in S. Giorgio Maggiore, but it must greatly have
interested the painter as a composition, and nothing could be more
unlike the formality of the Leonardo da Vinci convention, with the
table set square to the spectators, than this curious disordered
scramble in which several of the disciples have no chairs at all. The
attitudes are, however, convincing, Christ is a gracious figure, and the
whole scene is very memorable and real.

The Tintorettos on the walls of the upper hall I find less interesting
than those on the ceiling, which, however, present the usual physical
difficulties to the student. How Ruskin with his petulant impatience
brought himself to analyse so minutely works the examination of which
leads to such bodily discomfort, I cannot imagine. But he did so, and
his pages should be consulted. He is particularly interesting on "The
Plague of Serpents." My own favourite is that of Moses striking the
rock, from which, it is said, an early critic fled for his life for fear
of the torrent. The manna scene may be compared with another and more
vivid version of the same incident in S. Giorgio Maggiore.

[Illustration: THE CRUCIFIXION (CENTRAL DETAIL)
FROM THE PAINTING BY TINTORETTO
_In the Scuola di S. Rocco_]

The scenes from the Life of Christ around the walls culminate in the
wonderful "Crucifixion," in the Refectory leading from this room. This
sublime work, which was painted in 1565, when the artist was
forty-seven, he considered his masterpiece. It is the greatest single
work in Venice, and all Tintoretto is in it, except the sensuous
colourist of the "Origin of the Milky Way": all his power, all his
thought, all his drama. One should make this room a constant retreat.
The more one studies the picture the more real is the scene and the more
amazing the achievement. I do not say that one is ever moved as one can
be in the presence of great simplicity; one is aware in all Tintoretto's
work of a hint of the self-conscious entrepreneur; but never, one feels,
was the great man so single-minded as here; never was his desire to
impress so deep and genuine. In the mass the picture is overpowering;
in detail, to which one comes later, its interest is inexhaustible. As
an example of the painter's minute thought, one writer has pointed out
that the donkey in the background is eating withered palm leaves--a
touch of ironical genius, if you like. Ruskin calls this work the most
exquisite instance of the "imaginative