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 his chisel.  But it has the unequalled tenderness and grace for which the Gattamelata tomb is so notable, placing its nameless author in the highest ranks of Italian sculpture.

[Footnote 208:  “De antiq. urbis Patavii,” 1560, p. 374.]

[Footnote 209:  “De Sculptura,” 1504, gathering f.]

[Footnote 210:  Marble, in Sacristy of S. Antonio.]

[Footnote 211:  Victoria and Albert Museum, No. 75, 1879.]

* * * * *

[Illustration:  Alinari

GENERAL GATTAMELATA

PADUA]

[Sidenote:  Gattamelata.]

Erasmo Narni, General Gattamelata, died in 1443, and the Venetians, whom he had honourably served, granted the privilege of a site in the tributary town of Padua for the monument, the cost of which was borne by the family of the dead Condottiere.  Donatello had to reconstruct the anatomy of a horse on a colossal scale.  He was faced by the formidable task of making the first equestrian bronze statue erected in Italy during the Renaissance, and no model existed except the antique statue of Marcus Aurelius at Rome.  Donatello was, however, familiar with the four horses on the facade of San Marco at Venice.  He undertook to complete the Gattamelata monument by September 1453, but the bulk of the casting was finished as early as 1448, though the chiselling and chasing of the bronze required further work for two or three years.  The statue was placed on the pedestal before the agreed date, and a conference was held at Venice to settle the price.[212] There were four assessors on either side, and it was finally agreed that the total payment should be a sum equivalent to about two thousand guineas in our own day.  Donatello does not seem to have been hampered by his lack of experience.  The work is adroitly handled, the technical difficulty of welding the large pieces of bronze is successfully overcome, and the metal is firm and self-supporting.  There are faults, of course, though the fact that the horse ambles need not be considered an error.  But the relative proportions of the horse and rider are not quite accurately preserved, Gattamelata being, if anything, rather below the right scale.  The monument is, however, so massive and grandiose that criticism seems out of place; indeed, in the presence of the statue one feels that everything is subordinated to the power and mastery of Gattamelata himself.  The general is bareheaded, and the strong courageous face is modelled with directness and energy.  The gesture is commanding, and he rides easily in the saddle.  Colleone’s statue at Venice is superior in many ways:  yet the radical distinction between