DOMENCO THEOTOCOPULI (EL GRECO)
Domenco Theotocopuli was born in Crete; hence the nickname by which he
was known: El Greco. He arrived in Spain by way of Venice and Rome;
therefore in the catalogue of the Prado he is included among the Italian
artists. It was either an excess of modesty on the part of the Spanish
or a curious symptom of indifference thus to rob their own school of so
great an artist. Nor has it the warrant of facts. Though El Greco had
been a pupil of Titian and had drawn inspiration from Tintoretto, it is
the fact of his art being so different from that of Italy, of his
developing so unique a personality of his own, that is the
distinguishing feature of his genius. Moreover, it was not until after
his arrival in Spain and a sojourn of some time in Toledo that he
discovered himself. It was the conditions, physical and spiritual, of
his adopted country that brought to maturity the real El Greco. Spain
drew forth his genius and in return he expressed the genius of the
Spanish race in its spiritual aspects to a higher degree than any other
artist of Spain. He was the seer, the diviner, who not only mirrored the
external character of his times but also realised its soul.
The Church of his day seems to have prized his genius: the king
underrated it, while contemporaries and posterity recognising him as
bizarre, inclined to the theory that he was mad. It has been left to the
judgment of the present day, reaching back scarcely more than twenty
years, to appraise El Greco at his real valuation. The reasons for both
the earlier and the most recent estimations are plain.
Philip II, patron of Titian, was enamoured of Italian art and, as we
recall, imported Italian artists to decorate his palaces. Being a man of
small and dogmatic mind he could not extend appreciation to work so
different as El Greco’s, and set the fashion among laymen to ignore it.
Later the whole trend of Spanish art in its emergence from Italianate
imitation was toward naturalism. The seventeenth century was
overshadowed by the genius of Velasquez. In the eighteenth century Spain
followed the lead of other countries in the academic effort to revive
the forms without the spirit of the Renaissance art, until she became
suddenly aware of a native genius: Goya, the temperamental, objective,
impressionist. The nineteenth century was occupied with the rediscovery
of Velasquez. Its watchword became “truth”; truth of actual appearances,
the seeing and rendering of objective facts as they really seem to be.
Its artistic motive, in fact, notwithstanding that it included, as it
could not help doing, the limitations and variations of the personal
equation, was in essence photographic. It was concerned, like the
camera, with what the eye can see. Not until the end of the century did
this vogue of objective naturalism abate. The inevitable reaction
against this naturalistic view of art set in; quickened by the gradual
realisation that photography was crowding the painter from their common
field of sight. Artists, on the one hand, began to realise that there
are internal as well as external facts, facts of the spirit as well as
facts of matter; and, on the other, that the chief value of a picture is
not in its making something look like life, but in extracting from the
life represented its fullest amount of expression. Expression, among
progressive modern artists, has taken precedence of mere representation.
It is therefore, our own day that is giving special honor to El Greco
and Goya; to Goya, the master of material expression, to El Greco who
joined this, in so extraordinary a degree, to spiritual expression.
Having thus established the point of view from which El Greco should be
studied, we will briefly consider the conditions under which his genius
developed and then the qualities, technical and spiritual, which his
works exhibit. We shall find that he broke away from the Venetian use of
color, employing a sober range of hues, of extreme subtlety and a
chiaroscuro all his own. That he was also a great master of composition,
decorating every part of his large canvases with meaningful details, so
that there are no spaces perfunctorily filled or devoid of interest. A
great draughtsman also, who, although he altered for his own purpose the
proportions of figures and at times dared to indulge in “bad drawing,”
realises the plastic qualities of form as few artists have done, and
extracts from form, gesture and action a maximum of character and
expression. Similarly, in his portraits we shall discover not only a
vivid rendering of external personality, but also a penetrating insight
into the soul of the subject. Finally, in the presence of his work one
should be conscious of a rare and elevated spirit, the artist’s own,
interpreting the spiritual genius of the Spain of his day.
