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THE VENETIAN PAINTERS OF THE RENAISSANCE

With an Index to Their Works

by

BERNHARD BERENSON

Author of "Florentine Painters of the Renaissance,"
"Central Italian Painters of the Renaissance."

Third Edition

[Illustration: _Shepherd with Pipe._
_From the Painting by Giorgione, at Hampton Court._]

G. P. Putnam's Sons
New York and London
The Knickerbocker Press
Copyright, 1894
by
G. P. Putnam's Sons

_Entered at Stationers' Hall, London_
by G. P. Putnam's Sons

Made in the United States of America

NOTE TO THE SECOND EDITION.

The indices of this second edition have been carefully revised, and a
considerable number of additions have been made to the lists.

The author begs once more to call attention to the fact that, with one
or two exceptions, _he has mentioned no pictures that he has not seen_.
The lists are the result, not of compilation, but of first-hand
acquaintance with the works of art.

NOTE TO THIRD EDITION.

In this edition changes have been made in the numbering of the Venice
and Vienna Galleries, as well as of some minor collections, to
correspond to recent rehanging. Many other alterations have been
required by the breaking up of private collections. In several instances
it has been impossible to trace pictures to their new homes, and of such
the more important remain under the names of their former owners. To the
lists of painters have been added Beccaruzzi, Caprioli, Polidoro
Lanzani, Rocco Marconi, Andrea Schiavone, and Girolamo da Treviso,
artists important enough to be missed, but of merit so unequal that only
their more interesting works are here given. But the bulk of new
additions, amounting to a third as much again as was comprised in the
last edition, is of pictures in the various provincial galleries and
private collections of Great Britain, France, and Germany.

The author takes great pleasure in acknowledging his indebtedness to Mr.
Herbert F. Cook for invaluable aid in visiting some of the almost
numberless British collections.

PREFACE.

The following essay owes its origin to the author's belief that Venetian
painting is the most complete expression in art of the Italian
Renaissance. The Renaissance is even more important typically than
historically. Historically it may be looked upon as an age of glory or
of shame according to the different views entertained of European events
during the past five centuries. But typically it stands for youth, and
youth alone--for intellectual curiosity and energy grasping at the whole
of life as material which it hopes to mould to any shape.

Every generation has an innate sympathy with some epoch of the past
wherein it seems to find itself foreshadowed. Science has of late
revealed and given much, but its revelation and gifts are as nothing to
the promise it holds out of constant acquisition and perpetual growth,
of everlasting youth. We ourselves, because of our faith in science and
the power of work, are instinctively in sympathy with the Renaissance.
Our problems do not seem so easy to solve, our tasks are more difficult
because our vision is wider, but the spirit which animates us was
anticipated by the spirit of the Renaissance, and more than anticipated.
That spirit seems like the small rough model after which ours is being
fashioned.

Italian painting interests many of us more than the painting of any
other school not because of its essential superiority, but because it
expressed the Renaissance; and Venetian painting is interesting above
all because it was at Venice alone that this expression attained
perfection. Elsewhere, particularly in Florence, it died away before it
found complete utterance.

In order to keep the main idea clearly before the mind of the reader, to
show him how the Renaissance reveals itself in Venetian painting, the
introduction of anything not strictly relevant to the subject has been
avoided. The salient points once perceived and connected with the more
important painters, the reader will find no difficulty in seeing the
proper place of any given work by a great master, or the relative
importance of those second-and third-rate painters of whom no special
mention has been made because they are comprised within what has been
said about the greater artists.

But happily art is too great and too vital a subject to be crowded into
any single formula; and a formula that would, without distorting our
entire view of Italian art in the fifteenth century, do full justice to
such a painter as Carlo Crivelli, does not exist. He takes rank with the
most genuine artists of all times and countries, and does not weary even
when "great masters" grow tedious. He expresses with the freedom and
spirit of Japanese design a piety as wild and tender as Jacopo da
Todi's, a sweetness of emotion as sincere and dainty as of a Virgin and
Child carved in ivory by a French craftsman of the fourteenth century.
The mystic beauty of Simone Martini, the agonized compassion of the
young Bellini, are embodied by Crivelli in forms which have the strength
of line and the metallic lustre of old Satsuma or lacquer, and which are
no less tempting to the touch. Crivelli must be treated by himself and
as the product of stationary, if not reactionary, conditions. Having
lived most of his life far away from the main currents of culture, in a
province where St. Bernardino had been spending his last energies in the
endeavour to call the world back to the ideals of an infantile
civilisation, Crivelli does not belong to a movement of constant
progress, and therefore is not within the scope of this work.

To make the essay useful as a handbook to Venetian painting, lists have
been appended of the works, in and out of Italy, by the principal
Venetian masters. These lists do not pretend to absolute completeness.
Only such private collections have been mentioned as are well known and
accessible to students, although in the case of very rare painters all
of their known works are given, and even such as are of doubtful
authenticity are alluded to. The author has seen and carefully
considered all the pictures he mentions, except one or two at St.
Petersburg, which are, however, well known from the photographs of MM.
Braun & Cie. The attributions are based on the results of the most
recent research. Even such painstaking critics of some years ago as
Messrs. Crowe and Cavalcaselle laboured under terrible disadvantages,
because most of their work was done at a time when travelling was much
slower than it has now become, and when photography was not sufficiently
perfected to be of great service. Rapid transit and isochromatic
photography are beginning to enable the student to make of
connoisseurship something like an exact science. To a certain extent,
therefore, Messrs. Crowe and Cavalcaselle have been superseded, and to a
great degree supplemented by the various writings of Morelli, Richter,
Frizzoni, and others. The author takes pleasure in acknowledging his
indebtedness to the first systematic writers on Italian painting no less
than to the perfectors of the new critical method, now adopted by nearly
all serious students of Italian art. To the founder of the new
criticism, the late Giovanni Morelli, and to his able successor, Dr.
Gustavo Frizzoni, the author feels bound to ascribe many of his
attributions, although a number are based on independent research, and
for these he alone is responsible. Special thanks are due to a dear
friend, Enrico Costa, for placing his notes of a recent visit to Madrid
at the author's disposal. They have been used, with a confidence
warranted by Signor Costa's unrivalled connoisseurship, to supplement
the author's own notes, taken some years ago.

Having noted the dependence of scientific art study upon isochromatic
photography, the author is happy to take this opportunity of expressing
his gratitude to such able photographers as Löwy of Vienna, Tamme of
Dresden, Marcozzi of Milan, Alinari Bros. of Florence, and Dominic
Anderson of Rome, all of whom have devoted themselves with special zeal
to the paintings of the Venetian masters. The author is peculiarly
indebted to Signor Anderson for having materially assisted his studies
by photographing many pictures which at present have a scientific rather
than a popular interest.

The frontispiece is a reproduction of Giorgione's "Shepherd" at Hampton
Court, a picture which perhaps better than any other expresses the
Renaissance at the most fascinating point of its course. The author is
indebted to Mr. Sidney Colvin for permission to make use of a photograph
taken at his order.

CONTENTS.

THE VENETIAN PAINTERS OF THE RENAISSANCE

I.     VALUE OF VENETIAN ART

II.    THE CHURCH AND PAINTING

III.   THE RENAISSANCE

IV.    PAINTING AND THE RENAISSANCE

V.     PAGEANT PICTURES

VI.    PAINTING AND THE CONFRATERNITIES

VII.   EASEL PICTURES AND GIORGIONE

VIII.  THE GIORGIONESQUE SPIRIT

IX.    THE PORTRAIT

X.     THE YOUNG TITIAN

XI.    APPARENT FAILURE OF THE RENAISSANCE

XII.   LOTTO

XIII.  THE LATE RENAISSANCE AND TITIAN

XIV.   HUMANITY AND THE RENAISSANCE

XV.    SEBASTIANO DEL PIOMBO

XVI.   TINTORETTO

XVII.  VALUE OF MINOR EPISODES IN ART

XVIII. TINTORETTO'S PORTRAITS

XIX.   VENETIAN ART AND THE PROVINCES

XX.    PAUL VERONESE

XXI.   BASSANO, GENRE, AND LANDSCAPE

XXII.  THE VENETIANS AND VELASQUEZ

XXIII. DECLINE OF VENETIAN ART

XXIV.  LONGHI

XXV.   CANALETTO AND GUARDI

XXVI.  TIEPOLO

XXVII. INFLUENCE OF VENETIAN ART

INDEX TO THE WORKS OF THE PRINCIPAL VENETIAN PAINTERS

INDEX OF PLACES

THE VENETIAN PAINTERS OF THE RENAISSANCE

=I. Value of Venetian Art.=--Among the Italian schools of painting the
Venetian has, for the majority of art-loving people, the strongest and
most enduring attraction. In the course of the present brief account of
the life of that school we shall perhaps discover some of the causes of
our peculiar delight and interest in the Venetian painters, as we come
to realise what tendencies of the human spirit their art embodied, and
of what great consequence their example has been to the whole of
European painting for the last three centuries.

The Venetians as a school were from the first endowed with exquisite
tact in their use of colour. Seldom cold and rarely too warm, their
colouring never seems an afterthought, as in many of the Florentine
painters, nor is it always suggesting paint, as in some of the Veronese
masters. When the eye has grown accustomed to make allowance for the
darkening caused by time, for the dirt that lies in layers on so many
pictures, and for unsuccessful attempts at restoration, the better
Venetian paintings present such harmony of intention and execution as
distinguishes the highest achievements of genuine poets. Their mastery
over colour is the first thing that attracts most people to the painters
of Venice. Their colouring not only gives direct pleasure to the eye,
but acts like music upon the moods, stimulating thought and memory in
much the same way as a work by a great composer.

=II. The Church and Painting.=--The Church from the first took account of
the influence of colour as well as of music upon the emotions. From the
earliest times it employed mosaic and painting to enforce its dogmas and
relate its legends, not merely because this was the only means of
reaching people who could neither read nor write, but also because it
instructed them in a way which, far from leading to critical enquiry,
was peculiarly capable of being used as an indirect stimulus to moods of
devotion and contrition. Next to the finest mosaics of the first
centuries, the early works of Giovanni Bellini, the greatest Venetian
master of the fifteenth century, best fulfil this religious intention.
Painting had in his lifetime reached a point where the difficulties of
technique no longer stood in the way of the expression of profound
emotion. No one can look at Bellini's pictures of the Dead Christ upheld
by the Virgin or angels without being put into a mood of deep
contrition, nor at his earlier Madonnas without a thrill of awe and
reverence. And Giovanni Bellini does not stand alone. His
contemporaries, Gentile Bellini, the Vivarini, Crivelli, and Cima da
Conegliano all began by painting in the same spirit, and produced almost
the same effect.

The Church, however, thus having educated people to understand painting
as a language and to look to it for the expression of their sincerest
feelings, could not hope to keep it always confined to the channel of
religious emotion. People began to feel the need of painting as
something that entered into their every-day lives almost as much as we
nowadays feel the need of the newspaper; nor was this unnatural,
considering that, until the invention of printing, painting was the only
way, apart from direct speech, of conveying ideas to the masses. At
about the time when Bellini and his contemporaries were attaining
maturity, the Renaissance had ceased to be a movement carried on by
scholars and poets alone. It had become sufficiently widespread to seek
popular as well as literary utterance, and thus, toward the end of the
fifteenth century, it naturally turned to painting, a vehicle of
expression which the Church, after a thousand years of use, had made
familiar and beloved.

To understand the Renaissance at the time when its spirit began to find
complete embodiment in painting, a brief survey of the movement of
thought in Italy during its earlier period is necessary, because only
when that movement had reached a certain point did painting come to be
its most natural medium of expression.

=III. The Renaissance.=--The thousand years that elapsed between the
triumph of Christianity and the middle of the fourteenth century have
been not inaptly compared to the first fifteen or sixteen years in the
life of the individual. Whether full of sorrows or joys, of storms or
peace, these early years are chiefly characterised by tutelage and
unconsciousness of personality. But toward the end of the fourteenth
century something happened in Europe that happens in the lives of all
gifted individuals. There was an awakening to the sense of personality.
Although it was felt to a greater or less degree everywhere, Italy felt
the awakening earlier than the rest of Europe, and felt it far more
strongly. Its first manifestation was a boundless and insatiable
curiosity, urging people to find out all they could about the world and
about man. They turned eagerly to the study of classic literature and
ancient monuments, because these gave the key to what seemed an immense
store-house of forgotten knowledge; they were in fact led to antiquity
by the same impulse which, a little later, brought about the invention
of the printing-press and the discovery of America.

The first consequence of a return to classical literature was the
worship of human greatness. Roman literature, which the Italians
naturally mastered much earlier than Greek, dealt chiefly with politics
and war, seeming to give an altogether disproportionate place to the
individual, because it treated only of such individuals as were
concerned in great events. It is but a step from realising the greatness
of an event to believing that the persons concerned in it were equally
great, and this belief, fostered by the somewhat rhetorical literature
of Rome, met the new consciousness of personality more than half way,
and led to that unlimited admiration for human genius and achievement
which was so prominent a feature of the early Renaissance. The two
tendencies reacted upon each other. Roman literature stimulated the
admiration for genius, and this admiration in turn reinforced the
interest in that period of the world's history when genius was supposed
to be the rule rather than the exception; that is to say, it reinforced
the interest in antiquity.

The spirit of discovery, the never satisfied curiosity of this time, led
to the study of ancient art as well as of ancient literature, and the
love of antiquity led to the imitation of its buildings and statues as
well as of its books and poems. Until comparatively recent times
scarcely any ancient paintings were found, although buildings and
statues were everywhere to be seen, the moment anyone seriously thought
of looking at them. The result was that while the architecture and
sculpture of the Renaissance were directly and strongly influenced by
antiquity, painting felt its influence only in so far as the study of
antiquity in the other arts had conduced to better draughtsmanship and
purer taste. The spirit of discovery could thus show itself only
indirectly in painting,--only in so far as it led painters to the
gradual perfection of the technical means of their craft.

Unlimited admiration for genius and wonder that the personalities of
antiquity should have survived with their great names in no way
diminished, soon had two consequences. One was love of glory, and the
other the patronage of those arts which were supposed to hand down a
glorious name undiminished to posterity. The glory of old Rome had come
down through poets and historians, architects and sculptors, and the
Italians, feeling that the same means might be used to hand down the
achievements of their own time to as distant a posterity, made a new
religion of glory, with poets and artists for the priests. At first the
new priesthood was confined almost entirely to writers, but in little
more than a generation architects and sculptors began to have their
part. The passion for building is in itself one of the most instinctive,
and a man's name and armorial bearings, tastefully but prominently
displayed upon a church or palace, were as likely, it was felt, to hand
him down to posterity as the praise of poets or historians. It was the
passion for glory, in reality, rather than any love of beauty, that gave
the first impulse to the patronage of the arts in the Renaissance.
Beauty was the concern of the artists, although no doubt their patrons
were well aware that the more impressive a building was, the more
beautiful a monument, the more likely was it to be admired, and the
more likely were their names to reach posterity. Their instincts did not
mislead them, for where their real achievements would have tempted only
the specialist or antiquarian into a study of their career, the
buildings and monuments put up by them--by such princes as Sigismondo
Malatesta, Frederick of Urbino, or Alfonzo of Naples,--have made the
whole intelligent public believe that they were really as great as they
wished posterity to believe them.

