In this time of complete stagnation the fascinating personality of
Francisco Goya y Lucientes (1746-1828) flashes like a bright meteor
through the dark night of Spanish art. Goya takes a unique position
in the art of his country—or, indeed, of the world. He was as much
the last of the old masters as he is the first of the moderns. A man
of fiery temperament, impulsive, unruly, opposed to authority, he was
terribly unequal in his performance. It is as unnecessary to state
who were his masters as it is impossible to speak of his style in
general terms, for there probably never was an artist who worked in
so many different styles, experimented in so many different mediums,
and treated so vast a range of subjects as Goya. He was a creature of
moods, and changed his method of painting as easily as his political
allegiance from Bourbon to Bonaparte and back again to Bourbon.
His four pictures at the Louvre are without exception portraits, and do
not therefore illustrate his highly developed sense of the dramatic.
But they serve admirably to show his active protest against the
classicist affectation prevalent at his time, and his return to the
healthy realism which is the heritage of his race. The _Portrait of F.
Guillemardet, Ambassador of the French Republic to Spain_ (No. 1704),
is an admirably honest piece of portraiture, dignified but perfectly
natural in pose, strong in expression and pleasing in colour. It was
bequeathed to the Louvre by Guillemardet, together with the _Young
Spanish Woman_ (No. 1705) in a black mantilla, standing with crossed
arms against a pearly-grey landscape background. The seated half-figure
of the rather corpulent _Young Spanish Woman_ (No. 1705A) was bought
at the Kums sale at Antwerp for £1276; and the portrait of _Don Perez
de Castro_ (No. 1705B) was acquired in 1902 for £1200. Goya was an
isolated figure in Spanish art of the time. He left no “school,” but
his influence was one of the leading factors in the rise of the modern
movement in France.