ing the characteristics of one destined to regenerate art, merely followed it in its decline. Art, thus reduced to the representation of one figure, which in itself should combine all excellence, had reached in him a level below which it was only just possible to fall. He executed, in the crucifix of S. Raineri e Leonardo at Pisa, a work more calculated to repel than to invite observation 1 . Whilst he preserved the custom of keeping the feet of the Saviour apart, he realized the idea of death and pain, as regards the figure, by the overhanging belly and hips, and as regards the head, not merely by its total abandonment to its own weight, but by a hideous exaggeration of grief. It would be difficult to find anything more vulgar or re pulsive than the angular contractions and swollen muscles of the brow, the vast and unnatural forehead, the large nose cut into two or three sharp planes, the mapped out hair lined at angles as it lies in masses on the shoulder, or worse proportion in the long falsely anatomized body, short arms, and long pointed feet. The head of the Sa viour in glory at the top of the cross corresponds sin gularly with that of the crucified Redeemer, insofar as its lean bullet shape, round gazing eyes, and enormous wig are ugly and repulsive — a character to which the Virgin and Evangelist at the extremity of the limbs are equally entitled. 2 Painting in Pisa was evidently at a low ebb at the time of Giunta, and no better proof of this fact need be sought than that afforded by the rude works of S. Pier d’Arena, now S. Pietro in Grado out side the town, on the road to Leghorn. In the first half of the thirteenth century the chief aisle of this edifice was painted in the style then usual throughout Italy, that is, with a due subordination of the pictorial to the archi tectural adornment. In the upper course beneath a painted This crucifix is inscribed be- the convent of S. Anna of Pisa.