As painting had done nothing whatever to transmit the glory of the great
Romans, the earlier generations of the Renaissance expected nothing from
it, and did not give it that patronage which the Church, for its own
purposes, continued to hold out to it. The Renaissance began to make
especial use of painting only when its own spirit had spread very
widely, and when the love of knowledge, of power, and of glory had
ceased to be the only recognised passions, and when, following the lead
of the Church, people began to turn to painting for the expression of
deep emotion. The new religion, as I have called the love of glory, is
in its very essence a thing of this world, founded as it is on human
esteem. The boundless curiosity of the Renaissance led back inevitably
to an interest in life and to an acceptance of things for what they
were,--for their intrinsic quality. The moment people stopped looking
fixedly toward heaven their eyes fell upon the earth, and they began to
see much on its surface that was pleasant. Their own faces and figures
must have struck them as surprisingly interesting, and, considering how
little St. Bernard and other mediæval saints and doctors had led them to
expect, singularly beautiful. A new feeling arose that mere living was a
big part of life, and with it came a new passion, the passion for
beauty, for grace, and for comeliness.

It has already been suggested that the Renaissance was a period in the
history of modern Europe comparable to youth in the life of the
individual. It had all youth's love of finery and of play. The more
people were imbued with the new spirit, the more they loved pageants.
The pageant was an outlet for many of the dominant passions of the
time, for there a man could display all the finery he pleased, satisfy
his love of antiquity by masquerading as Cæsar or Hannibal, his love of
knowledge by finding out how the Romans dressed and rode in triumph, his
love of glory by the display of wealth and skill in the management of
the ceremony, and, above all, his love of feeling himself alive. Solemn
writers have not disdained to describe to the minutest details many of
the pageants which they witnessed.

We have seen that the earlier elements of the Renaissance, the passion
for knowledge and glory, were not of the kind to give a new impulse to
painting. Nor was the passion for antiquity at all so direct an
inspiration to that art as it was to architecture and sculpture. The
love of glory had, it is true, led such as could not afford to put up
monumental buildings, to decorate chapels with frescoes in which their
portraits were timidly introduced. But it was only when the Renaissance
had attained to a full consciousness of its interest in life and
enjoyment of the world that it naturally turned, and indeed was forced
to turn, to painting; for it is obvious that painting is peculiarly
fitted for rendering the appearances of things with a glow of light and
richness of colour that correspond to and express warm human emotions.

=IV. Painting and the Renaissance.=--When it once reached the point
where its view of the world naturally sought expression in painting, as
religious ideas had done before, the Renaissance found in Venice clearer
utterance than elsewhere, and it is perhaps this fact which makes the
most abiding interest of Venetian painting. It is at this point that we
shall take it up.

The growing delight in life with the consequent love of health, beauty,
and joy were felt more powerfully in Venice than anywhere else in Italy.
The explanation of this may be found in the character of the Venetian
government which was such that it gave little room for the satisfaction
of the passion for personal glory, and kept its citizens so busy in
duties of state that they had small leisure for learning. Some of the
chief passions of the Renaissance thus finding no outlet in Venice, the
other passions insisted all the more on being satisfied. Venice,
moreover, was the only state in Italy which was enjoying, and for many
generations had been enjoying, internal peace. This gave the Venetians a
love of comfort, of ease, and of splendour, a refinement of manner, and
humaneness of feeling, which made them the first really modern people in
Europe. Since there was little room for personal glory in Venice, the
perpetuators of glory, the Humanists, found at first scant encouragement
there, and the Venetians were saved from that absorption in archæology
and pure science which overwhelmed Florence at an early date. This was
not necessarily an advantage in itself, but it happened to suit Venice,
where the conditions of life had for some time been such as to build up
a love of beautiful things. As it was, the feeling for beauty was not
hindered in its natural development. Archæology would have tried to
submit it to the good taste of the past, a proceeding which rarely
promotes good taste in the present. Too much archæology and too much
science might have ended in making Venetian art academic, instead of
letting it become what it did, the product of a natural ripening of
interest in life and love of pleasure. In Florence, it is true, painting
had developed almost simultaneously with the other arts, and it may be
due to this very cause that the Florentine painters never quite realised
what a different task from the architect's and sculptor's was theirs. At
the time, therefore, when the Renaissance was beginning to find its best
expression in painting, the Florentines were already too much attached
to classical ideals of form and composition, in other words, too
academic, to give embodiment to the throbbing feeling for life and
pleasure.

Thus it came to pass that in the Venetian pictures of the end of the
fifteenth century we find neither the contrition nor the devotion of
those earlier years when the Church alone employed painting as the
interpreter of emotion, nor the learning which characterised the
Florentines. The Venetian masters of this time, although nominally
continuing to paint the Madonna and saints, were in reality painting
handsome, healthy, sane people like themselves, people who wore their
splendid robes with dignity, who found life worth the mere living and
sought no metaphysical basis for it. In short, the Venetian pictures of
the last decade of the century seemed intended not for devotion, as they
had been, nor for admiration, as they then were in Florence, but for
enjoyment.

The Church itself, as has been said, had educated its children to
understand painting as a language. Now that the passions men dared to
avow were no longer connected with happiness in some future state only,
but mainly with life in the present, painting was expected to give voice
to these more human aspirations and to desert the outgrown ideals of the
Church. In Florence, the painters seemed unable or unwilling to make
their art really popular. Nor was it so necessary there, for Poliziano,
Pulci, and Lorenzo dei Medici supplied the need of self-expression by
addressing the Florentines in the language which their early enthusiasm
for antiquity and their natural gifts had made them understand better
than any other--the language of poetry. In Venice alone painting
remained what it had been all over Italy in earlier times, the common
tongue of the whole mass of the people. Venetian artists thus had the
strongest inducements to perfect the processes which painters must
employ to make pictures look real to their own generation; and their
generation had an altogether firmer hold on reality than any that had
been known since the triumph of Christianity. Here again the comparison
of the Renaissance to youth must be borne in mind. The grasp that youth
has on reality is not to be compared to that brought by age, and we must
not expect to find in the Renaissance a passion for an acquaintance with
things as they are such as we ourselves have; but still its grasp of
facts was far firmer than that of the Middle Ages.

Painting, in accommodating itself to the new ideas, found that it could
not attain to satisfactory representation merely by form and colour, but
that it required light and shadow and effects of space. Indeed, venial
faults of drawing are perhaps the least disturbing, while faults of
perspective, of spacing, and of colour completely spoil a picture for
people who have an every-day acquaintance with painting such as the
Venetians had. We find the Venetian painters, therefore, more and more
intent upon giving the space they paint its real depth, upon giving
solid objects the full effect of the round, upon keeping the different
parts of a figure within the same plane, and upon compelling things to
hold their proper places one behind the other. As early as the beginning
of the sixteenth century a few of the greater Venetian painters had
succeeded in making distant objects less and less distinct, as well as
smaller and smaller, and had succeeded also in giving some appearance of
reality to the atmosphere. These are a few of the special problems of
painting, as distinct from sculpture for instance, and they are problems
which, among the Italians, only the Venetians and the painters closely
connected with them solved with any success.

=V. Pageant Pictures.=--The painters of the end of the fifteenth century
who met with the greatest success in solving these problems were
Giovanni and Gentile Bellini, Cima da Conegliano, and Carpaccio, and we
find each of them enjoyable to the degree that he was in touch with the
life of his day. I have already spoken of pageants and of how
characteristic they were of the Renaissance, forming as they did a sort
of safety-valve for its chief passions. Venice, too, knew the love of
glory, and the passion was perhaps only the more intense because it was
all dedicated to the State. There was nothing the Venetians would not do
to add to its greatness, glory, and splendour. It was this which led
them to make of the city itself that wondrous monument to the love and
awe they felt for their Republic, which still rouses more admiration and
gives more pleasure than any other one achievement of the art-impulse in
man. They were not content to make their city the most beautiful in the
world; they performed ceremonies in its honour partaking of all the
solemnity of religious rites. Processions and pageants by land and by
sea, free from that gross element of improvisation which characterised
them elsewhere in Italy, formed no less a part of the functions of the
Venetian State than the High Mass in the Catholic Church. Such a
function, with Doge and Senators arrayed in gorgeous costumes no less
prescribed than the raiments of ecclesiastics, in the midst of the
fairy-like architecture of the Piazza or canals, was the event most
eagerly looked forward to, and the one that gave most satisfaction to
the Venetian's love of his State, and to his love of splendour, beauty,
and gaiety. He would have had them every day if it were possible, and,
to make up for their rarity, he loved to have representations of them.
So most Venetian pictures of the beginning of the sixteenth century
tended to take the form of magnificent processions, if they did not
actually represent them. They are processions in the Piazza, as in
Gentile Bellini's "Corpus Christi" picture, or on the water, as in
Carpaccio's picture where St. Ursula leaves her home; or they represent
what was a gorgeous but common sight in Venice, the reception or
dismissal of ambassadors, as in several pictures of Carpaccio's St.
Ursula series; or they show simply a collection of splendidly costumed
people in the Piazza, as in Gentile's "Preaching of St. Mark." Not only
the pleasure-loving Carpaccio, but the austere Cima, as he grew older,
turned every biblical and saintly legend into an occasion for the
picture of a pageant.

But there was a further reason for the popularity of such pictures. The
decorations which were then being executed by the most reputed masters
in the Hall of Great Council in the Doge's Palace, were, by the nature
of the subject, required to represent pageants. The Venetian State
encouraged painting as did the Church, in order to teach its subjects
its own glory in a way that they could understand without being led on
to critical enquiry. Venice was not the only city, it is true, that used
painting for political purposes; but the frescoes of Lorenzetti at Siena
were admonitions to govern in accordance with the Catechism, while the
pictures in the Great Hall of the Doge's Palace were of a nature to
remind the Venetians of their glory and also of their state policy.
These mural paintings represented such subjects as the Doge bringing
about a reconciliation between the Pope and the Emperor Barbarossa, an
event which marked the first entry of Venice into the field of
Continental politics, and typified as well its unchanging policy, which
was to gain its own ends by keeping a balance of power between the
allies of the Pope and the allies of his opponents. The first edition,
so to speak, of these works had been executed at the end of the
fourteenth century and in the beginning of the fifteenth. Toward the end
of that century it no longer satisfied the new feeling for reality and
beauty, and thus had ceased to serve its purpose, which was to glorify
the State. The Bellini, Alvise Vivarini, and Carpaccio were employed to
make a second rendering of the very same subjects, and this gave the
Venetians ample opportunity for finding out how much they liked pageant
pictures.

It is curious to note here that at the same time Florence also
commissioned its greatest painters to execute works for its Council
Hall, but left them practically free to choose their own subjects.
Michelangelo chose for his theme "The Florentines while Bathing
Surprised by the Pisans," and Leonardo "The Battle of the Standard."
Neither of these was intended in the first place to glorify the
Florentine Republic, but rather to give scope to the painter's genius,
Michelangelo's for the treatment of the nude, Leonardo's for movement
and animation. Each, having given scope to his peculiar talents in his
cartoon, had no further interest, and neither of the undertakings was
ever completed. Nor do we hear that the Florentine councillors enjoyed
the cartoons, which were instantly snatched up by students who turned
the hall containing them into an academy.

=VI. Painting and the Confraternities.=--It does not appear that the Hall
of Great Council in Venice was turned into a students' academy, and,
although the paintings there doubtless gave a decided incentive to
artists, their effect upon the public, for whom they were designed, was
even greater. The councillors were not allowed to be the only people to
enjoy fascinating pictures of gorgeous pageants and ceremonials. The
Mutual Aid Societies--the Schools, as they were called--were not long in
getting the masters who were employed in the Doge's Palace to execute
for their own meeting places pictures equally splendid. The Schools of
San Giorgio, Sant' Ursula, and Santo Stefano, employed Carpaccio, the
Schools of San Giovanni and San Marco, Gentile Bellini, and other
Schools employed minor painters. The works carried out for these Schools
are of peculiar importance, both because they are all that remain to
throw light upon the pictures in the Doge's Palace destroyed in the fire
of 1576, and because they form a transition to the art of a later day.
Just as the State chose subjects that glorified itself and taught its
own history and policy, so the Schools had pictures painted to glorify
their patron saints, and to keep their deeds and example fresh. Many of
these pictures--most in fact--took the form of pageants; but even in
such, intended as they were for almost domestic purposes, the style of
high ceremonial was relaxed, and elements taken directly from life were
introduced. In his "Corpus Christi," Gentile Bellini paints not only the
solemn and dazzling procession in the Piazza, but the elegant young men
who strut about in all their finery, the foreign loungers, and even the
unfailing beggar by the portal of St. Mark's. In his "Miracle of the
True Cross," he introduces gondoliers, taking care to bring out all the
beauty of their lithe, comely figures as they stand to ply the oar, and
does not reject even such an episode as a serving-maid standing in a
doorway watching a negro who is about to plunge into the canal. He
treats this bit of the picture with all the charm and much of that
delicate feeling for simple effects of light and colour that we find in
such Dutch painters as Vermeer van Delft and Peter de Hoogh.

Episodes such as this in the works of the earliest great Venetian master
must have acted on the public like a spark on tinder. They certainly
found a sudden and assured popularity, for they play a more and more
important part in the pictures executed for the Schools, many of the
subjects of which were readily turned into studies of ordinary Venetian
life. This was particularly true of the works of Carpaccio. Much as he
loved pageants, he loved homelier scenes as well. His "Dream of St.
Ursula" shows us a young girl asleep in a room filled with the quiet
morning light. Indeed, it may be better described as the picture of a
room with the light playing softly upon its walls, upon the flower-pots
in the window, and upon the writing-table and the cupboards. A young
girl happens to be asleep in the bed, but the picture is far from being
a merely economic illustration to this episode in the life of the saint.
Again, let us take the work in the same series where King Maure
dismisses the ambassadors. Carpaccio has made this a scene of a
chancellery in which the most striking features are neither the king nor
the ambassadors, but the effect of the light that streams through a side
door on the left and a poor clerk labouring at his task. Or, again, take
St. Jerome in his study, in the Scuola di San Giorgio. He is nothing but
a Venetian scholar seated in his comfortable, bright library, in the
midst of his books, with his little shelf of bric-à-brac running along
the wall. There is nothing in his look or surroundings to speak of a
life of self-denial or of arduous devotion to the problems of sin and
redemption. Even the "Presentation of the Virgin," which offered such a
splendid chance for a pageant, Carpaccio, in one instance, turned into
the picture of a simple girl going to her first communion. In other
words, Carpaccio's quality is the quality of a painter of _genre_, of
which he was the earliest Italian master. His _genre_ differs from Dutch
or French not in kind but in degree. Dutch _genre_ is much more
democratic, and, as painting, it is of a far finer quality, but it deals
with its subject, as Carpaccio does, for the sake of its own pictorial
capacities and for the sake of the effects of colour and of light and
shade.

