interiors; but it is most curious that no part of the work seems to
have been taken any pleasure in by the painter; it is all by his hand,
but it looks as if he had been bent only on getting over the ground.
It is literally a piece of scene-painting, and is exactly what we
might fancy Tintoret to have done, had he been forced to paint scenes
at a small theatre at a shilling a day. I cannot think that the whole
canvas, though fourteen feet high and ten wide, or thereabouts, could
have taken him more than a couple of days to finish: and it is very
noticeable that exactly in proportion to the brilliant effects of
light is the coarseness of the execution, for the figures of the
Madonna and of the women above, which are not in any strong effect,
are painted with some care, while the shepherds and the cow are alike
slovenly; and the latter, which is in full sunshine, is recognizable
for a cow more by its size and that of its horns, than by any care
given to its form. It is interesting to contrast this slovenly and
mean sketch with the ass's head in the "Flight into Egypt," on which
the painter exerted his full power; as an effect of light, however,
the work is, of course, most interesting. One point in the treatment
is especially noticeable: there is a peacock in the rack beyond the
cow; and under other circumstances, one cannot doubt that Tintoret
would have liked a peacock in full color, and would have painted it
green and blue with great satisfaction. It is sacrificed to the light,
however, and is painted in warm grey, with a dim eye or two in the
tail: this process is exactly analogous to Turner's taking the colors
out of the flags of his ships in the "Gosport." Another striking point
is the litter with which the whole picture is filled in order more to
confuse the eye: there is straw sticking from the roof, straw all over
the hammock floor, and straw struggling hither and thither all over
the floor itself; and, to add to the confusion, the glory around the
head of the infant, instead of being united and serene, is broken into
little bits, and is like a glory of chopped straw. But the most
curious thing, after all, is the want of delight in any of the
principal figures, and the comparative meanness and commonplaceness of
even the folds of the drapery. It seems as if Tintoret had determined
to make the shepherds as uninterest