* * * * *
Almost nothing is known of El Greco’s life. No record of him exists
until November 16, 1570, the date of a letter written by the Venetian
miniature painter, Julio Clovio to Cardinal Nepote Farnese. It
says--“There is in Rome a young man from Candia, a disciple of Titian,
who in my opinion is a painter of rare talent. Among other things he has
painted a portrait of himself, which causes wonderment to all the
painters of Rome. I should like him to be under the patronage of your
Illustrious and Reverend Lordship, without any other contribution toward
his livelihood than a room in the Farnese Palace for some little time,
until he can find other accommodation.” This letter establishes El
Greco’s birthplace, corroborating the artist’s signature, as it appears
on many canvases in Greek characters with the addition of “Cretan”; his
experience under Titian in Venice; his visit to Rome and the fact that
in the year 1570 he was a young man. How long he stayed in Rome is
uncertain, but the next date of certainty, 1577, appears after his
signature upon a picture of _The Assumption of the Virgin_ for the
Church of San Domingo el Antigua in Toledo. The fact of El Greco being
engaged on this work is corroborated by documents relating to the
church, in which it is recorded that the artist was paid 1000 ducats for
eight pictures to adorn the high and side altars. Thus it appears that
at some date between the years 1570 and 1577 El Greco reached Spain and
settled in Toledo. Here he seems to have lived continuously until his
death, the record of which is still preserved. “On 7th April, 1614, died
Domenico Greco. He left no will. He received the sacraments, was buried
in Santo Domingo el Antigua; and gave candles.” The position of El
Greco’s tomb in San Domingo is not known. The only other documents in
existence relate to contracts for commissions and occasional disputes
and lawsuits over the prices. They have been summarised and used as data
for establishing the order in which his pictures were executed by Albert
F. Calvert and E. Gasquoine Hartley in their critical and richly
illustrated book, “El Greco, An Account of his Life and Works.”
One document may be mentioned here, since it indicates El Greco’s brief
relations with the Court. It is a royal order, dated 1580, which states
that a commission had been entrusted to Domenico Theotocopuli, Greek
painter, residing in Toledo, but that “the work was not being carried on
for want of money and fine colors.” Therefore it is commanded, “That the
said painter be supplied with money, also with the fine colors that he
asks for, and, especially ultramarine, that the work may be executed
with brevity as is suitable in my service.”
Since El Greco had finished his commission for Santo Domingo and had
also painted an altar piece, _El Expolio_, or _Christ Despoiled of His
Raiment on Calvary_, for the Cathedral, it would seem as if his plea of
no
[Illustration:
THE CRUCIFIXION EL GRECO
THE LOUVRE]
money and colors had been a pretence for avoiding, if possible, the
execution of the Royal commission. The outcome of the affair is
described by a Father Siguenza, writing in 1605. “There is here in the
Salas Capitulares of the Escoriál, a picture of _San Maurico and His
Soldiers_ by a Domenico Greco, who has come to Toledo and there made
excellent things. The picture was designed for the proper altar of the
Saint, but it did not satisfy His Majesty. It is not much, because it
satisfies few; though they say that it has great art, and that its
author has much knowledge and that excellent things can be seen from his
hand.”
El Greco had one son, George Manuel, who was appointed architect of the
Cathedral. He also practised sculpture and painting, in the latter
medium imitating his father’s style so closely that some of the son’s
pictures have been attributed to him. The portrait of a beautiful girl,
late the property of Sir John Stirling-Maxwell and now in the National
Gallery, London, has been called the artist’s daughter; but later
criticism assigns this painting either to Tintoretto or to El Greco’s
early Italian period when he was still a young man. The portrait of his
son George, is identified in the _San Martin_ of San José, and again as
the youth who holds the map in the _Vista of Toledo_. It is also
supposed to exist in the younger figure of the boy on the left of the
composition of _The Funeral of Count Orgaz_. In the latter it has also
been suggested that the face with the pointed beard, sixth from the
right, represents El Greco himself; while tradition also attributes the
title of _Self Portrait of the Artist_ to the picture in the Seville
Museum of a man of middle age, holding a brush and palette. These,
however, are only surmises.
The mystery that surrounds the life of El Greco is perhaps a little
lifted by the account of him which Guiseppe Martinez gives in his
“Practical Letters on the Art of Painting.” It is not the evidence of a
contemporary, but of one who probably got his impressions from those who
had known the artist or at least the opinion commonly held of him during
his life.