=VII. Easel Pictures and Giorgione.=--At the beginning of the Renaissance
painting was almost wholly confined to the Church. From the Church it
extended to the Council Hall, and thence to the Schools. There it
rapidly developed into an art which had no higher aim than painting the
sumptuous life of the aristocracy. When it had reached this point, there
was no reason whatever why it should not begin to grace the dwellings of
all well-to-do people.

In the sixteenth century painting was not looked upon with the
estranging reverence paid to it now. It was almost as cheap as printing
has become since, and almost as much employed. When the Venetians had
attained the point of culture where they were able to differentiate
their sensations and distinguish pleasure from edification, they found
that painting gave them decided pleasure. Why should they always have to
go to the Doge's Palace or to some School to enjoy this pleasure? That
would have been no less a hardship than for us never to hear music
outside of a concert-room. This is no merely rhetorical comparison, for
in the life of the Venetian of the sixteenth century painting took much
the same place that music takes in ours. He no longer expected it to
tell him stories or to teach him the Catechism. Printed books, which
were beginning to grow common, amply satisfied both these needs. He had
as a rule very little personal religion, and consequently did not care
for pictures that moved him to contrition or devotion. He preferred to
have some pleasantly coloured thing that would put him into a mood
connected with the side of life he most enjoyed--with refined
merrymaking, with country parties, or with the sweet dreams of youth.
Venetian painting alone among Italian schools was ready to satisfy such
a demand, and it thus became the first genuinely modern art: for the
most vital difference that can be indicated between the arts in
antiquity and modern times is this--that now the arts tend to address
themselves more and more to the actual needs of men, while in olden
times they were supposed to serve some more than human purpose.

The pictures required for a house were naturally of a different kind
from those suited to the Council Hall or the School, where large
paintings, which could be filled with many figures, were in place. For
the house smaller pictures were necessary, such as could easily be
carried about. The mere dimensions, therefore, excluded pageants, but,
in any case, the pageant was too formal a subject to suit all moods--too
much like a brass band always playing in the room. The easel picture had
to be without too definite a subject, and could no more permit being
translated into words than a sonata. Some of Giovanni Bellini's late
works are already of this kind. They are full of that subtle, refined
poetry which can be expressed in form and colour alone. But they were a
little too austere in form, a little too sober in colour, for the gay,
care-free youth of the time. Carpaccio does not seem to have painted
many easel pictures, although his brilliancy, his delightful fancy, his
love of colour, and his gaiety of humour would have fitted him admirably
for this kind of painting. But Giorgione, the follower of both these
masters, starting with the qualities of both as his inheritance,
combined the refined feeling and poetry of Bellini with Carpaccio's
gaiety and love of beauty and colour. Stirred with the enthusiasms of
his own generation as people who had lived through other phases of
feeling could not be, Giorgione painted pictures so perfectly in touch
with the ripened spirit of the Renaissance that they met with the
success which those things only find that at the same moment wake us to
the full sense of a need and satisfy it.

Giorgione's life was short, and very few of his works--not a score in
all--have escaped destruction. But these suffice to give us a glimpse
into that brief moment when the Renaissance found its most genuine
expression in painting. Its over-boisterous passions had quieted down
into a sincere appreciation of beauty and of human relations. It would
be really hard to say more about Giorgione than this, that his pictures
are the perfect reflex of the Renaissance at its height. His works, as
well as those of his contemporaries and followers, still continue to be
appreciated most by people whose attitude of mind and spirit has most in
common with the Renaissance, or by those who look upon Italian art not
merely as art, but as the product of this period. For that is its
greatest interest. Other schools have accomplished much more in mere
painting than the Italian. A serious student of art will scarcely think
of putting many of even the highest achievements of the Italians,
considered purely as technique, beside the works of the great Dutchmen,
the great Spaniard, or even the masters of to-day. Our real interest in
Italian painting is at bottom an interest in that art which we almost
instinctively feel to have been the fittest expression found by a period
in the history of modern Europe which has much in common with youth.
The Renaissance has the fascination of those years when we seemed so
full of promise both to ourselves and to everybody else.

=VIII. The Giorgionesque Spirit.=--Giorgione created a demand which other
painters were forced to supply at the risk of finding no favour. The
older painters accommodated themselves as best they could. One of them
indeed, turning toward the new in a way that is full of singular charm,
gave his later works all the beauty and softness of the first spring
days in Italy. Upon hearing the title of one of Catena's works in the
National Gallery, "A Warrior Adoring the Infant Christ," who could
imagine what a treat the picture itself had in store for him? It is a
fragrant summer landscape enjoyed by a few quiet people, one of whom, in
armour, with the glamour of the Orient about him, kneels at the Virgin's
feet, while a romantic young page holds his horse's bridle. I mention
this picture in particular because it is so accessible, and so good an
instance of the Giorgionesque way of treating a subject; not for the
story, nor for the display of skill, nor for the obvious feeling, but
for the lovely landscape, for the effects of light and colour, and for
the sweetness of human relations. Giorgione's altar-piece at
Castelfranco is treated in precisely the same spirit, but with far more
genius.

The young painters had no chance at all unless they undertook at once to
furnish pictures in Giorgione's style. But before we can appreciate all
that the younger men were called upon to do, we must turn to the
consideration of that most wonderful product of the Renaissance and of
the painter's craft--the Portrait.

=IX. The Portrait.=--The longing for the perpetuation of one's fame, which
has already been mentioned several times as one of the chief passions of
the Renaissance, brought with it the more universal desire to hand down
the memory of one's face and figure. The surest way to accomplish this
end seemed to be the one which had proved successful in the case of the
great Romans, whose effigies were growing more and more familiar as new
busts and medals were dug up. The earlier generations of the
Renaissance relied therefore on the sculptor and the medallist to hand
down their features to an interested posterity. These artists were ready
for their task. The mere materials gave them solidity, an effect so hard
to get in painting. At the same time, nothing was expected from them
except that they should mould the material into the desired shape. No
setting was required and no colour. Their art on this account alone
would naturally have been the earliest to reach fruition. But over and
above this, sculptors and medallists had the direct inspiration of
antique models, and through the study of these they were at an early
date brought in contact with the tendencies of the Renaissance. The
passion then prevailing for pronounced types, and the spirit of analysis
this produced, forced them to such patient study of the face as would
enable them to give the features that look of belonging to one
consistent whole which we call character. Thus, at a time when painters
had not yet learned to distinguish between one face and another,
Donatello was carving busts which remain unrivalled as studies of
character, and Pisanello was casting bronze and silver medals which are
among the greatest claims to renown of those whose effigies they bear.

Donatello's bust of Niccolò d'Uzzano shows clearly, nevertheless, that
the Renaissance could not long remain satisfied with the sculptured
portrait. It is coloured like nature, and succeeds so well in producing
for an instant the effect of actual life as to seem uncanny the next
moment. Donatello's contemporaries must have had the same impression,
for busts of this kind are but few. Yet these few prove that the element
of colour had to be included before the satisfactory portrait was found:
in other words, that painting and not sculpture was to be the
portrait-art of the Renaissance.

The most creative sculptor of the earlier Renaissance was not the only
artist who felt the need of colour in portraiture. Vittore Pisano, the
greatest medallist of this or any age, felt it quite as keenly, and
being a painter as well, he was among the first to turn this art to
portraiture. In his day, however, painting was still too undeveloped an
art for the portrait not to lose in character what it gained in a more
lifelike colouring, and the two of Pisanello's portraits which still
exist are profiles much inferior to his best medals, seeming indeed to
be enlargements of them rather than original studies from life.

It was only in the next generation, when the attention of painters
themselves was powerfully concentrated upon the reproduction of strongly
pronounced types of humanity, that they began to make portraits as full
of life and energy as Donatello's busts of the previous period. Even
then, however, the full face was rarely attempted, and it was only in
the beginning of the sixteenth century that full-face portraits began to
be common. The earliest striking achievement of this sort, Mantegna's
head of Cardinal Scarampo (now in Berlin), was not the kind to find
favour in Venice. The full-face likeness of this wolf in sheep's
clothing brought out the workings of the self-seeking, cynical spirit
within too clearly not to have revolted the Venetians, who looked upon
all such qualities as impious in the individual because they were the
strict monopoly of the State. In the portraits of Doges which decorated
the frieze of its great Council Hall, Venice wanted the effigies of
functionaries entirely devoted to the State, and not of great
personalities, and the profile lent itself more readily to the omission
of purely individual traits.

It is significant that Venice was the first state which made a business
of preserving the portraits of its chief rulers. Those which Gentile and
Giovanni Bellini executed for this end must have had no less influence
on portraiture than their mural paintings in the same Hall had on other
branches of the art. But the State was not satisfied with leaving
records of its glory in the Ducal Palace alone. The Church and the
saints were impressed for the same purpose--happily for us, for while
the portraits in the Great Hall have perished, several altar-pieces
still preserve to us the likenesses of some of the Doges.

Early in the sixteenth century, when people began to want pictures in
their own homes as well as in their public halls, personal and
religious motives combined to dictate the choice of subjects. In the
minds of many, painting, although a very familiar art, was too much
connected with solemn religious rites and with state ceremonies to be
used at once for ends of personal pleasure. So landscape had to slide in
under the patronage of St. Jerome; while romantic biblical episodes,
like the "Finding of Moses," or the "Judgment of Solomon," gave an
excuse for _genre_, and the portrait crept in half hidden under the
mantle of a patron saint. Its position once secure, however, the
portrait took no time to cast off all tutelage, and to declare itself
one of the most attractive subjects possible. Over and above the obvious
satisfaction afforded by a likeness, the portrait had to give pleasure
to the eye, and to produce those agreeable moods which were expected
from all other paintings in Giorgione's time. Portraits like that of
Scarampo are scarcely less hard to live with than such a person himself
must have been. They tyrannize rather than soothe and please. But
Giorgione and his immediate followers painted men and women whose very
look leads one to think of sympathetic friends, people whose features
are pleasantly rounded, whose raiment seems soft to touch, whose
surroundings call up the memory of sweet landscapes and refreshing
breezes. In fact, in these portraits the least apparent object was the
likeness, the real purpose being to please the eye and to turn the mind
toward pleasant themes. This no doubt helps to account for the great
popularity of portraits in Venice during the sixteenth century. Their
number, as we shall see, only grows larger as the century advances.

=X. The Young Titian.=--Giorgione's followers had only to exploit the vein
their master hit upon to find ample remuneration. Each, to be sure,
brought a distinct personality into play, but the demand for the
Giorgionesque article, if I may be allowed the phrase, was too strong to
permit of much deviation. It no longer mattered what the picture was to
represent or where it was going to be placed; the treatment had to be
always bright, romantic, and joyous. Many artists still confined
themselves to painting ecclesiastical subjects chiefly, but even among
these, such painters as Lotto and Palma, for example, are fully as
Giorgionesque as Titian, Bonifazio, or Paris Bordone.

Titian, in spite of a sturdier, less refined nature, did nothing for a
generation after Giorgione's death but work on his lines. A difference
in quality between the two masters shows itself from the first, but the
spirit that animated each is identical. The pictures Titian was painting
ten years after his companion's death have not only many of the
qualities of Giorgione's, but something more, as if done by an older
Giorgione, with better possession of himself, and with a larger and
firmer hold on the world. At the same time, they show no diminution of
spontaneous joy in life, and even an increased sense of its value and
dignity. What an array of masterpieces might be brought to witness! In
the "Assumption," for example, the Virgin soars heavenward, not helpless
in the arms of angels, but borne up by the fulness of life within her,
and by the feeling that the universe is naturally her own, and that
nothing can check her course. The angels seem to be there only to sing
the victory of a human being over his environment. They are embodied
joys, acting on our nerves like the rapturous outburst of the orchestra
at the end of "Parsifal." Or look at the "Bacchanals" in Madrid, or at
the "Bacchus and Ariadne" in the National Gallery. How brimful they are
of exuberant joy! you see no sign of a struggle of inner and outer
conditions, but life so free, so strong, so glowing, that it almost
intoxicates. They are truly Dionysiac, Bacchanalian triumphs--the
triumph of life over the ghosts that love the gloom and chill and hate
the sun.

The portraits Titian painted in these years show no less feeling of
freedom from sordid cares, and no less mastery over life. Think of "The
Man with the Glove" in the Louvre, of the "Concert," and "Young
Englishman" in Florence, and of the Pesaro family in their altar-piece
in the Frari at Venice--call up these portraits, and you will see that
they are true children of the Renaissance whom life has taught no
meannesses and no fears.

=XI. Apparent Failure of the Renaissance.=--But even while such pictures
were being painted, the spirit of the Italian Renaissance was proving
inadequate to life. This was not the fault of the spirit, which was the
spirit of youth. But youth cannot last more than a certain length of
time. No matter how it is spent, manhood and middle age will come. Life
began to show a sterner and more sober face than for a brief moment it
had seemed to wear. Men became conscious that the passions for
knowledge, for glory, and for personal advancement were not at the
bottom of all the problems that life presented. Florence and Rome
discovered this suddenly, and with a shock. In the presence of
Michelangelo's sculptures in San Lorenzo, or of his "Last Judgment," we
still hear the cry of anguish that went up as the inexorable truth
dawned upon them. But Venice, although humiliated by the League of
Cambrai, impoverished by the Turk, and by the change in the routes of
commerce, was not crushed, as was the rest of Italy, under the heels of
Spanish infantry, nor so drained of resource as not to have some wealth
still flowing into her coffers. Life grew soberer and sterner, but it
was still amply worth the living, although the relish of a little
stoicism and of earnest thought no longer seemed out of place. The
spirit of the Renaissance had found its way to Venice slowly; it was
even more slow to depart.

We therefore find that toward the middle of the sixteenth century, when
elsewhere in Italy painting was trying to adapt itself to the hypocrisy
of a Church whose chief reason for surviving as an institution was that
it helped Spain to subject the world to tyranny, and when portraits were
already exhibiting the fascinating youths of an earlier generation
turned into obsequious and elegant courtiers,--in Venice painting kept
true to the ripened and more reflective spirit which succeeded to the
most glowing decades of the Renaissance. This led men to take themselves
more seriously, to act with more consideration of consequences, and to
think of life with less hope and exultation. Quieter joys were sought,
the pleasures of friendship and of the affections. Life not having
proved the endless holiday it had promised to be, earnest people began
to question whether under the gross masque of the official religion
there was not something to console them for departed youth and for the
failure of hopes. Thus religion began to revive in Italy, this time not
ethnic nor political, but personal,--an answer to the real needs of the
human soul.

=XII. Lotto.=--It is scarcely to be wondered at that the Venetian artist
in whom we first find the expression of the new feelings, should have
been one who by wide travel had been brought in contact with the
miseries of Italy in a way not possible for those who remained sheltered
in Venice. Lorenzo Lotto, when he is most himself, does not paint the
triumph of man over his environment, but in his altar-pieces, and even
more in his portraits, he shows us people in want of the consolations of
religion, of sober thought, of friendship and affection. They look out
from his canvases as if begging for sympathy.

