![El príncipe de Asturias, futuro Carlos IV [The Prince of Asturias, the Future Charles IV]](/f/webca/OAR/Obras/ficheros-estaticos/P_144_M_1.JPG)
![El príncipe de Asturias, futuro Carlos IV [The Prince of Asturias, the Future Charles IV]](/f/webca/OAR/Obras/ficheros-estaticos/P_144_G_1.JPG)
![El príncipe de Asturias, futuro Carlos IV [The Prince of Asturias, the Future Charles IV]](/f/webca/OAR/Obras/ficheros-estaticos/P_144_P_1.JPG)
El príncipe de Asturias, futuro Carlos IV [The Prince of Asturias, the Future Charles IV]
- 1783
- Oil on canvas
- 160 x 116 cm
- Cat. P_144
- Commissioned from the artist by the Banco Nacional de San Carlos in 1782
In the society of the Ancien Régime, effigies of royalty, ranging from simple prints to oil portraits by the most illustrious painters, must have substituted for the physical presence of certain members of the royal family in countless public and institutional ceremonials throughout Spain. In early 1783, a building rented from the Count of Sástago in Calle de la Luna started to be refurbished as the head offices of the nascent Banco Nacional de San Carlos. For the place of honour under the canopy of the large General Assembly Hall, the institution asked Mariano Salvador Maella (1739-1819) to paint a portrait of Charles III and a corresponding pair of images of the Prince and Princess of Asturias. The first shareholders’ meeting was held on 20 December 1782 in what was still a provisional venue, “[…] the inn of His Excellency Don Manuel Ventura Figueroa, Governor of the elect Patriarchal Council of the Indies”, where there was probably no portrait of the monarch. Nevertheless, Maella wrote the following to the Count of Floridablanca on 21 January 1783: “Your Excellency, the Directors of the National Bank of San Carlos have spoken to me regarding painting the portraits for them of the King, of our lord the Prince and the Princess, and of other Royal Personages, to be hung in the Assembly Hall of the Bank. I have replied to them that it was impossible for me to satisfy their request as I have barely enough time for the pieces I am working on now by order of His Majesty, and the best I can do to assist you for the time being is to have one of my pupils copy the portraits under my supervision, though in any case it does not seem fitting to me to make a copy myself, or allow copies to be made, of some portraits painted by His Majesty’s order without knowing if they will be to his Royal liking. I humbly beg Your Excellency to be so good as to advise me what action I should take in this matter, as I shall not proceed in any way without your instructions.” It did not take long for Charles III to give his opinion on this point of iconographic protocol, for an answer was sent to the Secretary of State on 27 January: “Your Excellency, it appears there is no objection to having these copies made by the pupil that Maella mentions. Be it so done.”
It was quite true that Mariano Maella was immersed at the start of 1783 in work on several commissions authorised by the king himself, one of them a monumental canvas representing the Assumption of the Virgin for the high altar of the collegiate church of Talavera de la Reina. This task was framed within a context of frenetic artistic patronage the length and breadth of the diocese of the powerful Bishop of Toledo, Francisco Antonio Lorenzana. Where portraits are concerned, Maella moreover wrote in one of his memorials that concurrently with the request from Banco de San Carlos, “[…] in the year ’83, by order of His Majesty, he painted the portraits of the King and of the Prince and Princess to send to the Lord Infante Don Luis, and another of His Majesty for Constantinople.” Indeed, these three portraits appear inventoried as works of Maella during the execution of the will of the Infante Luis in 1797, after which they passed by inheritance to the Countess of Chinchón and consequently to the collection of Manuel Godoy, the ‘Prince of Peace’. After the confiscation of Godoy’s goods, they were also catalogued by Frédéric Quilliet, though now listed as anonymous, and in the case of the portrait of Charles III in armour, simply as a “copy of Mengs”. These pictures were deposited along with the rest of Godoy’s collection at the Royal Academy of San Fernando, and a long time later, in February 1891, they were selected, still regarded as anonymous, for dispatch to the School of Fine Arts and Crafts of Bilbao. Later still, in 1913, they were transferred on long-term loan to the Museo de Bellas Artes in Bilbao. Owing to ignorance of the vital fact that they originally belonged to the Infante Luis, these canvases, iconographically identical with those at Banco de España, have remained to date under attribution to Maella’s pupil Ginés Andrés de Aguirre rather than to Maella himself, even though the loan to Bilbao was extinguished in May 2013 by the Real Academia de San Fernando.
