaquio Veate.

{216}

{217}

PLATE 23.

DON LUIS, PRINCE OF PARMA.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{218}

PLATE 24.

THE DUCHESS OF ABRANTES.

(Duquesa de Abrantes, Madrid.)

{219}

PLATE 25.

THE DUCHESS OF ALBA.

(Don Rafael Barrio.)

{220}

PLATE 26.

THE DUCHESS OF ALBA.

(Palacio de Liria, Madrid.)

{221}

PLATE 27.

THE DUCHESS OF ALBA.

(The Duke of Alba, Madrid.)

{222}

PLATE 28.

THE DUCHESS OF ALBA.

{223}

PLATE 29.

THE CONDESA DE ALTAMIRA AND DAUGHTER.

(Marques de Cervera.)

{224}

PLATE 30.

THE COUNT OF ALTAMIRA.

(The Bank of Spain, Madrid.)

{225}

PLATE 31.

THE INFANTE DON LUIS DE BORBON.

(Marques de Casa Torres, Madrid.)

{226}

PLATE 32.

ALTAMIRANO AUDITOR OF SEVILLE.

(Marques de la Vega Inclan.)

{227}

PLATE 33.

DON MANUEL LAPEÑA, MARQUES DE BONDAD REAL.

(Don Joaquin Argamanilla.)

{228}

PLATE 34.

THE MARQUESA DE CABALLERO.

(Marques de Corvera.)

{229}

PLATE 35.

CONDE DE CABARRUS.

(Bank of Spain, Madrid.)

{230}

PLATE 36.

THE WIFE OF CEAN BERMUDEZ.

(Marques de Casa Torres, Madrid.)

{231}

PLATE 37.

J. CEAN BERMUDEZ.

(Marques de Corvera, Madrid.)

{232}

PLATE 38.

DOÑA LORENZO CORREA.

(M. Bischoffsheim, Paris.)

{233}

PLATE 39.

THE TOREADOR COSTILLARES.

(Don José Lazaro.)

{234}

PLATE 40.

DON JOAQUIN MARIA FERRER.

(Count of Candilla.)

{235}

PLATE 41.

CONDESA-DUQUESA DE BENAVENTE Y OSUNA.

(Madrid.)

{236}

PLATE 42.

DOÑA MANUELA DE ALVAREZ COIÑAS.

(Marquis of Baroja.)

{237}

PLATE 43.

FLORIDA BLANCA.

(Marquesa de Martorell.)

{238}

PLATE 44.

DON ANTONIO FORASTER.

(Don J. Millan.)

{239}

PLATE 45.

THE ENGINEER IGNACIO GARCINI.

(The Garcini Family, Madrid.)

{240}

PLATE 46.

DOÑA JOSEFA CASTILLA-PORTUGAL.

(Don Vicente Garcini.)

{241}

PLATE 47.

DON JUAN ANTONIO CUERVO.

(D. F. Duran.)

{242}

PLATE 48.

DOÑA MARIA ILDEFONSO DABALOS.

(Count of Villagonzalo.)

{243}

PLATE 49.

GENERAL DON JUAN MARTIN, SURNAMED EL EMPECINADO.

(Don Luis Navas.)

{244}

PLATE 50.

GODOY, PRINCE OF THE PEACE.

(Academy of St. Ferdinand, Madrid.)

{245}

PLATE 51.

F. GUILLEMARDET, AMBASSADOR OF THE FRENCH REPUBLIC TO SPAIN, 1798.

(Louvre, Paris.)

{246}

PLATE 52.

JASPAR MELCHOR DE JOVELLANOS.

(Marquesa de Villamajor, Madrid.)

{247}

PLATE 53.

ASENSIO JULIA (‘EL PESCADORET’).

(Comtesse de Paris.)

{248}

PLATE 54.

THE MILKMAID OF BORDEAUX.

(Condesa Vinda de Muguiro.)

{249}

PLATE 55.

THE PAINTER ASENSIO JULIA (‘EL PESCADORET’).

(Louvre.)

{250}

PLATE 56.

THE MARQUESA DE LAZAN.

(Comtesse de Montijo.)

{251}

PLATE 57.

DON FRANCISCO LARRUMBE.

(The Bank of Spain, Madrid.)

{252}

PLATE 58.

THE FAMOUS BOOKSELLER OF THE CALLE DE CARRETAS.

(Don Benito Garriga.)

{253}

PLATE 59.

DON J. ANTONIO LLORENTE, HISTORIAN OF THE INQUISITION.

(Don Francisco Llorente y Garcia de Vinuesa.)

{254}

PLATE 60.

THE DUKE OF SAN CARLOS.

(Marques de la Torrecilla.)

{255}

PLATE 61.

THE DUKE OF SAN CARLOS.

(Conde de Villagonzalo.)

{256}

PLATE 62.

THE ACTOR ISIDORO MAIQUEZ.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{257}

PLATE 63.

THE ACTOR ISIDORO MAIQUEZ: REPETITION OF THE FOREGOING.

(Marques de Casa Torres, Madrid.)

{258}

PLATE 64.

THE COUNTESS OF MIRANDA DEL CASTAÑAR.

(Formerly in Montijo Collection.)

{259}

PLATE 65.

THE CONDE DE MIRANDA.

{260}

PLATE 66.

LEANDRO FERNANDEZ DE MORATIN.

(Academy of St. Ferdinand, Madrid.)

{261}

PLATE 67.

THE FAMILY OF THE COUNTESS OF MONTIJO.

(Palacio de Liria, Madrid.)

{262}

PLATE 68.

SEÑOR J. B. DE MUGUIRO.

(Condesa Vinda de Muguiro.)

{263}

PLATE 69.

THE MARQUES DE CASTRO TERREÑO.

{264}

PLATE 70.

THE MARQUESA DE CASTRO TERREÑO.

{265}

PLATE 71.

CAMARÓN.

(Doña E. Camarón.)

{266}

PLATE 72.

MUÑARRIZ.

(Academy of St. Ferdinand, Madrid.)

{267}

PLATE 73.

THE DUKE OF OSUNA, WITH HIS FAMILY.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{268}

PLATE 74.

ADMIRAL MAZAREDO.

(Don M. Hernando.)

{269}

PLATE 75.

MELÉNDEZ VALDÉS.

(Señor Suárez Inclán.)

{270}

PLATE 76.

THE DUKE OF OSUNA.

(Formerly in the Collection of the Duke of Osuna.)

{271}

PLATE 77.

THE DUKE OF OSUNA.

(? Marquesa de Villamajor, Madrid.)

{272}

PLATE 78.

THE DUKE OF OSUNA.

(M. Duniat, Paris.)

{273}

PLATE 79.

THE DUKE OF OSUNA.

(Formerly in the Palace of the Duke of Osuna, Madrid.)

{274}

PLATE 80.

DUCHESS DEL PARQUE.

(Marques de la Vega, Madrid.)

{275}

PLATE 81.

DOCTOR PEYRAL.

(National Gallery, London.)

{276}

PLATE 82.

GENERAL PALAFOX.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{277}

PLATE 83.

DOÑA ISABEL CORBO DE PORCEL.

(National Gallery, London.)

{278}

PLATE 84.

DON TIBURCIO PEREZ.

(D. F. Duran and Cuervo.)

{279}

PLATE 85.

DON MARIANO LUIS DE URQUIJO.

(Academy of History, Madrid.)

{280}

PLATE 86.

DON TOMÁS PÉREZ ESTALA.

(Countess of Cedillo.)

{281}

PLATE 87.

DON PANTALEÓN PEREZ DE NENIN.

(Don P. Labat.)

{282}

PLATE 88.

THE MARQUESA DE PONTEJOS.

(Marques de Martorell.)

{283}

PLATE 89.

DON RAMON PIGNATELLI.

(Duquesa de Villahermosa.)

{284}

PLATE 90.

GENERAL RICARDOS.

(Madrid.)

{285}

PLATE 91.

THE TOREADOR JOSÉ ROMERO.

(Madrid.)

{286}

PLATE 92.

MARQUES DE SAN ADRIÁN.

(In the Collection of the Family.)

{287}

PLATE 93.

THE MATADOR PEDRO ROMERO.

(Duke of Veragua.)

{288}

PLATE 94.

RAMON SATUE, IN 1823 (ALCAIDE DE CORTE).

(Dr. Benito Garriga.)

{289}

PLATE 95.

DON MANUEL SILVELA.

(Don F. Silvela.)

{290}

PLATE 96.

DOÑA MARIA TERESA APODACA DE SESMA.

(Don Andres Arteta.)

{291}

PLATE 97.

MARQUESA DE LA SOLANA.

(Marques del Socorro.)

{292}

PLATE 98.

GENERAL URRUTIA.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{293}

PLATE 99.

MARIA DEL ROSARIO FERNANDEZ, SURNAMED ‘LA TIRANA.’ A CELEBRATED ACTRESS.

(Academy of St. Ferdinand, Madrid.)

{294}

PLATE 100.

THE ACTRESS MARIA DEL ROSARIO FERNANDEZ, SURNAMED ‘LA TIRANA.’

(Conde de Villagonzalo.)

{295}

PLATE 101.

THE MARQUES DE TOLOSA.

(Bank of Spain, Madrid.)

{296}

PLATE 102.

THE CONDE DE TEBA.

(Don J. Lázaro.)

{297}

PLATE 103.

JOSÉ DE VARGAS PONCE.

(Academy of History, Madrid.)

{298}

PLATE 104.

DON JOSÉ DE TORO ZAMBRANO.

(Bank of Spain, Madrid.)

{299}

PLATE 105.

DOÑA ANTONIA ZARATE.

(Señora Vinda de Albacete.)

{300}

PLATE 106.

DOÑA ANTONIA ZARATE.

(Señora Vinda de Albacete.)

{301}

PLATE 107.

DOÑA LOLA ZIMENEZ.

