d (III. 158), as to his
love of the grotesque.

7. _The Doge Loredano in Prayer to the Virgin_, by Tintoret; in the
same room. Sickly and pale in color, yet a grand work; to be studied,
however, more for the sake of seeing what a great man does "to order,"
when he is wearied of what is required from him, than for its own
merit.

8. _St. George and the Princess._ There are, besides the "Paradise,"
only six pictures in the Ducal Palace, as far as I know, which
Tintoret painted carefully, and those are all exceedingly fine: the
most finished of these are in the Anti-Collegio; but those that are
most majestic and characteristic of the master are two oblong ones,
made to fill the panels of the walls in the Anti-Chiesetta; these two,
each, I suppose, about eight feet by six, are in his most quiet and
noble manner. There is excessively little color in them, their
prevalent tone being a greyish brown opposed with grey, black, and a
very warm russet. They are thinly painted, perfect in tone, and quite
untouched. The first of them is "St. George and the Dragon," the
subject being treated in a new and curious way. The principal figure
is the princess, who sits astride on the dragon's neck, holding him by
a bridle of silken riband; St. George stands above and behind her,
holding his hands over her head as if to bless her, or to keep the
dragon quiet by heavenly power; and a monk stands by on the right,
looking gravely on. There is no expression or life in the dragon,
though the white flashes in its eye are very ghastly: but the whole
thing is entirely typical; and the princess is not so much represented
riding on the dragon, as supposed to be placed by St. George in an
attitude of perfect victory over her chief enemy. She has a full rich
dress of dull red, but her figure is somewhat ungraceful. St. George
is in grey armor and grey drapery, and has a beautiful face; his
figure entirely dark against the distant sky. There is a study for
this picture in the Manfrini Palace.

9. _St. Andrew and St. Jerome._ This, the companion picture, has even
less color than its opposite. It is nearly all brown and grey; the
fig-leaves and olive-leaves brown, the faces brown, the dresses brown,
and St. Andrew holding a great brown cross. There is nothing that can
be called color, except the grey of the sky, which approaches in some
places