ndsomely." Greek art can, of course, show no
sign of the Christian virtues of death. Like the Egyptians, their
object was to present the dead as still alive, even where the aid
of fiction had to be invoked. To them sleep and death are often
indistinguishable; often again one is left in doubt as to which of the
figures on a funeral relief represents the departed. With death the
human body, having ceased to be the home of life, ceased also to be a
welcome theme of art. These two Gattamelatas, father and son, have
fought the good fight, and in the carved effigy acquire a statuesque
repose which is full of dignity and pathos. The famous warrior of
Ravenna, Guido Guidarelli as he is called, though of a later date, is
fashioned in the same spirit; showing, moreover, certain peculiarities
in the armour which one notices in the tombs at Padua. The d'Alagni
monument in S. Domenico at Naples, and a tomb in the Carmine of Pisa,
are similar in respect of sentiment. So, too, is the shrine of Santa
Giustina in London, of which the details as well as the organic
treatment leave no doubt as to its authorship, so closely does it
resemble the tomb of Giovanni Gattamelata. It is a work of singular
refinement and beauty. We see the recumbent figure of the saint on the
facade of a sarcophagus, at either side of which are little angels
made by the same hand and at the same date as those on Giovanni's
tomb. Santa Giustina is modelled in low-relief; the sculptor seems to
draw in the stone, and the drapery is like linen: not a blanket or
counterpane, but some thin clinging material which is moulded to the
form below. In some ways this precious work is analogous to the more
famous bas-relief belonging to the Earl of Wemyss, the St. Cecilia
which has been ascribed to Donatello. This wonderful thing is not well
known: it has been seldom exhibited, and the photograph by which it is
usually judged is taken from a reproduction moulded a generation ago.
The original, of rather slaty Lavagna stone, has never been
photographed, and the cast, many thousands of which exist, entirely
fails to show the intangible and diaphanous qualities of the original.
The widespread popularity of the St. Cecilia would (if possible) be
enhanced were we more familiar with the genuine work itself. It is
certainly one of the most accomplished examples of Italian plastic
art; not, indeed, by Donatello himself, for there is a softness and
glamour which cannot be associated with