Both Titian's inventions and compositions partake of his usual character; he produced nothing in which nature was not consulted. In the number of his figures he is inclined to be moderate; and in grouping them he displays the finest unshackled art; an art he was fond of exemplifying by comparison with a bunch of grapes, where a number of single ones compose the figure of a whole, agreeably rounded, light through the openings, distinct in shades, in middle tints, and in lights, according as it receives more or less of the solar rays. No contrasts are to be met with in these compositions that betray a studied effect; no violent action that is not called for by the incidents of the story; the actors in general preserve their dignity, and a certain composure, as if each seemed to respect the assembly of which he formed a part. Whoever is attached to the taste of the Greek bassi relievi, in which all is nature and propriety, will invariably prefer the sober composition of Titian to the more fiery one of Paul Veronese and Tintoret, whose merits we shall canvass in another place. Neither was Titian ignorant of those strong contrasts of limbs and action, then in such high vogue with his countrymen; but these he reserved for his bacchanals, his battle pieces, and other subjects, in fine, which called for them. It is on all hands admitted, that as a portrait painter, he was quite incomparable; and to this species of excellence he was in great part indebted for his fortune, smoothing, as it did, his reception into some of the most splendid courts, such as were that of Rome in the time of Paul III. and those of Vienna and of Madrid, during the reign of Charles V. and his successors. It is the opinion of Vasari that in this branch of his art he was inimitable; being engaged in drawing the portraits of numbers of the most distinguished characters, both for rank and letters, who flourished during the same period. We wish we could add to these the name of Cosmo I., grand duke of Tuscany, who, little to his credit, evinced an objection to have his likeness taken by so celebrated a hand. He was no less successful in depicting the passions of the mind. The death of S. Peter the Martyr, at Venice, with that of a devotee of S. Antony, at the college of the same name in Padua, display scenes than which I know not whether painting can afford us any thing more terrific in the ferocity of those who strike, or more full of compassion in the whole attitude of the falling saint. And thus the grand picture of the Coronation of Thorns, in the Grazie at Milan, abounds with powers of expression that enchant us. He has left us also not a few examples of costume, and of erudition in the antique, every way worthy of imitation, as we may observe in the Coronation above alluded to, where, desirous of marking the precise period of the event, he inserted in the Pretorium a bust of Tiberius; an idea that could not have been better conceived, either by Raffaello or Poussin.