One bright, warm morning in Madrid during July, Sorolla was painting a portrait of his wife in her garden while a companion watched nearby. The three stood beneath a leafy arbor when he rose and started toward the study. He stumbled on the stairs, grasped the left side of his face in a gesture that spoke of pain and pity, and collapsed. Despite the illness that had already gripped him, Sorolla, defiant against fate, pressed on with painting. Those nearby tried to dissuade him, but he persisted. The palette slipped from his left hand while his right clenched the brush with stubborn resolve. Four strokes followed, long and hesitant, as if from another life just beyond reach. A sequence of four silent cries seemed to mark a threshold not to be crossed. He muttered through tears, unable to continue, yet his mind clung to light as if to keep a spark alive. Then, with a quiet shrug that suggested exhaustion rather than surrender, he whispered that the world would go on regardless, and the moment passed.
Ramon Perez de Ayala later recorded that Sorolla had suffered that day. The artist received care from doctors Simarro and Marañón. Over the ensuing months, there were improvements and periods of walking again. Yet in December 1920 another round of seizures arrived, and those close to him understood that his health would never permit him to paint again, according to Ana Muñoz of the Sorolla Museum Documentation Department.
Transfer to Cercedilla
In the summer of 1923 the family moved to the home of their daughter Maria in Istanbul. The painter’s health, now marked by paralysis and a kidney condition, flared with fever in early August. The figure of the light, once so luminous in his canvases, faded decisively as he passed away on August 10, 1923. He left the world at the age of sixty, after a life filled with luminance and color.
Sorolla died at 16:30, and the death certificate, preserved by the Sorolla Museum in Madrid and held by the Levante-EMV collection, confirms the circumstances. Blanca de la Válgoma of the museum’s Documentation Department recalled that after a lengthy illness he died surrounded by his wife, children Joaquín and María, and her husband Francisco Pons Arnau. The end came with a high fever, and his partner, exhausted by the long ordeal, was unable to offer further support in his final hours. In his chest lay a keepsake, the Forsaken Virgin, to which he had formed a deep attachment. The room was prepared for departure, and a single bouquet placed by his daughter María marked the place where he rested in life.
Death certificates later described the cause as pyelonephritis linked to the medical treatment and diagnosis of that time. The city records, confirmed by the Cercedilla court and the municipal judge, reflect the formal notes from August of that year. News of the artist’s passing spread quickly among family and friends. Preparations for the funeral began, a chapel was arranged in Madrid, and a transfer to Valencia, where he had wished to be buried, was organized. The Valencian sculptor Mariano Benlliure was informed while still in Cercedilla to craft the death mask, while Francisco Pons left Guadalajara at dawn to notify Sorolla’s youngest daughter Elena. The family relied on telegrams to relay the sad news to relatives and to Valencian officials.
King’s message
Sorolla’s sister Concha boarded the mail train to Madrid as soon as she learned of the news. The King responded with a telegram of heartfelt condolences and asked Benlliure to represent him at the funeral. Valencians learned of the loss as papers published the news, and many artists traveled to Cercedilla on a special train to accompany the body. Journalists from various newspapers also made the journey, paying tribute as the painter’s cortege passed through.
Today the painter rests in the Sorolla Museum in Madrid and at Valencia General Cemetery. A floral tribute marks the grave, a quiet ceremony that honors the artist on the anniversary of his passing and reflects the lasting impact of his dedication to light, color, and human emotion in art.