“At that time there came from Italy a painter called Dominico Greco; it
is said that he was a pupil of Titian. He settled in the famous and
ancient city of Toledo, introducing such an extravagant style that to
this day nothing has been seen to equal it; attempting to discuss it
would cause confusion in the soundest minds; his works being so
dissimilar that they do not seem to be by the same hand. He came to this
city with a high reputation, so much so that he gave it to be understood
that there was nothing superior to his works. In truth he achieved some
works which are worthy of estimation and which can be put among those of
famous painters. His nature was extravagant like his painting. It is not
known with certainty what he did with his works, as he used to say no
price was high enough for them, and so he gave them in pledge to their
owners who willingly advanced him what he asked for. He earned many
ducats, but spent them in too great pomp and display in his house, to
the extent of keeping paid musicians to entertain him at meal times. His
works were many, but the only wealth he left were two hundred unfinished
paintings; he reached an advanced age, always enjoying great fame. He
was a famous architect and very eloquent in his speeches. He had few
disciples, as none cared to follow his capricious and extravagant style,
which was only suitable for himself.”
We get a glimpse here of a strangely individual personality, reserved
and proud, conscious of his destiny, working it out in a haughty
exclusiveness; wrapt up in high thoughts and cultivating in the
retirement of private life a rare refinement. In Toledo, then the
citadel of the Catholic Faith, so dominated by the dignitaries of the
Church that Philip II, who brooked no rivalry of power, was forced to
transfer his Court thence to Madrid, El Greco preserved the integrity of
his artistic faith and, by separating himself from outside influences,
maintained the independent sovereignty of his own ideals.
* * * * *
El Greco left a _View of Toledo_; a portrait, one would rather call it,
of a city’s appearance and her soul; a highly interpretative vision of
the impression of Toledo’s soul upon the spiritual imagination of the
artist. The view is from the hill beneath which the present railroad
station lies, and looks across the broken ground to the ravine of the
Tagus. In the middle distance toward the left it is spanned by the wide
arch and its narrower sister of the Alcántara bridge. Thence the line of
the city walls, interrupted by their Moorish towers, mount the citadel
hill to the group of buildings that crown the summit. The Alcázar and
the north tower of the cathedral stand conspicuously against a sky,
tumultuous with emotion and lit with large aspiring clouds. These, like
the architecture, catch the sharpest light, which elsewhere is
distributed in masses of lower tone; a union of quiet illumination and
of flashing sword-like brands of light, characteristic of so many of the
artist’s compositions, so suggestive of passionate inspiration.
How different from Venice of his youth, this rock-rooted fortress city
of the artist’s adoption! No less proudly aloof, but sternly and
strenuously exalted; straitened within tortuous limits; an apex once of
Moorish power and luxury, now of Catholic dominion and sumptuous
ecclesiastical ceremony; its dignitaries men of high and commanding
personality, its Cathedral famous throughout Spain as Toledo the Rich!
The chivalric fervor bred upon countless battlefields, glowed here in an
intense heat of religious mysticism. Her hidalgos, “sons of somebody,”
were among the proudest of their class, self-contained, austere, yet
fired with religious ecstasy. Toledo was at that time the soul of
Catholicism and of the high-bred Chivalry of Castile.
El Greco, with the penetration of the alien observer, caught its spirit.
It inflamed his own romantic ardor and religious devoutness; at the same
time giving fibre and force to his imagination. Yet his whole art, as it
developed under these conditions, was built up on observed facts. The
type of his figures, both in portraiture and altar-pieces, was drawn
from the humanity about him, the lean, long-limbed bodies, with high
narrow heads; a type that still survives. You see it even in Madrid,
still more readily in Toledo. Here too in the passing throng you may
detect one of those wistful,
[Illustration:
SAN MAURICIO AND HIS THEBAN LEGION EL GRECO
THE ESCORIÁL]
flower-like faces, pure as the chalice of a lily, that El Greco learned
to give to his Madonnas, while among the children you will find the
strangely sexless, coldly passionate faces of his angels.
He exaggerated the type, just as his contemporary, Cervantes did; the
latter to make it ridiculous, El Greco in sympathy with its high
enthusiasm. But each from his own standpoint captured the real soul of
the Spanish race more effectively than any other writer or artist of
Spain. The humor of Cervantes made him intensely popular, the
seriousness of El Greco has had to wait until to-day for recognition.
His exaggeration, sometimes even approaching distortion, is for the
purpose of decorative effect or for enforcing character or emotion, or
is more frequently employed with the two purposes combined.
A fine example of characterization is the portrait, here called _S.
Jerome_ (Frontispiece). There are replicas of this picture in the
National Gallery and the Prado, where it is called _S. Paul_. But the
title is of small account. The picture is clearly the portrait of some
dignitary of the Church or at least of the type of ecclesiastics of the
day. The stubby hair and the long beard are approaching white, the face
is greyed over, and silvery lights relieve the rose colored mantle. The
head, in proportion to the body is small but of extra length and
narrowness, and the hands are extremely elongated. But by these
exaggerations what expression of character is obtained! The head is at
once that of a soldier, a scholar and an ascetic. The eyes have a cold,
piercing directness; the long nose is indicative of relentless purpose
and the mouth of iron rigidity and cruelty. One hand lies on the book
with a gesture of refinement, almost of tenderness, while the thumb of
the other is turned down with a decision that brooks no reasoning or
opposition. In fine, the type is a strange mixture of intellectuality
and bigotry; of elevation and narrowness, of gentleness and
remorselessness. It might be that of an inquisitor, who condemns with no
more hesitation than a surgeon, compelled by his diagnosis to use the
knife.
Or for an example of distortion, employed with emotional effect, turn to
_The Crucifixion_ of the Louvre (p. 70). The body of the Christ is
beautiful in its languor of repose; no pain or horror mars the serenity.
The tragedy of the event is depicted in the amazing impression of the
sky; a murky blackish green veil, rent like the veil of the Temple, with
scars of white. The Saviour rests from his labors. It is the universal
tragedy of sin which will crucify him afresh, that is depicted. For my
own part, I know of no other suggestion of the Divine Tragedy so
spiritually moving as this one. El Greco painted this subject several
times. Another fine example is _The Crucifixion_ of the Prado, where the
figures of the donor and an ecclesiastic are replaced by the three
Maries and S. John, figures expressive of anguish and adoration, while
angels of spiritual loveliness receive in their hands with transports of
adoring ecstasy the blood from the sacred wounds. It is at once a pæan
and a dirge, superb in its decorative elaboration. But in the picture of
the Louvre, the decorative scheme is sublimely elemental; its very
simplicity
[Illustration:
THE FUNERAL OF COUNT ORGAZ EL GRECO
SAN TOMÉ, TOLEDO]
augments the poignancy of the appeal. But our original consideration was
the distortion introduced. The natural appearance of the sky is
distorted; the color false, there is no suggestion of actual light or
atmosphere. There was, in fact, no thought of representing the sky
naturally; it has been used as a symbol of expression. And it was so
that El Greco chose at times to use form.
If the student peers through the spectacles of an academic pedagogue,
criticising this or that because it does not conform to his canons of
proportion or notions of correct drawing, he will never discover the
real El Greco. If he is looking solely or chiefly for naturalistic
representation, such as will pass muster in the schools, let him turn
away at once. Otherwise he will be only seeking for trouble. It is with
the eye of the imagination, seeking for spiritual impressions or for
character of expression and expression of character, that El Greco must
be studied. On the other hand, it must not be supposed that El Greco was
indifferent to the facts of form. No artist better understood and valued
form or rendered it with more reliance on its plastic qualities. It was,
however, not the plasticity merely of its shape that attracted him, but
its plasticity of expression. He made expression visible in its external
appearances. He used form as an instrument of interpretation; hence, for
the furtherance of expression he dared to exaggerate or even to distort
it.
It is not amiss to compare El Greco to some great composer whose medium
is his orchestra. The latter is made up of units, but there is no
established proportion of the relation which they bear to each other
and to the whole. It is a flexible instrument in which the composer
makes his own adjustments. If for the interpretation of his theme he
exaggerates the wind instruments or chooses to introduce new devices for
attaining an effect, he is judged solely by the harmonious result. For
music being a completely abstract art, the verdict depends upon the
structure, scope and quality of its expression. The art of painting is
less abstract, being limited by the sense appreciation of the eye and
the need of attaching the expression to some visible object; but, as far
as possible with the liberty of the musical composer, El Greco composed
his symphonies of form and color.