(M. Chiramy, Paris.)

{302}

PLATE 108.

DON EVARISTO PEREZ DE CASTRO, PRESIDENT OF THE COUNCIL OF CASTILE.

(Louvre, Paris.)

{303}

PLATE 109.

DON JUAN JOSÉ MATEO ARIAS DAIRLA.

(Marquesa de Almaguer.)

{304}

PLATE 110.

FATHER LASCANAL.

(Don J. Lázaro.)

{305}

PLATE 111.

DON RAMON DE POSADA Y SOTO.

(Don Jose Maria Perez Caballero.)

{306}

PLATE 112.

MARQUESA DE CABALLERO.

(Marques de Corvera, Madrid.)

{307}

PLATE 113.

THE CONDE DE GAZINZA.

(Marques de Casa Torres, Madrid.)

{308}

PLATE 114.

MORATIN.

(Don F. Silvela.)

{309}

PLATE 115.

PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST, BY HIMSELF.

(Academy of St. Ferdinand, Madrid.)

{310}

PLATE 116.

PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST, BY HIMSELF.

(D. A. Pidal.)

{311}

PLATE 117.

PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST, BY HIMSELF.

{312}

PLATE 118.

PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST, BY HIMSELF.

(M. Leon Bonnet.)

{313}

PLATE 119.

GOYA AT THE AGE OF 80, BY VINCENTE LOPEZ.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{314}

PLATE 120.

DON J. B. DE GOICOECHEA.

(Don Felipe Modet.)

{315}

PLATE 121.

GOYA’S GRANDSON.

(Marques de Alcañices.)

{316}

PLATE 122.

DOÑA FELICIANA BAYEU.

(D. C. Ferriz.)

{317}

PLATE 123.

DON JUAN MARTIN DE GOICOECHEA.

(Marques de Casa Torres, Madrid.)

{318}

PLATE 124.

DOÑA NARCISA BARAÑONA DE GOICOECHEA.

(Don Felipe Modet.)

{319}

PLATE 125.

DOÑA JUANA GALARZA DE GOICOECHEA.

(Marques de Casa Torres, Madrid.)

{320}

PLATE 126.

THE PAINTER, FRANCISCO BAYEU, BROTHER-IN-LAW OF GOYA.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{321}

PLATE 127.

JOSEFA BAYEU, GOYA’S WIFE.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{322}

PLATE 128.

GROUP OF HEADS.

(Formerly in the Palace of San Telmo, now in the Collection of the Comtesse de Paris.)

{323}

PLATE 129.

PORTRAIT STUDY OF A WOMAN.

{324}

PLATE 130.

PORTRAIT OF A YOUNG GIRL.

(Private Property.)

{325}

PLATE 131.

PORTRAIT OF A LADY.

{326}

PLATE 132.

PORTRAIT OF A LADY.

(Conde de Peñalvez.)

{327}

PLATE 133.

PORTRAIT OF A LADY.

(Don José Lázaro.)

{328}

PLATE 134.

PORTRAIT OF A LADY.

(Don A. de Beruete.)

{329}

PLATE 135.

PORTRAIT OF A LADY.

(Don A. de Beruete.)

{330}

PLATE 136.

PORTRAIT OF A LADY.

(Don A. de Beruete.)

{331}

PLATE 137.

PORTRAIT OF A LADY.

(Don R. Garcia.)

{332}

PLATE 138.

PORTRAIT OF A WOMAN.

(Louvre, Paris.)

{333}

PLATE 139.

A LITTLE GIRL.

(Marques de Casa Torres, Madrid.)

{334}

PLATE 140.

PORTRAIT OF A LADY.

(Don J. Gutierrez Martin.)

{335}

PLATE 141.

YOUNG SPANISH WOMAN.

(Louvre, Paris.)

{336}

PLATE 142.

PORTRAIT OF A MAN.

(Private Collection.)

{337}

PLATE 143.

THE OLD MAN.

(Conde de Da. Marina.)

{338}

PLATE 144.

PORTRAIT OF AN ARCHITECT.

{339}

PLATE 145.

PORTRAIT OF A DOCTOR.

{340}

PLATE 146.

PORTRAIT OF A LADY.

{341}

PLATE 147.

PORTRAIT OF A LADY.

{342}

PLATE 148.

PORTRAIT OF A LADY.

{343}

PLATE 149.

PORTRAIT OF A LADY.

{344}

PLATE 150.

PORTRAIT OF A MAN.

{345}

PLATE 151.

PORTRAIT OF A LADY.

(Señor Orossen.)

{346}

PLATE 152.

PORTRAIT OF A LADY.

{347}

PLATE 153.

PORTRAIT OF A GENTLEMAN.

{348}

PLATE 154.

CHARLES IV.

(Comtesse de Paris.)

{349}

PLATE 155.

QUEEN MARIA LUISA.

(Comtesse de Paris.)

{350}

PLATE 156.

THE INFANTA ISABEL, AFTERWARDS QUEEN OF THE TWO SICILIES, AT THE AGE OF 12 YEARS.

(Comtesse de Paris.)

{351}

PLATE 157.

PORTRAIT OF A MAN.

{352}

PLATE 158.

DON FELIX COLON, SPANISH AUTHOR.

(Don Ricardo Traumann, Madrid.)

{353}

PLATE 159.

(FRAGMENT) DON FELIX COLON, SPANISH AUTHOR.

(Don Ricardo Traumann, Madrid.)

{354}

PLATE 160.

PORTRAIT OF A MAN.

{355}

PLATE 161.

PORTRAIT OF A BOY.

{356}

PLATE 162.

PORTRAIT OF A BOY.

{357}

PLATE 163.

PORTRAIT OF A BOY.

{358}

PLATE 164.

PORTRAIT OF A LADY.

{359}

PLATE 165.

PORTRAIT OF A LADY.

{360}

PLATE 166.

PORTRAIT OF A LADY.

{361}

PLATE 167.

PORTRAIT OF A YOUNG LADY.

(Mons. C. G., Paris.)

{362}

PLATE 168.

EPISODE OF THE FRENCH INVASION OF 1808. THE STRUGGLE IN THE PUERTA DEL SOL BETWEEN THE CITIZENS AND THE CAVALRY OF THE IMPERIAL GUARD.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{363}

PLATE 169.

ATTACK ON MURAT’S CAVALRY BY THE PEOPLE OF MADRID MAY 2ND, 1808 (SKETCH).

(Duquesa de Villahermosa.)

{364}

PLATE 170.

CASTING BULLETS BY MOONLIGHT IN THE HILLS OF TARDIENTA.

(Royal Palace, Madrid.)

{365}

PLATE 171.

SCENES OF THE 2ND MAY 1808: A GROUP OF CITIZENS OF MADRID BEING SHOT BY THE TROOPS OF MURAT.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{366}

PLATE 172.

BATTLE-SCENE.

(Marques de Casa Torres, Madrid.)

{367}

PLATE 173.

MANUFACTURING POWDER IN THE SIERRA DE TARDIENTA.

(Royal Palace, Madrid.)

{368}

PLATE 174.

THE TRIBUNAL OF THE INQUISITION.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{369}

PLATE 175.

THE PROCESSION OF FLAGELLANTS.

(Academy of St. Ferdinand, Madrid.)

{370}

PLATE 176.

A MEETING OF THE COMPANY OF THE PHILIPPINES {371}PRESIDED OVER BY FERDINAND VII.

PLATE 177.

THE CITY OF MADRID: AN ALLEGORY.

(The Corporation of Madrid.)

{372}

PLATE 178.

MUSIC: AN ALLEGORY.

(Don Luis Navas.)

{373}

PLATE 179.

SPAIN MAKING HISTORY.

(Don Luis Navas.)

{374}

PLATE 180.

THE MADHOUSE.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{375}

PLATE 181.

THE MAJAS OF THE BALCONY.

(Collection of the Duque de Marchesa.)

{376}

PLATE 182.

THE MAJAS OF THE BALCONY.

(Repetition of the Foregoing, with Variations.)

{377}

PLATE 183.

THE MAJAS OF THE BALCONY.

(Repetition of the Foregoing, with Variations.)

{378}

PLATE 184.

LA MAJA (NUDE).

(Prado, Madrid.)

{379}

PLATE 185.

LA MAJA (CLOTHED).

(Prado, Madrid.)

{380}

PLATE 186.

THE KNIFE-GRINDER.

(Budapest.)

{381}

PLATE 187.

THE WATER-CARRIER.

(Budapest.)

{382}

PLATE 188.

OLD AGE

(Lille Museum.)

{383}

PLATE 189.

ROBBERY OF A COACH.

(Marques de Castro Serna.)

{384}

PLATE 190.

BRIGANDS.

(Marques de la Romana.)

{385}

PLATE 191.

BRIGAND MURDERING A WOMAN.

(Marques de la Romana.)

{386}

PLATE 192.

BRIGANDS STRIPPING THEIR CAPTIVES.

(Marques de la Romana.)

{387}

PLATE 193.

MURDER BY BRIGANDS.

(Marques de la Romana, Madrid.)

{388}

PLATE 194.

BRIGANDS’ CAVE

(Marques de la Romana, Madrid.)

{389}

PLATE 195.

GOYA AND THE DUCHESS OF ALBA.

(Marques de la Romana.)

{390}

PLATE 196.

THE PLAGUE TERROR.

(Marques de la Romana.)

{391}

PLATE 197.

THE MONK’S VISIT.

(Marques de la Romana.)

{392}

PLATE 198.

A MASQUERADE.

(Duquesa de Villahermosa, Madrid.)

{393}

PLATE 199.

THE DANCE.

(Marques de la Torrecilla.)

{394}

PLATE 200.

THE FUNERAL OF THE SARDINE: CARNIVAL SCENE.

(Academy of St. Ferdinand, Madrid.)

{395}

PLATE 201.

THE BOOTH AT THE FAIR.

