_Venice Academy_]
We must imagine ourselves standing with a great throng of people in the
public square in front of the temple. Men, women and children jostle one
another near the steps. The old man Joachim and his wife Anna are easily
singled out among the number. The windows of the adjoining palaces are
full of faces looking into the square. A group of senators stand
somewhat apart, looking on. An old peasant woman with a basket of eggs
sits in the shadow of the steps. All eyes are turned towards the little
child who is walking alone up the great stone staircase. On the topmost
step the high priest advances to meet her, resplendent in his rich
priestly garments.
The figure of the little Virgin is very quaint in a long gown made of
some shimmering blue stuff. The golden hair is brushed back primly and
woven into a heavy braid, whence it at last escapes in beautiful
profusion. It would be hard to guess the child's age, for her demeanor
is that of a little woman as she gathers her long skirt daintily in her
right hand. She carries herself erect in the new dignity of the great
moment, and advances with perfect self-confidence. The face, however, is
quite childlike and innocent, and is lifted to the priest's with a
happy smile. The left arm is raised in a gesture of wonder and delight.
The whole figure is surrounded by a halo of golden light. This is the
oval-shaped glory which the Italians call the _mandorla_, from the word
meaning "almond." It is of course the symbol of the virgin's peculiar
sanctity. The painter has not tried to make the little girl particularly
pretty, but he gives her the indescribable charm which we call
winsomeness. She is perhaps one of the most lovable children art has
ever produced.
As we study the artist's method of work in the picture we see how very
simply the figure is drawn. Titian was fond of rich and voluminous
draperies, as we shall learn from several examples which are to follow.
Here, however, he draws a dress with tight sleeves and scanty skirt
absolutely without decoration of any sort. It is this simplicity which
gives the childlike appearance to the figure.
There is a pathos in the little figure which we cannot altogether
appreciate in our illustration. We have to remember that the whole
picture measures twenty-five feet in width by eleven in height, and then
imagine how tiny the child looks ascending alone the great staircase in
the centre of this vast panorama. The isolation of the figure suggests
the singular destiny of Mary, set apart from others in the loneliness of
a unique service.