of shyness and deference.  The upper part of the tabernacle, supported on very plain corbels, is occupied by a broad relief, at either end of which stand other winged angels, more boyish and confident than those below.  This relief is, perhaps, Donatello’s masterpiece in stiacciato.  It is the Entombment, his first presentment of those intensely vivid scenes which were so often reproduced during his later years.  Christ is just being laid in the tomb by two solemn old men with flowing beards, St. Joseph and St. Peter.  The Virgin kneels as the body is lowered into the tomb.  Behind her is St. Mary Magdalene, her arms extended, her hair dishevelled; scared by the frenzy of her grief.  To the right St. John turns away with his face buried in his hands.  The whole composition—­striking in contrast to the quiet and peaceful figures below—­is treated with caution and reserve.  But 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