The Peninsular War: A New History

"Charles Esdaile’s book, The Peninsular War is required reading for anyone seeking to understand the tragedy that inspired Los Desastres de la Guerra . His first chapter provides a concise introduction to the state of Spain immediately before the war. Esdaile offers an analysis of all the major battles, which might try the patience of non-experts, but which contextualises episodes of the war—such as the first and second sieges of Zaragoza—well known to Goya experts. He also traces the comings and goings of Joseph Bonaparte from Madrid, showing just how tenuous his reign was and implies the contradictions of life in Madrid throughout the war, and disparities between the privileged (including Goya) and the destitute, among them refugees from war-torn villages—immortalized in Goya’s scenes inspired by the famine of Madrid. Few escaped the devastation of the war, and we might ask if the death of Goya’s wife, Josefa, in the spring of 1812, resulted from disease that inevitably accompanies famine. And, since you raise The Colossus, I do not think the painting is by Goya. Several years ago, I was misquoted, and a writer suggested I was persuaded to this opinion by the then curator of Goya at the Museo del Prado. To set the record straight, this was not the case. Almost thirty years ago, I included it in a survey of Goya’s works, but even then thought that the slapdash figures suggested in the foreground were not by Goya, possibly a later addition by a nineteenth-century imitator. Support Five Books Five Books interviews are expensive to produce. If you're enjoying this interview, please support us by donating a small amount . More recently, I included in the chronologies and lists mentioned above all firmly documented works. And even though discussion of Goya’s stylistic evolution was outside of the parameters of this book, I did ask myself, ‘Where would The Colossus fit?’ I don’t find a place for it, and I would ask those who maintain the attribution of the painting to Goya to please address this question. Another consideration: if this painting were to appear today on the art market, discovered in a private collection in Spain: would it be attributed to Goya? Goya emerges as a very sociable person, and many influential people seem to have enjoyed his company. He had friends in high places, and I suggest that this explains why he was apparently never tried when, following the return of Fernando VII, he was discovered to be the painter of the ‘immoral’ Naked and Clothed Majas , then in the hands of the Inquisition. I don’t think Goya was motivated by politics. He was compelled as an artist to create, and he was concerned throughout his life with achieving and maintaining his social standing and comfortable financial situation. From within a year of his 1775 arrival in Madrid, he sought a position at court, and eventually became first court painter (a position he shared with Mariano Maella). He maintained the position until 1808 and was reinstated to it following the 1814 return of the Spanish king, Fernando VII. He continued to earn his significant salary after settling in Bordeaux and retained it after his request for retirement was granted in 1826. Also, there is a satiric quip from 1820, discussed in the book, showing that Goya had a reputation for working for whoever paid him. During the reign of Joseph Bonaparte (1808-1813) Goya did not hold an official salaried position at court (in contrast with Mariano Maella, who did, and consequently lost his position as first court painter upon the return of Fernando VII). We do not know that Goya was asked to be a court painter to Bonaparte—I would guess not. But if he were asked and refused, it’s difficult to read this as an act of patriotic defiance, given the many portraits he painted of Joseph’s supporters, and possibly also of Joseph himself. I need two—please? The Family of Carlos IV is one, as one of the greatest groups portraits ever painted. It doesn’t travel, so you have to see it at the Prado. And when you stand before it, please forget the ungrounded stories about this painting as a satire of the royal family—and just look. And, while in Madrid, travel across town to see the frescos at San Antonio de la Florida —a unique accomplishment that unlike so many religious paintings seems as fresh today as it did two centuries ago."