Alphonso d’Este’s Alabaster Chamber at Ferrara represented the high point of mythological poesy for the Full Renaissance, as Castello with its Signorelli and Botticellis marked a similar culmination for the Early Renaissance. It is lamentable that we see these essential expressions of two great moments torn from their context and relegated to the promiscuity of museums. Yet the scattered poesies from the Alabaster Chamber remain a delight, at London, Madrid, and Philadelphia, and give us the truest impression of the pagan greatness of Titian in his maturity. For this series old Giovanni Bellini, in 1514, painted a sylvan Feast of the Gods, Figure 242. Titian, succeeding to the work, freely repainted the landscape, to harmonize it with his own poesies. Two years later Titian set up The Worship of Venus, now in the Prado. Before the white image of the goddess the shadowy lawn swarms with winged loves. They frolic, dally, pluck apples shaken down by their mates from the trees above. The strong little bodies glow delicately like the inside of a great shell. A rhythm of joyous life runs through the picture. In due course Rubens, Boucher and Fragonard will fill earth and air with tumbling Cupids like these, but will hardly recapture the spontaneous ecstasy of this scene. It is baffling to learn that its origins are academic—from the imaginary gallery of the Alexandrian philosopher, Philostratus. Again a two year interval, for Titian ever declined to be hurried, and, in 1520, the Bacchanal, or Bacchus among the Andrians, was ready. About the lolling figures of two clothed nymphs, the sleek brown bodies of nude sylvans bend in grand gestures as they pour the wine. At the left Bacchus in professional aloofness goes about the serious business of emptying a flagon. At the right is flung the relaxed body of a nymph overcome by sleep and wine. Her splendid nudity shines forth in competition with a soaring afternoon cloud, while behind her a lightly draped shepherd dances with his lass. The orgy is swept by the clean breeze and dappled with sunlight—purifying elements. We have not intoxication in the gross sense, but the Greek notion of an elemental Bacchic inspiration. The decoration was triumphantly completed in 1523 with the Bacchus and Ariadne, Figure 260, now in the National Gallery. The noisy train of the god of wine sweeps into the picture oblivious of the heroine. As the leopards swing the car along the strand, the God flings himself rapturously towards the form of startled Ariadne, who with a grand, hesitating gesture turns her head and body away while her legs and feet still bear her towards her wooer. The thing sparkles with wine-red and azure, tingles electrically with passion, gives forth a clamor which is also a harmony. Its exuberance is well contained in noble compositional forms. The passionate yet disciplined soul of Titian approaching fifty is fully expressed in this marvellous work. [Illustration: