Matrimonio Luna

In this wedding photo, the bride is seated, concealing her noticeable height advantage, in compliance with the societal norms of the time, which emphasized male dominance, even in physical stature. This photograph encapsulates the dynamics of their union, ultimately leading to the tragic murder of the wife. This is the wedding photo of Juan Luna, widely regarded as the greatest Filipino artist that ever lived.

It is said that Juan Luna negotiated an additional sum for his masterpiece "Battle of Lepanto" with the commission responsible for enhancing the Spanish Senate. The extra income from this deal was lavishly spent by Luna on a grand tour of Venice in 1886, intended as a honeymoon gift for his wife, María de la Paz Pardo de Tavera, known as Pacita. Luna made sure that Pacita would feel her significance to him and the deep love he held for her, bringing her to a pedestal of admiration and affection.

Yet, half a decade later, love unmasked itself, revealing an ugly, multi-headed specter of jealousy, betrayal, hatred, unrequited love, and, ultimately, death.

L'Othello des Philippines (The Othello of the Philippines) is how Juan Luna was described by a Parisian daily during his trial in the highly publicized double murder case. Perhaps he truly embodied the Oriental Othello, rising from humble artistic training in Spanish Manila to become one of the bright stars, a quasi enfant terrible of Spanish Art. His distinctive style and uncompromising demeanor catapulted him to a status we might liken to a rock star, a stark contrast to the formal, often bespectacled and bearded presentations of his contemporaries.

During a banquet held to honor the Spanish artist Francisco Pradilla Ortiz, a photograph was taken outside the event hall. In attendance were Luna, Hidalgo, Benlliure, and a whole cast of renowned Spanish artists, including Luna's "maestro" Alejo Vera. Luna, with his distinctive pudgy nose and somewhat extended mouth, still carried an air of youthful innocence—parang inutusan lang bumili ng suka (like he was sent to buy vinegar). During that time, he was said to be admired or pampered by the group like a bunso (the youngest). I might even say he was their adored mascot. And he owed this attention primarily to one painting—the "Spoliarium."

Ever since the "Spoliarium" was awarded one of the gold medals at an exposition in Madrid in 1884, Juan Luna's star was on the rise. He and his works were extensively discussed in the leading newspapers of Madrid. This recognition resulted in a couple of commissioned works, one of which was "The Battle of Lepanto," for which Queen Regent Maria Christina herself asked Luna to personally enlighten her about the masterpiece. Juan Luna had truly become a celebrity, and this added to the attraction and allure that led Pacita to say "yes" when he asked her to be his wife, and she could not resist.

Pacita's mother, Doña Juliana Gorricho de Pardo de Tavera, vehemently opposed the union. Despite having played the role of a motherly host to numerous gatherings of a Fil-Hispanic "barkada," which included her sons Trinidad and Felix, as well as Rizal, the Luna brothers, Hidalgo, and others, in her opulent Parisian residence, she epitomized the saying "mothers know best."

Pacita had been raised in luxury, and this extended to her entire family. Their substantial holdings and properties in the Philippines, including a parcel of land in Escolta with commercial establishments, defined them as one of the wealthiest families on the island. They could afford almost anything. It's understandable why Doña Juliana would have concerns about her daughter marrying an artist, especially an Indio from a lower caste.

"Tomorrow I will marry Juan Luna Novicio!" Could it be that she uttered those words while gazing at her wedding gown the night before the fateful day? Her Mama gave a forced smile, an air of apprehension surrounding her. And as she turned around to look out the window, Mama closed her eyes, held her breath, and clasped her hands together. Perhaps she whispered, "My daughter is marrying a demonyo!" Yet, she couldn't stop her. Even her son Trinidad, an expert in Malay Civilization (the race to which Luna belonged), made her realize that Juan was no different from them. Finally, she agreed to the union with a heavy heart.

Then came the children. The birth of Andres Luna, affectionately called "Lulling," gave the celebrity artist something truly worth celebrating and sharing with the world, which he indeed did. In a letter to Blumentritt, he enclosed a photo of the one-year-old Andres, a gesture that the Austrian-German Professor found so adorable that he couldn't resist writing to Jose Rizal to share all about it.