(Marques de Castro Serna.)

{396}

PLATE 202.

THE GREASY POLE.

(Marques de Castro Torres.)

{397}

PLATE 203.

THE BONFIRE.

(Conde de Villagonzalo.)

{398}

PLATE 204.

NOCTURNAL SCENE.

(Marques de la Romana.)

{399}

PLATE 205.

THE PICNIC.

(Marques de la Torrecilla.)

{400}

PLATE 206.

THE INUNDATION.

(Marques de Castro Serna.)

{401}

PLATE 207.

THE VILLAGE ON FIRE.

(Marques de Castro Serna.)

{402}

PLATE 208.

CAPRICE.

(Doña C. Berganza de Martin.)

{403}

PLATE 209.

CAPRICE.

(Doña C. Berganza de Martin.)

{404}

PLATE 210.

CAPRICE.

(Don A. Pidal.)

{405}

PLATE 211.

DOGS AND GUNS: DESIGN FOR TAPESTRY.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{406}

PLATE 212.

A DEAD BIRD.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{407}

PLATE 213.

DEAD BIRDS.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{408}

PLATE 214.

A PICADOR ON HORSEBACK.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{409}

PLATE 215.

PICADOR AND BULL.

(Marques de Baroja, Madrid.)

{410}

PLATE 216.

DEATH OF THE PICADOR.

(Paris.)

{411}

PLATE 217.

A BULL-FIGHT.

(Bequeathed to the Royal Academy.)

{412}

PLATE 218.

A BULL ESCAPED FROM THE ARENA.

(Duque de Veragua.)

{413}

PLATE 219.

MEETING OF WITCHES.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{414}

PLATE 220.

GALICIAN SHEPHERDS FIGHTING.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{415}

PLATE 221.

THE PROCESSION.

(Conde de Candilla.)

{416}

PLATE 222.

CAPRICE.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{417}

PLATE 223.

THE FATES.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{418}

PLATE 224.

SATURN DEVOURING ONE OF HIS CHILDREN.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{419}

PLATE 225.

JUDITH AND HOLOFERNES.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{420}

PLATE 226.

TWO MONKS.

{421}

PLATE 227.

THE MAJA.

(From Goya’s Country House, near Madrid.)

{422}

PLATE 228.

A CAPRICE.

{423}

PLATE 229.

LISTENING TO THE NEWS.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{424}

PLATE 230.

A GROUP OF WITCHES.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{425}

PLATE 231.

A GROUP OF WITCHES.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{426}

PLATE 232.

THE BULL-FIGHT.

{427}

PLATE 233.

PILGRIMAGE TO THE FOUNTAIN OF SAN ISIDRO.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{428}

PLATE 234.

MEETING OF WITCHES.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{429}

PLATE 235.

TWO OLD PEOPLE EATING PORRIDGE.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{430}

PLATE 236.

THE MASS OF PARIDA.

(Marques de la Torrecilla.)

{431}

PLATE 237.

THE TOPERS.

{432}

PLATE 238.

WOMEN OF MADRID, AND FRIARS.

(Marques de Casa Torres.)

{433}

PLATE 239.

THE MAJAS AND THE MAJO.

{434}

PLATE 240.

THE WITCH.

{435}

PLATE 241.

LAUGHING WOMEN.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{436}

PLATE 242.

THE SWING.

(Duke de Montellano.)

{437}

PLATE 243.

THE GREASY POLE.

(Duke de Montellano.)

{438}

PLATE 244.

THE ACCIDENT.

(Duke de Montellano.)

{439}

PLATE 245.

COACH ATTACKED BY BANDITS.

(Duke de Montellano.)

{440}

PLATE 246.

BUILDING THE CHURCH.

(From the Collection of the Duque de Osuna.)

{441}

PLATE 247.

THE VILLAGE PROCESSION.

(From the Collection of the Duque de Osuna.)

{442}

PLATE 248.

SUMMER: THRESHERS OF WHEAT.

(Don Ricardo Traumann.)

{443}

PLATE 249.

THE HERMITAGE OF SAN ISIDRO.

(Don P. F. Durán.)

{444}

PLATE 250.

THE WOUNDED MASON.

(Don P. F. Durán.)

{445}

PLATE 251.

THE HERMITAGE OF SAN ISIDRO.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{446}

PLATE 252.

SCENE FROM THE PLAY ‘EL HECHIZADO POR FUERZA’—BEWITCHED BY FORCE.

(National Gallery, London.)

{447}

PLATE 253.

THE PICNIC.

(National Gallery, London.)

{448}

PLATE 254.

HERD OF BULLS COMING FROM THE MUÑOZA.

(From the Collection of the Duque de Osuna.)

{449}

PLATE 255.

A CAPRICE.

(From the Collection of the Duque de Osuna.)

{450}

PLATE 256.

A WITCHES’ CONVENTICLE.

(From the Collection of the Duque de Osuna.)

{451}

PLATE 257.

SORCERY SCENE.

(From the Collection of the Duque de Osuna.)

{452}

PLATE 258.

DON JUAN AND THE COMENDADOR.

(From the Collection of the Duque de Osuna.)

{453}

PLATE 259.

DON QUIXOTE.

{454}

PLATE 260.

ST. BERNARD OF SIENA.

(Church of San Francisco el Grande.)

{455}

PLATE 261.

ST. BERNARD OF SIENA.

(Marques de Torrecilla.)

{456}

PLATE 262.

CHRIST TAKEN BY THE SOLDIERS.

(Toledo Cathedral.)

{457}

PLATE 263.

CHRIST ON THE CROSS.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{458}

PLATE 264.

THE DEATH OF ST. JOSEPH.

(Don A. Beruete, Madrid.)

{459}

PLATE 265.

THE HOLY FAMILY.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{460}

PLATE 266.

ST. JUSTA AND ST. RUFINA.

(Seville Cathedral.)

{461}

PLATE 267.

APPARITION OF ST. ISIDORE TO KING FERDINAND III.

(Don A. Canovas, Madrid.)

{462}

PLATE 268.

ST. PETER.

(Don A. Pidal, Madrid.)

{463}

PLATE 269.

THE PRAYER IN THE GARDEN OF GETHSEMANE.

(The Rector of San Antonio.)

{464}

PLATE 270.

ST. ELIZABETH OF HUNGARY HEALING LEPERS.

(D. Clemente Velasco.)

{465}

PLATE 271.

ST. HERMENEGILD IN PRISON.

(D. Clemente Velasco.)

{466}

PLATE 272.

ANGELS AND CHERUBIM.

(Conde de Villagonzalo.)

{467}

PLATE 273.

FRESCO OF THE CUPOLA OF SAN ANTONIO DE LA FLORIDA, 1ST SECTION.

{468}

PLATE 274.

FRESCO OF THE CUPOLA OF SAN ANTONIO DE LA FLORIDA, 2ND SECTION.

{469}

PLATE 275.

FRESCO OF THE CUPOLA OF SAN ANTONIO DE LA FLORIDA, 3RD SECTION.

{470}

PLATE 276.

{471}

FRESCO OF THE CUPOLA OF SAN ANTONIO DE LA FLORIDA, 4TH SECTION.

PLATE 277.

GROUP OF ANGELS FROM SAN ANTONIO DE LA FLORIDA.

{472}

PLATE 278.

FRESCO OF SAN ANTONIO DE LA FLORIDA.

{473}

PLATE 279.

LUNCH ON THE BANKS OF THE MANZANARES: TAPESTRY CARTOON.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{474}

PLATE 280.

DANCE AT SAN ANTONIO DE LA FLORIDA: TAPESTRY CARTOON.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{475}

PLATE 281.

THE SCUFFLE AT THE VENTA NUEVA: TAPESTRY CARTOON.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{476}

PLATE 282.

AL FRESCO SCENE: TAPESTRY CARTOON.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{477}

PLATE 283.

THE DRINKER: TAPESTRY CARTOON.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{478}

PLATE 284.

THE PARASOL: TAPESTRY CARTOON.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{479}

PLATE 285.

THE KITE: TAPESTRY CARTOON.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{480}

PLATE 286.

THE CARD-PLAYERS: TAPESTRY CARTOON.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{481}

PLATE 287.

CHILDREN WITH A BLADDER: TAPESTRY CARTOON.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{482}

PLATE 288.

BOYS PICKING FRUIT: TAPESTRY CARTOON.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{483}

PLATE 289.

BLIND MAN PLAYING THE GUITAR: TAPESTRY CARTOON.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{484}

PLATE 290.

THE FAIR OF MADRID: TAPESTRY CARTOON.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{485}

PLATE 291.

THE CROCKERY SELLER: TAPESTRY CARTOON.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{486}

PLATE 292.

THE SOLDIER AND THE GIRL.

LA ACEROLERA.

TAPESTRY CARTOONS.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{487}

PLATE 293.

PLAYING AT SOLDIERS: TAPESTRY CARTOON.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{488}

PLATE 294.

THE GAME OF PELOTA: TAPESTRY CARTOON.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{489}

PLATE 295.

THE WASHERWOMEN: TAPESTRY CARTOON.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{490}

PLATE 296.

LA NOVILLADA: TAPESTRY CARTOON.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{491}

PLATE 297.

THE TOBACCO GUARD: TAPESTRY CARTOON.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{492}

PLATE 298.

CHILDREN CLIMBING A TREE.

THE HUNTER AND HIS DOGS.

THE CHILD AND THE BIRD.

TAPESTRY CARTOONS.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{493}

PLATE 299.

THE WOODCUTTERS: TAPESTRY CARTOON.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{494}

PLATE 300.

THE RENDEZVOUS: TAPESTRY CARTOON.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{495}

PLATE 301.

THE GARDENER: TAPESTRY CARTOON.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{496}

PLATE 302.

THE VINTAGERS: TAPESTRY CARTOON.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{497}

PLATE 303.

POOR WOMAN AT THE FOUNTAIN: TAPESTRY CARTOON.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{498}

PLATE 304.

WINTER: TAPESTRY CARTOON.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{499}

PLATE 305.

THE WEDDING: TAPESTRY CARTOON.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{500}

PLATE 306.

WOMEN AT THE FOUNTAIN: TAPESTRY CARTOON.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{501}

PLATE 307.

THE SWING: TAPESTRY CARTOON.

{502}

(Prado, Madrid.)

PLATE 308.

THE STILT-WALKERS: TAPESTRY CARTOON.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{503}

PLATE 309.

BOYS CLIMBING A TREE: TAPESTRY CARTOON.

(Prado, Madrid.)

{504}

PLATE 310.

BOY ON A SHEEP: TAPESTRY CARTOON.

(Don Gabino Stuyk, Madrid.)

{505}

CAPRICES

PLATE 311.

1. FRANCISCO GOYA Y LUCIENTES, PAINTER.

PLATE 312.

2. EL SI PRONUNCIAN.

{506}

PLATE 313.

3. HERE COMES THE BOGEY!

PLATE 314.

4. EL DE LA ROLLONA.

{507}

PLATE 315.

5. BIRDS OF A FEATHER.

PLATE 316.

6. APPEARANCES ARE DECEPTIVE.

{508}

PLATE 317.

7. NOT THUS CAN HE DISTINGUISH HER.

PLATE 318.

8. KIDNAPPED!

{509}

PLATE 319.

9. TANTALUS.

PLATE 320.

10. LOVE AND DEATH.

{510}

PLATE 321.

11. ANDALUSIAN BRIGANDS.

PLATE 322.

12. TOOTH-HUNTING.

{511}

PLATE 323.

13. THEY ARE HOT!

PLATE 324.

14. WHAT A SACRIFICE!

{512}

PLATE 325.

15. GOOD COUNSEL.

PLATE 326.

16. ‘MAY GOD PARDON HER!’

{513}

PLATE 327.

17. BIEN TIRADA ESTÁ.

PLATE 328.

18. ‘AND HIS HOUSE IS BURNING!’

{514}

PLATE 329.

19. ‘ALL WILL FALL.’

PLATE 330.

20. THEY ARE ALREADY PLUCKED.

{515}

PLATE 331.

21. HOW THEY PLUCK HER!

PLATE 332.

22. POOR LITTLE THINGS!

{516}

PLATE 333.

23. THIS DUST.

PLATE 334.

24. THERE WAS NO REMEDY.

{517}

PLATE 335.

25. BECAUSE HE BROKE THE PITCHER.

PLATE 336.

26. NOW THEY HAVE A SEAT.

{518}

PLATE 337.

27. WHICH IS THE MORE BORED?

PLATE 338.

28. HUSH!

{519}

PLATE 339.

29. THIS IS WHAT HE CALLS READING.

PLATE 340.

30. WHY HIDE THEM?

{520}

PLATE 341.

31. SHE PRAYS FOR HER.

PLATE 342.

32. WHY WAS SHE SENSITIVE?

{521}

PLATE 343.

33. ‘TO THE COUNT PALATINE.’

PLATE 344.

34. SLEEP CONQUERS THEM.

{522}

PLATE 345.

35. THEY SHAVE HIM.

PLATE 346.

36. A BAD NIGHT.

{523}

PLATE 347.

37. WILL THE PUPIL KNOW MORE THAN THE MASTER?

PLATE 348.

38. BRAVISSIMO!

{524}

PLATE 349.

39. AS FAR AS HIS GRANDFATHER.

PLATE 350.

40. OF WHAT ILL WILL HE DIE?

{525}

PLATE 351.

41. NEITHER MORE NOR LESS.

PLATE 352.

42. THOU WHO CANST NOT.

{526}

PLATE 353.

43. THE SLEEP OF REASON PRODUCES MONSTERS.

PLATE 354.

44. THEY SPIN LINEN.

{527}

PLATE 355.

45. THERE IS A LOT TO TASTE.

PLATE 356.

46. CORRECTION.

{528}

PLATE 357.

47. HOMAGE TO THE MASTER.

PLATE 358.

48. THE BLOWERS.

{529}

PLATE 359.

49. LITTLE GHOSTS.

PLATE 360.

50. LAS CHINCHILLAS.

{530}

PLATE 361.

51. THEY CUT EACH OTHERS’ NAILS.

PLATE 362.

52. WHAT A TAILOR CAN DO.

{531}

PLATE 363.

53. ‘WHAT A MOUTH OF GOLD!’

PLATE 364.

54. THE SHAMEFUL ONE.

{532}

PLATE 365.

56. TILL DEATH.

PLATE 366.

56. ASCENDING AND DESCENDING.

{533}

PLATE 367.

57. THE DESCENT.

PLATE 368.

58. SWALLOW THAT, YOU DOG!

{534}

PLATE 369.

59. AND YET THEY DO NOT GO.

PLATE 370.

60. ENSAYOS.

{535}

PLATE 371.

61. VOLAVERUNT.

PLATE 372.

62. WHO WOULD BELIEVE IT?

{536}

PLATE 373.

63. HOW GRAVE THEY ARE.

PLATE 374.

64. BON VOYAGE.

{537}

PLATE 375.

65. WHERE IS MAMMA GOING?

PLATE 376.

66. BEWARE!

{538}

PLATE 377.

67. WAIT TILL YOU HAVE BEEN ANOINTED.

PLATE 378.

68. PRETTY MISTRESS.

{539}

PLATE 379.

69. SOPLA!

PLATE 380.

70. DEVOUT PROFESSIONS.

{540}

PLATE 381.

71. THE DAY BREAKS, LET US GO.

PLATE 382.

72. YOU WILL NOT ESCAPE.

{541}

PLATE 383.

73. IT IS BETTER TO DO NOTHING.

PLATE 384.

74. DON’T GRIZZLE, IDIOT.

{542}

PLATE 385.

75. THE HABIT OF COMMAND.

PLATE 386.

76. WILL NO ONE SET US FREE?

{543}

PLATE 387.

77. A MIMIC BULL-FIGHT.

PLATE 388.

78. BE QUICK, THEY WAKEN.

{544}

PLATE 389.

79. NO ONE HAS SEEN US.

PLATE 390.

80. IS IT ALREADY THE HOUR?

{545}

DISASTERS OF WAR

PLATE 391.

1. SAD PRESENTIMENTS.

PLATE 392.

2. WITH OR WITHOUT REASON.

{546}

PLATE 393.

3. ALL THE SAME.

PLATE 394.

4. WOMEN INSPIRE COURAGE.

{547}

PLATE 395.

5. AND ARE LIKE WILD BEASTS.

PLATE 396.

6. A GOOD THING, TOO!

{548}

PLATE 397.

7. COURAGE!

PLATE 398.

8. WHAT ALWAYS HAPPENS.

{549}

PLATE 399.

9. THEY WILL NOT!

PLATE 400.

10. NOR THEY!

{550}

PLATE 401.

11. NOT FOR THESE!

PLATE 402.

12. WERE YOU BORN FOR THIS?

{551}

PLATE 403.

13. A BITTER SIGHT.

PLATE 404.

14. HARD IS THE WAY.

{552}

PLATE 405.

15. AND THERE WAS NO REMEDY.

PLATE 406.

16. THEY AVAIL THEMSELVES.

{553}

PLATE 407.

17. THEY DO NOT ARGUE.

PLATE 408.

18. TO BURY AND TO BE SILENT.

{554}

PLATE 409.

19. THERE IS NOT TIME.

PLATE 410.

20. TO HEAL EACH OTHER.

{555}

PLATE 411.

21. IT WILL BE THE SAME.

PLATE 412.

22. AS MUCH AND MORE.

{556}

PLATE 413.

23. THE SAME ELSEWHERE.

PLATE 414.

24. THEY ARE STILL OF USE.

{557}

PLATE 415.

25. AND THESE ALSO.

PLATE 416.

26. THAT CANNOT BE SEEN.

{558}

PLATE 417.

27. CHARITY.

PLATE 418.

28. THE POPULACE.

{559}

PLATE 419.

29. HE DESERVED IT.

PLATE 420.

30. THE TRAGEDY OF WAR.

{560}

PLATE 421.

31. STRONG MEASURES.

PLATE 422.

32. WHY?

{561}

PLATE 423.

33. WHAT MORE IS THERE TO DO?

PLATE 424.

34. FOR A KNIFE.

{562}

PLATE 425.

35. NO ONE KNOWS WHY.

PLATE 426.

36. NOR WHEREFORE.

{563}

PLATE 427.

37. THIS IS WORSE.

PLATE 428.

38. BARBARIANS!

{564}

PLATE 429.

39. A GREAT FEAT WITH THE DEAD.

PLATE 430.

40. HE TURNS IT TO ACCOUNT.

{565}

PLATE 431.

41. THEY ESCAPE THROUGH THE FLAMES.

PLATE 432.

42. ALL IS IN CONFUSION.

{566}

PLATE 433.

43. HERE ALSO.

PLATE 434.

44. ‘I SAW IT!’

{567}

PLATE 435.

45. AND THIS, LIKEWISE.

PLATE 436.

46. THIS IS BAD.

{568}

PLATE 437.

47. THUS IT HAPPENED.

PLATE 438.

48. CRUEL MISFORTUNE!

{569}

PLATE 439.

49. A WOMAN’S CHARITY.

PLATE 440.

50. UNHAPPY MOTHER.

{570}

PLATE 441.

51. THANKS TO THE BLUE VETCH.

PLATE 442.

52. THEY ARRIVE TOO LATE.

{571}

PLATE 443.

53. HE DIED WITHOUT HELP.

PLATE 444.

54. VAIN CLAMOURS.

{572}

PLATE 445.

55. TO BEG IS WORST OF ALL.

PLATE 446.

56. TO THE CEMETERY.

{573}

PLATE 447.

57. THE HALT AND THE SICK.

PLATE 448.

58. OF NO USE TO CRY.

{574}

PLATE 449.

59. OF WHAT USE IS A CUP.

PLATE 450.

60. NO ONE TO HELP.

{575}

PLATE 451.

61. ARE THEY OF ANOTHER RACE?

PLATE 452.

62. DEATH-BEDS.

{576}

PLATE 453.

63. COLLECTED DEAD.

PLATE 454.

64. CARTLOADS FOR THE CEMETERY.

{577}

PLATE 455.

65. ‘WHAT MEANS THIS TUMULT?’

PLATE 456.

66. STRANGE DEVOTION.

{578}

PLATE 457.

67. THIS IS NOT LESS SO.

PLATE 458.

68. WHAT MADNESS!

{579}

PLATE 459.

69. NOTHING; HE SAYS IT HIMSELF.

PLATE 460.

70. THEY DO NOT KNOW THE WAY.

{580}

PLATE 461.

71. AGAINST THE GENERAL GOOD.

PLATE 462.

72. THE CONSEQUENCES.

{581}

PLATE 463.

73. THE CATS PANTOMIME.

PLATE 464.

74. THIS IS WORSE.

{582}

PLATE 465.

75. A MEETING OF QUACKS.

PLATE 466.

76. THE CARNIVOROUS VULTURE.

{583}

PLATE 467.

77. MAY THE ROPE BREAK.

PLATE 468.

78. HE DEFENDS HIMSELF WELL.

{584}

PLATE 469.

79. TRUTH DIED.

PLATE 470.

80. WILL SHE REVIVE?

{585}

## TAUROMACHIE

PLATE 471.

1. HUNTING BULLS ACROSS COUNTRY IN THE OLDEN TIME.

PLATE 472.

2. HUNTING THE BULL ON FOOT.

{586}

PLATE 473.

3. MOORS HUNTING THE BULL ACROSS COUNTRY.

PLATE 474.

4. MOORS FIGHTING THE BULL IN AN ENCLOSURE.

{587}

PLATE 475.

5. THE MOOR, GAZUL, FIGHTING THE BULL.

PLATE 476.

6. MOORS IRRITATING THE BULL.

{588}

PLATE 477.

7. ORIGIN OF THE BANDERILLA.

PLATE 478.

8. MOOR ATTACKED BY A BULL.

{589}

PLATE 479.

9. SPANIARD, WEARING A TURBAN, SLAYING A BULL.

PLATE 480.

10. CHARLES V. IN THE ARENA OF VALLADOLID.

{590}

PLATE 481.

11. THE CID SPEARING A BULL.

PLATE 482.

12. MEN ATTACKING THE BULL.

{591}

PLATE 483.

13. HORSEMAN PLANTING BANDERILLAS IN THE BULL.

PLATE 484.

14. THE PUPIL OF FALCES AND THE BULL.

{592}

PLATE 485.

15. THE FAMOUS MARTINCHO PLANTING BANDERILLAS.

PLATE 486.

16. MARTINCHO’S FEAT.

{593}

PLATE 487.

17. MOORS USING DONKEYS INSTEAD OF HORSES.

PLATE 488.

18. MARTINCHO IN THE ARENA AT ZARAGOZA.

{594}

PLATE 489.

19. MARTINCHO’S FEAT.

PLATE 490.

20. JUANITO APINANI IN THE ARENA AT MADRID.

{595}

PLATE 491.

21. SPECTATORS SLAIN BY THE BULL AT MADRID.

PLATE 492.

22. THE WOMAN PICADOR, PAGUERELA, AT ZARAGOZA.

{596}

PLATE 493.

23. MARIANO CEBALLOS IN THE ARENA.

PLATE 494.

24. CEBALLOS MOUNTED ON A BULL.

{597}

PLATE 495.

25. BULL-BAITING.

PLATE 496.

26. PICADOR OVERTHROWN BY THE BULL.

{598}

PLATE 497.

27. FERNANDO DEL TORO IN THE ARENA.

PLATE 498.

28. READON IN THE ARENA AT MADRID.

{599}

PLATE 499.

29. PEPE-ILLO FACES THE BULL.

PLATE 500.

30. PEDRO ROMERO IN THE ARENA.

{600}

PLATE 501.

31. FLAMING BANDERILLAS.

PLATE 502.

32. BULL OVERTHROWING PICADORS.

{601}

PLATE 503.

33. DEATH OF PEPE-ILLO IN THE ARENA.

PLATE 504.

PICADORS MOUNTED ON MULES HARNESSED TO A CARRIAGE.

{602}

PLATE 505.

BULL CARRYING A WOUNDED TOREADOR ON HIS HORNS.

PLATE 506.

BULL CARRYING A DEAD TOREADOR ON HIS HORNS.

{603}

PLATE 507.

VARIATION OF NO. 25.

PLATE 508.

A SPANISH GENTLEMAN IN THE RING.

{604}

PLATE 509.

BRAVO TORO!

PLATE 510.

NEARING THE END.

{605}

PROVERBS

PLATE 511.

1. WOMEN TOSSING A DEAD DONKEY AND MANNIKINS IN A BLANKET.

PLATE 512.

2. SOLDIERS FLYING FROM A TREE DRAPED TO REPRESENT A GHOST.

{606}

PLATE 513.

3. PERSONS LISTENING TO AN ORATOR.

PLATE 514.

4. PEASANT DANCING BEFORE A MAN AND WOMAN.

{607}

PLATE 515.

5. MAN CARRYING OFF A WOMAN ON A WINGED MONSTER.

PLATE 516.

6. THE INFURIATED MAN.

{608}

PLATE 517.

7. MAN AND WOMAN JOINED TOGETHER AT THE SHOULDERS.

PLATE 518.

8. PERSONS DRESSED IN SACKS.

{609}

PLATE 519.

9. FANTASTIC PERSONAGE OFFERING KITTENS TO TWO WOMEN.

PLATE 520.

10. HUMAN BEINGS MALTREATED BY HORSES.

{610}

PLATE 521.

11. A TWO-HEADED WOMAN PURSUED BY TWO MEN.

PLATE 522.

12. MAJOS AND MAJAS DANCING.

{611}

PLATE 523.

13. MEN ATTEMPTING TO FLY.

PLATE 524.

14. FANTASTIC SALUTATIONS.

{612}

PLATE 525.

15. A MONK PREACHES; SOLDIER THROWS HIMSELF DOWN AN ABYSS.

PLATE 526.

16. MAN AND WOMAN QUARRELLING.

{613}

PLATE 527.

17. PERSONS DERIDING A BLIND MAN.

PLATE 528.

18. THE OLD MAN AND THE CORPSE.

{614}

PLATE 529.

THE PROMENADE.

PLATE 530.

A PAUPER.

(Don A. de Beruete.)

{615}

PLATE 531.

THE MADMAN.

PLATE 532.

THE MISER.

(Don A. de Beruete.)

{616}

PLATE 533.

A WOMAN FLYING.

PLATE 534.

MADMEN.

(Don A. de Beruete.)

{617}

PLATE 535.

THE MAJA AND THE CLOAKED MAN.

PLATE 536.

A MONK SUSPENDED IN THE AIR.

(Don A. de Beruete.)

{618}

PLATE 537.

THE LIVING SKELETON.

PLATE 538.

FRENCH CHASTISEMENT.

(Don A. de Beruete.)

{619}

PLATE 539.

AQUI ALGO HA DE HABER.

PLATE 540.

THE SNAKE CHARMER.

(Don A. de Beruete.)

{620}

PLATE 541.

CHARITY.

PLATE 542.

WHO WILL WIN?

(Don A. de Beruete.)

{621}

PLATE 543.

THE MADMAN.

PLATE 544.

THE LADY WITH THE PUPPIES.

(Don A. de Beruete.)

{622}

PLATE 545.

PAUPERS.

PLATE 546.

PROCESSION ENTERING THE TEMPLE.

(Don A. de Beruete.)

{623}

PLATE 547.

WOMEN PRAYING.

PLATE 548.

POR MITAD DE CUARESMA.

(Don A. de Beruete.)

{624}

PLATE 549.

BRIDES OF THE CHURCH.

PLATE 550.

MELODIOUS MEDIATORS.

(Don A. de Beruete.)

{625}

PLATE 551.

A SLEEPING MAJA.

PLATE 552.

THE SKATERS.

(Don A. de Beruete.)

{626}

PLATE 553.

STUDY FOR THE YOUNG INFANTE IN ‘THE FAMILY OF KING CHARLES IV.’

PLATE 554.

STUDY FOR THE PORTRAIT OF THE QUEEN IN ‘THE FAMILY OF KING CHARLES IV.’

(Don A. de Beruete.)

{627}

PLATE 555.

SLEEPING GIANT.

PLATE 556.

A GENTLE EPISODE.

(Don A. de Beruete.)

{628}

PLATE 557.

A PRISONER.

PLATE 558.

THE HAPPY MAN.

(Don A. de Beruete.)

{629}

PLATE 559.

UNDER A HOOD.

PLATE 560.

FAIRY TALES.

(Don A. de Beruete.)

{630}

PLATE 561.

SPANISH BEAUTY.

PLATE 562.

HAUT-TON.

(Don A. de Beruete.)

{631}

PLATE 563.

THE MAN WITH THE CROCODILE.

PLATE 564.

AT LAST IT BREAKS.

(Don A. de Beruete.)

{632}

PLATE 565.

THE BROKEN PITCHER.

PLATE 566.

WOMAN WITH A CHILD IN ARMS.

(Don A. de Beruete.)

{633}

PLATE 567.

RURAL EVENTS.

PLATE 568.

CHASTISEMENT.

(Don A. de Beruete.)

{634}

PLATE 569.

A MONK DOING PENANCE.

PLATE 570.

