Our ¿ rst example is The Burial of Count Orgaz (1586). It is apparent in this
famous painting that El Greco used two different styles: one for the men
on Earth and an exaggerated one for the heavenly vision. This spectacular
painting was commissioned by the parish priest of Santo Tomé in Toledo.
It commemorates a local miracle of 1323, when the lord of Orgaz, Don
Gonzales Ruiz, was about to be interred. Two saints descended from heaven
to personally lay the pious knight to rest.
St. Stephen and St. Augustine support the armored body of Orgaz at the front
edge of the painted space, presenting him to the viewer. The circle formed
by their bodies is marked at its center by one of the hands of the mourner
standing behind them. A Franciscan friar and an Augustinian monk are at left,
while the of¿ ciating clergy at right traditionally includes the parish priest,
whose transparent white surplice is a marvel of painting. A row of somber
portraits of black-clad mourners is the backdrop of this event. The heavenly
apparition, which is painted like a swirling vision and has echoes of both
Byzantine and Gothic art, shows Christ at the top and the larger ¿ gures of the
Virgin and St. John the Baptist just below him. A host of saints accompanies
them. An angel connects the two levels, the Earth with the heavens, carrying
the soul of the dead count into paradise; the soul appears like a gray,
diaphanous infant. Take particular note of the wonderfully painted armor of
the count with its many reÀ ections, the scene of St. Stephen’s martyrdom
embroidered on his massive robe, and the small boy beside Stephen, who
must be El Greco’s son, Jorge Manuel, because the handkerchief in his
pocket bears the date 1578, the year of the boy’s birth.
We next turn to The Agony in the Garden (c. 1590–1595). In this survey,
we have seen at least three representations of the Agony in the Garden or
Christ at Gethsemane: paintings by Mantegna and Giovanni Bellini and a
sculpture by Tilman Riemenschneider. None of these works could prepare
one for El Greco’s visionary painting. On a high place, in front of a large but
curiously insubstantial rock, Christ kneels in supplication, in prayer that the
cup of death will pass from him. But his gesture, the down-turned palms of
both hands, already indicates submission to divine will. The angel holds the
chalice and kneels on a cloud that is also a sort of bubble that encapsulates
the sleeping apostles. On the far right, the small ¿ gures of Judas and the
soldiers are approaching under a cloud-swept, moonlit sky. Everything