But real expression for the new order of things was not to be found by
one like Lotto, sensitive of feeling and born in the heyday of the
Renaissance, to whom the new must have come as a disappointment. It had
to come from one who had not been brought in personal contact with the
woes of the rest of Italy, from one less conscious of his environment,
one like Titian who was readier to receive the patronage of the new
master than to feel an oppression which did not touch him personally; or
it had to come from one like Tintoretto, born to the new order of things
and not having to outlive a disappointment before adapting himself to
it.

=XIII. The Late Renaissance and Titian.=--It is as impossible to keep
untouched by what happens to your neighbours as to have a bright sky
over your own house when it is stormy everywhere else. Spain did not
directly dominate Venice, but the new fashions of life and thought
inaugurated by her nearly universal triumph could not be kept out. Her
victims, among whom the Italian scholars must be reckoned, flocked to
Venice for shelter, persecuted by a rule that cherished the Inquisition.
Now for the first time Venetian painters were brought in contact with
men of letters. As they were already, fortunately for themselves, too
well acquainted with the business of their own art to be taken in tow by
learning or even by poetry, the relation of the man of letters to the
painter became on the whole a stimulating and at any rate a profitable
one, as in the instance of two of the greatest, where it took the form
of a partnership for mutual advantage. It is not to our purpose to speak
of Aretino's gain, but Titian would scarcely have acquired such fame in
his lifetime if that founder of modern journalism, Pietro Aretino, had
not been at his side, eager to trumpet his praises and to advise him
whom to court.

The overwhelming triumph of Spain entailed still another consequence. It
brought home to all Italians, even to the Venetians, the sense of the
individual's helplessness before organized power--a sense which, as we
have seen, the early Renaissance, with its belief in the omnipotence of
the individual, totally lacked. This was not without a decided influence
on art. In the last three decades of his long career, Titian did not
paint man as if he were as free from care and as fitted to his
environment as a lark on an April morning. Rather did he represent man
as acting on his environment and suffering from its reactions. He made
the faces and figures show clearly what life had done to them. The great
"Ecce Homo" and the "Crowning with Thorns" are imbued with this feeling
no less than the equestrian portrait of Charles the Fifth. In the "Ecce
Homo" we see a man with a godlike personality, humbled by the imperial
majesty, broken by the imperial power, and utterly unable to hold out
against them. In the "Crowning with Thorns" we have the same godlike
being almost brutalised by pain and suffering. In the portrait of the
Emperor we behold a man whom life has enfeebled, and who has to meet a
foe who may crush him.

Yet Titian became neither soured nor a pessimist. Many of his late
portraits are even more energetic than those of his early maturity. He
shows himself a wise man of the world. "Do not be a grovelling
sycophant," some of them seem to say, "but remember that courtly manners
and tempered elegance can do you no harm." Titian, then, was ever ready
to change with the times, and on the whole the change was toward a
firmer grasp of reality, necessitating yet another advance in the
painter's mastery of his craft. Titian's real greatness consists in the
fact that he was as able to produce an effect of greater reality as he
was ready to appreciate the need of a firmer hold on life. In painting,
as I have said, a greater effect of reality is chiefly a matter of light
and shadow, to be obtained only by considering the canvas as an enclosed
space, filled with light and air, through which the objects are seen.
There is more than one way of getting this effect, but Titian attains it
by the almost total suppression of outlines, by the harmonising of his
colours, and by the largeness and vigour of his brushwork. In fact, the
old Titian was, in his way of painting, remarkably like some of the best
French masters of to-day. This makes him only the more attractive,
particularly when with handling of this kind he combined the power of
creating forms of beauty such as he has given us in the "Wisdom" of the
Venetian Royal Palace, or in the "Shepherd and Nymph" of Vienna. The
difference between the old Titian, author of these works, and the young
Titian, painter of the "Assumption," and of the "Bacchus and Ariadne,"
is the difference between the Shakspeare of the "Midsummer-Night's
Dream" and the Shakspeare of the "Tempest." Titian and Shakspeare begin
and end so much in the same way by no mere accident. They were both
products of the Renaissance, they underwent similar changes, and each
was the highest and completest expression of his own age. This is not
the place to elaborate the comparison, but I have dwelt so long on
Titian, because, historically considered, he is the only painter who
expressed nearly all of the Renaissance that could find expression in
painting. It is this which makes him even more interesting than
Tintoretto, an artist who in many ways was deeper, finer, and even more
brilliant.

=XIV. Humanity and the Renaissance.=--Tintoretto grew to manhood when the
fruit of the Renaissance was ripe on every bough. The Renaissance had
resulted in the emancipation of the individual, in making him feel that
the universe had no other purpose than his happiness. This brought an
entirely new answer to the question, "Why should I do this or that?" It
used to be, "Because self-instituted authority commands you." The answer
now was, "Because it is good for men." In this lies our greatest debt to
the Renaissance, that it instituted the welfare of man as the end of all
action. The Renaissance did not bring this idea to practical issue, but
our debt to it is endless on account of the results the idea has
produced in our own days. This alone would have made the Renaissance a
period of peculiar interest, even if it had had no art whatever. But
when ideas are fresh and strong, they are almost sure to find artistic
embodiment, as indeed this whole epoch found in painting, and this
particular period in the works of Tintoretto.

=XV. Sebastiano del Piombo.=--The emancipation of the individual had a
direct effect on the painter in freeing him from his guild. It now
occurred to him that possibly he might become more proficient and have
greater success if he deserted the influences he was under by the
accident of birth and residence, and placed himself in the school that
seemed best adapted to foster his talents. This led to the unfortunate
experiment of Eclecticism which checked the purely organic development
of the separate schools. It brought about their fusion into an art which
no longer appealed to the Italian people, as did the art which sprang
naturally from the soil, but to the small class of _dilettanti_ who
considered a knowledge of art as one of the birthrights of their social
position. Venice, however, suffered little from Eclecticism, perhaps
because a strong sense of individuality was late in getting there, and
by that time the painters were already well enough educated in their
craft to know that they had little to learn elsewhere. The one Venetian
who became an Eclectic, remained in spite of it a great painter.
Sebastiano del Piombo fell under the influence of Michelangelo, but
while this influence was pernicious in most cases, the hand that had
learned to paint under Bellini, Cima, and Giorgione, never wholly lost
its command of colour and tone.

=XVI. Tintoretto.=--Tintoretto stayed at home, but he felt in his own
person a craving for something that Titian could not teach him. The
Venice he was born in was not the Venice of Titian's early youth, and
his own adolescence fell in the period when Spain was rapidly making
herself mistress of Italy. The haunting sense of powers almost
irresistible gave a terrible fascination to Michelangelo's works, which
are swayed by that sense as by a demonic presence. Tintoretto felt this
fascination because he was in sympathy with the spirit which took form
in colossal torsoes and limbs. To him these were not, as they were to
Michelangelo's enrolled followers, merely new patterns after which to
model the nude.

But beside this sense of overwhelming power and gigantic force,
Tintoretto had to an even greater degree the feeling that whatever
existed was for mankind and with reference to man. In his youth people
were once more turning to religion, and in Venice poetry was making its
way more than it had previously done, not only because Venice had become
the refuge of men of letters, but also because of the diffusion of
printed books. Tintoretto took to the new feeling for religion and
poetry as to his birthright. Yet whether classic fable or biblical
episode were the subject of his art, Tintoretto coloured it with his
feeling for the human life at the heart of the story. His sense of power
did not express itself in colossal nudes so much as in the immense
energy, in the glowing health of the figures he painted, and more still
in his effects of light, which he rendered as if he had it in his hands
to brighten or darken the heavens at will and subdue them to his own
moods.

He could not have accomplished this, we may be sure, if he had not had
even greater skill than Titian in the treatment of light and shadow and
of atmosphere. It was this which enabled him to give such living
versions of biblical stories and saintly legends. For, granting that an
effect of reality were attainable in painting without an adequate
treatment of light and atmosphere, even then, the reality would look
hideous, as it does in many modern painters who attempt to paint people
of to-day in their every-day dress and among their usual surroundings.
It is not "Realism" which makes such pictures hideous, but the want of
that toning down which the atmosphere gives to things in life, and of
that harmonising to which the light subjects all colours.

It was a great mastery of light and shadow which enabled Tintoretto to
put into his pictures all the poetry there was in his soul without once
tempting us to think that he might have found better expression in
words. The poetry which quickens most of his works in the Scuola di San
Rocco is almost entirely a matter of light and colour. What is it but
the light that changes the solitudes in which the Magdalen and St. Mary
of Egypt are sitting, into dreamlands seen by poets in their moments of
happiest inspiration? What but light and colour, the gloom and chill of
evening, with the white-stoled figure standing resignedly before the
judge, that give the "Christ before Pilate" its sublime magic? What,
again, but light, colour, and the star-procession of cherubs that imbue
the realism of the "Annunciation" with music which thrills us through
and through?

Religion and poetry did not exist for Tintoretto because the love and
cultivation of the Muses was a duty prescribed by the Greeks and Romans,
and because the love of God and the saints was prescribed by the Church;
but rather, as was the case with the best people of his time, because
both poetry and religion were useful to man. They helped him to forget
what was mean and sordid in life, they braced him to his task, and
consoled him for his disappointments. Religion answered to an
ever-living need of the human heart. The Bible was no longer a mere
document wherewith to justify Christian dogma. It was rather a series of
parables and symbols pointing at all times to the path that led to a
finer and nobler life. Why then continue to picture Christ and the
Apostles, the Patriarchs and Prophets, as persons living under Roman
rule, wearing the Roman toga, and walking about in the landscape of a
Roman bas-relief? Christ and the Apostles, the Patriarchs and Prophets,
were the embodiment of living principles and of living ideals.
Tintoretto felt this so vividly that he could not think of them
otherwise than as people of his own kind, living under conditions easily
intelligible to himself and to his fellow-men. Indeed, the more
intelligible and the more familiar the look and garb and surroundings of
biblical and saintly personages, the more would they drive home the
principles and ideas they incarnated. So Tintoretto did not hesitate to
turn every biblical episode into a picture of what the scene would look
like had it taken place under his own eyes, nor to tinge it with his own
mood.

His conception of the human form was, it is true, colossal, although the
slender elegance that was then coming into fashion, as if in protest
against physical force and organisation, influenced him considerably in
his construction of the female figure; but the effect which he must
always have produced upon his contemporaries, and which most of his
works still produce, is one of astounding reality as well as of wide
sweep and power. Thus, in the "Discovery of the Body of St. Mark," in
the Brera, and in the "Storm Rising while the Corpse is being Carried
through the Streets of Alexandria," in the Royal Palace at Venice, the
figures, although colossal, are so energetic and so easy in movement,
and the effects of perspective and of light and atmosphere are so on a
level with the gigantic figures, that the eye at once adapts itself to
the scale, and you feel as if you too partook of the strength and health
of heroes.

=XVII. Value of Minor Episodes in Art.=--That feeling for reality which
made the great painters look upon a picture as the representation of a
cubic content of atmosphere enveloping all the objects depicted, made
them also consider the fact that the given quantity of atmosphere is
sure to contain other objects than those the artist wants for his
purpose. He is free to leave them out, of course, but in so far as he
does, so far is he from producing an effect of reality. The eye does not
see everything, but all the eye would naturally see along with the
principal objects, must be painted, or the picture will not look true
to life. This incorporation of small episodes running parallel with the
subject rather than forming part of it, is one of the chief
characteristics of modern as distinguished from ancient art. It is this
which makes the Elizabethan drama so different from the Greek. It is
this again which already separates the works of Duccio and Giotto from
the plastic arts of Antiquity. Painting lends itself willingly to the
consideration of minor episodes, and for that reason is almost as well
fitted to be in touch with modern life as the novel itself. Such a
treatment saves a picture from looking prepared and cold, just as light
and atmosphere save it from rigidity and crudeness.

No better illustration of this can be found among Italian masters than
Tintoretto's "Crucifixion" in the Scuola di San Rocco. The scene is a
vast one, and although Christ is on the Cross, life does not stop. To
most of the people gathered there, what takes place is no more than a
common execution. Many of them are attending to it as to a tedious duty.
Others work away at some menial task more or less connected with the
Crucifixion, as unconcerned as cobblers humming over their last. Most of
the people in the huge canvas are represented, as no doubt they were in
life, without much personal feeling about Christ. His own friends are
painted with all their grief and despair, but the others are allowed to
feel as they please. The painter does not try to give them the proper
emotions. If one of the great novelists of to-day, if Tolstoi, for
instance, were to describe the Crucifixion, his account would read as if
it were a description of Tintoretto's picture. But Tintoretto's fairness
went even further than letting all the spectators feel as they pleased
about what he himself believed to be the greatest event that ever took
place. Among this multitude he allowed the light of heaven to shine upon
the wicked as well as upon the good, and the air to refresh them all
equally. In other words, this enormous canvas is a great sea of air and
light at the bottom of which the scene takes place. Without the
atmosphere and the just distribution of light, it would look as lifeless
and desolate, in spite of the crowd and animation, as if it were the
bottom of a dried up sea.

=XVIII. Tintoretto's Portraits.=--While all these advances were being
made, the art of portraiture had not stood still. Its popularity had
only increased as the years went on. Titian was too busy with
commissions for foreign princes to supply the great demand there was in
Venice alone. Tintoretto painted portraits not only with much of the air
of good breeding of Titian's likenesses, but with even greater
splendour, and with an astonishing rapidity of execution. The Venetian
portrait, it will be remembered, was expected to be more than a
likeness. It was expected to give pleasure to the eye, and to stimulate
the emotions. Tintoretto was ready to give ample satisfaction to all
such expectations. His portraits, although they are not so
individualised as Lotto's, nor such close studies of character as
Titian's, always render the man at his best, in glowing health, full of
life and determination. They give us the sensuous pleasure we get from
jewels, and at the same time they make us look back with amazement to a
State where the human plant was in such vigour as to produce old men of
the kind represented in most of Tintoretto's portraits.

With Tintoretto ends the universal interest the Venetian school arouses;
for although painting does not deteriorate in a day any more than it
grows to maturity in the same brief moment, the story of the decay has
none of the fascination of the growth. But several artists remain to be
considered who were not of the Venetian school in the strict sense of
the term, but who have always been included within it.

