dress and decoration.

8. _Assumption of the Virgin._ On the tablet or panel of stone which
forms the side of the tomb out of which the Madonna rises, is this
inscription, in large letters, REST. ANTONIUS FLORIAN, 1834. Exactly
in proportion to a man's idiocy, is always the size of the letters in
which he writes his name on the picture that he spoils. The old
mosaicists in St. Mark's have not, in a single instance, as far as I
know, signed their names; but the spectator who wishes to know who
destroyed the effect of the nave, may see his name inscribed, twice
over, in letters half a foot high, BARTOLOMEO BOZZA. I have never seen
Tintoret's name signed, except in the great "Crucifixion;" but this
Antony Florian, I have no doubt, repainted the whole side of the tomb
that he might put his name on it. The picture is, of course, ruined
wherever he touched it; that is to say, half over; the circle of
cherubs in the sky is still pure; and the design of the great painter
is palpable enough yet in the grand flight of the horizontal angel, on
whom the Madonna half leans as she ascends. It has been a noble
picture, and is a grievous loss; but, happily, there are so many pure
ones, that we need not spend time in gleaning treasures out of the
ruins of this.

9. _Visitation._ A small picture, painted in his very best manner;
exquisite in its simplicity, unrivalled in vigor, well preserved, and,
as a piece of painting, certainly one of the most precious in Venice.
Of course it does not show any of his high inventive powers; nor can a
picture of four middle-sized figures be made a proper subject of
comparison with large canvases containing forty or fifty; but it is,
for this very reason, painted with such perfect ease, and yet with no
slackness either of affection or power, that there is no picture that
I covet so much. It is, besides, altogether free from the Renaissance
taint of dramatic effect. The gestures are as simple and natural as
Giotto's, only expressed by grander lines, such as none but Tintoret
ever reached. The draperies are dark, relieved against a light sky,
the horizon being excessively low, and the outlines of the drapery so
severe, that the intervals between the figures look like ravines
between great rocks, and have all the sublimity of an Alpine valley at
twilight. This precious picture is hung about thirty feet