The original prototype of this pair of portraits of Charles and Maria Luisa of Parma, and the basis for the portraits at Banco de España, was probably conceived by Mariano Salvador Maella just a few months before he was contacted by the bank. The iconography was commissioned within the context of a large series of some ten portraits of the royal family which were to be sent to Lisbon in October that year as an intimate gift from Charles III to Queen Maria I of Portugal. It is therefore quite likely that the Valencian artist decided to paint a couple of sets of portraits of the Prince and Princess of Asturias almost simultaneously, one to be sent to the Portuguese court and the other to be kept in his own workshop in case new versions were needed in the future. This practice of making ricordi of portraits must have been fairly widespread. Where the 1782 prototype of the Prince and Princess of Asturias was concerned, requests for new copies arrived very soon. One pair, the object of the present study, was ordered in January 1783 by Banco de San Carlos, and another was commissioned rather later to be sent to the Infante Luis in his banishment at the palace of La Mosquera in Arenas de San Pedro.
It has been pointed out elsewhere that the original iconography of the Prince and Princess of Asturias that is replicated by these canvases painted for Banco de San Carlos was intended as a replacement for the previous official image of 1766, painted by Maella’s mentor, Anton Raphael Mengs. In the etiquette of the Spanish court, Mengs’s omnipresent image of Charles and Maria Luisa of Parma had held sway for nearly two decades. Charles III was doubtless of the opinion that it was time to project a new dynastic message to his subjects for a royal couple who were very soon to ascend the throne of Spain. One detail that reveals the enormous importance of this commission for Maella is the permission granted to the painter to sketch the faces from life for the first version, “[…] having the honour of taking them from the Royal personages themselves.” Indeed, this may explain why the board of Banco de San Carlos approached the Valencian artist rather than other Court Painters like Francisco Bayeu when protocol required portraits for the place of honour beneath the ceremonial canopy of the large General Assembly Hall. Maella’s new prototype shows not only the implacable passage of time in the faces but also a programmatic updating of the courtly setting. In 1766, Mengs immortalised a young recently married couple in a garden, but now, in 1782, the Valencian painter is required to compose portraits of a more public and official nature. The original image of Prince Charles, where his main activity seems to be hunting, makes way here for that of an heir with the ability to assume the Spanish Crown and the tremendous responsibility it entailed. In 1766, in the meantime, Maria Luisa of Parma had not yet been a mother, whereas in 1782, at the age of 31, the Princess had already had the Infante Carlos Clemente, who had sadly died in 1774, and in 1781 had at last given birth to another male heir, the Infante Carlos Eusebio. At a date very close to the painting of this portrait by Maella, the Princess furthermore gave birth to the Infanta María Luisa Josefina, although another daughter, the Infanta María Luisa Carlota, died aged four almost at the same time. Indeed, it does not seem coincidental that Maella should show the Princess of Asturias in a blue and white costume, a subtle allusion to the mantle of the Immaculate Conception.
As soon as Maella received news in early 1783 of the possibility of this commission from Banco de San Carlos, the artist requested due authorisation from Charles III to reproduce the originals of 1782. The precautions taken by the Valencian artist before replicating an iconography that was in principle designed only for commissions emanating directly from the monarch himself, not from the court, nevertheless contrast with the freedom enjoyed by his competitor Francisco de Goya just a few years later, at the start of 1789, when he concluded the next official iconography of Charles and Maria Luisa of Parma, now King and Queen. Previously unpublished documents discovered in the Banco de España archive show that Maella was personally to be paid 3,600 reales for this set of portraits, even though the client had been informed that the actual painting would be done only by an assistant, albeit under the master’s supervision and, presumably, with some touches of his own in certain specific areas of the painting. Rather like a factory, Maella charged for these canvases copied by one of his pupils as if they were his own. In the same way, Francisco de Goya invoiced large numbers of portraits of Charles IV and Maria Luisa throughout 1789 which must of necessity have been executed by his pupil Agustín Esteve.
