A portrait by Juan Luna of Adele della Rocca, niece of Count Enrico della Rocca, First Honorary General Adjutant to King Umberto I, has resurfaced 140 years after its acquisition by the Italian family. This extraordinary find, set to be part of Léon Gallery’s “Magnificent September Auction 2024′ on September 14, offers valuable insight into Luna’s connections with Europe’s aristocracy, highlighting his unique position as an Indio artist who navigated seamlessly within royal circles.
MARIANO BENLLURE AND KING ALFONSO XII
On January 14, 1875, at just 12 years old, Mariano Benlliure was profoundly inspired by King Alfonso XII’s triumphant return to Madrid. The city erupted in celebration as crowds filled the streets, enthusiastically cheering and shouting, “Long live the Peacemaker King!” — “¡Viva el Rey Pacificador!”
Entry of the King into Madrid by J. Cambón, La Ilustración Española y Americana, 1875 (From the collection of Martin Arnaldo)
The royal family had been exiled to Paris, France, following the 1868 revolution, an uprising that stemmed from widespread discontent with the reign of Alfonso’s mother, Queen Isabella II. Her rule was plagued by corruption, political turmoil, and unpopular conservative alliances, which ultimately led to her downfall.
Moved by the king’s return, young Mariano sculpted from memory a small equestrian statue of Alfonso XII. With the support of Francisco Queipo de Llano, Count of Toreno, Mariano was given the opportunity to present his sculpture to the king. Impressed by the boy’s talent, King Alfonso XII rewarded him with 500 pesetas. This pivotal moment changed the course of Mariano’s life: this boy from a modest home in the El Carmen district of Valencia eventually became one of Spain’s most renowned sculptors.
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Many years after the king’s death, Mariano entered a competition to design the official equestrian statue of Alfonso XII that would be placed in Madrid’s Retiro Park. He accompanied his proposal with the motto “14 January 1875” and ultimately won the commission.
Equestrian statue of Alfonso XII by Mariano Benlliure, part of the Monument to Alfonso XII in Retiro Park, Madrid. Photograph by Carlos Delgado, 2014. (Image sourced from Wikimedia Commons, licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0)
THE BOHEMIANS OF THE VIA MARGUTTA
In April 1881, 18-year-old Mariano Benlliure and his 21-year-old brother, Juan Antonio, left Spain for Rome to join their eldest brother, 25-year-old José. They settled in a studio at Via Margutta 33, in the heart of Rome’s historic center, right next to the studio of 23-year-old Filipino artist Juan Luna y Novicio, who was completing The Death of Cleopatra.
Juan Luna and the Benlliure brothers, particularly Mariano, were forging a friendship destined to last a lifetime. On August 10, 1897, while Luna was in Madrid attempting to secure the release of his brother Antonio from prison, he wrote to Mariano, who was still in Valencia: “Come back soon and receive a hug from your old friend.” Mariano would eventually obtain an audience with María Cristina, the Queen Regent, that would lead to Antonio’s release.
After Luna’s death, Mariano provided support for Luna’s son, Andrés, before Andrés moved to France in 1912. The bust of Juan Luna that Mariano Benlliure made, today on display in the Spoliarium Hall of the National Museum of Fine Arts in Manila, serves as a reminder of their enduring bond, which began on Via Margutta, where they thrived as significant presences in the artistic community.
Top row: Mariano Benlliure, Juan José Puerto Villanueva, Juan Antonio Benlliure. Bottom row: Juan Luna, Pedro Paterno, Félix Resurrección Hidalgo, and Miguel Zaragoza. Rome, circa 1883. (From Fundacion Mariano Benlliure, AFMB_FN423)
Juan Luna and the Benlliure brothers were forging a friendship destined to last a lifetime
Via Margutta, famously known as the “strada degli artisti” or “street of artists,” was a refuge for painters, sculptors, and writers since the Renaissance. Its narrow alleys, lined with studios and workshops, created a lively hub for artistic activity and attracted those who embraced a bohemian lifestyle.
The term “bohemian” originally came from the French word “bohémien,” referring to Romani people believed to have come from the Bohemia region in Central Europe. Over time, it became associated with artists and intellectuals who rejected bourgeois norms.
This bohemian spirit was embodied by groups like the Circolo Artistico di Roma, a vibrant community on Via Margutta that included the Benlliure brothers and Juan Luna, which encouraged collaboration and the exchange of ideas among local and international artists, fostering a culture of creative freedom and innovation.
“We often met at the International Artistic Circle of Rome, where (Luna) was already, although still very young, one of the most distinguished members of the group of Spanish painters established in the Eternal City,” wrote Pasquale in 1892 in La Libre Parole.
Even before achieving widespread fame, Juan Luna had already built a strong reputation in the community. In a later article in The Sun dated November 1, 1903, an American fellow student of Juan Luna recounts his compassionate response to the death of a young French art student:
“‘Boys,’ (Luna) said, ‘I have not a single soldo1 to start this collection—I am living on credit— but begin it with a promissory note of 100 florins, payable at the first of the month.’ Then he passed around the hat, and soon collected enough to send the dead artist home to France to be buried.”
