ranch of art in which Tintoretto was past master,
is fully displayed. In the Bacchus and Ariadne all the principal lines,
the eyes and gestures, converge upon the tiny ring which is the symbol
of union between the goddess and her lover, between the queenly city and
the Adriatic sea. Or take "Pallas driving away Mars": see how the mass
into which the figures are gathered on the left adds strength to the
thrust of the goddess's arm, and what steadiness is given by that short
straight lance of hers, coming in among all the yielding curves. The
whole four are linked together in meaning: the call to Venice to reign
over the seas, her triumphant peace, with Wisdom guiding her council,
and her warriors forging arms in case of need. In conjunction with these
pictures are two small ones in the chapel, hardly less beautiful--St.
George with St. Margaret, and SS. Andrew and Jerome. It is difficult to
say whether the exultant St. George, the dignified young bishop, or the
two older saints are the more sympathetic creations, or the more
admirable, both in drawing and colour. The sense of space in both
settings is an added charm, and every scrap of detail, the leafy
boughs, the cross and crozier, is important to the composition.

There are many other striking examples, ranging all through Tintoretto's
life, of his untiring imagination. In the Salute is that "Marriage of
Cana," in which all the actors seem to swim in golden light. The sharp
silhouettes bring out an effect of radiant sunshine with which the hall
is flooded, and all the architectural lines lead our eyes towards the
central figure, placed at a distance. On that long canvas in the
Academy, kneel the three treasurers, pouring out their gold and bending
in homage before the Madonna and Child, who sit enthroned upon a broad
piazza, through the marble pillars of which a blue and distant landscape
shines. Grave senators in mulberry velvet and ermine kneel before the
Child, or hold counsel on Paduan affairs under the patronage of S.
Giustina. The "Crucifixion" (in S. Cassiano) is another triumph of the
painter's imaginative conception. The bold lines of the crosses, the
ladder, and the figures detach against a glorious sky, and the presence
of the moving, murmuring throng, of which, by the placing of the line of
sight, the spectator is made to form a part, is conveyed by the swaying
and crossing of the lances borne by the armed men who keep the ground.
There is a series, too, wh