* * * * *
This liberty of composition was only gradually evolved. His earlier
work, executed during his first years in Toledo, exhibit traces of his
Venetian training. _The Assumption of the Virgin_, which is now owned by
the Art Institute of Chicago, is in its treatment of the forms and
composition still Titianesque; but already the influence of the new
environment upon El Greco’s individuality is apparent. He has caught as
yet little if any of the mystic fervor, but the types, particularly of
the apostles, are local; the draperies are handled broadly and
plastically, and the color is no longer of Venetian sumptuousness. The
process of dematerialization has begun, which will be carried on until
in the great works of the artist’s maturity the Venetian richness of
pigment, full of mundane splendor, has entirely disappeared in cool,
austere harmonies of blue, lemon and yellow, black, grey, white, olive
green and silvery carnation. Touches of warm color occur but they are
comparatively rare. Least of all in the great altarpiece does El Greco
use color for effects of pageantry or mere decoration. His use is
interpretative of spiritual significance. In his portraits it is
psychologically expressive.
The latter are mostly half-lengths or busts; grand, pale faces against a
sombre background, isolated by a white ruff from the black body on which
the white nervous hands are displayed. On the other hand, the portraits
of ecclesiastics or imaginary presentation of saints involve a variety
of hues. There is a series of such presentments of the apostles in the
little Provincial Museum, now established in El Greco’s house. The _S.
Bartholomew_ is entirely in white, but the others are bi-colored,
showing a robe and mantle, respectively of yellow and blue, yellow-green
and red-wine color, grey-blue and orange, grey-blue and apple green, and
so on. It is as though the artist had searched for the most unusual and
_recherché_ combinations and had compelled them into harmony by the
nuances with which he has invested them. Moreover, each is in
psychological relation to the head and hands of the subject. Another
point to be observed in El Greco’s use of color is that he did not
spread his pigment thin over an underpainting of light and dark, but
actually modeled in color, obtaining the chiaroscuro by means of values.
It is with a feeling of strangeness that one views a number of El
Greco’s portraits such as is gathered in the Prado. Almost invariably
the eyes are fixed on us, but with no look of recognition or sympathy.
Though the face thrills with life, it is impassive. Behind each living
mask is an impenetrable mind, wrapped completely in the seclusion of its
own spirit. Equally removed from all outside sympathies are the faces of
the apostles and saints. They, however, are not impassive, for on each
is the trace of inward struggle, of highly wrought meditation or
spiritual ecstasy. Their personalities are so varied and distinct that
one is assured they are portraits or at least studies of the types of
ecclesiastics, monks or laymen which Toledo presented. They have one
quality in common, that of transcendental elevation; symptomatic of the
spiritual unrest of the time. For elsewhere the Protestant Reformation
was making headway and Spain was its most ardent opponent. It was here
that the Counter-Reformation reached its most extravagant form. The
Spaniard met the challenge of reason with a passionate belief, which
developed into mysticism and visionary exaltation. Of this Toledo was
the volcanic center and El Greco its pictorial exponent. The mainspring
of his motive was his own intense religious belief, which enabled him to
give plastic reality to the visions of his passionately exalted
imagination.
* * * * *
His pictures, when he has adjusted his style to his motive, are all
visions. Even his portraits are visions of men’s souls. And the secret
of his power to suggest the reality of the vision is that it is based on
realism. His creations are a union of realism and idealism; or rather of
realism in the true sense. For to-day we have learnt to distinguish
between realism and naturalism:
[Illustration:
BAPTISM OF CHRIST EL GRECO
THE PRADO]
the latter a representation of natural phenomena; realism a
representation of the same with a suggestion of their relation to the
horizon of the idea involved in them. This becomes El Greco’s almost
invariable habit. Turn, for example, to the _San Mauricio_ (p. 75),
which was executed shortly after the _Assumption of the Virgin_.
According to legend Mauritius was the general of a Theban mercenary
legion in the Roman army. He refused to pay homage to the gods and was
condemned to be beheaded. Whereupon the whole legion declared their
faith and shared martyrdom with their leader. One may believe that El
Greco pictured the event in his imagination; its several phases, the
general’s refusal, the executions and the glory in Heaven of the
martyr’s crown. In the glow of religious fervor a vision shaped itself
before the eyes of his spirit and he set it upon the canvas. The noble
heads of the general and his lieutenants are clearly portraits of
contemporaries, of men who no doubt believed themselves capable of
imitating the example of the saint, if occasion required it. At the
outset, therefore, the picture is based, not on a mere representation of
certain persons, but of the latter in their relation to the idea
involved. In the gravity and confidence of the saint’s face are mirrored
alike the consciousness of the tragedy to be depicted and the glory that
will follow. The saint himself, in fact, is represented as having his
own vision of the situation in relation to its horizon of ideas.
