into the church pavements. We have
two authentic tombs of this character, on both of which Donatello has
signed his name. Had he not done so, we could never have established
his authorship of the marble slab-tomb of Archdeacon Crivelli in the
Church of Ara Coeli at Rome. It has been trampled by the feet of so
many generations, that all the features have been worn away; the
legend is wholly effaced in certain parts, and one corner has had to
be restored (though at some early date). But at best it cannot have
compared with Donatello's similar tomb of Bishop Pecci at Siena, and
one could quote numerous instances of equally good work by nameless
men. There is one close to the Crivelli marble itself, another in the
Pisa Baptistery, two in Santa Croce, and so forth. This kind of tomb
had to undergo rough usage. Everybody walked upon it: the deep relief
made it a receptacle for mud and rubbish. The effigy of the deceased,
as was probably intended by him, was humbled in the dust: _adhesit
pavimento_. The slabs got injured, and were often protected by low
tables with squat legs. Later on the slabs were raised enough to
prevent people standing on them, and thus became like free-standing
tombs; but it only made them more suitable for the sitting
requirements of the congregation. These sunken tombs, in fact, became
a nuisance. Although they were not carved in the very deep relief like
those one sees in Bavaria, they collected the dirt, and a papal brief
was issued to forbid them--_ut in ecclesiis nihil indecens
relinquatur_,[107] and the existing slabs were ordered to be removed.
Irretrievable damage must have resulted from this edict, but
fortunately it was disobeyed in Rome and ignored elsewhere. Nowadays
it has become the custom to place these slabs upright against the
walls, thus preventing further detrition. To Cavaliere D. Gnoli we owe
the preservation of the Crivelli tomb, which was in danger of complete
demolition.[108] By being embedded in a wall instead of lying in a
pavement this kind of monument, while losing its primitive position,
often gains in appearance. Crivelli, for instance, lies within an
architectural niche. His head rests on a pillow, the tassels of which
fall downwards towards his feet. When placed against a wall the need
for a pillow may vanish, but the meaning and use of the niche becomes
apparent, while the tassels no longer defy the laws of gravitation. He
becomes a standing figure at once, and the flyin