Thanks to Carlo Ridolfi we can form a fairly correct idea of the conditions under which young Tintoretto lived in the early days. The expulsion from Titian's studio must have been a very serious blow to his hopes and ambitions, but he did not repine unduly—he was made of sterner stuff. He took a small apartment and began those unremitting labours that were to land him in the first rank of draughtsmen. Through Daniele da Volterra, a pupil of Michaelangelo, he secured the models of the master's work that were to teach him so much about anatomy, and were to be used for experiments in foreshortening, and the treatment of light and shade. He had one friend, an artist known as Schiavone, a man almost as poor as himself in those first days of struggle and disappointment—a man who had likewise sought instruction in Titian's studio but had left it without incurring that great master's ill-will. One of the earliest commissions that fell to Schiavone was for the decoration of St. Mark's Library, but Tintoretto had to wait longer for work, and some years would seem to have passed before he realised his ambition and received a commission to paint altar-pieces. There are some workers to whom enforced idleness would be fatal, and Tintoretto might have been one of them, but for the fact that he had no capacity for indolence, and would work even though he worked for nothing.

The first church to give him a commission would seem to be that of Santa Maria del Carmine, and the impression that he gave to his masters must have been a very favourable one, for we find that the churches of St. Benedetto and Santo Spirito gave him orders soon after. Then the Scuola della Trinita recognised his talent, and gave him an order for certain pictures, including the famous "Death of Abel" and the equally famous "Adam and Eve," of which John Ruskin said, "this in absolute power of painting is the supremest work in all the world." These Scuoli or confraternities were both wealthy and powerful bodies, able and eager to give valuable commissions to artists. They would often grant permanent pay and regular work to the man whose accomplishment satisfied their requirements, and the work that remains to us shows that the directors of the Scuoli were men of taste and discretion.

As soon as Tintoretto felt that he was within sight of the goal of his ambitions he married, choosing for his wife one Faustina of Vescovi, the daughter of a patrician house, and a woman who seems to have realised that her husband's devotion to the ideals of art were likely to make him a very bad business man. Like many of the wives of clever men she played the tyrant in matters that did not concern the studio, and the painter would seem to have evaded some of her regulations for his comfort by saying the thing that was not. We would not say that he originated the habit, but it is said to have become popular and traces of it are still found among husbands in the twentieth century. Tintoretto took a house in the west end of Venice on the Fondamenta dei Mori overlooking Murano, and there he worked hard and lived simply. He must have been a man of engaging manner and amusing conversation, because Ridolfi has recorded many amusing little facts about him in his famous volume of biographies.

Clearly Tintoretto believed that Titian was his enemy, although we do not find that the younger man took any steps to demonstrate his ill-will. It would seem that many men who came to Tintoretto's studio could talk of nothing but Titian's virtues, and that this conversation tired the younger man, who at last put an end to the gossip very cleverly. He secured an incomplete canvas by Titian and painted a figure into it, then he sent the picture to the house of his friend Contarino, where the gossips who dabbled in literature and art were accustomed to assemble. All who saw the picture praised it to the skies, and when they had finished chattering Tintoretto remarked that the work they admired so much was painted partly by himself. Thereafter the gossips seem to have found some other topics of conversation, and Tintoretto was able to pursue his paths in peace without suffering from comparisons that must have been odious.

The painter's union was blessed with children, of whom his daughter Marietta was perhaps his favourite. Until she was fifteen years of age she used to accompany her father through Venice dressed as a boy. She learned a great deal from him, and became a portrait painter, dying some little time before her father, to his great grief. Some few of Tintoretto's remarks have come down to us. He is said to have held that black and white are the most beautiful colours, and with the record of this opinion it becomes curious to see in Tintoretto's pictures how the splendid colouring that was needed to express his work in the days when he was young grew more and more sombre as time passed on, until the dominant tone became the golden brown that is familiar to students of his pictures. As a young man he revelled in bright colours, but in middle and old age their charm passed. There is something very human about this attitude towards externals. Tintoretto placed a very great importance upon drawing, more importance indeed than any of the Venetians had placed upon it before his time. He thought very little of copies from the nude, being no believer in the beauty of the average nude form, and holding that the hand of the artist is necessary in order to express to the full the beauty that the lines of the body suggest. One pauses to wonder how he would have regarded Schopenhauer's criticism of the female form.