THE INVALID.

(Don A. de Beruete.)

{635}

PLATE 571.

MIRAR LO QUE NO VEN.

PLATE 572.

AN IDIOT.

(Don A. de Beruete.)

{636}

PLATE 573.

INVOCATION.

PLATE 574.

PRAYER.

(Don A. de Beruete.)

{637}

PLATE 575.

A MAD NEWSWOMAN.

PLATE 576.

A MONK.

(Don A. de Beruete.)

{638}

PLATE 577.

THE BRIDE.

PLATE 578.

THE BELLE OF THE ASSEMBLY.

{639}

PLATE 579.

ONE MORE UNFORTUNATE.

PLATE 580.

A PORTRAIT.

(Don A. de Beruete.)

{640}

PLATE 581.

INTERIOR OF THE CHURCH OF SAN ANTONIO DE LA FLORIDA.

{641}

PLATE 582.

SAN ANTONIO DE LA FLORIDA.

PAINTING IN THE PRINCIPAL CHAPEL.

{642}

PLATE 583.

SAN ANTONIO DE LA FLORIDA.

PAINTINGS ON THE CENTRES OF THE INTRADOS OF THE CHOIR AND PRINCIPAL CHAPEL ARCHES.

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PLATE 584.

SAN ANTONIO DE LA FLORIDA.

PAINTINGS ON THE SPRINGINGS OF THE INTRADOS OF THE PRINCIPAL CHAPEL ARCHES.

PLATE 585.

SAN ANTONIO DE LA FLORIDA.

PAINTINGS ON THE SPRINGINGS OF THE INTRADOS OF THE PRINCIPAL CHAPEL ARCHES.

{644}

PLATE 586.

SAN ANTONIO DE LA FLORIDA.

PAINTINGS ON THE SPRINGINGS OF THE INTRADOS OF THE CHOIR ARCHES.

PLATE 587.

SAN ANTONIO DE LA FLORIDA.

PAINTINGS ON THE SPRINGINGS OF THE INTRADOS OF THE CHOIR ARCHES.

{645}

PLATE 588.

SAN ANTONIO DE LA FLORIDA.

PAINTINGS ON THE INTRADOS OF THE LEFT SIDE CHAPEL ARCH.

{646}

PLATE 589.

SAN ANTONIO DE LA FLORIDA.

PAINTINGS ON THE INTRADOS OF THE RIGHT SIDE CHAPEL ARCH.

{647}

PLATE 590.

SAN ANTONIO DE LA FLORIDA.

TRIANGLES FORMED BY THE DOME ADJOINING THE PRINCIPAL CHAPEL.

{648}

PLATE 591.

SAN ANTONIO DE LA FLORIDA.

TRIANGLES FORMED BY THE DOME ADJOINING THE CHOIR.

{649}

PLATE 592.

SAN ANTONIO DE LA FLORIDA.

PAINTINGS AT THE SIDES OF THE WINDOW ON THE LEFT.

PLATE 593.

SAN ANTONIO DE LA FLORIDA.

PAINTINGS AT THE SIDES OF THE WINDOW ON THE LEFT.

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PLATE 594.

SAN ANTONIO DE LA FLORIDA.

PAINTINGS AT THE SIDES OF THE WINDOW ON THE RIGHT.

PLATE 595.

SAN ANTONIO DE LA FLORIDA.

PAINTINGS AT THE SIDES OF THE WINDOW ON THE RIGHT.

{651}

PLATE 596.

SAN ANTONIO DE LA FLORIDA.

FIRST GROUP ON THE CUPOLA TO THE LEFT OF THE CENTRE.

{652}

PLATE 597.

SAN ANTONIO DE LA FLORIDA.

SECOND GROUP ON THE CUPOLA TO THE LEFT OF THE CENTRE.

{653}

PLATE 598.

SAN ANTONIO DE LA FLORIDA.

CENTRE OF THE COMPOSITION ON THE CUPOLA FACING THE ENTRANCE.

{654}

PLATE 599.

SAN ANTONIO DE LA FLORIDA.

FIRST GROUP ON THE CUPOLA TO THE RIGHT OF THE CENTRE.

{655}

PLATE 600.

SAN ANTONIO DE LA FLORIDA.

SECOND GROUP ON THE CUPOLA TO THE RIGHT OF THE CENTRE.

{656}

PLATE 601.

DUKE OF WELLINGTON, 1812.

(From the Original Drawing in the Print Room of the British Museum.)

{657}

PLATE 602.

LADY AND GENTLEMAN ON HORSEBACK.

(From the Original Coloured Sketch in the Print Room of the British Museum.)

{658}

PLATE 603.

HEAD OF THE DYING FRAY JUAN FERNANEZ.

(From the Original Drawing in the Print Room of the British Museum.)

{659}

PLATE 604.

A CRIMINAL UNDERGOING THE INFLICTION OF THE GAROTTE.

(From the Original Drawing in the Print Room of the British Museum.)

{660}

PLATE 605.

A LOST SOUL.

(From the Original Drawing in the Print Room of the British Museum.)

{661}

PLATE 606.

CONDEMNED CRIMINALS CONDUCTED TO EXECUTION.

(From the Original Drawing in the Print Room of the British Museum.)

{662}

PLATE 607.

SPANISH PROVERB ILLUSTRATED.

(From an Etching, hitherto unpublished, in the Print Room of the British Museum.)

{663}

PLATE 608.

SPANISH PROVERB ILLUSTRATED.

(From an Etching, hitherto unpublished, in the Print Room of the British Museum.)

{664}

PLATE 609.

SPANISH PROVERB ILLUSTRATED.

(From an Etching, hitherto unpublished, in the Print Room of the British Museum.)

{665}

PLATE 610.

TAUROMACHIA: THE BULLS. A STUDY OF THE ANIMALS IN VARIOUS POSITIONS.

(From an Etching, hitherto unpublished, in the Print Room of the British Museum.)

{666}

PLATE 611.

TAUROMACHIA: BULL-FIGHTER FETTERED IN THE ARENA.

(From an Etching, hitherto unpublished, in the Print Room of the British Museum.)

{667}

PLATE 612.

TAUROMACHIA: A BLIND GUITAR-PLAYER TOSSED BY A BULL.

(From an Etching in the Print Room of the British Museum.)

{668}

THE
SPANISH SERIES

Edited by ALBERT F. CALVERT

A new and important series of volumes, dealing with Spain in its various aspects, its history, its cities and monuments. Each volume will be complete in itself in a uniform binding, and the number and excellence of the reproductions from pictures will justify the claim that these books comprise the most copiously illustrated series that has yet been issued, some volumes having over 300 pages of reproductions of pictures, etc.

Crown 8vo Price 3/6 net

1 | Goya | with | 600 | illustrations
2 | Toledo | “ | 510 | “
3 | Madrid | “ | 450 | “
4 | Seville | “ | 300 | “
5 | Murillo | “ | 165 | “
6 | Cordova | “ | 160 | “
7 | El Greco | “ | 140 | “
8 | Velazquez | “ | 142 | “
9 | The Prado | “ | 223 | “
10 | The Escorial | “ | 278 | “
11 | Royal Palaces of Spain | “ | 200 | “
12 | Granada and Alhambra | “ | 460 | “
13 | Spanish Arms and Armour | “ | 386 | “
14 | Leon, Burgos and Salamanca | “ | 462 | “
15 | Catalonia, Valencia, & Murcia
16 | Valladolid, Oviedo, Segovia, Zamora, Avila and Zaragoza | “ | 390 | “

UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME

MURILLO

A BIOGRAPHY AND APPRECIATION. ILLUSTRATED BY OVER 165 REPRODUCTIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS OF HIS MOST CELEBRATED PICTURES

While the names of Murillo and Velazquez are inseparably linked in the history of Art as Spain’s immortal contribution to the small band of world-painters, the great Court-Painter to Philip IV. has ever received the lion’s share of public attention. Many learned and critical works have been written about Murillo, but whereas Velazquez has been familiarised to the general reader by the aid of small, popular biographies, the niche is still empty which it is hoped that this book will fill.

In this volume the attempt has been made to show the painter’s art in its relation to the religious feeling of the age in which he lived, and his own feeling towards his art. Murillo was the product of his religious era, and of his native province, Andalusia. To Europe in his lifetime he signified little or nothing. He painted to the order of the religious houses in his immediate vicinity; his works were immured in local monasteries and cathedrals, and, passing immediately out of circulation, were forgotten or never known.

UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME

SPANISH ARMS AND ARMOUR

A HISTORICAL AND DESCRIPTIVE ACCOUNT OF THE ROYAL ARMOURY AT MADRID. ILLUSTRATED WITH 386 REPRODUCTIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS. DEDICATED BY SPECIAL PERMISSION TO H.M. QUEEN MARIA CRISTINA OF SPAIN

Although several valuable and voluminous catalogues of the Spanish Royal Armoury have, from time to time, been compiled, this “finest collection of armour in the world” has been subjected so often to the disturbing influences of fire, removal, and re-arrangement, that no hand catalogue of the Museum is available, and this book has been designed to serve both as a historical souvenir of the institution and a record of its treasures.

The various exhibits with which the writer illustrates his narrative are reproduced to the number of nearly 400 on art paper, and the selection of weapons and armour has been made with a view not only to render the series interesting to the general reader, but to present a useful text book for the guidance of artists, sculptors, antiquaries, costumiers, and all who are engaged in the reproduction or representation of European armoury.

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UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME

THE ESCORIAL

A HISTORICAL AND DESCRIPTIVE ACCOUNT OF THE SPANISH ROYAL PALACE, MONASTERY AND MAUSOLEUM. ILLUSTRATED WITH PLANS AND 278 REPRODUCTIONS FROM PICTURES AND PHOTOGRAPHS

The Royal Palace, Monastery, and Mausoleum of El Escorial, which rears its gaunt, grey walls in one of the bleakest but most imposing districts in the whole of Spain, was erected to commemorate a victory over the French in 1557. It was occupied and pillaged by the French two and a-half centuries later, and twice it has been greatly diminished by fire; but it remains to-day, not only the incarnate expression of the fanatic religious character and political genius of Philip II., but the greatest mass of wrought granite which exists on earth, the leviathan of architecture, the eighth wonder of the world.