The back of the officer who is delivering the ultimatum is modeled with
intentional exaggeration, to increase the refined suggestion of the
saint and at the same time to emphasise the separateness of the main
group both from the scene that is being enacted in the rear and from the
Heavenly vision. The color impression of the whole picture is blue; cold
tones of blue relieved by the pale red-wine color of the flag, the pale
creamy yellow of some of the corselets and the extreme white of the
flesh. It is a scheme which gives an extraordinary suggestion of
abstraction. The lighting also reveals the beginning of El Greco’s
gradually developed method of chiaroscuro. The latter grew out of his
study to give to every part of the decorative pattern of his composition
the life of movement. In the figures of the angels actual movement is
expressed in the gestures and actions, but in the stationary figures in
the foreground it is suggested by the curling, quivering light,
especially on the legs. These light effects, so characteristic of El
Greco’s work from this point onward, will embarrass the student who is
looking for naturalistic exactitude. It is not until he has become used
to the artist’s blending of the concrete and the abstract, that he will
realise its fitness in the whole scheme of the vision.
The next great work of El Greco’s career was _The Funeral of Count
Orgaz_, (p. 76), known in Spain as _El Interrio_. This masterpiece still
hangs in the church for which it was painted, San Tomé, in Toledo. It
commemorates the legend connected with the founder of the church, the
pious Count Orgaz, who died in 1323. At his funeral S.S. Augustine and
Stephen appeared and lowered the body into the grave. Once more it is a
vision both of the actualities of the incident and of the no less
reality of the spiritual idea involved. While the priests and faithful
friends, portrait-studies of El Greco’s contemporaries, assist at the
solemn function, some turn their eyes to the vision above, where amid
the hosts of prophets, apostles, saints and angels, with the Blessed
Virgin interceding, the naked soul of the Count appears at the feet of
his Redeemer. Was ever nakedness expressed so literally and yet with
such abstraction? The whole vision is illuminated by a cold light which
comes from within the scene itself. The sumptuousness of gold embroidery
distinguishes the vestments of the two saints in the foreground,
emblematic of the opulent ceremonial of the Catholic Church, while the
Chivalry of Spain is commemorated in the dead body. The black steel of
the armor against the ivory white of the sheet sets the key of black and
white which is the general color impression of the lower part of the
picture. Above, the Virgin’s mantle makes a positive note of blue among
the paler and higher tones of the same color, the pale yellow, cream and
occasional suggestion of mauve and faintest carmine.
The prominence given to the Virgin and the nude form, and the elongation
of the latter help to isolate the Christ and increase the sense of
altitude, up toward which are straining eagerly the faces of the
Heavenly hosts. What a pageant of spiritual exaltation, parted by open
tableau-curtains of cloud from the drama below! And the latter--was ever
a greater intensity of gravity, dignity and tenderness compressed into a
group of heads? Tradition has it that the priest to the right in white
vestment is Don Andrez Nuñez, priest of San Tomé. The grey-bearded
profile to his left is known to be a portrait of the painter, Antonio
Corrubias, whose brother, Diego, appears in the white-bearded man on the
left of the composition, above the figure of S. Stephen. The face with
the ruff, to the left of Antonio Corrubias, is supposed to be the
artist’s.
Everyone has praised the consummate characterisation and technical
mastery of this lower part of the picture; but many have criticised the
upper and been unable to accept it as a reasonable part of the
composition. On the other hand, if study of the picture include
communion with the spirit and purpose which inspired it, one is brought
to feel that upper and lower parts are indivisibly associated both in
the conception of the subject and in the rendering of it. The
composition for a moment recalls Raphael’s vision of the _Disputá_,
which El Greco must have seen in the Stanza of the Vatican. There, the
space to be filled, though proportionately broader than this one is
similarly arched, and a band of figures, representing the Church on
Earth, spreads across the lower part, while in the upper, Heaven is
unfolded. But beyond this all resemblance ceases. Even the earthly group
in Raphael’s fresco is disposed in the manner of Italian idealism; in
the _Count Orgaz_ its naturalness is characteristically Spanish. In the
upper part of his painting Raphael continued the geometrical design of
the composition by arranging the Heavenly hosts in arcs. El Greco has
invented a sort of irregular, spontaneous geometry. The design has a
central group of three figures, disposed to form a triangle, outside of
which the spaces of cloud are divided
[Illustration:
VIRGIN AND SAINTS EL GRECO
SAN JOSÉ, TOLEDO]
into compartments or pockets, filled with figures. It is a borrowed
motive, discoverable in the compositions of Giotto and other primitive
Italians and in the mosaics that helped to inspire them. It is, in fact,
Byzantine. But the latter term is merely a named and dated milestone on
the road which stretches back in endless perspective through Persia to
Buddhistic art. To-day, with our opportunities of studying the latter,
we can detect a curious affinity between El Greco’s arrangement and well
known features of Chinese composition. Unconsciously, in fact, his
genius leaped back of its conscious source to the remote spring of
Oriental inspiration.
