first made him acquainted with himself, not lights that he followed;
for he was a follower of none. To how many others he was indebted for
his impulses cannot now be known; but the new impetus he was known to
have received from every new excellence has led many to believe, that,
had he lived to see the works of Titian, he would have added to his
grace, character, and form, and with equal originality, the splendor
of color. "The design of Michael Angelo and the color of Titian," was
the inscription of Tintoretto over the door of his painting-room.
Whether he intended to designate these two artists as his future
models matters not; but that he did not follow them is evidenced in
his works. Nor, indeed, could he: the temptation to _follow_,
which his youthful admiration had excited, was met by an interdiction
not easily withstood,--the decree of his own genius. And yet the
decree had probably never been heard but for these very masters. Their
presence stirred him; and, when he thought of serving, his teeming
mind poured out its abundance, making _him_ a master to future
generations. To the forms of Michael Angelo he was certainly indebted
for the elevation of his own; there, however, the inspiration ended.
With Titian he was nearly allied in genius; yet he thought rather with
than after him,--at times even beyond him. Titian, indeed, may be said
to have first opened his eyes to the mysteries of nature; but they
were no sooner opened, than he rushed into them with a rapidity and
daring unwont to the more cautious spirit of his master; and, though
irregular, eccentric, and often inferior, yet sometimes he made his
way to poetical regions, of whose celestial hues even Titian himself
had never dreamt.

We might go on thus with every great name in Art. But these examples
are enough to show how much even the most original minds, not only
may, but _must_, owe to others; for the social law of our nature