Almost everything of Donatello’s that one sees is in turn the best; but standing before this lovely work one is more than commonly conscious of being in the presence of a wonderful creator.  The Virgin is wholly unlike any other woman, and She is surprising and modern even for Donatello with his vast range.  The charming terra-cotta boys above are almost without doubt from the same hand, but they cannot have been made for this monument.

To the della Robbias we come in the Castellani chapel in the right transept, which has two full-length statues by either Luca or Andrea, in the gentle glazed medium, of S. Francis and S. Bernard, quite different from anything we have seen or shall see, because isolated.  The other full-size figures by these masters—­such as those at Impruneta—­are placed against the wall.  The S. Bernard, on the left as one enters the chapel, is far the finer.  It surely must be one of the most beautiful male draped figures in the world.

The next chapel, at the end of the transept, was once enriched by Giotto frescoes, but they no longer exist.  There are, however, an interesting but restored series of scenes in the life of the Virgin by Taddeo Gaddi, Giotto’s godson; a Madonna ascending to heaven, by Mainardi, who was Ghirlandaio’s pupil, and so satisfactory a one that he was rewarded by the hand of his master’s sister; and a pretty piece of Gothic sculpture with the Christ Child upon it.  Hereabouts, I may remark, we have continually to be walking over floor-tombs, now ruined beyond hope, their ruin being perhaps the cause of a protecting rail being placed round the others; although a floor-tomb should have, I think, a little wearing from the feet of worshippers, just to soften the lines.  Those at the Certosa are, for example, far too sharp and clean.

Let us complete the round of the church before we examine the sacristy, and go now to the two chapels, where Giotto may be found at his best, although restored too, on this side of the high altar.  The Peruzzi chapel has scenes from the lives of the two S. Johns, the Baptist, and the Evangelist:  all rather too thoroughly re-painted, although following Giotto’s groundwork closely enough to retain much of their interest and value.  And here once again one should consult the “Mornings in Florence,” where the wilful discerning enthusiast is, like his revered subject, also at his best.  Giotto’s thoughtfulness could not be better illustrated than in S. Croce.  One sees him, as ever, thinking of everything:  not a very remarkable attribute of the fresco painter since then, but very remarkable then, when any kind of facile saintliness sufficed.  Signor Bianchi, who found these paintings under the whitewash in 1853, and restored them, overdid his part, there is no doubt; but as I have said, their interest is unharmed, and it is that which one so delights in.  Look, for instance, at the attitude of Drusiana, suddenly twitched by S. John back again into this vale of tears, while