* * * * *
Following the _Count Orgaz_ came a series of pictures in which
passionate ecstasy reached its highest intensity. Three of them are in
the Prado: _The Crucifixion_, already alluded to, in which angels are
catching the sacred Blood, a _Resurrection_ and _The Baptism of Christ_.
The last named (p. 81) is not merely a representation of one man pouring
water on the head of another, whose humble mien, coupled with the
introduction of a hovering dove and sometimes a venerable aged man
above, tells one that the picture is meant to represent the baptism of
the Second Person of the Holy Trinity. Such is generally the jejune
method of treating the subject. But here we are again in the presence of
a vision, in which the real spiritual significance of the facts of the
incident are made visible to the eye. Heaven joins with earth in a
symphonic burst of devotional enthusiasm. Movement of life abounds, the
soul’s life typified by human forms. There is even the rhythm of
movement in the comparatively static figures of the Christ and S. John;
in the angels that lift the crimson mantle and those who stand by
adoring; while over head the spiritual energy mounts in wave upon wave
of jubilance till it circles about the serene figure of the Most High
God. Once more we note how a sense of far-off isolation is given to this
topmost figure by introduction of taller angels in the front plane; also
that there is nowhere any space unfilled with meaning, even the
grey-green creamy clouds seeming to mount upward with their angelic
burdens. But beyond all possibility of description is the degree to
which the picture kindles and lifts the imagination.
Amazing also is _The Resurrection_, now in the Prado. The figure of the
Lord, long and supple as a reed, is poised above, while down below the
soldiers are in agitated consternation. They have been roused out of
sleep by the shock of the rending tomb and, still dazed, confront the
miracle. One has fallen backward in his fear, some shield their eyes
from the light, while others carve the air with their swords in frantic
efforts. With the exception of one fine young figure that reaches up his
hand, as if in acknowledgment of the miracle, they are all nude, the
bodies wrought to extreme tension of expression.
* * * * *
To this time also belongs _The Dream of Philip II_, in the Escoriál. It
was followed by a period of serener pictures, such as those which were
painted for the Chapel of San José, Toledo. The finest of these, and the
best known, is a narrow upright panel, the _S. Martin_, dividing his
cloak with a nude beggar. The youthful figure of the saint--a portrait
of the artist’s son George, in the beauty of his first manhood--clad in
black armor, is mounted on a white horse which has black accoutrements.
The animal has one foreleg lifted and arched; the others parallel the
legs of the beggar, recalling somewhat the treatment of the legs in the
_San Mauricio_. The two figures are seen against the sky, which soars
above a distant view of Toledo. In the statuesque plasticity of the
forms and the chastity of the color scheme of white, black, green and
pale greyish blue the picture is one of extraordinary nobility and
tenderness and of extreme abstraction. Facing it is the exquisitely
tender and reverential _Virgin and Saints_ (p. 85) in which perhaps,
more than in any other of his works El Greco has yielded to the charm of
facial loveliness. Above the high altar hangs the _Coronation of the
Virgin_. The center of the composition is a trefoil arrangement of the
three figures of the Father, Son and Virgin, beneath which are two
adoring figures, the rest of the pattern consisting of clouds in
arc-like forms only less full of expressional value than the figures. It
is a motive that Velasquez borrowed in his picture in the Prado of the
same subject.
To this period is attributed the _Crucifixion_ in the Louvre (p. 70) to
which allusion has been already made. Let us note afresh the infinite
calm of the Saviour’s form as characteristic of this period of spiritual
calm in the artist’s own genius. By this time, also, we are better able
to judge the introduction of the two worshippers in the lower
foreground. They were probably included of necessity, representing the
donor and the priest of the Church for which this picture was painted.