In the text of this book the author has endeavoured to reconstitute the glories and tragedies of the living past of the Escorial, and to represent the wonders of the stupendous edifice by reproductions of over two hundred and seventy of the finest photographs and pictures obtainable. Both as a review and a pictorial record it is hoped that the work will make a wide appeal among all who are interested in the history, the architecture, and the art of Spain.

UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME

TOLEDO

A HISTORICAL AND DESCRIPTIVE ACCOUNT OF THE “CITY OF GENERATIONS,” WITH 510 ILLUSTRATIONS

The origin of Imperial Toledo, “the crown of Spain, the light of the world, free from the time of the mighty Goths,” is lost in the impenetrable mists of antiquity. Mighty, unchangeable, invincible, the city has been described by Wörmann as “a gigantic open-air museum of the architectural history of early Spain, arranged upon a lofty and conspicuous table of rock.”

But while some writers have declared that Toledo is a theatre with the actors gone and only the scenery left, the author does not share the opinion. He believes that the power and virility upon which Spain built up her greatness is reasserting itself. The machinery of the theatre of Toledo is rusty, the pulleys are jammed from long disuse, but the curtain is rising steadily if slowly, and already can be heard the tuning-up of fiddles in its ancient orchestra.

In this belief the author of this volume has not only set forth the story of Toledo’s former greatness, but has endeavoured to place before his readers a panorama of the city as it appears to-day, and to show cause for his faith in the greatness of the Toledo of the future.

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UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME

SEVILLE

A HISTORICAL AND DESCRIPTIVE ACCOUNT, WITH 300 ILLUSTRATIONS

Seville, which has its place in mythology as the creation of Hercules, and was more probably founded by the Phœnicians, which became magnificent under the Roman rule, was made the capital of the Goths, became the centre of Moslem power and splendour, and fell before the military prowess of St. Ferdinand, is still the Queen of Andalusia, the foster-mother of Velazquez and Murillo, the city of poets and pageantry and love.

Seville is always gay, and responsive and fascinating to the receptive visitor, and all sorts of people go there with all sorts of motives. The artist repairs to the Andalusian city to fill his portfolio; the lover of art makes the pilgrimage to study Murillo in all his glory. The seasons of the Church attract thousands from reasons of devotion or curiosity. And of all these myriad visitors, who go with their minds full of preconceived notions, not one has yet confessed to being disappointed in Seville.

The author has here attempted to convey in the illustrations an impression of this laughing city where all is gaiety and mirth and ever-blossoming roses, where the people pursue pleasure as the serious business of life in an atmosphere of exhilarating enjoyment.

UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME

THE PRADO

A GUIDE AND HANDBOOK TO THE ROYAL PICTURE GALLERY OF MADRID. ILLUSTRATED WITH 221 REPRODUCTIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS OF OLD MASTERS. DEDICATED BY SPECIAL PERMISSION TO H.R.H. PRINCESS HENRY OF BATTENBERG

This volume is an attempt to supplement the accurate but formal notes contained in the official catalogue of a picture gallery which is considered the finest in the world. It has been said that the day one enters the Prado for the first time is an important event like marriage, the birth of a child, or the coming into an inheritance; an experience of which one feels the effects to the day of one’s death.

The excellence of the Madrid gallery is the excellence of exclusion; it is a collection of magnificent gems. Here one becomes conscious of a fresh power in Murillo, and is amazed anew by the astonishing apparition of Velazquez; here is, in truth, a rivalry of miracles of art.

The task of selecting pictures for reproduction from what is perhaps the most splendid gallery of old masters in existence, was one of no little difficulty, but it is believed that the collection is representative, and that the letterpress will form a serviceable companion to the visitor to The Prado.

{672}

UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME

GRANADA AND THE ALHAMBRA

A BRIEF HISTORY OF THE MOSLEM RULE IN SPAIN, TOGETHER WITH A PARTICULAR ACCOUNT OF THE CONSTRUCTION, THE ARCHITECTURE, AND THE DECORATION OF THE MOORISH PALACE, WITH 460 ILLUSTRATIONS. DEDICATED BY SPECIAL PERMISSION TO H.I.M. THE EMPRESS EUGÉNIE

This volume is the third and abridged edition of a work which the author was inspired to undertake by the surpassing loveliness of the Alhambra, and by his disappointment in the discovery that no such thing as an even moderately adequate illustrated souvenir of “this glorious sanctuary of Spain” was obtainable. Keenly conscious of the want himself, he essayed to supply it, and the result is a volume that has been acclaimed with enthusiasm alike by critics, artists, architects, and archæologists.

In his preface to the first edition, Mr. Calvert wrote: “The Alhambra may be likened to an exquisite opera which can only be appreciated to the full when one is under the spell of its magic influence. But as the witchery of an inspired score can be recalled by the sound of an air whistled in the street, so—it is my hope—the pale ghost of the Moorish fairy-land may live again in the memories of travellers through the medium of this pictorial epitome.”

UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME

EL GRECO

A BIOGRAPHY AND APPRECIATION. ILLUSTRATED BY REPRODUCTIONS OF OVER 140 OF HIS PICTURES

In a Series such as this, which aims at presenting every aspect of Spain’s eminence in art and in her artists, the work of Domenico Theotocópuli must be allotted a volume to itself. “El Greco,” as he is called, who reflects the impulse, and has been said to constitute the supreme glory of the Venetian era, was a Greek by repute, a Venetian by training, and a Toledan by adoption. His pictures in the Prado are still catalogued among those of the Italian School, but foreigner as he was, in his heart he was more Spanish than the Spaniards.

El Greco is typically, passionately, extravagantly Spanish, and with his advent, Spanish painting laid aside every trace of Provincialism, and stepped forth to compel the interest of the world. Neglected for many centuries, and still often misjudged, his place in art is an assured one. It is impossible to present him as a colourist in a work of this nature, but the author has got together reproductions of no fewer than 140 of his pictures—a greater number than has ever before been published of El Greco’s works.

{673}

UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME

VELAZQUEZ

A BIOGRAPHY AND APPRECIATION. ILLUSTRATED WITH 142 REPRODUCTIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS OF HIS MOST CELEBRATED PICTURES

Diego Rodriguez de Silva y Velazquez—“our Velazquez,” as Palomino proudly styles him—has been made the subject of innumerable books in every European language, yet the Editor of this Spanish Series feels that it would not be complete without the inclusion of yet another contribution to the broad gallery of Velazquez literature.

The great Velazquez, the eagle in art—subtle, simple, incomparable—the supreme painter, is still a guiding influence of the art of to-day. This greatest of Spanish artists, a master not only in portrait painting, but in character and animal studies, in landscapes and historical subjects, impressed the grandeur of his superb personality upon all his work. Spain, it has been said, the country whose art was largely borrowed, produced Velazquez, and through him Spanish art became the light of a new artistic life.

The author cannot boast that he has new data to offer, but he has put forward his conclusions with modesty; he has reproduced a great deal that is most representative of the artist’s work; and he has endeavoured to keep always in view his object to present a concise, accurate, and readable life of Velazquez.

UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME

ROYAL PALACES OF SPAIN

A HISTORICAL AND DESCRIPTIVE ACCOUNT OF THE SEVEN PRINCIPAL PALACES OF THE SPANISH KINGS. PROFUSELY ILLUSTRATED

Spain is beyond question the richest country in the world in the number of its Royal Residences, and while few are without artistic importance, all are rich in historical memories. Thus, from the Alcazar at Seville, which is principally associated with Pedro the Cruel, to the Retiro, built to divert the attention of Philip IV. from his country’s decay; from the Escorial, in which the gloomy mind of Philip II. is perpetuated in stone, to La Granja, which speaks of the anguish and humiliation of Christina before Sergeant Garcia and his rude soldiery; from Aranjuéz to Rio Frio, and from El Pardo, darkened by the agony of a good king, to Miramar, to which a widowed Queen retired to mourn: all the history of Spain, from the splendid days of Charles V. to the present time, is crystallised in the Palaces that constitute the patrimony of the Crown.

The Royal Palaces of Spain are open to visitors at stated times, and it is hoped that this volume, with its wealth of illustrations, will serve the visitor both as a guide and a souvenir.

{674}

UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME

VALLADOLID, OVIEDO, SEGOVIA, ZAMORA, AVILA AND ZARAGOZA

A HISTORICAL AND DESCRIPTIVE ACCOUNT, WITH 390 ILLUSTRATIONS

The glory of Valladolid has departed, but the skeleton remains, and attached to its ancient stones are the memories that Philip II. was born here, that here Cervantes lived, and Christopher Columbus died. In this one-time capital of Spain, in the Plaza Mayor, the fires of the Great Inquisition were first lighted, and here Charles V. laid the foundation of the Royal Armoury, which was afterwards transferred to Madrid.

More than seven hundred years have passed since Oviedo was the proud capital of the Kingdoms of Las Asturias, Leon, and Castile. Segovia, though no longer great, has still all the appurtenances of greatness, and with her granite massiveness and austerity, she remains an aristocrat even among the aristocracy of Spanish cities. Zamora, which has a history dating from time almost without date, was the key of Leon and the centre of the endless wars between the Moors and the Christians, which raged round it from the eighth to the eleventh centuries.

In this volume the author has striven to re-create the ancient greatness of these six cities, and has preserved their memories in a wealth of excellent and interesting illustrations.

UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME

LEON, BURGOS AND SALAMANCA

A HISTORICAL AND DESCRIPTIVE ACCOUNT, WITH 462 ILLUSTRATIONS

In Leon, once the capital of the second kingdom in Spain; in Burgos, which boasts one of the most magnificent cathedrals in Spain, and the custodianship of the bones of the Cid; and in Salamanca, with its university, which is one of the oldest in Europe, the author has selected three of the most interesting relics of ancient grandeur in this country of departed greatness.

Leon to-day is nothing but a large agricultural village, torpid, silent, dilapidated; Burgos, which still retains traces of the Gotho-Castilian character, is a gloomy and depleting capital; and Salamanca is a city of magnificent buildings, a broken hulk, spent by the storms that from time to time have devastated her.

Yet apart from the historical interest possessed by these cities, they still make an irresistible appeal to the artist and the antiquary. They are content with their stories of old-time greatness and their cathedrals, and these ancient architectural splendours, undisturbed by the touch of a modernising and renovating spirit, continue to attract the visitor.

{675}

UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME

MADRID

A HISTORICAL AND DESCRIPTIVE ACCOUNT OF THE SPANISH CAPITAL, WITH 450 ILLUSTRATIONS

Madrid is at once one of the most interesting and most maligned cities in Europe. It stands at an elevation of 2,500 feet above the sea leve, in the centre of an arid, treeless, waterless, and wind-blown plain; but whatever may be thought of the wisdom of selecting a capital in such a situation, one cannot but admire the uniqueness of its position, and the magnificence of its buildings, and one is forced to admit that, having fairly entered the path of progress, Madrid bids fair to become one of the handsomest and most prosperous of European cities.

The splendid promenades, the handsome buildings, and the spacious theatres combine to make Madrid one of the first cities of the world, and the author has endeavoured with the aid of the camera, to place every feature and aspect of the Spanish metropolis before the reader. Some of the illustrations reproduced here have been made familiar to the English public by reason of the interesting and stirring events connected with the Spanish Royal Marriage, but the greater number were either taken by the author, or are the work of photographers specially employed to obtain new views for the purpose of this volume.

UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME

GOYA

A BIOGRAPHY AND APPRECIATION. ILLUSTRATED BY REPRODUCTIONS OF 600 OF HIS PICTURES

The last of the old masters and the first of the moderns, as he has been called, Francisco José de Goya y Lucientes is not so familiarised to English readers as his genius deserves. He was born at a time when the tradition of Velazquez was fading, and the condition of Spanish painting was debased almost beyond hope of salvation; he broke through the academic tradition of imitation; “he, next to Velazquez, is to be accounted as the man whom the Impressionists of our time have to thank for their most definite stimulus, their most immediate inspiration.”

The genius of Goya was a robust, imperious, and fulminating genius; his iron temperament was passionate, dramatic, and revolutionary; he painted a picture as he would have fought a battle. He was an athletic, warlike, and indefatigable painter; a naturalist like Velazquez; fantastic like Hogarth; eccentric like Rembrandt; the last flame-coloured flash of Spanish genius.

It is impossible to reproduce his colouring; but in the reproductions of his works the author has endeavoured to convey to the reader some idea of Goya’s boldness of style, his mastery of frightful shadows and mysterious lights, and his genius for expressing all terrible emotions.

{676}

UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME

CORDOVA

A HISTORICAL AND DESCRIPTIVE ACCOUNT OF THE ANCIENT CITY WHICH THE CARTHAGINIANS STYLED THE “GEM OF THE SOUTH,” WITH 160 ILLUSTRATIONS

Gay-looking, vivacious in its beauty, silent, ill-provided, depopulated, Cordova was once the pearl of the West, the city of cities, Cordova of the thirty suburbs and three thousand mosques; to-day she is no more than an overgrown village, but she still remains the most Oriental town in Spain.

Cordova, once the centre of European civilisation, under the Moors the Athens of the West, the successful rival of Baghdad and Damascus, the seat of learning and the repository of the arts, has shrunk to the proportions of a third-rate provincial town; but the artist, the antiquary and the lover of the beautiful, will still find in its streets and squares and patios a mysterious spell that cannot be resisted.

BY ALBERT F. CALVERT

LIFE OF CERVANTES

A NEW LIFE OF THE GREAT SPANISH AUTHOR TO COMMEMORATE THE TERCENTENARY OF THE PUBLICATION OF “DON QUIXOTE,” WITH NUMEROUS PORTRAITS AND REPRODUCTIONS FROM EARLY EDITIONS OF “DON QUIXOTE”

Size Crown 8vo. 150 pp. Price 3/6 net

PRESS NOTICES

“A popular and accessible account of the career of Cervantes.”—Daily Chronicle.

“A very readable and pleasant account of one of the great writers of all time.”—Morning Leader.

“Mr. Calvert is entitled to the gratitude of book-lovers for his industrious devotion at one of our greatest literary shrines.”—Birmingham Post.

“It is made trebly interesting by the very complete set of Cervantes’ portraits it contains, and by the inclusion of a valuable bibliography.”—Black and White.

“We recommend the book to all those to whom Cervantes is more than a mere name.”—Westminster Gazette.

“A most interesting résumé of all facts up to the present time known.”—El Nervion de Bilbao, Spain.

“The most notable work dedicated to the immortal author of Don Quixote that has been published in England.”—El Graduador, Spain.

“Although the book is written in English no Spaniard could have written it with more conscientiousness and enthusiasm.”—El Defensor de Granada, Spain.

{677}

BY ALBERT F. CALVERT

THE ALHAMBRA

OF GRANADA, BEING A BRIEF HISTORY OF THE MOSLEM RULE IN SPAIN FROM THE REIGN OF MOHAMMED THE FIRST TO THE FINAL EXPULSION OF THE MOORS, TOGETHER WITH A PARTICULAR ACCOUNT OF THE CONSTRUCTION, THE ARCHITECTURE AND THE DECORATION OF THE MOORISH PALACE, WITH 80 COLOURED PLATES AND NEARLY 300 BLACK AND WHITE ILLUSTRATIONS (NEW EDITION). DEDICATED BY PERMISSION TO H.M. KING ALFONSO XIII.

Size 10 x 7-1/2. Price £2 2s. net

PRESS NOTICES

“It is hardly too much to say that this is one of the most magnificent books ever issued from the English Press.”—Building World.

“One is really puzzled where to begin and when to stop in praising the illustrations.”—Bookseller.

“The most complete record of this wonder of architecture which has ever been contemplated, much less attempted.”—British Architect.

“A treasure to the student of decorative art.”—Morning Advertiser.

“Mr. Calvert has given us a Book Beautiful.”—Western Daily Press.

“It is the last word on the subject, no praise is too high.”—Nottingham Express.

“May be counted among the more important art books which have been published during recent years.”—The Globe.

“Has a pride of place that is all its own among the books of the month.”—Review of Reviews.

“Has in many respects surpassed any books on the Alhambra which up to the present have appeared in our own country or abroad.”—El Graduador, Spain.

“It is one of the most beautiful books of modern times.”—Ely Gazette.

“One of the most artistic productions of the year.”—Publishers’ Circular.

“The most beautiful book on the Alhambra issued in England.”—Sphere.

“The standard work on a splendid subject.”—Daily Telegraph.

“A remarkable masterpiece of book production.”—Eastern Daily Press.

“A perfect treasure of beauty and delight.”—Keighley News.

“A magnificent work.”—Melbourne Age, Australia.

“Immense collection of fine plates.”—The Times.

“A standard work, the compilation of which would credit a life’s labour.”—Hull Daily Mail.

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BY ALBERT F. CALVERT

MOORISH REMAINS IN SPAIN

BEING A BRIEF RECORD OF THE ARABIAN CONQUEST AND OCCUPATION OF THE PENINSULA, WITH A PARTICULAR ACCOUNT OF THE MOHAMMEDAN ARCHITECTURE AND DECORATION IN THE CITIES OF CORDOVA, SEVILLE AND TOLEDO, WITH MANY COLOURED PLATES, AND OVER 400 BLACK AND WHITE ILLUSTRATIONS, DIAGRAMS, ETC., DEDICATED BY PERMISSION TO H.M. KING ALFONSO XIII.

Crown 4to. (7-1/2 x 10 ins.) Price £2 2s. net

PRESS NOTICES

“The making of this book must surely have been a veritable labour of love; and love’s labour has certainly not been lost.”—Pall Mall Gazette.

“The best age of Moorish architecture in Spain is shown with remarkable vividness and vitality.”—The Scotsman.

“A most gorgeous book.... We cheerfully admit Mr. Calvert into the ranks of those whom posterity will applaud for delightful yet unprofitable work.”—Outlook.

“A large and sumptuous volume.”—Tribune.

“The illustrations are simply marvels of reproduction.”—Dundee Advertiser.

“One of the books to which a simple literary review cannot pretend to do justice.”—Spectator.

“A special feature of a work of peculiar interest and value are the illustrations.”—Newcastle Chronicle.

“The illustrations are given with a minuteness and faithfulness of detail, and colour, which will be particularly appreciated and acknowledged by those who are most acquainted with the subject themselves.”—Liverpool Post.

“It is impossible to praise too highly the care with which the illustrations have been prepared.”—Birmingham Daily Post.

“It is illustrated with so lavish a richness of colour that to turn its pages gives one at first almost the same impression of splendour as one receives in wandering from hall to hall of the Alcazar of Seville; and this is probably the highest compliment we could pay to the book or its author.”—Academy.

“It is certainly one of the most interesting books of the year.”—Crown.

“The occasional delicacy of design and harmony of colour can scarcely be surpassed ... a valuable and profusely illustrated volume.”—Guardian.

“An excellent piece of work.”—The Times.

“Mr. Calvert has performed a useful work.”—Daily Telegraph.

“A truly sumptuous volume.”—The Speaker.

“Mr. Calvert has given a very complete account of the evolution of Moresco art.”—The Connoisseur.