t all
record of it was lost, until Herr Schmarsow identified it in
1886.[130] It was probably made for the Church of Santa Maria della
Febbre,[131] and was transported to St. Peter's when Santa Maria was
converted into a sacristy. The tabernacle is now in the Sacristy of
the Canons, surrounded by sham flowers and tawdry decoration, which
reduce its charms to a minimum. Moreover, the miraculous painting of
the Madonna and Child which fills the centrepiece--having, perhaps,
replaced a metal grille or marble relief, has been so frequently
restored that a discordant element is introduced. The tabernacle is
about six feet high; it is made of rather coarse Travestine marble,
and in several parts shows indications of the hand of an assistant. It
has suffered in removal; there are two places where the work has been
repaired, and the medallion in the lower frieze has been filled with
modern mosaic; otherwise it is in good order. It is essentially an
architectural work, but the number of figures introduced has softened
the hard lines of the construction, giving it plenty of life. Four
little angels, rather stumpy and ill-drawn, are sitting on the
lower plinth. Above them rise the main outer columns which support
the upper portion of the tabernacle, and enclose the central opening,
where the picture is now fixed. At the base of these columns there
are two groups of winged children, three on either side, looking
inwards towards the central feature of the composition. They
bend forward reverently with their hands joined in prayer and
adoration--admirable children, full of shyness and deference. The
upper part of the tabernacle, supported on very plain corbels, is
occupied by a broad relief, at either end of which stand other winged
angels, more boyish and confident than those below. This relief
is, perhaps, Donatello's masterpiece in _stiacciato_. It is the
Entombment, his first presentment of those intensely vivid scenes
which were so often reproduced during his later years. Christ is just
being laid in the tomb by two solemn old men with flowing beards, St.
Joseph and St. Peter. The Virgin kneels as the body is lowered into
the tomb. Behind her is St. Mary Magdalene, her arms extended, her
hair dishevelled; scared by the frenzy of her grief. To the right St.
John turns away with his face buried in his hands. The whole
composition--striking in contrast to the quiet and peaceful figures
below--is treated with caution and reserve. Bu