At the same time, the documentation located in the Banco de España archive indicates that his portraits of the Prince and Princess of Asturias remained under the canopy of the General Assembly Hall, even throughout the reign of Charles IV. As we mentioned earlier, the set of paintings was completed in Maella’s workshop with a replica of Mengs’s portrait of Charles III in armour, like the one that was sent later on to the Infante Luis. Around 1786, however, the bank judged this image of the monarch to be antiquated, and a full-length portrait was commissioned instead from Francisco de Goya. It still remains to be determined exactly why there was a fleeting attempt in the last years of Charles III’s reign to modify his iconography, the context in which we must understand Goya’s commissions to paint the series of pictures of Charles III as a hunter and the aforementioned Banco de España portrait in court dress.
The portraits of Charles IV and Marie Louise of Parma, which accompany Charles III in Armour (also in the Banco de España Collection) were commissioned from Mariano Salvador Maella in 1782 and produced at his studio, probably by Andrés Ginés de Aguirre, who had already handled a commission for the monarchy in the form of a portrait of Charles III in 1760. The paintings repeat formulas from known models, and were both initially attributed to Anton Raphael Mengs, under whose name they appeared in the inventory drawn up by the Banco de San Carlos in 1847 on the occasion of its merger with the Banco de Isabel II. In the 1980s they were believed to be by Luis Paret, but a forgotten report dated 1868 attributed them to Maella, perhaps based on the commission document, which the report cites repeatedly.
Several very similar copies of this pair of portraits exist. The best known are those at the Fine Arts Museum of Bilbao, where they were also attributed to Paret; those formerly held in the Navas collection in Madrid, which Beruete and Mayer attributed to Francisco de Goya, and another pair owned by the National Heritage Association and held at the monastery of La Encarnación in Madrid, attributed to Antonio Carnicero.
The portrait of the young Charles IV is unlike any known prototype by Mengs, but it is similar (albeit with more intimate nuances) to the paintings that he produced years later in a more official, more solemn context (those at the Pedralbes palace in Barcelona and the Academy of San Carlos in Mexico). It can be assumed that these works were produced at his studio, but documentary records indicate that the actual hand that painted them belonged to a talented collaborator.
Javier Portús writes that the inventories of the Banco de España and its predecessors reveal quite precisely where certain works were located up to the mid 19th century. According to the 'Inventory of valuables and furnishings at the Banco Nacional de San Carlos located at the offices indicated', cited by Portús, the pair of paintings of Charles IV and Marie Louise of Parma before Charles became king accompanied Goya's portrait of Charles III, in line with the representative role assigned to such paintings, in the Board Room of the original Banco de San Carlos headquarters building on Calle de la Luna in Madrid.
Comments updated by Carlos Martín.
He was the seventh child of the future King Charles III of Spain, then Charles VII of Naples, and his wife Maria Amalia of Saxony. The first five children had all been girls. The sixth, Felipe, was born with a disability and judged unfit to reign. Don Carlos was thus recognised as the heir apparent. His parents had another two girls, who both died shortly after birth, and four more boys: Fernando, the future king of Naples; Gabriel; Antonio Pascual; and Francisco Javier.
Despite a somewhat careless education, he soon displayed three main interests: music (he was the great patron of Boccherini in Madrid), the mechanical arts and, especially, hunting. He also showed great sensitivity to the visual arts, and was to Goya as King Philip IV had been to Velázquez.
When Ferdinand VI died without issue in 1759, his brother was proclaimed King of Spain as Charles III. Leaving the crown of Naples to his son Fernando (Ferdinand) under the regency of Tanucci, the new king arrived in Madrid in December 1759, where the parliament swore loyalty to the Crown Prince as heir apparent. In 1762, the marriage was arranged between the prince and his cousin, Maria Luisa of Parma, the daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Parma. The actual wedding did not take place until September 1765 at San Ildefonso. The couple were undoubtedly very close until the end. They had twelve children, those who survived being the successor Fernando, the Infantes Carlos and Francisco de Paula, and the Infantas Carlota Joaquina, María Amalia, María Luisa and Isabel.
The beginning of Charles IV’s reign coincided with the meeting in France of the Estates-General and the start of the Revolution. From that moment, his main concern was to save his cousin, Louis XVI, who designated him head of the House of Bourbon and placed himself in his hands. His policy towards the revolutionary process led him to replace first Floridablanca and then Aranda. Godoy then became the first secretary of State and of the Bureau, and set about attempting to save Louis XVI. When Louis was condemned to death and beheaded, Godoy unhesitatingly joined the European First Coalition with the king’s assent.
