neither conflict of emotion nor sense of
incongruity. The scenes (including those added at a later date) are
sixteen in number. Except the later reliefs of St. John, St. Luke, the
Flagellation, and the Ecce Homo, all are of bronze, upon which more
care seems to have been expended than on the clay models from which
they were cast. On the southern pulpit the scene on the Mount of
Olives shows the foreshortened Apostles sleeping soundly as in
Mantegna's pictures. Christ before Pilate and Christ before Caiaphas
are treated as different episodes, in two similar compartments of one
great hall, separated by a large pier. The Crucifix and the Deposition
are, perhaps, the most remarkable of all these reliefs: corresponding
in many ways to works already described; but not having been
over-decorated like the Bargello relief, show greater dignity and less
confusion. The background of the Deposition is flat, but broken here
and there by faintly-indicated horsemen; naked boys riding on shadowy
steeds like those vague figures which seem to thread their way through
some panel of Gothic tapestry. There is an element of _stiacciato_ in
the Entombment, giving it the air of a mystery rather than of an
historical fact. The draperies are thin and graceful, suited to the
softer modelling of the limbs: some of the faces are almost dainty.
Passing to the northern pulpit, we come to three scenes divided by
heavy buttresses, but unified by figures leaning against them, and
overstepping the lateral boundaries of the reliefs. The subjects are
the Descent into Limbo, the Resurrection and the Ascension. The link
between the two former is a haggard emaciated Baptist. The Christ is
old and tired. The people who welcome him in Limbo are old and tired,
feebly pressing towards the Saviour. The Roman guards lie sleeping,
self abandoned in their fatigue, while Christ, wearied and suffering,
steps from the tomb with manifest effort. One feels that the physical
infirmities of the artist are reflected in these two works, so vivid
in their presentment of the heavy burden of advanced years. But in the
Resurrection a fresh note is struck. The bystanders are gathered round
the Christ, who gives the Benediction. His robe is held back by little
angels, and the scene is pervaded by an atmosphere of staid and
decorous calm. Donatello has treated this relief in a more archaic
spirit. The absence of paroxysms of acute grief, giving a certain
violence to other parts of t