=XIX. Venetian Art and the Provinces.=--The Venetian provinces were held
together not merely by force of rule. In language and feeling no less
than in government, they formed a distinct unit within the Italian
peninsula. Painting being so truly a product of the soil as it was in
Italy during the Renaissance, the art of the provinces could not help
holding the same close relation to the art of Venice that their language
and modes of feeling held. But a difference must be made at once between
towns like Verona, with a school of at least as long a growth and with
as independent an evolution as the school of Venice itself, and towns
like Vicenza and Brescia whose chief painters never developed quite
independently of Venice or Verona. What makes Romanino and Moretto of
Brescia, or even the powerful Montagna of Vicenza, except when they are
at their very best, so much less enjoyable as a rule than the
Venetians--that is to say the painters wholly educated in Venice,--is
something they have in common with the Eclectics of a later day. They
are ill at ease about their art, which is no longer the utterly
unpremeditated outcome of a natural impulse. They saw greater painting
than their own in Venice and Verona, and not unfrequently their own
works show an uncouth attempt to adopt that greatness, which comes out
in exaggeration of colour even more than of form, and speaks for that
want of taste which is the indelible stamp of provincialism. But there
were Venetian towns without the traditions even of the schools of
Vicenza and Brescia, where, if you wanted to learn painting, you had to
apprentice yourself to somebody who had been taught by somebody who had
been a pupil of one of Giovanni Bellini's pupils. This was particularly
true of the towns in that long stretch of plain between the Julian Alps
and the sea, known as Friuli. Friuli produced one painter of remarkable
talents and great force, Giovanni Antonio Pordenone, but neither his
talents nor his force, nor even later study in Venice, could erase from
his works that stamp of provincialism which he inherited from his first
provincial master.

Such artists as these, however, never gained great favour in the
capital. Those whom Venice drew to herself when her own strength was
waning and when, like Rome in her decline, she began to absorb into
herself the talent of the provinces, were rather painters such as Paolo
Veronese whose art, although of independent growth, was sufficiently
like her own to be readily understood, or painters with an entirely new
vein, such as the Bassani.

=XX. Paul Veronese.=--Paolo was the product of four or five generations of
Veronese painters, the first two or three of which had spoken the
language of the whole mass of the people in a way that few other artists
had ever done. Consequently, in the early Renaissance, there were no
painters in the North of Italy, and few even in Florence, who were not
touched by the influence of the Veronese. But Paolo's own immediate
predecessors were no longer able to speak the language of the whole mass
of the people. There was one class they left out entirely, the class to
whom Titian and Tintoretto appealed so strongly, the class that ruled,
and that thought in the new way. Verona, being a dependency of Venice,
did no ruling, and certainly not at all so much thinking as Venice, and
life there continued healthful, simple, unconscious, untroubled by the
approaching storm in the world's feelings. But although thought and
feeling may be slow in invading a town, fashion comes there quickly.
Spanish fashions in dress, and Spanish ceremonial in manners reached
Verona soon enough, and in Paolo Caliari we find all these fashions
reflected, but health, simplicity, and unconsciousness as well. This
combination of seemingly opposite qualities forms his great charm for
us to-day, and it must have proved as great an attraction to many of the
Venetians of his own time, for they were already far enough removed from
simplicity to appreciate to the full his singularly happy combination of
ceremony and splendour with an almost childlike naturalness of feeling.
Perhaps among his strongest admirers were the very men who most
appreciated Titian's distinction and Tintoretto's poetry. But it is
curious to note that Paolo's chief employers were the monasteries. His
cheerfulness, and his frank and joyous worldliness, the qualities, in
short, which we find in his huge pictures of feasts, seem to have been
particularly welcome to those who were expected to make their meat and
drink of the very opposite qualities. This is no small comment on the
times, and shows how thorough had been the permeation of the spirit of
the Renaissance when even the religious orders gave up their pretence to
asceticism and piety.

=XXI. Bassano, Genre, and Landscape.=--Venetian painting would not have
been the complete expression of the riper Renaissance if it had
entirely neglected the country. City people have a natural love of the
country, but when it was a matter of doubt whether a man would ever
return if he ventured out of the town-gates, as was the case in the
Middle Ages, this love had no chance of showing itself. It had to wait
until the country itself was safe for wayfarers, a state of things which
came about in Italy with the gradual submission of the country to the
rule of the neighbouring cities and with the general advance of
civilisation. During the Renaissance the love of the country and its
pleasures received an immense impulse from Latin authors. What the great
Romans without exception recommended, an Italian was not slow to adopt,
particularly when, as in this case, it harmonised with natural
inclination and with an already common practice. It was the usual thing
with those who could afford to do so to retire to the villa for a large
part of the year. Classic poets helped such Italians to appreciate the
simplicity of the country and to feel a little of its beauty. Many took
such delight in country life that they wished to have reminders of it
in town. It may have been in response to some such half formulated wish
that Palma began to paint his "Sante Conversazioni,"--groups of saintly
personages gathered under pleasant trees in pretty landscapes. His
pupil, Bonifazio, continued the same line, gradually, however,
discarding the traditional group of Madonna and saints, and, under such
titles as "The Rich Man's Feast" or "The Finding of Moses," painting all
the scenes of fashionable country life, music on the terrace of a villa,
hunting parties, and picnics in the forest.

Bonifazio's pupil, Jacopo Bassano, no less fond of painting country
scenes, did not however confine himself to representing city people in
their parks. His pictures were for the inhabitants of the small
market-town from which he takes his name, where inside the gates you
still see men and women in rustic garb crouching over their
many-coloured wares; and where, just outside the walls, you may see all
the ordinary occupations connected with farming and grazing. Inspired,
although unawares, by the new idea of giving perfectly modern versions
of biblical stories, Bassano introduced into nearly every picture he
painted episodes from the life in the streets of Bassano, and in the
county just outside the gates. Even Orpheus in his hands becomes a
farmer's lad fiddling to the barnyard fowls.

Bassano's pictures and those of his two sons, who followed him very
closely, found great favour in Venice and elsewhere, because they were
such unconscious renderings of simple country life, a kind of life whose
charm seemed greater and greater the more fashionable and ceremonious
private life in the city became. But this was far from being their only
charm. Just as the Church had educated people to understand painting as
a language, so the love of all the pleasant things that painting
suggested led in time to the love of this art as its own end, serving no
obvious purpose either of decoration or suggestion, but giving pleasure
by the skilful management of light and shadow, and by the intrinsic
beauty of the colours. The third quarter of the sixteenth century thus
saw the rise of the picture-fancier, and the success of the Bassani was
so great because they appealed to this class in a special way. In
Venice there had long been a love of objects for their sensuous beauty.
At an early date the Venetians had perfected an art in which there is
scarcely any intellectual content whatever, and in which colour,
jewel-like or opaline, is almost everything. Venetian glass was at the
same time an outcome of the Venetians' love of sensuous beauty and a
continual stimulant to it. Pope Paul II., for example, who was a
Venetian, took such a delight in the colour and glow of jewels, that he
was always looking at them and always handling them. When painting,
accordingly, had reached the point where it was no longer dependent upon
the Church, nor even expected to be decorative, but when it was used
purely for pleasure, the day could not be far distant when people would
expect painting to give them the same enjoyment they received from
jewels and glass. In Bassano's works this taste found full satisfaction.
Most of his pictures seem at first as dazzling, then as cooling and
soothing, as the best kind of stained glass; while the colouring of
details, particularly of those under high lights, is jewel-like, as
clear and deep and satisfying as rubies and emeralds.

It need scarcely be added after all that has been said about light and
atmosphere in connection with Titian and Tintoretto, and their handling
of real life, that Bassano's treatment of both was even more masterly.
If this were not so, neither picture-fanciers of his own time, nor we
nowadays, should care for his works as we do. They represent life in far
more humble phases than even the pictures of Tintoretto, and, without
recompensing effects of light and atmosphere, they would not be more
enjoyable than the cheap work of the smaller Dutch masters. It must be
added, too, that without his jewel-like colouring, Bassano would often
be no more delightful than Teniers.

Another thing Bassano could not fail to do, working as he did in the
country, and for country people, was to paint landscape. He had to paint
the real country, and his skill in the treatment of light and atmosphere
was great enough to enable him to do it well. Bassano was in fact the
first modern landscape painter. Titian and Tintoretto and Giorgione,
and even Bellini and Cima before them, had painted beautiful landscapes,
but they were seldom direct studies from nature. They were decorative
backgrounds, or fine harmonising accompaniments to the religious or
human elements of the picture. They never failed to get grand and
effective lines--a setting worthy of the subject. Bassano did not need
such setting for his country versions of Bible stories, and he needed
them even less in his studies of rural life. For pictures of this kind
the country itself naturally seemed the best background and the best
accompaniment possible,--indeed, the only kind desirable. Without
knowing it, therefore, and without intending it, Bassano was the first
Italian who tried to paint the country as it really is, and not arranged
to look like scenery.

=XXII. The Venetians and Velasquez.=--Had Bassano's qualities, however,
been of the kind that appealed only to the collectors of his time, he
would scarcely rouse the strong interest we take in him. We care for him
chiefly because he has so many of the more essential qualities of great
art--truth to life, and spontaneity. He has another interest still, in
that he began to beat out the path which ended at last in Velasquez.
Indeed, one of the attractions of the Venetian school of painting is
that, more than all others, it went to form that great Spanish master.
He began as a sort of follower of Bassano, but his style was not fixed
before he had given years of study to Veronese, to Tintoretto, and to
Titian.

=XXIII. Decline of Venetian Art.=--Bassano appealed to collectors by mere
accident. He certainly did not work for them. The painters who came
after him and after Tintoretto no longer worked unconsciously, as
Veronese did, nor for the whole intelligent class, as Titian and
Tintoretto had done, but for people who prided themselves on their
connoisseurship.

Palma the Younger and Domenico Tintoretto began well enough as natural
followers of Tintoretto, but before long they became aware of their
inferiority to the masters who had preceded them, and, feeling no longer
the strength to go beyond them, fell back upon painting variations of
those pictures of Tintoretto and Titian which had proved most popular.
So their works recall the great masters, but only to bring out their own
weakness. Padovanino, Liberi, and Pietro della Vecchia went even lower
down and shamelessly manufactured pictures which, in the distant markets
for which they were intended, passed for works of Titian, Veronese, and
Giorgione. Nor are these pictures altogether unenjoyable. There are airs
by the great composers we so love that we enjoy them even when woven
into the compositions of some third-rate master.

=XXIV. Longhi.=--But Venetian painting was not destined to die unnoticed.
In the eighteenth century, before the Republic entirely disappeared,
Venice produced three or four painters who deserve at the least a place
with the best painters of that century. The constitution of the Venetian
State had remained unchanged. Magnificent ceremonies still took place,
Venice was still the most splendid and the most luxurious city in the
world. If the splendour and luxury were hollow, they were not more so
than elsewhere in Europe. The eighteenth century had the strength which
comes from great self-confidence and profound satisfaction with one's
surroundings. It was so self-satisfied that it could not dream of
striving to be much better than it was. Everything was just right; there
seemed to be no great issues, no problems arising that human
intelligence untrammelled by superstition could not instantly solve.
Everybody was therefore in holiday mood, and the gaiety and frivolity of
the century were of almost as much account as its politics and culture.
There was no room for great distinctions. Hair-dressers and tailors
found as much consideration as philosophers and statesmen at a lady's
levee. People were delighted with their own occupations, their whole
lives; and whatever people delight in, that they will have represented
in art. The love for pictures was by no means dead in Venice, and Longhi
painted for the picture-loving Venetians their own lives in all their
ordinary domestic and fashionable phases. In the hair-dressing scenes
we hear the gossip of the periwigged barber; in the dressmaking scenes,
the chatter of the maid; in the dancing-school, the pleasant music of
the violin. There is no tragic note anywhere. Everybody dresses, dances,
makes bows, takes coffee, as if there were nothing else in the world
that wanted doing. A tone of high courtesy, of great refinement, coupled
with an all-pervading cheerfulness, distinguishes Longhi's pictures from
the works of Hogarth, at once so brutal and so full of presage of
change.

=XXV. Canaletto and Guardi.=--Venice herself had not grown less beautiful
in her decline. Indeed, the building which occupies the very centre of
the picture Venice leaves in the mind, the Salute, was not built until
the seventeenth century. This was the picture that the Venetian himself
loved to have painted for him, and that the stranger wanted to carry
away. Canale painted Venice with a feeling for space and atmosphere,
with a mastery over the delicate effects of mist peculiar to the city,
that make his views of the Salute, the Grand Canal, and the Piazzetta
still seem more like Venice than all the pictures of them that have been
painted since. Later in the century Canale was followed by Guardi, who
executed smaller views with more of an eye for the picturesque, and for
what may be called instantaneous effects, thus anticipating both the
Romantic and the Impressionist painters of our own century.

=XXVI. Tiepolo.=--But delightful as Longhi, Canale, and Guardi are, and
imbued as they are with the spirit of their own century, they lack the
quality of force, without which there can be no really impressive style.
This quality their contemporary Tiepolo possessed to the utmost. His
energy, his feeling for splendour, his mastery over his craft, place him
almost on a level with the great Venetians of the sixteenth century,
although he never allows one to forget what he owes to them,
particularly to Veronese. The grand scenes he paints differ from those
of his predecessor not so much in mere inferiority of workmanship, as in
a lack of that simplicity and candour which never failed Paolo, no
matter how proud the event he might be portraying. Tiepolo's people are
haughty, as if they felt that to keep a firm hold on their dignity they
could not for a moment relax their faces and figures from a monumental
look and bearing. They evidently feel themselves so superior that they
are not pleasant to live with, although they carry themselves so well,
and are dressed with such splendour, that once in a while it is a great
pleasure to look at them. It was Tiepolo's vision of the world that was
at fault, and his vision of the world was at fault only because the
world itself was at fault. Paolo saw a world touched only by the
fashions of the Spanish Court, while Tiepolo lived among people whose
very hearts had been vitiated by its measureless haughtiness.

But Tiepolo's feeling for strength, for movement, and for colour was
great enough to give a new impulse to art. At times he seems not so much
the last of the old masters as the first of the new. The works he left
in Spain do more than a little to explain the revival of painting in
that country under Goya; and Goya, in his turn, had a great influence
upon many of the best French artists of our own times.

=XXVII. Influence of Venetian Art.=--Thus, Venetian painting before it
wholly died, flickered up again strong enough to light the torch that is
burning so steadily now. Indeed, not the least attraction of the
Venetian masters is their note of modernity, by which I mean the feeling
they give us that they were on the high road to the art of to-day. We
have seen how on two separate occasions Venetian painters gave an
impulse to Spaniards, who in turn have had an extraordinary influence on
modern painting. It would be easy, too, although it is not my purpose,
to show how much other schools of the seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries, such as the Flemish, led by Rubens, and the English led by
Reynolds, owed to the Venetians. My endeavour has been to explain some
of the attractions of the school, and particularly to show its close
dependence upon the thought and feeling of the Renaissance. This is
perhaps its greatest interest, for being such a complete expression of
the riper spirit of the Renaissance, it helps us to a larger
understanding of a period which has in itself the fascination of youth,
and which is particularly attractive to us, because the spirit that
animates us is singularly like the better spirit of that epoch. We, too,
are possessed of boundless curiosity. We, too, have an almost
intoxicating sense of human capacity. We, too, believe in a great future
for humanity, and nothing has yet happened to check our delight in
discovery or our faith in life.

