as largely of
humanity under a religious or classical name, but a noble, majestic
humanity. In his art dignified senators, stern doges, and solemn
ecclesiastics mingle with open-eyed madonnas, winning Ariadnes, and
youthful Bacchuses. Men and women they are truly, but the very noblest
of the Italian race, the mountain race of the Cadore country--proud,
active, glowing with life; the sea race of Venice--worldly wise, full
of character, luxurious in power.

In himself he was an epitome of all the excellences of painting. He
was everything, the sum of Venetian skill, the crowning genius of
Renaissance art. He had force, power, invention, imagination, point of
view; he had the infinite knowledge of nature and the infinite mastery
of art. In addition, Fortune smiled upon him as upon a favorite child.
Trained in mind and hand he lived for ninety-nine years and worked
unceasingly up to a few months of his death. His genius was great and
his accomplishment equally so. He was celebrated and independent at
thirty-five, though before that he showed something of the influence
of Giorgione. After the death of Giorgione and his master, Bellini,
Titian was the leader in Venice to the end of his long life, and
though having few scholars of importance his influence was spread
through all North Italian painting.

Taking him for all in all, perhaps it is not too much to say that he
was the greatest painter known to history. If it were possible to
describe that greatness in one word, that word would be
"universality." He saw and painted that which was universal in its
truth. The local and particular, the small and the accidental, were
passed over for those great truths which belong to all the world of
life. In this respect he was a veritable Shakespeare, with all the
calmness and repose of one who overlooked the world from a lofty
height.

[Illustration: FIG. 49.--TINTORETTO. MERCURY AND GRACES. DUCAL PAL.,
VENICE.]

The restfulness and easy strength of Titian were not characteristics
of his follower Tintoretto (1518-1592). He was violent, headlong,
impulsive, more impetuous than Michael Angelo, and in some respects a
strong reminder of him. He had not Michael Angelo's austerity, and
there was more clash and tumult and fire about him, but he had a
command of line like the Florentine, and a way of hurling things, as
seen in the Fall of the Damned, that reminds one of the Last Judgment
of the Sistine. It was his aim to combine the line