t we detect the germ of
the pulpits of San Lorenzo, where the rough sketch in clay could
transmit all its fire and energy to the finished bronze. In this case
Donatello not only felt the limitations of the marble, but he was not
yet inclined to take the portrayal of tragedy beyond a certain point.
The moderation of this relief entitles it to higher praise than we can
give to some of his later work. The other panel in _stiacciato_ made
about this time belonged to the Salviati family.[132] Technically the
carving is inferior to that in St. Peter's, and it may be that in
certain parts, especially, for instance, round the heads of Christ
and one of the Apostles, the work is unfinished. Christ is seated on
the clouds, treated like those on the Brancacci panel, and hands the
keys to St. Peter. The Apostles stand by, the Virgin kneels in the
foreground, and on the left there are two angels like those on the
tabernacle. Trees are lightly sketched in, and no halos are employed.
The work is disappointing, for it is carved in such extraordinarily
low-relief that parts of it are scarcely recognisable on first
inspection; the marble is also rather defective. As a composition--and
this can best be judged in the photograph--the Charge to Peter is
admirable. The balance is preserved with skill, while the figures are
grouped in a natural and easy fashion. The row of Apostles to the left
shows a rendering of human perspective which Mantegna, who liked to
make his figures contribute to the perspective of the architecture
around them, never surpassed. This panel, in spite of Bocchi's praise,
shares one obvious demerit with the relief in St. Peter's. The Virgin,
who kneels with outstretched hands as she gazes upwards to the Christ,
is almost identical with a figure on the Entombment. She is ugly, with
no redeeming feature. The pose is awkward, the drapery graceless, the
contour thick, and her face, peering out of the thick veil, is
altogether displeasing. One has no right to look for beauty in
Donatello's statues of adults: character is what he gives. But neither
does one expect this kind of vagary. There is great merit in the
plaintive and wistful ugliness of the Zuccone: Here the ugliness is
wanton, and therefore inexcusable. The Crivelli tomb and the Baptist
in San Giovanni Fiorentino have been already described. There were
other products of Donatello's visit to Rome, but they are now lost.
Tradition still maintains that the wooden Baptis