INDEX TO THE WORKS OF THE PRINCIPAL VENETIAN PAINTERS.

NOTE.

Public galleries are mentioned first, then private collections, and
churches last. The principal public gallery is always understood after
the simple mention of a city or town. Thus, Paris means Paris, Louvre,
London means London, National Gallery, etc.

An interrogation point after the number or title of a picture indicates
that its attribution to the given painter is doubtful.

Distinctly early or late works are marked E. or L.

It need scarcely be said that the attributions here given are not based
on official catalogues, and are often at variance with them.

ANTONELLO DA MESSINA.

=B.= Circa 1444: d. circa 1493. Began under unknown Flemish painter;
influenced by the Vivarini and Bellini.

=Antwerp.= 4. Crucifixion, 1475.

=Bergamo.= LOCHIS, 222. St. Sebastian.

=Berlin.= 18. Portrait of Young Man, 1478.
  18A. Portrait of Young Man, 1474.
  25. Portrait of Young Man in Red Coat.

=Dresden.= 52. St. Sebastian.

=London.= 673. The Saviour, 1465.
  1141. Portrait of Man.
  1166. Crucifixion, 1477.
  1418. St. Jerome in his Study.

=Messina.= Madonna with SS. Gregory and Benedict, 1473.

=Milan.= MUSEO CIVICO, 95. Portrait of Man wearing Wreath.
  PRINCE TRIVULZIO, Portrait of Man, 1476.

=Naples.= SALA GRANDE, 16. Portrait of Man.

=Paris.= 1134. Condottiere, 1474.

=Rome.= VILLA BORGHESE, 396. Portrait of Man.

=Venice.= ACADEMY, 589. Ecce Homo.
  GIOVANELLI, Portrait of Man.

=Vicenza.= SALA IV, 17. Christ at Column.

JACOPO DI BARBARI.

1450 circa-1516 circa. Pupil of Alvise Vivarini; influenced by Antonello
da Messina.

=Augsburg.= Still Life Piece, 1504.

=Bergamo.= GALLERY LOCHIS, 147, 148. Heads of Young Men.
  FRIZZONI-SALIS, Head of Christ.

=Berlin.= 26A. Madonna and Saints.

=Dresden.= 57. Christ Blessing.
  58, 59. SS. Catherine and Barbara.
  294. Galatea. L.

=Florence.= PITTI, 384. St. Sebastian.

=Hamburg.= CONSUL WEBER, 24. Old Man and Young Woman. 1503.

=London.= MR. DOETSCH, Portrait of Young Man. L.

=Naples.= SALA DEGLI OLANDESI E TEDESCHI, 51. Bust of a Cardinal.

=Treviso.= S. NICCOLÒ, Frescoes around Tomb of Onigo.
  18 PIAZZA DEL DUOMO, Frescoes on Façade.

=Venice.= LADY LAYARD, A Falcon.
  FRARI, 2d CHAPEL L. OF CHOIR, Decorative Frescoes.

=Vienna.= 22. Portrait of Young Man.

=Weimar.= Head of Christ.

BARTOLOMMEO VENETO.

Active 1505-1555. Pupil of Gentile Bellini; influenced by Bergamask and
Milanese painters.

=Belluno.= 22. Madonna.

=Bergamo.= CARRARA, 185. Landscape. E.
  LOCHIS, 127. Madonna, 1505.

=Brussels.= M. LÉON SOMZÉE, Bust of a Venetian Noble.

=Douai.= 324. Portrait of Young Man.

=Dresden.= 292. Salome.

=Florence.= UFFIZI, 650. Portrait of a Man, 1555.

=Frankfort.= 13. Portrait of a Courtesan.
  20. St. Catherine.

=Genoa.= PRINCE GIORGIO DORIA, Portrait of a Lady.

Glasgow. 510. St. Catherine crowned.

London. 287. Portrait of Ludovico Martinengo, 1530.
  MR. BENSON, Madonna and Angels. E.
  DORCHESTER HOUSE, Portrait of Man, 1512.

=Milan.= AMBROSIANA, 24. Madonna. Portrait of Man in Black.
  BORROMEO, St. Catherine.
  DUKE MELZI, Jewess breaking her Wedding Ring.

=Nancy.= Portrait of Young Man.

=Paris.= 1673. Portrait of Lady.

=Rome.= CORSINI, 610. Portrait of Young Man.
  DORIA, 482. The Saviour.

=Venice.= PALAZZO DUCALE, CHAPEL, Madonna.

=Verona.= Madonna. E.

MARCO BASAITI.

Circa 1470-1527. Pupil of Alvise Vivarini; follower of Bellini.

=Badger Hall= (Shropshire). MR. F. CAPEL-CURE, Bust of Boy.

=Bergamo.= CARRARA, 165. the Saviour, 1517.
  LOCHIS, 188. Portrait of Man.
  MORELLI, Portrait of Man, 1521.
  FRIZZONI-SALIS, Madonna with SS. Monica and Francis.

=Berlin.= 6. Pietà. E.
    20. Altar-piece.
    37. St. Sebastian.
    40. Madonna. E.
  HERR VON BECKERATH, St. Jerome.
  HERR KAUFMANN, St. Jerome.

=Boston, U. S. A.= 35. Entombment. E.

=Buda-Pesth.= 103. St. Catherine Reading. St. Jerome.

=London.= 281. St. Jerome.
    599. Madonna.
  MR. BENSON, St. Jerome Beside a Pool, 1505.
              Portrait of Man. Madonna and Saints. Infant Bacchus.
  MR. C. BUTLER, Dead Christ.
  MR. SALTING, Madonna. E.
  SIR MICHAEL SHAW-STEWART, Madonna.

=Meiningen.= DUCAL PALACE, St. Antony Abbot. St. Paul. L.

=Milan.= AMBROSIANA, 30. Resurrected Christ.

=Munich.= 1031. Madonna, Saints, and Donor. E.

=Murano.= S. PIETRO, Assumption of Virgin.

=Padua.= SALA EMO, 225. Portrait of Man 1521.
             Madonna with SS. Liberale and Peter.

=Paris.= M. MARTIN LE ROY, St. Sebastian.

=Rome.= DORIA, 459. St. Sebastian.

=Strassburg.= St. Jerome.

=Stuttgart.= 24. Madonna.
    57. Madonna with female Saint.

=Venice.= ACADEMY, 68. St. James and St. Antony Abbot.
    108. Dead Christ. St. George and Dragon, 1520.
    69. Christ in the Garden 1510.
    107. St. Jerome.
    39. Calling of Children of Zebedee, 1510.
  MUSEO CORKER, SALA IX, 24. Madonna and Donor.
    34. Christ and Angels.
  GIOVANELLI, St. Jerome in Desert.
  S. PIETRO IN CASTELLO, St. Peter enthroned and four other Saints.
  SALUTE, St. Sebastian.

=Vienna.= 1. Calling of Children of Zebedee, 1515.
  HARRACH COLLECTION, Madonna.

JACOPO BASSANO.

1510-1592. Pupil of Bonifazio Veronese.

=Ashridge.= LORD BROWNLOW, Portrait of an Admiral.
  Portrait of Youth.

=Augsburg.= 272. Madonna with SS. John and Roch.

=Bassano.= 32. Susanna and Elders. E.
  35. Christ and Adulteress. E.
  38. The Three Holy Children. E.
  41. Madonna, SS. Lucy and Francis, and Donor. E.
  22. Flight into Egypt. E.
  20. St. John the Baptist.
  19. Paradise.
  17. Baptism of St. Lucilla.
  16. Adoration of Shepherds.
  14. St. Martin and the Beggar.
  12. St. Roch recommending Donor to Virgin.
  13. St. John the Evangelist adored by a Warrior.
  10. Descent of Holy Spirit.
   4. Madonna in Glory, SS. Lucy and Agatha. L.
  45. Last Supper.
  DUOMO, St. Lucy in Glory, and Martyrdom of Stephen. L.
      Nativity.
  S. GIOVANNI, Madonna in Glory, SS. Giustina, Barbara, and Mark.
  S. M. DELLE GRAZIE, Crucifixion (fresco).

=Bergamo.= CARRARA, 109. Male Portrait.
  LOCHIS, 54. Portrait of Lawyer.
    82. Portrait of a Painter.
  FRIZZONI-SALIS, Madonna.
    Portrait of Old Man.
  SIGNOR BAGLIONI, Portrait of Old Man.
  CASA SUARDI, St. Jerome in Desert.

=Berlin.= HERR KAUFMANN, Bust of Senator.
  HERR WESENDONCK, Animals going into Ark.

=Biel, N. B.= MRS. HAMILTON OGILVIE, Dives and Lazarus. Nativity. L.

=Bologna.= CORRIDOR IV, Two Male Busts.

=Brussels.= 401. Old Man seated.

=Buda-Pesth.= 108. Head of St. Jerome.

=Chatsworth.= DUKE OF DEVONSHIRE, Portrait of Niccolò Cappello.

=Cittadella.= DUOMO, Christ at Emaus. E.

=Dijon.= 40. Agony in Garden.
    41. St. Sebastian.

=Dresden.= 253. Israelites in Desert.
    256. Moses striking Rock.
    258. Conversion of Paul.

=Edinburgh.= 327. Portrait of Man.
    367. Adoration of Magi. E.

=Feltre.= VESCOVADO, Portrait of Old Man.

=Florence.= UFFIZI, 610. Two Hunting Dogs.

=Gosford House, N. B.= LORD WEMYS, Bust of Old Man.
    Senator seated.
    St. John in Landscape.

=Hampton Court.= 94. Head of Old Man.
  136. Male Portrait.
  142. Jacob's Journey.
  153. Boaz and Ruth.
  163. Shepherds' Offering. E.
  169. Christ in the House of the Pharisee.
  176. Assumption of Virgin.
  210. Men fighting Bears.
  223. Tribute Money.

=Hopetoun House, N. B.= LORD HOPETOUN, Portrait of a Doge Seated.

=Linlathen, N. B.= COL. ERSKINE, Agony in Garden.

=London.= 173. Portrait of Man.
    228. Christ and the Money Changers.
    277. The Good Samaritan.
  MR. BENSON, St. John in the Wilderness.
    Christ in House of Levi.
    Portrait of Woman.
  MR. G. DONALDSON, Portrait of Man aged 27, 1558.

=Milan.= AMBROSIANA, 226. Annunciation to Shepherds. L.
  230. Adoration of Shepherds. E.

=Modena.= 422. St. Paul and another Saint.

=Montpellier.= 564. Old Man in Armour.

=Munich.= 1128. Old Man, Son, and Grandson.
     1148. St. Jerome in Desert.
     1150. Deposition from Cross.
     1151. Madonna enthroned and two Saints.
  LOTZBECK COLLECTION, 101. Portrait Of Lady.

=Padua.= S. MARIA IN VANZO, Entombment.

=Paris.= 1428, Vintage. L.
  1429. Portrait of Giovanni da Bologna.
  1467. Portrait of Old Man.

=Rome.= VILLA BORGHESE, 144. Last Supper.
    127. The Trinity.
  CORSINI, 533. Portrait of Lady.
  COUNTESS SANTA FIORA, Nativity.

=Rossie Priory, N. B.= LORD KINNAIRD, Annunciation.

=Tours.= 4. Bust of Old Man.

=Venice.= ACADEMY, 395. Christ in Garden.
    403. Portrait of a Venetian Noble.
    401. St. Eleuterius blessing the Faithful.
  PALAZZO DUCALE, ANTI-COLLEGIO. Jacob's Journey.
  PALAZZO REALE, St. Jerome, 1569.
  S. GIACOMO DALL' ORIO, Madonna in Glory and two Saints.

=Verona.= 214. Portrait of a Senator.

=Vicenza.= SALA V, Madonna and Saints. E.
  ENTRANCE HALL, 2. Madonna, St. Mark, and two Senators.
  PALAZZO LOSCHI, Night Scene.

=Vienna.= 283. The Good Samaritan.
    269. Thamar led to the Stake.
    276. Adoration of Magi.
    301. Rich Man and Lazarus.
    266. The Lord shows Abraham the Promised Land.
    306. The Sower.
    281. A Hunt.
    319. Way to Golgotha.
    268. Noah entering the Ark.
    267. Christ and the Money Changers.
    265. After the Flood.
    263. SS. Sebastian, Florian, and Roch.
    272. Adoration of Magi.
    311. Portrait of Procurator.
    312. Portrait of Senator.
    453. Christ bearing Cross.
    230. Two Men.
    240. Portrait of Young Man.
    480. Portrait of Young Man.
  ACADEMY, 21. Portrait of Procurator.

=Woburn Abbey.= 16. Portrait of Venetian Senator.

FRANCESCO BECCARUZZI.

Active in the second and third quarter of the XVI century. Pupil of
Pordenone; imitator of all his great Venetian contemporaries; finally,
imitator of Paul Veronese.

=Belluno.= 14. Woman in White Dress.

=Bergamo.= LOCHIS, 193. Portrait of Young Woman.

=Berlin.= HERR KAUFMANN, Portrait of Gentleman.
  HERR WESENDONCK, 10. Santa Conversazione.

=Boston, U. S. A.= 52. Copy of a (lost) Paris Bordone: Holy Family
  and Saints.

=Buda-Pesth.= 84. Bust of Woman.
    89. Madonna.
    109. Young Woman seated.

=Cambridge.= FITZWILLIAM MUSEUM, 138. Adoration of Shepherds.

=Conegliano.= DUOMO, R. WALL, Three Saints. E.
  S. M. DELLE GRAZIE, HIGH ALTAR, Madonna and Saints.
  S. ROCCO, ORGAN PICTURE, Madonna and Saints. L.

=Dresden.= 199. Calling of Matthew.

=Ferrara.= SALA II. Christ and the Adulteress.

=Florence.= UFFIZI, 585. Portrait of Man.

=Glasgow.= 29. Madonna enthroned with Saints and Angels.

=Haigh Hall= (near Wigan). LORD CRAWFORD, Bust of Woman.

=Hopetoun House, N. B.= LORD HOPETOUN, Gentleman with Horse and Groom.

=Lille.= 653. Stoning of Stephen(?)
    1056. Legend of Moses.

=Linlathen, N. B.= COL. ERSKINE, Bust of Man. Santa Conversazione.

=London.= BURLINGTON HOUSE, DIPLOMA GALLERY, Temperance.
  APSLEY HOUSE, Portrait of Lady.
  MR. C. BUTLER, Portrait of Man. St. George and the Dragon.
  SIR WILLIAM FARRER, Santa Conversazione.
  DORCHESTER HOUSE, Portrait of Doge Andrea Gritti.
  VISCOUNT POWERSCOURT, Portrait of "Politian."
  LORD NORTHBROOK, Santa Conversazione.
  MR. G. SALTING, Portrait of Man.

=Keir, N. B.= MR. ARCHIBALD STIRLING, Young Woman playing Organ.

=Milan.= MUSEO CIVICO, 104. Portrait of Man with Spaniel.

=Narbonne.= 253. Marriage of St. Catherine.

=Oldenburg.= 81. Dead Christ.