War was declared by the French Conventionalists, and the first phase of hostilities ended favourably for the Spanish. From 1794, however, the French reacted effectively, and there were invasions of Spanish territory at both ends of the Pyrenees, in Rosas and Guipúzcoa. Peace was therefore sought and concluded with the Treaty of Basel of 1795. The agreement was well received and earned Godoy the title of ‘Prince of Peace’, but Spain was now out of the Coalition and more directly affected than ever by the traditional hostility of England. In 1796, Godoy opted to return to the policy of Pactes de Famille, although there was no longer a family. The Treaty of San Ildefonso (1796) defined Spain’s international horizon from that moment on, and when Spain fell to Bonaparte, it became effectively subordinated to the interests of France.
The ambassadors from the French Convention brought all the anti-monarchical prejudices fed by the Revolution, while at the opposite extreme were the English diplomats, who became spreaders of vicious gossip. This gave rise to the first rumours about a supposed relationship between the queen and the favourite, idle talk that was to determine all subsequent historiography. Nevertheless, a study of the correspondence exchanged between queen and favourite shows respectful deference on the part of Godoy and affection with maternal overtones on the part of the queen, who was twice Godoy’s age and worn out by pregnancies. As the ultimate judge on matters of general policy, there are always references to a king who was less inept than has been thought. The royal couple shared an absolute faith in their favourite’s abilities.
Charles IV never forgot his identification with the interests of the Royal House of France and the possibility of a restoration through the figure of the Count of Provence, the future Louis XVIII. In 1798, when the Directory discovered this diplomatic duplicity, it demanded that Charles IV remove Godoy, who was replaced by Saavedra and Jovellanos, and later by Urquijo. The rise to power of Bonaparte, however, brought changes that allowed Charles IV to recall Godoy.
The first commitment with France was the war against Portugal, England’s political platform on the continent. Godoy neutralised Portuguese resistance in the War of the Oranges, preventing the entry of French troops while at the same time saving the Braganza monarchy in accordance with Charles IV’s criterion of dynastic loyalty. The Treaty of Badajoz of 1801 merely redrew the border, incorporating the fortified town of Olivenza to Spain. This peace was not well received by Napoleon, who felt he had been tricked.
Fernando (Ferdinand), the Prince of Asturias, who was dominated by the nefarious influence of Canon Escóiquiz, his mentor and an enemy of Godoy, was married in 1802 to Princess Maria Antonia of Naples. The princely court then became a hive of intrigue against Godoy in favour of British diplomatic interests. When the princess died, Escóiquiz changed tactics. Napoleon had been proclaimed emperor in 1804, and Fernando now contacted him to request the hand of a French princess, a manoeuvre directed against his parents and Godoy.
After the discovery of what came to be known as the “El Escorial conspiracy”, which ended with the king pardoning his son, Godoy understood what was to be expected of the future Ferdinand VII. He therefore subsumed his policy to that of the French emperor as the sole guarantee of protection in the future. Godoy fell into the trap of the Treaty of Fontainebleau, which resumed the offensive against Portugal in a bid to throw the English off the continent. The treaty included a division of Portugal, but Napoleon was really thinking of restructuring the Iberian Peninsula in France’s favour. When he realised that Napoleon was trying to turn the “armed collaboration” into what was effectively an occupation, Godoy decided to follow the example of the Portuguese royal family, which had fled to Brazil. The Spanish royal family went to Aranjuez, which was to be the first stop on their journey to Andalusia to take ship in Seville for New Spain. However, it was then that the supporters of the Prince of Asturias provoked the Aranjuez Mutiny of 1808, which toppled the favourite and forced Charles IV to abdicate in favour of his son, who immediately placed himself under the protection of the French emperor. Napoleon presented himself as arbitrator, though with the real intention of annexing the kingdom, and he summoned all the members of the royal family to Bayonne. There he obliged Ferdinand VII to return the crown to Charles IV, who was induced in turn to abdicate in his favour.
Charles and Maria Luisa, the “parent monarchs”, were imprisoned with Godoy in Fontainebleau, where they remained secluded until the fall of Bonaparte. They subsequently took up residence in Rome, and at the end of the war recognised Ferdinand VII as king of Spain. They kept Godoy under their protection, and the queen made him her heir. Maria Luisa died in Rome in 1819. Charles IV, who was in Naples visiting the king, his brother Ferdinand IV, died a few days later. Perhaps the best summary of Charles IV’s personality was given by Bonaparte: “a frank and good patriarch.”
Other works by Mariano Salvador Maella