The Goya who painted The Madhouse, in all probability, faced with that flesh swarming in the void, and those naked forms on naked walls, must have felt something that resembled a contemporary pathos: the symbolic faded finery on the heads of mad kings showed begging bodies, bodies offered to whips and chains, and contradicted the delirium of their faces not so much by the misery of their nudity as by the human truth that radiates from their intact flesh.