=Padua.= 9. Santa Conversazione.
    1362. Bust of Monk in White.

=Parma.= 254. Portrait of Man.

=Rome.= COLONNA, 16. A Cavalier.
  DORIA, 62. Portrait of Woman. 386. Man with Flower.

=Serravalle.= S. ANTONIO, Baptism.

=Strassburg.= Scene taken from Lotto's Crucifixion at Monte San Giusto.

=Stuttgart.= 190. Bust of Man.

=Toulouse.= Holy Family and Infant John presenting Dove.

=Treviso.= MONTE DI PIETÀ, Dead Christ. Prophets.
  EREDI PERAZZOLO, Way to Golgotha.
  S. LUCIA, SACRISTY, St. Lucy.

=Venice.= ACADEMY, 517. St. Francis receiving Stigmata.
    525. Deposition.
  CORRER, Portrait of "Cesare Borgia."
  MANFRIN GALLERY. Santa Conversazione and Donor.
  QUIRINI-STAMPALIA, 68. Santa Conversazione.
  PALAZZO REALE, Madonna and St. Catherine.

=Venice= (_Con_.). GIOVANELLI, 315. St. Roch.
  S. M. DELL' ORTO,
    SS. Lawence, Helen, Gregory, Dominic, and Lorenzo Giustiniani.

=Vienna.= 157. Portrait of Lady.
    206. A Warrior.
    209. The Baptist.
    211. Thaddeus.
  ACADEMY, 5. St. Lawrence.
    6. Nativity.
    20. Deposition.
    41. St. Paul.

GENTILE BELLINI.

1429-1507. Pupil of his father, Jacopo Bellini; influenced by the
Paduans.

=Buda-Pesth.= 101. Portrait of Catherine Cornaro.

=Frankfort a/M.= 18. Bust of St. Mark. E.

=London.= 808. St. Peter Martyr.
    1213. Portrait of Mathematician.
    1440. Head of a Monk.
  MR. LUDWIG MOND, Madonna Enthroned. E.

=Milan.= BRERA, 168. Preaching of St. Mark. L. (Finished by Giovanni
  Bellini.)

=Monopoli.= DUOMO, St. Jerome and Donor (?). E.

=Venice.= ACADEMY, 570. Beato Lorenzo Giustiniani, 1465.
    568. Miracle of True Cross, 1500.
    567. Corpus Christi Procession, 1496.
    563. Healing accomplished by Fragment of True Cross. L.
  MUSEO CORRER, Portrait of Doge Giovanni Mocenigo.
  SAN MARCO FABBRICERIA, ORGAN SHUTTERS, SS. Theodore and Mark,
    SS. Jerome and Francis. E.
  LADY LAYARD, Adoration of Magi. Portrait of Sultan Mohamet, 1480.

GIOVANNI BELLINI.

1430(?)-1516. Pupil of his father, Jacopo; formed in Padua under the
influence of Donatello.

=Bergamo.= LOCHIS, 210. Madonna. E.
  MORELLI, 27. Madonna.
    41. Madonna.

=Berlin.= 4. Pietà. L.
    28. Dead Christ.

=Florence.= UFFIZI, 631. Allegory of Tree of Life. L.

=London.= 189. Portrait of Loredano. L.
    280. Madonna. L.
    726. Agony in Garden. E.
    1233. Blood of Redeemer. E.
  MR. LUDWIG MOND, Dead Christ. Madonna.

=Milan.= BRERA, 284. Pietà. E.
    261. Madonna.
    297. Madonna, 1510.
  DR. GUST. FRIZZONI, Madonna. E.

=Murano.= S. PIETRO, Madonna with SS. Mark and
    Augustin and Doge Barbarigo, 1488.

=Naples.= SALA GRANDE, 7. Transfiguration.

=Newport, U. S. A.= MR. T. H. DAVIS, Madonna. E.

=Pesaro.= 11. Crucifixion (?). E.
    52. God the Father.
  S. FRANCESCO, Altar-piece in many parts.

=Rimini.= Dead Christ. E.

=Turin.= 779. Madonna. E.

=Venice.= ACADEMY, 596. Madonna.
    594. Madonna.
    595. Five small Allegories. L.
    613. Madonna with St. Catherine and Magdalen.
    610. Madonna with SS. Paul and George.
    612. Madonna.
    38. Madonna with six Saints.
  MUSEO CORRER, SALA VII, 23. Transfiguration. E.
  SALA IX, 27. Dead Christ. E.
    46. Crucifixion. E.
    54. Dead Christ supported by three Angels. E.
  PALAZZO DUCALE, SALA DI TRÈ, Pietà. E.
  FRARI, Triptych, Madonna and Saints, 1488.
  S. FRANCESCO DELLA VIGNA, Madonna and four Saints, 1507.
  S. GIOVANNI CRISOSTOMO, SS. Jerome, Augustin, and Christopher, 1513.
  S. MARIA DELL' ORTO, Madonna. E.
  S. ZACCARIA, Madonna and four Saints, 1505.

=Verona.= 77. Madonna. E.

=Vicenza.= S. CORONA, Baptism, 1510.

JACOPO BELLINI.

Active 1430-1470. Pupil of the Umbrian painter, Gentile da Fabriano, and
of the Veronese, Pisanello.

=Brescia.= S. ALESSANDRO, Annunciation, with five Predelle.

=Ferrara.= SIG. VENDEGHINI, Adoration of Magi.

=London.= BRITISH MUSEUM, Sketch-Book. E.

=Lovere.= TADINI, Madonna.

=Padua.= SALA IV, Christ in Limbo.

=Paris.= Sketch-Book. L.

=Venice.= ACADEMY, 582. Madonna.
  MUSEO CORRER, SALA IX, 42. Crucifixion.
  S. TROVASO, S. Giovanni Crisogono on Horseback. (?)

=Verona.= 365. Christ on Cross.

BISSOLO.

1464-1528. Pupil and assistant of Giovanni Bellini.

=Berlin.= 43. Altar-piece. L.

=Brescia.= TOSIO, SALA XIV, 3. Madonna and Saints. E.

=Chantilly.= Madonna.

=Düsseldorf.= 75. Madonna with Infant John and his Parents.

=Genoa.= ANNUNZIATA, Madonna and four Saints.

=Hampton Court.= 117. Portrait of Man. E.

=London.= MR. BENSON, Annunciation. Madonna.
  MR. MOND, Madonna with SS. Paul and Catherine.

=Milan.= BRERA, 237. St. Stephen.
    285. St. Antony of Padua.
    298. A Bishop.

=Rome.= VILLA BORGHESE, 176. Madonna. E.

=Treviso.= DUOMO, Three Saints and Donor.
  S. ANDREA, Madonna and two Saints.

=Venice.= ACADEMY, 88. Dead Christ.
    93. Presentation in the Temple.
    79. Christ Crowning S. Catherine.
    94. Madonna with SS. James and Job.
  MUSEO CORRER, SALA IX, 57. Madonna with St. Peter Martyr.
  S. GIOVANNI IN BRAGORA, Triptych.
  S. MARIA MATER DOMINI, Transfiguration.
  REDENTORE, Madonna with SS. John and Catherine.
  LADY LAYARD, Madonna with SS. Michael and Ursula and Donors.

=Verona.= Circumcision. E.

=Vienna.= 13. Lady at Toilet, 1515.
    4. Baptism.

BONIFAZIO VERONESE.

Active circa 1510-1540. Pupil of Palma Vecchio; influenced by Giorgione.

=Bergamo.= CARRARA, 197, 198. Small mythological Scenes.
  FRIZZONI-SALIS, Parable of Sower.

=Boston, U. S. A.= MRS. J. L. GARDNER, Santa Conversazione. E.

=Campo S. Piero.= ORATORY OF S. ANTONIO, Preaching of St. Antony (in part).

=Dresden.= 208. Finding of Moses.

=Florence.= PITTI, 84. Madonna, St. Elizabeth, and Donor. E.
    89. Rest in Flight.
    161. Finding of Moses.
    405. Christ among the Doctors (in part).

=Hague.= 252. Bust of Woman.

=Hampton Court.= 146. Santa Conversazione.

=Lille.= 717. Esther before Ahasuerus.

=London.= 1202. Santa Conversazione. E.
  MR. BENSON, Allegories of Morning, and of Night (in part).
  MR. BUTLER, Santa Conversazione. Rape of Helen. Subject from a Romance.
  MR. CHARLES T. D. CREWS, Birth of John.
  DR. RICHTER, Joseph drawn out of the Well. Head of Pompey brought to
    Cæsar.

=Milan.= BRERA, 209. Finding of Moses.
  AMBROSIANA, 231. Holy Family with Tobias and Angel. E.
  POLDI-PEZZOLI, PINACOTECA, 99. Doctor Visiting a Patient.

=Paris.= 1171. Santa Conversazione.

=Rome.= VILLA BORGHESE, 156. Mother of Zebedee's Children.
    186. Return of the Prodigal Son.
  COLONNA, 1. Holy Family with SS. Jerome and Lucy.
  DORIA, 16. Santa Conversazione.
  PRINCE CHIGI, Finding of Moses.

=Venice.= ACADEMY, 291. Rich Man's Feast.
    319. Massacre of Innocents.
    295. Judgment of Solomon, 1533 (in part).
  PALAZZO REALE, Madonna with SS. Catherine and John the Almsgiver, 1533.
  GIOVANELLI, Santa Conversazione.
  LADY LAYARD, Twelve very small pictures: Rustic Occupations.

=Vienna.= 193. Santa Conversazione.
    201. Triumph of Love.
    156. Triumph of Chastity.
    145. Salome.

FRANCESCO BONSIGNORI.

1453(?)-1519. Pupil of Bartolommeo and Alvise Vivarini; influenced by
Giovanni Bellini, and later by Mantegna and his own townsman, Liberale
of Verona.

=Bergamo.= LOCHIS, 154. Portrait of a Gonzaga.
  MORELLI, 45. The Widow's Son. L.

=Berlin.= 46C. St. Sebastian.

=Florence.= BARGELLO, Christ bearing Cross. L.

=Fonthill (Wilts).= MR. ALFRED MORRISON, Portrait of Man.

=Gosford House, N. B.= LORD WEMYS, Madonna enthroned.

=London.= 736. Portrait of Man, 1487.

=Mantua.= ACCADEMIA VIRGILIANA, Way to Golgotha. Vision of the Nun Osanna.

=Milan.= BRERA, 163. St. Bernardino.
    170. SS. Bernardino and Louis holding the Initials of Christ.
  POLDI-PEZZOLI, Head of a female Saint. St. Bernardino.
   Profile of Old Man. Bust of Venetian Noble.

=Paris.= PRINCE SCIARRA, Bust of a Gonzaga.

=Venice.= PALAZZO DUCALE, DIRECTORS' ROOM. Madonna. E.
  S. GIOVANNI E PAOLO, 2d Altar R. Altar-piece in 9 parts. E.

=Verona.= 148. Madonna, 1483.
    271. Madonna enthroned with four Saints, 1484.
  S. BERNARDINO, Madonna enthroned with SS. Jerome and George, 1488.
  S. NAZZARO E CELSO, Madonna and Saints, finished by Girolamo dai Libri.
  S. PAOLO, Madonna with St. Antony Abbot and the Magdalen. E.

PARIS BORDONE.

1495-1570. Pupil and follower of Titian; influenced later by
Michelangelo.

=Ashridge.= LORD BROWNLOW, Apollo and the Muses.

=Bergamo.= LOCHIS, 41, 42. Vintage Scenes.

=Berlin.= 169. Chess Players.
  191. Madonna and four Saints.

=Chatsworth.= DUKE OF DEVONSHIRE, Family Group.

=Cologne.= 811A.A. Bathsheba.

=Dresden.= 203. Apollo and Marsyas.
  204. Diana as Huntress.
  205. Holy Family and St. Jerome.

=Edinburgh.= 506. Lady at her Toilet.

=Florence.= PITTI, 109. Portrait of Woman.
  UFFIZI, 607. Portrait of Young Man.

=Genoa.= BRIGNOLE-SALE, SALA V. Portrait of Man.
  SALA VIII, Santa Conversazione. Portrait of Man.

=Glasgow.= 45. Holy Family.
  46. Holy Family. E.

=Gosford House, N. B.= LORD WEMYS, A Courtesan.

=Hampton Court.= 118. Madonna with male and female Donors.

=Keir, N. B.= MR. ARCHIBALD STIRLING, Madonna and Infant John.

=London.= 637. Daphnis and Chloe.
  674. Portrait of Lady.
  BRIDGEWATER HOUSE, Holy Family.
  LORD BROWNLOW, Cavalier in Armour.
  THE MISSES COHEN, Portrait of a Lady seated.
  MR. G. DONALDSON, A Courtesan.
  DR. RICHTER, Christ among the Doctors.
  LORD ROSEBERY, Portrait of a Lady.

=Lovere.= TADINI, Madonna with SS. George and Christopher.

=Milan.= BRERA, 212. Baptism.
    216. Descent of Holy Spirit.
    241. S. Dominic presented to Saviour by Virgin.
    242. Madonna and Saints.
    306 bis. Three Heads.
    St. Ambrose presenting a General to Virgin.
  SIGNOR CRESPI, Jove and a Nymph.
  S. MARIA PRESSO CELSO, Madonna and St. Jerome.

=Munich.= 1121. Man counting Jewels.

=New York, U. S. A.= HISTORICAL SOCIETY, 205. Rest in Flight.

=Padua.= SALA EMO, 93. Christ taking leave of his Mother.

=Paris.= 1178. Portrait of Man.
    1179. Portrait of Man, 1540.

=Richmond.= SIR F. COOK, Hunting Piece.

=Rome.= VILLA BORGHESE, 119. Jupiter and Antiope.
  COLONNA, 92. Holy Family with St. Jerome.
     116. Holy Family, SS. Sebastian, and Jerome.
  DORIA, 294. Venus and Mars.
  VATICAN, ANTE-CHAMBER OF POPE'S APARTMENTS, St. George and the Dragon.

=Siena.= SALA IX, 9. Annunciation.
    51. Madonna and Donor.

=Strassburg.= Madonna and St. Jerome.

=Treviso.= 4. Madonna with SS. Jerome and John the Baptist.
  DUOMO, Adoration of Shepherds.
    Madonna with SS. Sebastian and Jerome.
    Gospel Scenes (on a small picture).

=Venice.= ACADEMY, 320. Fisherman and Doge. E.
    322. Paradise.
  PALAZZO DUCALE, CHAPEL, Dead Christ.
  GIOVANELLI, Madonna and Saints.
  LADY LAYARD, Christ baptising a Youth in Prison.
  S. GIOVANNI IN BRAGORA, Last Supper.
  S. GIOBBE, S. Andrew and two other Saints.

=Vienna.= 233. Allegory.
    246. Allegory.
    248. Lady at Toilet.
    231. Young Woman.
  CZERNIN, Venetian adoring Cross.

ANTONIO CANALE called CANALETTO.

1697-1768.