Tintoretto had two sons, who became his pupils when they were old enough; he was more fortunate in his family than was his great master and rival, and his home life would seem to have been a tranquil one, because we have learned from Vasari that he was a good musician, and played well on several instruments. Music does not flourish in unhappy homes. He could not have entertained as Titian did, because throughout his life he was a comparatively poor man, but he gathered round him some of the most interesting people in his native city and, with the exception of Titian and Aretino, all seemed to have been well pleased with him. Aretino, of course, being the greatest gossip of his century, could not keep his tongue quiet under any circumstances, and never hesitated to say an unpleasant thing as long as it had wit or humour. Tintoretto bore with his old master's factotum as long as he could, and then his patience giving out, invited him to the studio and proceeded to take his measure with a naked dagger, recording it as though he was going to paint a portrait. Aretino, who seems to have been an arrant coward, took the hint and controlled his unruly tongue. Perhaps he realised that it was unnecessary as well as unwise to provoke a man who asked for nothing better than to be allowed to spend his life in hard work free from interruption. It is quite likely that Tintoretto's amazing gifts, together with his capacity for hard work, would have brought him very rapidly to the front, had not Titian been the pride of the Venetians, but while the great painter from Cadore dominated the City of the Lagoons no other man could hope to stand beside him, and certainly Tintoretto did not improve his own chances by his violent early search for work, and his startling offers to paint pictures of any size for any price. Inasmuch as he did not place a high value upon his own work, it was unreasonable to expect that his patrons would fall into the error of over-praising it. In setting a value upon their own work most men remember that they are sellers, nor is it the business of buyers to raise the price.

It is no easy task to hunt out Tintoretto's countless pictures in Venice. Including panels, altar-pieces, and portraits, the work in the Doges' Palace, in the Accademia, and the collections of private owners, there must be of this painter's work well-nigh three hundred examples whose authenticity is beyond dispute, while, needless to say, there are plenty of pictures to be found in the collections of dealers and amateurs that have rather more than a suspicion of Robusti's hand, though they can hardly claim to be painted by him alone. Like all other masters Tintoretto had his pupils, and his children and pupils between them would appear to be very largely responsible for some of the pictures that bear his name. To add to the difficulties of the visitor, Tintoretto has suffered more than most men from exposure, neglect, and repainting. The salt-savoured air of Venice is by no means the best in the world for pictures; and candles, though they may save their pious purchasers from many years' suffering in Purgatory, have an awkward habit of smoking and spoiling the altar pictures that stand before them. Candle smoke respects neither madonna nor saint, and though raised with the best intentions, will destroy masterpiece or daub with equal certainty and indifference. In Tintoretto's time piety was more fashionable than art criticism, and his pictures have suffered very much from the devotion they have inspired in the breasts of those to whom candles were a short-cut to salvation. Happily the Scuola of St. Roque, with its countless beautiful works of the master on panel and ceiling and staircase, still preserves a great deal of its original beauty. The Doges' Palace has a splendid collection, including the famous "Paradise" in the Hall of Council, while other apartments in the palace boast specimens of the master's most inspired work. The Royal Palace, and that of Prince Giovanelli, are very rich in the fruit of Tintoretto's labours, while the Academy of Fine Arts from which a part of the pictures given here were taken, holds some of the painter's masterpieces in really favourable positions.

In the Doges' Palace the neck and back of the man who wishes to study Tintoretto must endure constant strain, and the great compositions are so hard to understand that headache often anticipates comprehension, and appreciation gets no chance. The Academy is not too crowded, save at the season of the great American invasion, and there it is possible to enjoy Tintoretto quietly.

The more we study Tintoretto the more his mastery for every branch of his art becomes apparent. His composition is the more marvellous because he had not had the advantage of receiving inspiration from other masters. He carried composition farther than it had gone before, bringing to his aid in that work a certain dramatic instinct that does not seem to have been associated with the painter's workshop before his time. He redeemed Venetian painting from the charge of bad drawing that had been levied against it by the Florentines, and when we come to colour we find that Tintoretto has little or nothing to yield in this department even to Titian himself, and that he gets many of his finest effects from lower tones than those that appealed to his master. Some of his colour effects are less daring, less theatrical, less immediate in their appeal than those of Titian, but when they are understood they are hardly to be less admired, although we have to admit that in many cases they have been restored, and retouched by many well-meaning fools who did not understand the extraordinary delicacy of treatment that gave the canvas its pristine quality. A picture by Tintoretto in which the rich golden brown tints have survived the passages of the years and the hand of the restorer, is at once a thing to wonder at and be grateful for.