But they also introduce that touch of naturalism, dear to the Spanish
imagination; and the artist has made them contributary to his conception
of the scene as a vision. It is a vision of the holy scene which these
men of his own time are contemplating and the contrast of their reality
lends to the vision an increased abstraction.
Also to this period chiefly belong the many _Annunciations_ and _Holy
Families_. Of the latter we have a fine example in the Hispanic Museum,
New York, which recalls with certain modifications that of the Prado. In
all these subjects the type of Madonna is drawn from the people. But it
is not left in its stolid plainness as by Velasquez in his _Adoration of
the Kings_, or sentimentalised as by Murillo. By El Greco it has been
rarified, purged alike of grossness and earthly emotion; in fact,
spiritualized. We may also assign to this period the small _Santiago_ of
the Metropolitan Museum, New York; exquisitely choice in its tonal
scheme of blue, slightly relieved by dull ochre yellow, yet virile in
handling and inspired by an exalted purity of imagination.
* * * * *
To the artist’s latest period belongs another picture in the
Metropolitan Museum, _The Nativity_. It is the product of a newly
awakened ardor, such as characterises the most important work of El
Greco’s closing life. The participants in the event are lowly folk; the
Mother a girl of the people; the shepherds large-modeled, shrewdly
featured peasants. But all are possessed with the exaltation of the
moment; their naiveté and crudity are caught up in a frenzy of
amazement. In the darkness of the night the scene is all aflame with
spiritual incandescence. How marvellously the light and obscurity are
interwoven! What a strange diversity of plastic forms and subtlety of
sober coloring are wrought into the composition! Strangeness is
certainly the first impression one experiences; then, following it, a
realisation of intense inspiration and of masterful creativeness. One is
in the presence of the unusual, of a great imaginative spirit.
Similarly ecstatic is the vision of _The Coming of the Holy Ghost_ in
the Prado. At the top, the Dove in Glory; under it, a horizontal row of
figures, the Virgin in the center, the heads of all tipped with flame;
down below, two figures, leaning back and gazing up at the Divine Glory.
Some recollection of the old Titianesque crimsons and blues appears, but
nothing of their mundane qualities. The whole conception is one of
passionate receptivity toward the illumination from on high. The final
expression of tempestuous energy appears in the _Death of Laocoon and
His Son_ in San Telmo, Seville and in the _Apocalypse_, or as it has
been wrongly called, _The Sacred and Profane Love_, owned by the artist,
Señor Zuloaga.
El Greco had pupils but left no followers. Some of his pupils, Luis
Tristan, for example, and his son, George Manuel, learned to imitate his
manner sufficiently closely to have caused confusion in the attribution
of certain pictures. But El Greco’s style was so directly the product of
his own intellectuality, sensitive and passionate æsthetic imagination
and highly wrought soul, that it could not be absorbed in its integrity
by others. But his art influenced no less a master than the great
Velasquez. We have noted that the latter borrowed from the Toledan
artist his composition for the _Coronation of the Virgin_ and may add
the debt which his portrait of _Innocent X_ appears to owe to El Greco’s
_Don Fernando Nino de Guevara_. It was however in the matter of color
that the influence is most marked. Velasquez adopted, as Señor de
Beruete says, “certain silver-grey tints in the coloring of the flesh,
the use of special carmines and a greater freedom of execution in the
draperies, fabrics and other accessories.” These same qualities, and the
intellectuality and abstraction of his conception and style have begun
to affect some modern artists. The most notable example was the late
Paul Cézanne, whose work, in turn, is exerting a potent influence on
others. Meanwhile El Greco’s pictures, until recent years known only to
a few connoisseurs, are being sought for and treasured by collectors and
museums.
Meanwhile, by the young painter of to-day El Greco should be studied
closely. For the modern age in every development of life is beginning to
demand intellectuality, and in painting particularly a greater degree of
subtlety and abstract suggestion. The quality of expression is growing
more and more to be the test by which the artist of the present and the
future will be judged. El Greco, in all these respects is a master to
be followed; not in the way of imitation, but for the sake of the
principles involved in his conception of a subject and its technical
rendering, and also because he will help to an understanding of other
great artists of expression, such as Michelangelo, Giotto, the nameless
artists of the Byzantine period and the known and unknown masters of
Buddhistic art.