The Spanish people have been celebrating the centenary of their
great painter, Goya, only a few days after the Germans had celebrated the fourth centenary of Diirer.
The reputation of Goya has been steadily rising. No one can doubt his genius, particularly now that his paintings are hung in the Prado at Madrid very much more skilfully and reverently than they were a few years ago. Goya used to say that Velasquez and Rembrandt were his masters, but he might have made the statement com- pletely true by adding that the master from whom he first learned painting happened to be a disciple of Tiepolo. Though he became a Court painter, Goya retained a kind of savage independence. He could make glorious paint- ings of the Duchess of Alva—though probably he was in love with her—but the real affection of his brush was spent upon scenes of gaiety or of suffering among the people. His vigour was tremendous and lasted to the end of his long life, but the story that he chased the Duke of Wellington out of his studio need not be believed. If he did not loathe war he painted his scenes of carnage as though he did. His etchings especially are full of savage condemnation and satire. He seemed to be saying, if we may give a particular point to those obscure words at the end of Troilus and Cressida, " Good traders in the flesh, set this in your painted cloths."
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