Luna’s bold gesture inspired his peers to contribute, reflecting a natural sense of leadership and an ability to inspire others—qualities not commonly associated with a Filipino in Rome during that era. But Luna was far from the typical Indio.
THE PROPHET OF THE CLASS
In June 1881, a few months after Mariano arrived in Rome, Juan Luna was awarded a Medalla de Segunda Clase (Silver Medal) at the Exposición de Bellas Artes in Madrid. This achievement significantly elevated Luna’s status, placing him on a new level of recognition within the artistic community. Interest in his work continued to grow, culminating in 1883-1884, when crowds flocked to his studio as he began working on Spoliarium.
Luis de Llanos, a painter, writer, and Spanish diplomat, provided one of the rare first-hand accounts of Juan Luna working on his masterpiece. He used pseudonyms and nicknamed Luna “Diana.” Luna’s studio was described as a lively, almost theatrical space filled with models, spectators, musicians, and poets. Llanos observed how Luna would jump onto a table to step back and get a better view of his work, then maneuver through the crowded studio and announce, “Gentlemen! I am going to splash!” before each brushstroke.
Luna would jump onto a table to step back and get a better view of his work…. and announce, ‘Gentlemen! I am going to splash!’ before each brushstroke
He also commented on Luna’s strong presence in the Via Margutta community, describing him as the “prophet of the class,” while simultaneously highlighting perceived racial distinctions:
“The prophet of the class is the great Diana (Luna), young—as is fitting for the genre—but darker than necessary and, although extremely ugly, extraordinarily likeable. He is not erudite nor pretentious; he is simply a great painter who does more than he speaks, and who, without being rough, is more than rough; he must have savage blood in his veins. This energy gives him an immense momentum.”
While Luna was recognized for his talent, he still faced racial discrimination, a common issue in the 19th-century.
AN UNEXPECTED VISIT
Despite the prevailing colonial prejudices of the time, a distinguished guest took the time to meet Luna in person. In the same article from The Sun, the American student recalls:
“One day he was hard at work lost in the aesthetic delight of laying on the colors. I was watching him from a divan in a corner of the studio.
“Suddenly I heard steps on the stairway, and the portieres of the doorway, just behind Luna, parted. I jumped up, for there stood King Humbert and Queen Margherita of Italy, with their suite.
“Luna was too absorbed in his work to have heard. He was dressed in his worst rags, for he had a habit of wiping his brushes on his clothes.
‘The King and Queen paused behind Luna and gazed in admiration at the painting of heroic size before them….
“The King and Queen paused behind Luna and gazed in admiration at the painting of heroic size before them. The King held up his hand, demanding silence. Thus all of us stood petrified, while Luna pranced up and down before his canvas, unconscious of the august presence.
“Suddenly he turned and saw the King. For a second he was dazed, then instinctively glanced down at his paint-besmeared clothes.
“‘Your Majesties,’ he said, ‘I would offer my hand, but it is full of paint.’”
Queen Margherita of Savoy at the Artistic Circle of Rome. Engraving based on a drawing by Dante Paolocci (From L’Illustrazione Italiana, 1893. Internet Archive RAV0070589_1893_00003)
I had never come across any documented evidence of a king actually visiting Luna’s studio, except for the account mentioned in The Sun. However, Italian royalty occasionally visited Via Margutta and the Artistic Circle of Rome, reflecting efforts to forge a unified national identity after Italy’s unification in 1861.
King Umberto I, in particular, sought to promote cultural unity and national pride by engaging with the artistic community, viewing art as essential for fostering a national consciousness. His visits demonstrated his commitment to this idea and helped strengthen the monarchy’s image as a supporter of the arts—an important gesture when the monarchy’s relevance was being questioned by progressive and republican factions.
As early as 1875, a proposal had been put forward to construct a dedicated building for art exhibitions in Rome. This culminated in the creation of the Palazzo delle Esposizioni, inaugurated on January 21, 1883, with King Umberto I in attendance. The Palazzo quickly became a prominent venue for displaying art and housed the Galleria Nazionale d’Arte Moderna, further establishing Rome as a cultural capital and demonstrating the king’s commitment to the arts.
‘Arrival of the Kings of Italy at the Palace of Fine Arts’
It was within these walls, in the final three days of March 1884, perhaps a few weeks after the royal visit, that Juan Luna presented his completed masterpiece, Spoliarium, to King Umberto I and Queen Margherita, just before shipping it to Madrid, where it would go on to win the highest gold medal.
ANOTHER ROYAL ENCOUNTER?
Carlos da Silva, a member of the 1957 Juan Luna Centennial Commission, noted that King Alfonso XII of Spain was “a personal and intimate friend of Mariano Benlliure and frequently was a visitor at the Benlliure studio in Madrid.” What da Silva did not realize was that Juan Luna, the Benlliure brothers, and other Spanish artists from the Roman colony also shared this studio, known as “la casa de hierro” on Calle de la Gorguera.
