not well to consider as a thing of small account the
painter's language in which that feeling is conveyed; for if that
language be not good and lovely, the man may indeed be a just moralist
or a great poet, but he is not a _painter_, and it was wrong of him to
paint.'

It was said of Paul Veronese, that while he had not 'the brilliance and
depth of Titian' or the 'prodigious facility' of Tintoret, yet, in some
respects, Veronese surpassed both. But he was certainly deficient in a
sense of suitability and probability. He, of all painters, carried to an
outrageous extent the practice, which I have defended in some degree, of
painting sacred and historical subjects as if they had happened in his
own day and city. He violated taste and even reason in painting every
scene, lofty or humble, sacred or profane, alike, with the pomp of
splendour and richness of ornament which were the fashion of the time;
but he had a vivid perception of character, and a certain greatness of
mind which redeemed his plethora of gorgeousness from monotony or
vulgarity.

Veronese is reported to have been far more correct and careful in
drawing than was Tintoret, while Veronese's prodigality of colour was a
mellowed version of Tintoret's glare or deadness. One of Veronese's best
pictures is the 'Marriage of Cana,' painted originally for the refectory
of the convent of San Giorgio, Venice, and now in the Louvre. 'It is not
less than thirty feet long and twenty feet high, and contains about one
hundred and thirty figures, life size. The Marriage Feast of the
Galilean citizen is represented with a pomp worthy of "Ormuz or of Ind."
A sumptuous hall of the richest architecture; lofty columns, long lines
of marble balustrades rising against the sky; a crowd of guests
splendidly attired, some wearing orders of knighthood, are seated at
tables covered with gorgeous vases of gold and silver, attended by
slaves, jesters, pages, and musicians. In the midst of all this dazzling
pomp, this display of festive enjoyment, these moving figures, these
lavish colours in glowing approximation, we begin after a while to
distinguish the principal personages, our Saviour, the Virgin Mary, the
twelve Apostles, mingled with Venetian senators and ladies, clothed in
the rich costume of the sixteenth century; monks, friars, poets,
artists, all portraits of personages existing in his own time; while in
a group of musicians he has introduced himself and Tintoretto playing
the