=Biel, N. B.= MRS. HAMILTON OGILVIE, View of Scalzi.

=Buda-Pesth.= 659. The Pantheon.

=Dresden.= 581. The Grand Canal.
    582. S. Giovanni e Paolo.
    583. Campo S. Giacomo di Rialto.
    584. Piazza di S. Marco.

=Florence.= UFFIZI, 1064. The Piazzetta.

=Frankfort a/M.= 51. Entrance to Grand Canal.
    53. Venetian Palace and Bridge.

=Hampton Court.= The Colosseum, 1753.

=Hopetoun House, N. B.= LORD HOPETOUN, Venice from Lagoon.

=London.= 127. Scuola della Carità. 937. Scuola di San Rocco.
  THE MISSES COHEN, Three Studies.
  DORCHESTER HOUSE, View of Piazzetta from Lagoon.
  HERTFORD HOUSE, Thirteen views of Venice.
  MR. MOND, Two views of the Piazza.
  DR. RICHTER, The Dogana.
  DUKE OF WESTMINSTER, Grand Canal.

=Milan.= CASA SORMANI, The Bucentaur. Reception of an Ambassador.

=New Battle, N. B.= MARQUIS OF LOTHIAN, St. Paul's from the Thames.
   S. Giorgio Maggiore.

=Paris.= 1203. The Salute.
  MME. ANDRÉ, Two views of Venice.
  M. MAURICE KANN, Salute. Pescheria.

=Vienna.= LICHTENSTEIN, 191, 192, 193, 196, 198, 199,
    203, 204, 205, 206, 210, 216, 217.
   Views of Venice.

=Windsor Castle.= Series of large views of the Piazza.

=Woburn Abbey.= Twenty-four views of Venice.

DOMENICO CAPRIOLI.

Active 1518-circa 1560. Influenced by Titian, Paris Bordone, Pordenone,
Bonifazio, Savoldo, and Moretto.

=Berlin.= 156. Portrait of Man in Black.
  158. Tennis Player and Page. L.
  195. St. Sebastian.

=Brighton.= MR. H. WILLETT, Madonna of Mercy.

=Cambridge, U. S. A.= PROF. C. E. NORTON, Portrait of Domenico Grimani.

=Castle Barnard.= BOWES MUSEUM, 339. Portrait of Man, 1528.

=Dijon.= 6. Assumption.

=London.= LORD ASHBURNHAM, Portrait of Titian. L.
  MR. R. BENSON, Madonna in Profile (?). E.
  DUKE OF GRAFTON, Portrait of Man. 1541.

=Motta Di Livenza.= S. M. DEI MIRACOLI, Adoration of Shepherds.

=Naples.= MUSEO FILANGIERI, 1438. Entombment. L.

=New Battle, N. B.= MARQUIS OF LOTHIAN, Return of Prodigal.

=Paris.= MME. C. DE ROSENBERG, Portrait of Doge Grimani.

=Rome.= BORGHESE, 130, 132. Caricatured Heads.
  COLONNA, 12. Portrait of Sciarra Colonna.

=Treviso.= 50. Nativity. 1518.

=Vienna.= 212. Young Hero.
  ACADEMY, 508. Picnic.
    510. Country Dance.

=Windsor.= Portrait of Domenico Grimani.

GIOVANNI BUSI, called CARIANI.

Circa 1480-1544. Pupil of Giovanni Bellini and Palma; influenced by
Giorgione and Capaccio.

=Ashridge.= LORD BROWNLOW, Bust of Bart. Colleoni.

=Basel.= 166. Bust of Young Man.

=Bergamo.= CARRARA, 67. Madonna with SS. Helen, Constantine,
   and other Saints. L.
    85. Portrait of Lady.
    135. Bust of Man.
  LOCHIS, 2. Portrait of Lady.
    85. Christ on Cross, bust of Donor, 1518.
    146. Woman playing, and Shepherd asleep.
    150. St. Antony of Padua. E.
    153. Portrait of Monk.
    165. Portrait of Man.
    172. Christ bearing Cross. E.
    184. Portrait of Bened. Caravaggio.
    192. St. Stephen.
    182. Small St. Jerome.
    196. St. Catherine.
  MORELLI, Madonna. L. Portrait of Man.
  DUOMO, Back of High Altar, Madonna. E.
  BAGLIONI, Madonna and Donor, 1520.
  SIGNOR FRIZZONI-SALIS, Madonna and Saints. L.
  PICCINELLI, Flight into Egypt. L.
  RONCALLI, Family Group, 1519.
  COUNT SUARDI, St. Jerome. Portrait of Senator.

=Berlin.= 185. Girl in Landscape.
    188. Portrait of Man.

=Buda-Pesth.= 79. Madonna and St. Francis.

=Chatsworth.= DUKE OF DEVONSHIRE, Portrait of Young Man.

=Glasgow.= 142. Christ and the Adulteress.

=Hampton Court.= 135. Adoration of Shepherds. L. Venus. L.

=London.= 41. Death of St. Peter Martyr. L.
    1203. Madonna and Saints. L.
  SOUTH KENSINGTON, Venus and Mars (lent).
  MR. BENSON, Madonna and Donors. Portrait of Man wearing Sword.
  MR. DOETSCH, Nativity,
  DORCHESTER HOUSE, Portrait of Man.
  MARQUIS OF LANSDOWNE, A Concert.
  MR. SALTING, Portrait of Senator.

=Marseilles.= St. Sebastian with St. Roch and a female Saint.

=Milan.= BRERA, 210. Madonna and Saints. L.
    291. Madonna. L.
  MUSEO CIVICO, 106. Lot and his Daughters.
    COLLECTION DELL' ACQUA, Portrait of a Lady.
  AMBROSIANA, Way to Golgotha.
  BORROMEO, Nativity. St. Jerome.
  POLDI-PEZZOLI, 133. Madonna and Saints.
  BONOMI-CEREDA, Portrait of Man. Magdalen.

=Munich.= 1107. Portrait of Man.
  LOTZBECK COLLECTION, 100. Portrait of Man.

=New York, U. S. A.= HISTORICAL SOCIETY, 206. Portrait of Man.

=Oldenburg.= 78. Holy Family and Saints.
    82. Two Women and a Man.

=Paris.= 1135. Madonna, Saints, and Donor. E.
  1156. Two Men.
  1159. Holy Family with SS. Sebastian and Catherine.
  M. AYNARD, Portrait of Man.

=Rome.= VILLA BORGHESE, 30. Sleeping Venus.
    164. Madonna and St. Peter.
    311. Woman with three Men.
  CORSINI. Santa Conversazione.
  VATICAN. Bust of Doge.

=St. Petersburg.= 116. Young Woman and old Man.

=Strassburg.= 69. Young Man playing Guitar.
  Portrait of old Venetian.

=Stuttgart.= 36. Portrait of a Lady.

=Venice.= ACADEMY, 300. Portrait of Man, 1526.
    326. Holy Family.
    299. Portrait of Man.
    272. Bust of Old Woman.

=Vicenza.= SALA. II, 41. Madonna and Saints.

=Vienna.= 63. St. Sebastian.
  60. Christ bearing Cross.
  207. The "Bravo."
  205. St. John Evangelist.
  ACADEMY, 77. Madonna with SS. John and Catherine.

=Zogno.= CHURCH, Adoration of Shepherds.

VITTORE CARPACCIO.

Active 1478-1522. Pupil and follower of Gentile Bellini.

=Berlin.= 14. Madonna with SS. Catherine and Jerome. E.
  23. Consecration of Stephen, 1511.

=Caen.= 171. Santa Conversazione (in part). L.

=Ferrara.= SALA VIII, 10. Death of the Virgin, 1508.

=Florence.= UFFIZI, 583 _bis._ Fragment, Finding of True Cross.

=Frankfort a/M.= 38. Madonna and Infant John.

=Haigh Hall= (near Wigan). LORD CRAWFORD, Portrait of Lady.

=London.= 750. Madonna with SS. John and Christopher,
   and Doge Giovanni Mocenigo, 1478.
  Mr. BENSON, Female Saint Reading.

=Milan.= BRERA, 288. Stephen disputing, 1514.
    307. Presentation of Virgin (in part). L.
    309. Marriage of Virgin (in part). L.

=Paris.= 1211. Stephen preaching. L.

=Stuttgart.= 13. Glory of St. Thomas, 1507.
  122. Martyrdom of Stephen, 1515.

=Venice.= ACADEMY, 89. Martyrdom of the 10,000 Virgins, 1515.
    566. Healing of Madman in view of Rialto, 1494.
    572, 573, 574, 575, 1495;
    579, 1490;
    577, 578, 580, 1493;
    576, 1491.
    Story of St. Ursula.
    90. Meeting of Joachim and Anna, 1515.
    44. Presentation of Infant Christ, 1510.
  MUSEO CORRER, SALA IX, 14. Visitation. L.
    SALA X, 8. Two Courtesans.
    PALAZZO DUCALE, SALA DI TRÈ, Lion of S. Marco, 1516.
  S. GIORGIO MAGGIORE, SALA DEL CONCLAVE,
    St. George and the Dragon, with predelle, 1512.
  S. GIORGIO DEGLI SCHIAVONI, ten pictures along walls
      of Oratory on ground floor, and Madonna over altar.
    St. George slaying Dragon;
    St. George bringing Dragon captive;
    St. George baptising the Princess and her Father, MDV...;
    Story of St. Tryphonius;
    Agony in Garden;
    Christ in House of Pharisee, 1502;
    St. Jerome bringing his Lion to Monastery;
    Burial of St. Jerome, 1502;
    St. Jerome in his Study.
  S. VITALE, St. Vitale between SS. George and Valeria, 1514.
  LADY LAYARD, Augustus and Sibyl. L.
    Death and Assumption of Virgin. L.
    St. Ursula taking leave of her Father.

=Vienna.= 7. Christ adored by Angels, 1496.

VINCENZO CATENA.

Active 1495-1531. Pupil of the Bellini; influenced by Carpaccio and
Giorgione.

=Ashridge.= LORD BROWNLOW, Nativity.

=Bergamo.= CARRARA, II. Christ at Emaus.

=Berlin.= 32. Portrait of Fugger. L. 19. Madonna, Saints,
   and Donor. E. 4. Pietà.
  NAZIONAL GALERIE, RACZYNSKI COLLECTION. 13. Madonna and Saints. E.

=Boston, U. S. A.= MRS. J. L. GARDNER, Christ giving Keys to Peter.

=Buda-Pesth.= 74. Madonna, Saints, and Donor. E.
  76. Bust of female Saint.
  78. Holy Family and female Saint. E.

=Cologne.= 730E. Madonna.

=Dresden.= 65. Holy Family. L. 54. Madonna and two Saints. E.

=Glasgow.= 73. Madonna with St. Catherine and the Magdalen.

=Liverpool.= 81. Madonna with four Saints and Donor. E.

=London.= 234. Warrior adoring Infant Christ. L.
  694. St. Jerome in his Study. L.
  1121. Bust of youth.
  1160. Adoration of Magi. L.
  1455. Circumcision.
  LORD ASHBURNHAM, Madonna, two Saints, and Donor, 1505.
  MR. BENSON, Holy Family. L.
  MR. BEAUMONT, Nativity. (?)
  MR. C. BUTLER, Christ at the Well. L.
  MR. HESELTINE, Madonna.
  MR. MOND, Madonna, Saints, and Donor. E.

=Modena.= 404. Madonna and two Saints.

=Nîmes.= 174. Head of an Apostle.

=Padua.= SALA EMO, 29. Circumcision. E.

=Paris.= 1157. Reception of Venetian Ambassadors at Cairo.
  MME. ANDRÉ, Portrait of Woman.
  M. LÉOPOLD GOLDSCHMIDT, Bust of Woman.
  M. SALOMON GOLDSCHMIDT, Circumcision.

=Rome.= DORIA, 326. Circumcision.

=Venice.= PALAZZO DUCALE, SALA DI TRÈ, Madonna, two Saints,
   and Doge Loredan. E.
  QUIRINI-STAMPALIA, SALA III, I. Judith. L.
  GIOVANELLI, Madonna with John the Baptist and female Saint. E.
  S. MARIA MATER DOMINI, St. Christina.
  S. SIMEON PROFETA, The Trinity. E.
  S. TROVASO, Madonna. E.

=Vienna.= 20. Portrait of a Canon.

GIOVANNI BATTISTA CIMA.

1460-1517 circa. Pupil of Alvise Vivarini; influenced by Giovanni
Bellini.

=Ashridge.= LORD BROWNLOW, Small Holy Family and Saints.

=Bergamo.= MORELLI, 57. Madonna.

=Berlin.= 2. Madonna enthroned with four Saints.
  7. Madonna and Donor.
  15. Healing of Anianus (in part).
  17. Madonna.

=Bologna.= 61. Madonna.

=Boston, U. S. A.= MR. QUINCY SHAW, Madonna. E.

=Conegliano.= DUOMO, Madonna and Saints, 1493.

=Dresden.= 61. The Saviour.
  63. Presentation of Virgin.

=Düsseldorf.= 18. Madonna. Coronation (in part). L.

=Frankfort a/M.= 39. Madonna.
  40. Madonna and two Saints.

=London.= 300. Madonna.
  634. Madonna.
  816. Incredulity of Thomas, 1504.
  1120. St. Jerome.
  1310. Ecce Homo. (?)
  HERTFORD HOUSE, St. Catherine.
  MR. LUDWIG MOND, Two Saints.
  MR. J. E. TAYLOR, Madonna with two Saints (lunette).

=Milan.= BRERA, 191. SS. Peter Martyr, Augustin, and Nicholas of Bari.
    286. SS. Jerome, Nicholas of Tolentino, Ursula, and another female
      Saint.
    289. SS. Luke, Mary, John the Baptist, and Mark.
    293. Madonna.
    300. St. Peter between John the Baptist and St. Paul, 1516.
    302. St. Jerome.
    303. St. Giustina and two other Saints.
  POLDI-PEZZOLI, Head of Female Saint.

=Modena.= 143. Pietà.

=Munich.= 1033. Madonna with Mary Magdalen and St. Jerome. E.

=Olera.= CHURCH, Polyptych. E.

=Parma.= 360. Madonna with SS. Cosmos and Damian.
  361. Madonna with SS. Michael and Augustin.
  370. Endymion.
  373. Apollo and Marsyas.

=Paris.= 1259. Madonna with John and Magdalen.

=Richmond.= SIR F. COOK, Madonna.

=Venice.= ACADEMY, 603. Madonna with SS. John and Paul.
    604. Pietà.
    597. Madonna.
    611. Christ, Thomas, and Magnus.
    36. Madonna with six Saints.
    592. Tobias and Angel, SS. James and Nicholas.
  SEMINARIO, God, the Father (small lunette).
  CARMINE, Adoration of Shepherds.
  S. GIOVANNI IN BRAGORA, Baptism, 1494. SS. Helen and Constantine.
    Three Predelle with Story of Finding of True Cross.
  S. GIOVANNI E PAOLO, Coronation of the Virgin.