strongly marked emotional faces of
the saints and to the vigorous gestures which would be violent in a
classic setting.

[Illustration: ST. DOMINIC

_From a panel by Carlo Crivelli_]

A quite different note is struck in the grave little composition
belonging to an altarpiece of early date in which two infant angels
support the body of Christ on the edge of the tomb. Nothing is permitted
to interrupt the simplicity of this pathetic group. In the much more
passionate rendering of a similar subject--the _Pieta_ in Mr. Johnson's
collection--the child angels are represented in an agony of grief, their
features contorted and their gestures despairing. The little angels of
the National Gallery picture, on the contrary, are but touched by a
pensive sorrow. One of them rests his chin upon the shoulder of the
Christ half tenderly, half wearily; the other in fluttering robes of a
lovely yellow, applies his slight strength to his task seriously but
without emotion. The figure of Christ, tragically quiet, with suffering
brows, the wound in the side gaping, is without the suggestion of
extreme physical anguish that marks the figure in the Boston _Pieta_. The
sentiment with which the panel is inspired is one of gentleness, of
resignation, of self-control and piety. The same sentiment is felt in
the companion panel, now in the Brussels Gallery--_The Virgin and the
Child Jesus_--which originally, with the _Pieta_, formed the central
double compartment of a triptych at Monte Fiore, near Fermo. The sad
coloring of the Virgin's robe--a dull bluish green with a gold pattern
over an under robe of pale ashes of roses, the calm, benign features,
the passive hands, are all in the spirit of subdued feeling. The child
alone, gnomish in expression and awkward in a straddling attitude upon
his mother's knee, fails to conform to the general gracious scheme.

In the _Annunciation_ already mentioned, we have another phase of
Crivelli's flexible genius--a phase in which are united the pomp and
splendor of his fantastic taste with the innocence and sweetness of his
most engaging feminine type. It would be difficult to imagine a more
demure and girlish Virgin than the small kneeling figure in the richly
furnished chamber at the right of the panel. The glory of her fate is
symbolized by the broad golden ray falling from the heavens upon her
meekly bowed head. Her face is pale with the dim pallor that commonly
rests upon Crivelli's flesh tones, and he