Lot 144: The Execution of José Rizal

Jorge Pineda, hailed as the King of Filipino Illustrators, was also a worthy painter who specialized in two subjects: the simple pleasures of Filipino country life and the significant historical event. He was an ardent patriot and a devoted Rizalist who styled himself after our national hero. The critic Eric Torres described him as “a free-thinker and an anti-cleric.” He would frequently rail against the friars for engineering the execution of Rizal and bluster about the banning of the reading of the Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo in Catholic schools. One of his favorite pastimes—apart from long walks—was fencing. It was a sport that entranced the ilustrado gentlemen of the time, from Rizal to the Luna brothers, and the pioneer art collector, the late Don Alfonso Ongpin. (Don Alfonso would become Pineda’s fencing partner.) It is no surprise therefore that Pineda would capture this most quintessential and defining moment in our national history. This painting, based on the single most famous photograph of Rizal’s demise, is made even more startling since it brings to life the taut colors and brooding atmosphere of that somber morning. Pineda himself was seventeen years old in 1896 and, by one account, was among the crowd on that fateful day. His prodigious memory for detail coupled with his reputation for meticulous research and his fine hand as an illustrator make this a priceless work of historical import. Pineda’s The Execution of José Rizal captures the poignant details of that remarkable occasion. Rizal stands, arms bound at the elbow, a chistera (or derby) on his head. There was a gruesome choreography to his death. First, the Filipino troops were massed on three sides, the better to give the impression that Rizal was to die at the hands of his own countrymen. Immediately in front of Rizal was a drum corps. These men were instructed to play as loud as possible to deliberately drown out Rizal’s voice should he try to address the crowd. (The corps had jauntily played the Spanish national anthem on the way to the killing field.) The account of one eyewitness, Hilarion Martinez, adds further details: When Rizal was near the center of the quadrangle, the mayor de la plaza, a colonel, announced, “En el nombre del Rey, el que se levante la voz a favor del reo sera ejecutado.” (In the name of the King, he who raises his voice in favor of the criminal will be executed.) The drum corps then withdrew and were replaced by a troop of Filipino soldiers. Massed behind the Filipinos on every side was a phalanx of Spanish soldiers, ready to take up arms should the Filipinos fail to do their duty and execute Rizal. There were civilian spectators, too, and we see their white shirts in the distance. Rizal was accompanied by two Jesuit priests, Fr. Estanislao March and Fr. Jose Villaclara, as well as his defense counsel, Lt. Luis Taviel de Andrade. The other men in white were also Spanish officers. “With visible effort,” Martinez says, “Rizal raised his right hand which was tied and took off his hat.”The moment captured in this painting was just before that split second, corresponding in almost balletic detail to Christ’s last breath on the Holy Cross. “Amidst the silence, Rizal moved his head very slowly up and down, his lips moving as if in prayer.” He continues, Then the commanding officer by means of his saber signaled the firing squad to aim. Then the saber dropped and there was a simultaneous crack of rifle fire that shattered the stillness of the morning. José Rizal wheeled in one last effort and toppled forward with a thud, his face towards the sky and his derby hat thrown ahead. He had fallen in the direction of the bay. At the center of the painting is a stark, leafless tree that conveys the isolation of Rizal and the utter sadness of his death. As did Rizal at the moment of his death, it reaches plaintively to the sky in an eloquent plea for freedom and justice. Martinez continues, Suddenly, as if from nowhere, a small dog appeared and ran in circles around Rizal’s fallen body, barking and whimpering. This incident would much later be the subject of our talk in our quarters. Some of my comrades were quick to conclude that it was a premonition of a coming misfortune. That pale dog is captured standing near the Spanish soldiers in the painting. Indeed, it would bode the end of the Spanish empire in the Philippines. Martinez proceeds, Then the capitan militar de la sanidad (medical officer) stepped forward, knelt before the fallen man, and felt his pulse. Looking up, he beckoned to a member of the firing squad to come forward and give the final tiro de gracia (coup de grace), another shot done at close range. I thought I saw a faint haze rise from Rizal’s coat, but it might have been a wisp of the morning mist. Seeing the body before me, I felt weak. The officers began to show animation again. They fell in formation and marched to the tune of the Spanish national air, the Paso Doble Marcha de Cadiz. As was customary in past executions, we filed past the body to view it for the last time. When we were commanded “eyes left,” I did not shut my eyes as I had at the sight of the several reos (convicts) whose heads were blown off by rifle fire. I wanted to see the face of the man for one last time. Rizal lay dead on the dewy grass. The day had started and I realized that I was gazing on the face of the great Malayan; that I was witnessing history in the making. (Lisa Guerrero Nakpil)

11 1/2" x 20" (29 cm x 51 cm)

oil on canvas

Estimate (USD)
$20000-$26000
Estimate (EUR)
€16666.66-€21666.66