If the King of Spain did indeed visit Mariano, he would have inevitably encountered Juan Luna as well, especially considering that Luna’s fame and recognition soared during the 1884 Madrid Exposition. It was there that his painting Spoliarium received extraordinary acclaim, even from critics like Emilia Pardo Bazán, a prominent Spanish writer whose views often reflected the racial prejudices of her time.
When Luna did not receive the Medal of Honor, it sparked a public outcry. The late Santiago Pilar, a Filipino scholar of Juan Luna, believed that the decision was driven by racial prejudice:
“The Luna entry did win a gold medal—but many felt that it should also have been awarded the coveted Prize of Honor, because it was rated first among the three entries that won gold medals; and the disgruntled suspected that Luna was not proclaimed Prizewinner of Honor because that would place him, an Indio, above the two other gold medalists, who were Spanish.”
Although there are no first-hand sources to confirm this, Carlos da Silva reported that the king granted an audience to Juan Luna to discuss the issue of discrimination. The king was no stranger to personal attacks, having faced mockery and persistent rumors about his legitimacy, particularly regarding his parentage. His opponents, especially the Carlists, derisively nicknamed him “Puigmoltejo,” a reference to Enrique Puigmoltó y Mayans, a captain of the Guard rumored to be his biological father.
These rumors stemmed from widespread gossip that Alfonso’s “official” father, Francisco de Asís, Duke of Cádiz—often derisively called “Paquita” or “Doña Paquita” due to his perceived effeminacy and preference for men—might not have been his true father. The nickname and rumors were part of broader efforts to undermine the legitimacy of Alfonso’s claim to the throne.
Luna’s story must have resonated deeply with him. They were the same age—the king was born in 1857 as well—and they were both young, admired, and carving their destinies in the face of discrimination and adversity.
According to da Silva, the king “expressed his sympathies,” and his influence moved the Senate to consider commissioning Luna for a painting of the Battle of Lepanto that would hang at equal height and directly opposite to Francisco Pradilla’s Rendición de Granada. Since Pradilla had won the Medal of Honor in 1878, this would symbolically position Luna, an Indio, as his equal. Luna unveiled The Battle of Lepanto on November 29, 1887, before H.M. the Queen Regent María Cristina and H.R.H. the Infanta Isabel, to great applause and congratulations. Sadly, King Alfonso had passed away in 1885, nearly two years to the day earlier.
THE MARQUES DE CASA RIERA
I have not yet found any first-hand evidence that Alfonso XII visited Juan Luna’s studio in Madrid, or granted him an audience concerning the Medal of Honor. These claims primarily originate from Carlos da Silva and Santiago Pilar, who likely relied on accounts from Juan Luna’s son, Andres. However, I have identified a potential connection between Luna and the Spanish king that could lend credence to these claims: the Marqués de Casa Riera, who was Luna’s main wedding sponsor.
Wedding certificate Juan Luna de San Pedro and Paz Pardo de Tavera 7 December 1886 (Archives de Paris. V4E 6106)
The enigmatic signature of Alejandro de Mora y Riera, II Marqués de Casa Riera, on Luna’s wedding certificate prompted further investigation. It revealed that the Marqués was a staunch royalist and loyal supporter of Queen Isabella II. During the royal family’s exile after the revolution of 1868, the marqués offered them his Parisian palace as a refuge and remained a trusted confidant to her son, Alfonso XII, throughout their exile and after their return to Spain.
Moreover, the marqués was known for hosting lavish gatherings at his hôtel particulier at 29 Rue de Berri. In one such event, following a dinner for M. de Cárdenas, the Spanish ambassador, French newspapers detailed a memorable performance:
“Mrs. Elena Sanz had a resounding triumph there. All her pieces were encored. The next morning, Mr. Casa Riera sent the eminent singer a magnificent bracelet—diamonds and sapphires.”
Elena Sanz y Martínez de Arizala, a renowned Spanish opera singer and the mistress of King Alfonso XII, was exiled to Paris in April 1884 with her two sons, who had been fathered by the king. This exile, orchestrated by Queen María Cristina, aimed to prevent any scandal or claims to the throne.
Considering the marqués’ documented loyalty to the royal family and his frequent involvement in events closely connected to the private affairs of King Alfonso XII, it seems unlikely that his sponsorship of Luna’s wedding was purely coincidental or motivated solely by artistic admiration.
Given these connections, it is reasonable to speculate that the king may have been the benefactor behind the marqués’ lavish gifts, much as he may have quietly facilitated an audience for Luna and supported the Senate’s commission for The Battle of Lepanto. If there wasn’t a special relationship between Luna and the monarch, why would the marqués have been Luna’s main wedding sponsor?
The Marqués de Casa Riera’s hôtel particulier.
The marqués’ presence at Luna’s wedding wasone of the few tangible hints of a connection between Luna and the king. Like Elena Sanz, whose relationship with the king remained discreet, Luna’s potential ties to the Spanish monarchy are not widely documented. Yet, occasionally, evidence emerges that sheds light on the remarkable and mysterious relationship between Luna, a bohemian Indio painter, and European nobles and royals.
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