Like most mothers-in-law, the grandchild was spoiled and pampered. The family hired a nanny, adding to the growing household staff of the Luna-Taveras, located at Villas Dupont on Pergolese Street. They already had a cook and another maid. Was Luna running short of cash? This was a myth that the trial debunked. During Luna's interrogation in the trial by the Tavera lawyer, it was revealed that Pacita was receiving a monthly stipend from the family's earnings and holdings. Perhaps it was a strategy to paint Juan Luna as an ingrate who lived off the generosity of his in-laws. Luna confidently retorted, "What she earns every month, I earn thrice with my paintings!" Boom!

The double murder occurred like a flash of lightning, so swift and uncontrollable. Months before it, two tragedies had befallen Juan Luna. First, the news of his father's death in the Philippines left him somber and taciturn for days. Then, another tragedy struck when Maria de La Paz, Luna's second child, nicknamed "Bibi," passed away, plunging Juan into a dark abyss. He loved his children so deeply that even in his paintings, he portrayed them in an endearing and "niedlich" manner. These paintings are frozen images of a father's love, forever immortalized.

From then on, Juan Luna was battling his inner demons. He received anonymous letters indicating that his wife was spending her evenings with a French businessman at the resort spa where Pacita and Luling were staying for a holiday and health reasons. The painter devised a plan to uncover the truth, closely monitoring her daily activities upon their return. He even followed her on the streets of Paris. After numerous attempts to piece together a large jigsaw puzzle, he ultimately reached a heartbreaking conclusion – she was unfaithful. Pinependejo siya.

The crumbling marriage was starting to unravel from its very core to its foundation. He questioned her, even resorted to physical violence. He even cast suspicion on the colored pencils she had acquired for her "beauty" rituals. He accused her of being unsympathetic to his emotional turmoil after losing his father and beloved baby daughter. There was one instance when he asked Pacita about something, and the argument escalated, with her allegedly shouting, "I don't love you! I hate you! I hate you!" He felt ignored and shouted at while the world seemed to grow darker, closing in on them.

After persistent questioning, he took on the role of an interrogator more than that of a husband. Eventually, Pacita admitted to having an affair with the Frenchman. In exchange for her admission, they found forgiveness and a willingness to start afresh. They decided to go to Spain to begin a new chapter in their lives, without the interference of the mother-in-law. "Wala ang biyenan!"

He is ready to forgive, but is he ready to forget?" asked the mother-in-law as she took on the role of an "advocatus diaboli." With her daughter and an adorable grandchild about to be taken away from her, she fought back fiercely.

Dona Juliana summoned his sons to a meeting, along with a Fil-Hispanic lawyer, Antonio Maria Regidor, who was based in London. After discussions, they concluded that it was best for the couple to separate. Luna, upon learning of this secret plan, became furious. When he had the opportunity to isolate his wife and mother-in-law, hell broke loose. He lost control of his emotions and went berserk.

Inside a room, he directed his anger towards his mother-in-law, shooting her at point-blank range, causing her instant death. His rage may have been fueled by the fear of losing his happiness, son, and wife, as it turned into a tug of war between him and Dona Juliana. After shooting his mother-in-law, Luna, perhaps without a moment's thought, pulled the trigger again, the gun pointed to his wife. She fell but was not immediately killed, passing away days later from a complicated head wound caused by the bullet's entry.

Months after the double murder and the subsequent trial, Juan Luna was acquitted. (The details of the trial have been covered in my previous posts, in this blog—please refer to them below.) It is said that after learning of his acquittal, he asked for his son. His friends and colleagues drove him to a Paris restaurant where his son, Andres, was waiting. Upon seeing his son, he broke down and wept.

Juan Luna is widely regarded as the greatest Filipino artist to have ever lived. The murder of his wife and mother-in-law is sometimes treated by some as a mere footnote to his life and his body of work.