La Tirana was a famous actress in Madrid during the reign of Charles IV. Goya painted her at the time when he was in the full height of his renown, and celebrities of every kind at the capital quarrelled with one another for the privilege of being painted by him.
On the 25th of April, 1789, a few months after Charles IV. ascended the throne, a royal order raised Goya to the dignity of Pintor da Camara, which corresponded to Peintre Ordinaire du Roi, a title formerly bestowed upon French artists. This distinction gave him, as in the case of Gentlemen of the Bed-chamber, free entry to the palace. Under the new king the Court had taken on a new aspect. During the reign of the devout Charles III. it was constrained to all the outward show of austere piety which recalled the morose years under the monarchs of the House of Austria. Under the new king everything was changed, laughter was revived, festivals recommenced, and with them, intrigues of gallantry and licentiousness. Scandals multiplied, and the example came from high up; Queen Maria-Luisa herself set the pace for a society that had been parched with thirst for pleasure, and she flaunted before the whole nation her absolute contempt of decency and her unbridled appetite for dissipation. The epoch of the high favour of the Prince de la Paix began. Goya, whose marriage had but poorly reformed him, welcomed this change of regime with enthusiasm. He was already something more than celebrated in Madrid because of his prowess with the fair sex, famous for his duels, an adept at all the nicer usages through his constant association with the upper circles; consequently he felt himself fully at ease in this atmosphere of shamelessness and incontinence. He had some famous intrigues and illustrious liaisons, which he did not even take the trouble to conceal. Possessed of a caustic and subtle wit, and untroubled by scruples, he was much sought after for the brilliance and the daring of his conversation. Those who did not like him learned to fear him. Before long he had scored an even bigger success as a man than as an artist. Through contact with men of rank, he had acquired not only assurance but a certain air of haughtiness verging upon insolence. Being drawn into the circles of the Duchess of Alba and Duchess of Ossuna, who at that time, like rival queens, were disputing the sceptre of fashion and pleasure, he witnessed and shared in many a boudoir intrigue, taking sides in these women’s quarrels, at one time supporting the one side, then again going over to the other, and at last coming out openly in favour of the Duchess of Alba, who at that time was waging a silent warfare with Maria-Luisa. Having become the cavaliere servente of the Duchess, he no longer contented himself with plotting intrigues or launching epigrams; but he translated his opinions into the form of satiric caricatures, in which he mercilessly ridiculed the adversaries of his fair lady. The arrows that he launched flew so high that the outraged queen exiled the Duchess from her court and gave the Pintor da Camara a leave of absence. Goya and the Duchess set forth side by side on the road to Andalusia, sharing the period of their disfavour on a distant estate belonging to the Duchess of Alba.
This exile, however, was of short duration and only served to increase the artist’s reputation for gallantry. The king, who loved him in spite of his follies, recalled him and entrusted him with the frescoes for the chapel of San Antonio de la Florida. The task was a considerable one; it included the painting of a vast cupola and several smaller vaults, tympanums, and arches. Behold then our libertine philosopher transformed once more into a religious painter. Within three months he had completed the entire scheme of the decoration. The subject chosen was as follows: St. Anthony of Padua resuscitating a Dead Man in Order to Make him Reveal the Name of his Murderer. Goya placed his saint upon an eminence, from which he calls upon the dead man to come forth; the latter has already arisen from his tomb, has joined his hands, and is about to speak. On the right and left the compact throng press forward, anxious to see the miracle accomplished. All around the cupola the artist has pictured a sort of gallery on which the spectators lean, and among them we see a child with its legs dangling in space. This composition is remarkable in its sense of movement and varied interest. But what distinguishes it especially from other works of its type is that Goya, through an obstinate adherence to realism which cannot fail to cause some little surprise, thought that he was bound to adopt for all the personages in his picture both the costumes and the types of his own time. “His women are true manolas, draping themselves in their mantillas, and his men are men of the people, arrieros proudly wrapped in their mantles of motley colour. In the corbels of the arches Goya painted cherubim, haloes, and angels, and he endowed these celestial beings with feminine charms and carnal graces that were far too reminiscent of the seductions of the earth. It is related that Goya used the ladies of the Court as models for these feminine countenances, and that on the day when the frescoes were unveiled, Charles IV. expressed his displeasure to the artist in unmeasured terms.”
From 1796 to 1797 Goya published that curious series of compositions done in etching and in water-colour which he entitled Caprices. And they were quite literally caprices through their infinite diversity of subject and the oftentimes extravagant fantasy of their execution. Scenes of local manners ironically interpreted, mocking allusions to popular superstitions, trenchant criticisms of public men and political institutions, attacks of unheard-of violence upon the established religion and its dogmas, pitiless satires upon the Inquisition and more especially upon the monastic orders, and finally prophetic dreams and visions of the future make up the contents of this singularly complex work which concealed a most audacious motive underneath its apparent fantasy. And all this treated with a sparkling brilliance, a diabolical cleverness that is carried sometimes to the point of brutality, with a realism that often causes a sort of revulsion. As to the execution, it is remarkable: the lines are clear-cut and vigorous, the design is solid, almost schematic in places for the purpose of enhancing the energy; with incomparable art, Goya makes use of contrasts for the purpose of obtaining astonishing relief, perfect modelling, and effects of light that produce the illusion of painting. In these compositions he shows the variety and flexibility of his talent, which undertook with equal felicity the most widely diverse branches of his art.
In Spain these Caprices enjoyed a very considerable success, but they caused considerable discomfort to their author. At one time their publication was suspended. The Inquisition, which had been especially maltreated in these designs, became once more threatening, and showed an implacable ardour in its quest for vengeance. Nevertheless, it failed of its purpose, thanks to the kind offices of the Prince de la Paix, who was himself hostile to the monks and took Goya under his protection. In accordance with his advice, Goya offered his Caprices to the king, Charles IV., who, acting in accord with his minister, accepted them for his collection of copper-plates. Having thus found shelter behind the august presence, Goya became invulnerable; and the Inquisition had to let its prey escape.
On the 31st of October, 1799, Goya became First Painter to the king. He was at that time fifty-three years of age. Neither years nor indulgences had undermined his robust organism or diminished his talent. On the contrary, it was at this epoch that his manner underwent a transformation which bears witness once again to the resources and the vitality of this exceptional nature. A study of the works of Rembrandt had awakened in him a violent passion for the effects of light and of chiaroscuro, and from this time forward we find him practising this difficult art and manifesting in it a remarkable mastery and originality. In this style of painting, which was new to him, he achieved masterpieces from the first attempt, such for instance as the Betrayal by Judas, in the cathedral at Toledo, which might have been signed by Correggio or Rembrandt. The patch of light, which throws into strong relief the suffering face of Christ and the hideous countenance of Judas, is distributed in a masterly fashion and in no wise detracts from the luminous transparency of the shadows.
PLATE VIII.—JOSEFA BAYEU
(Museum of the Prado, Madrid)
Josefa Bayeu was the sister of the painter Francisco Bayeu, like Goya, a native of Aragon, and his intimate friend. It was in the home of his comrade that Goya fell in love with Josefa and married her. He had one son, Xavier Goya. This portrait is considered as one of the best executed by the artist.