by the beautiful "_Noli me tangere_" of the
National Gallery, which must necessarily have its place somewhere here
among the early works. Giorgionesque the picture still is, and most
markedly so in the character of the beautiful landscape; yet the
execution shows an altogether unusual freedom and mastery for that
period. The _Magdalen_ is, appropriately enough, of the same type as the
exquisite, golden blond courtezans--or, if you will, models--who
constantly appear and reappear in this period of Venetian art. Hardly
anywhere has the painter exhibited a more wonderful freedom and subtlety
of brush than in the figure of the Christ, in which glowing flesh is so
finely set off by the white of fluttering, half-transparent draperies.
The canvas has exquisite colour, almost without colours; the only local
tint of any very defined character being the dark red of the Magdalen's
robe. Yet a certain affectation, a certain exaggeration of fluttering
movement and strained attitude repel the beholder a little at first, and
neutralise for him the rare beauties of the canvas. It is as if a wave
of some strange transient influence had passed over Titian at this
moment, then again to be dissipated.

[Illustration: _Madonna and Child, with St. John and St. Anthony Abbot.
Uffizi Gallery, Florence. From a Photograph by Brogi._]

But to turn now once more to the series of our master's Holy Families
and Sacred Conversations which began with _La Zingarella_, and was
continued with the _Virgin and Child with SS. Ulfo and Brigida_ of
Madrid. The most popular of all those belonging to this still early time
is the _Virgin with the Cherries_ in the Vienna Gallery. Here the
painter is already completely himself. He will go much farther in
breadth if not in polish, in transparency, in forcefulness, if not in
attractiveness of colour; but he is now, in sacred art at any rate,
practically free from outside influences. For the pensive girl-Madonna
of Giorgione we now have the radiant young matron of Titian, joyous yet
calm in her play with the infant Christ, while the Madonna of his master
and friend was unrestful and full of tender foreboding even in seeming
repose. Pretty close on this must have followed the _Madonna and Child
with St. Stephen, St. Ambrose and St. Maurice_, No 439 in the Louvre, in
which the rich colour-harmonies strike a somewhat deeper note. An
atelier repetition of this fine original is No. 166 in the Vienna
Gallery; the only ma