Like all great painters Tintoretto had little use for drawings. He did not believe in making elaborate studies; we can learn this from his first work for the Scuola of St. Roque, when he entered into competition with several big painters, and managed to present a finished picture to his startled patrons and competitors in the shortest possible time. Vasari tells the story, how the brotherhood decided to have some "magnificent and honourable work" on the ceiling of the Scuola, and asked Salviati, Zucchero, Paolo Cagliari (Veronese), and Tintoretto to prepare a design. "While the artists were giving themselves with all diligence to the preparations of their designs," writes Vasari, "Tintoretto made an exact measurement of the space for which the picture was required, and taking a large canvas he painted it at his usual speed, without taking any one into his confidence, and fixed it in the place destined to receive it. On the morning when the brotherhood assembled to see the designs and determine the matter, they found that Tintoretto had completed his work, that he had even fixed it in its place. At this they were very angry, saying that they desired designs, and had not commissioned him to do more than prepare one. Robusti replied that this was his method of preparing designs, and that he knew no other, that all designs and models for a work should be executed in this fashion to the end that persons interested might see what would be offered to them, and might not be deceived. Finding the brethren were still displeased, Tintoretto added that if they did not think fit to pay for the work, he would make a present of it to them for the sake of the saint from whom he had received much kindness. The brotherhood could say no more, for they dare not refuse a gift offered to their patron, and so the picture was accepted, and the brethren had to make their peace as best they could with the angry and disappointed competitors."

It would be pleasing to write at length about the work that Tintoretto contributed to the buildings of the brotherhood, but in the appendix to his third volume of the "Stones of Venice," John Ruskin has dealt so completely and so admirably with the master that those who are interested will find all they seek in his pages. In the lower hall are an "Annunciation," an "Adoration of the Magi," an "Assumption of the Virgin," a "Presentation of Jesus," and several others. In the upper hall there is the wonderful masterpiece of "St. Roque in Heaven," together with many pictures of the great heroes of Bible History, and the "Last Supper" that Velazquez copied. The refectory holds the great "Crucifixion," and eleven panels devoted almost entirely to single figures.

Tintoretto had a hard struggle to become the painter for the wealthy brotherhood, which had already commissioned work from Titian, Giorgione, Schiavone, and other men of light and leading, but when he had once secured a footing he did not lose the confidence of the brethren. They realised that the master was second to none in the honourable ranks of their painters, and indeed the brotherhood is best remembered to-day because it chose Tintoretto to paint so many of its masterpieces. It would have been a pleasant task to reproduce some of these works here, but it would have been impossible to put on a small page, with any hope of conveying a fair idea of their extraordinary fascination, the "Massacre of the Innocents," "Christ before Pilate," the "Crucifixion," or other pictures of that size. It has seemed better on this account to rest content for the most part with single figures, and to emphasise the one aspect of the painter's many merits. His mastery of composition must be left for those who go to Venice or to some other of the cities wherein the work is seen in all its glory.

Some five years would seem to have elapsed between the time when Tintoretto forced his picture of St. Roque upon the astonished brotherhood, and the time when he painted the "Crucifixion" for the Scuola in return for a fee of 250 ducats, becoming thereafter a member of the brotherhood. He worked for them for ten years or more, leaving the question of terms to their judgment, but receiving a very fair price. By the middle of the 'sixties his position in Venice was assured. He was accepted on every hand as a man who honoured the churches and brotherhoods, civil or religious, that employed him. Unlike Titian he was very reliable, and does not seem to have accepted commissions and then to have ignored them because better work came along unexpectedly. His work in the churches is very varied and is scattered throughout Venice. Ridolfi refers to his early pictures in the Church of St. Benedict, but they are not to be found there now. Santa Maria dell 'Orto, which was one of the first to employ his brush, holds his famous "Last Judgment," a composition of singular nobility, painted with great technical skill, and the wonderful imagination that inspired all the painter's efforts. Unfortunately the details on the canvas are not easily seen, and the whole work would appear to have been handed over more than once to the renovator whose tender mercies, like those of the wicked, are cruel. In the same church there are two "Martyrdoms," one of St. Paul or St. Christopher, and another of St. Agnes, and there is the fascinating "Presentation of the Virgin," which ranks side by side with Titian's masterpiece in the Venetian Academy. Tintoretto's colour scheme is more subdued, but the composition is singularly attractive, and the painter's knowledge of perspective, his gift of conveying atmosphere, his skill in handling the human figure in any position have hardly been seen to greater advantage than in this master work. Perhaps because the church Santa Maria dell 'Orto received the artist's earliest work he loved it above all other churches, for it held the vault of the Vescovis and he chose to be buried there. Clearly he was one for whom his wife's family held no terrors. Many other painters figure in this church, which lies well away from the city's main thoroughfares, by the canal Rio della Madonna dell 'Orto. Palma Vecchio is to be seen there and that Girolamo who is said to have acted for Titian when he wished to expel Tintoretto from his workshop. The church also has a "Pieta" by Lorenzo Lotto, and a "Madonna" by Gian Bellini. Tintoretto's burial in the church is recorded on a tablet.

