EL GRECO'S LAST GLORIA

TOWARD the end of the 16th century a strange, aloof figure -- came to the Spanish hilltop town of Toledo. His origins were obscure, and his name--Domenikos Theotokopoulos--was so difficult that he was called simply El Greco (The Greek). He said he was born in Crete, boasted that he had been a student of Titian and, as one Toledo Spaniard recorded, "he let it be understood that nothing in the world was superior to his art." Certainly the stranger had at his brush tip not only Titian's designs but also all the secrets of Tintoretto's theatrical fireworks and Correggio's dramatic lighting as well. Soon even the proud churches of Toledo were vying for his works. In lordly fashion, The Greek moved into the royal suite of the Marques de Villena's palace, turned it into a museum of his own works and made it his studio and home.

For El Greco. Toledo was an ideal city. Saint Theresa and St. John of the Cross were fellow citizens, and their visions made the miraculous an everyday occurrence. In such a time, Toledo found it easy to understand El Greco's inner vision, which triumphed over perspective and proportion to create his own soaring, flamelike dimensions of beauty and power.

Only in his declining years did luxury-loving El Greco's fortunes dwindle, and his regal apartments become threadbare and bleak. But in August 1612, El Greco, then 71, roused himself for a final great undertaking, the towering, 11 1/2-ft. altarpiece, The Adoration of the Shepherds, painted to decorate his own tomb in the church of Santo Domingo el Antiguo. In it, the Christ Child becomes a glowing pearl, illuminating with otherworldly radiance the three adoring shepherds and St. Joseph in his blue tunic and yellow cloak. Presiding over the scene that soars heavenward like a mighty Gloria in Excelsis is the figure of Mary. The oval face, pointed chin and downcast eyes are the features of Dona Jeronima de las Cuevas, the woman El Greco may never have married but who bore him his only son.

Five years after El Greco's death at 73, his body was moved from Santo Domingo to another church, and then all trace of it was lost. In time the currents of taste turned against El Greco. The Santo Domingo Adoration was allowed to become so begrimed under centuries of neglect that few art historians noted or reproduced it. Last year the church, hard up to finance repairs, sold it to Madrid's Prado for $55,000. It took the Prado's experts nine months to clean and restore it. Today, the Adoration hangs in a place of honor in one of the Prado's newly inaugurated salons, fresh with all the unearthly radiance and splendor that El Greco's brushes originally imparted, and once again the permanent testament to his great art that the Toledo stranger originally intended it to be.

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