The church of San Cassiano has two or three pictures by Tintoretto, and that of San Francisco della Vigna is said to have another, but it is not to be seen, and the brethren of St. Francis who pace to and fro along the broken-down cloisters can give no information to intruders armed with red guide-books. San Giorgio Maggiore is rich in Tintorettos, and has one or two attractive works by Bassano. A very famous "Last Supper" was painted for this church, but the work will not vie with much that Tintoretto did elsewhere. Santa Maria dei Frari has a beautiful "Massacre of the Innocents." San Marziale has an "Ascension," and two "Annunciations," together with a work that the painter did not live to finish. On the Giudecca in the old Franciscan Church of the Redentore, where a famous water festival is held throughout one night in the summer, there are two splendid examples of the painter's work, and in the church of the Madonna della Salute there is a "Marriage of Cana." This church holds several pictures by Titian and other masters of renown. Santo Stefano is said to have some famous pictures by Tintoretto in the sacristy, but the writer has not seen them.

The list of church pictures is by no means exhausted. It would not be easy to deal with them without giving these pages a suspicious resemblance to a catalogue. The visitor to Venice may be well advised to visit as many churches as he can, and to remember that many a building of little latter-day significance holds priceless work belonging to the sixteenth century. In Florence there are a score or more of Tintoretto's pictures in the galleries of the Uffizi and the Pitti Palace; in the former there is a striking replica of the "Wedding at Cana" in the Venetian church of the Madonna della Salute, but all these have their crowd of admirers; they are catalogued and clearly seen. In Venice, on the other hand, many a church from which the hurried tourist turns aside holds one or more of Tintoretto's masterpieces, and if it is well hung and has escaped the troublesome attentions of restorer and candle-burner, it will well repay quiet study.

The story that a great picture has to tell travels far beyond its own subject-matter, and the quality of that imagination which is associated with all great work is seen in a very high degree in many a church picture by the great Venetian master. Perhaps he owes his heroic achievements to Michelangelo. The full story of his indebtedness has been treated at length by John Ruskin, for whom the painter's work held great attractions; but it may be said, without fear of contradiction, that where a picture has survived its surroundings, the vigour of mind, the breadth of view, the dramatic sense of the painter, his splendid power of seeing the great stories of Old or New Testament in their most dramatic aspect, will satisfy the most critical sense of the onlooker almost as much as the conquest of difficulties in light, shade, foreshortening, composition, and graded tones please the man who has mastered the technicalities of the painter's art.

Looking at Tintoretto's work and remembering that he hardly stirred beyond the limits of the Republic, it is impossible not to reflect upon the chance and luck that beset the lives of men. Tintoretto, with his splendid gifts, his rapid accomplishment, his courteous manner, remains in Venice; his fame suffering because he could see far beyond the limits that beset the view of his great and popular master. Had Tintoretto not been able to see quite so clearly, had he not alarmed contemporary criticism by groping successfully after the first truths of impressionism, he might have been in the fulness of time the court painter of popes and emperors. His splendour might have been diffused throughout Italy; it might have travelled to Spain, then the greatest of all world powers. Titian, for all his extraordinary gifts, had certain conventional limitations. Tintoretto, equally gifted, could see more deeply into the truths that underlie painting, so he did not prosper in like degree. Happily for him he was a man who worked for work's sake, as long as his hands were full and he could labour from morning until night, the pecuniary and social results hardly seemed worth bothering about. We know that Titian, whose income was much larger than Tintoretto's, was loud in his complaints of bad times and inadequate payments, but if Tintoretto complained, Ridolfi has forgotten to record the fact. There is no attempt here to belittle Titian or to praise Tintoretto; each was a man for whom the sixteenth century and its successors must need be grateful. The difference between them was temperamental, and is worth recording, though it is not set down in any spirit of unfriendly criticism.

(From the Venetian Academy)

This picture, representing Eve in the act of offering the apple to Adam, is remarkable for the beauty of the flesh painting. John Ruskin was moved to express his admiration for it in terms of enthusiasm.