observation of nature. A later critic, shrewd and now much neglected,
said that Titian "contented himself with pure necessity, which is the
simple imitation of nature."[24] One could not say quite so much of
Donatello, in whom, curiously enough, the love of nature was limited
to its human aspect. He seems to have been impervious to outdoor
nature, to the world of plants and birds and beasts. Ghiberti, his
contemporary, was a profound student of natural life in all its forms,
and the famous bronze doors of the Baptistery are peopled with the
most fanciful products of his observation. "I strove to imitate nature
to the utmost degree," he says in his commentary.[25] Thus Ghiberti
makes a bunch of grapes, and wanting a second bunch as _pendant_, he
takes care to make it of a different species. The variety and richness
of his fruit and flower decoration are extraordinary and, if possible,
even more praiseworthy than the dainty garlands of the Della Robbia.
With Donatello all is different. He took no pleasure in enriching his
sculpture in this way. The Angel of the Annunciation carries no lily;
when in the Tabernacle of St. Peter's he had to decorate a pilaster he
made lilies, but stiff and unreal. His trees in the landscape
backgrounds of the Charge to Peter and the Release of Princess Sabra
by St. George are tentative and ill-drawn. The children of the
Cantoria, the great singing gallery made for the Cathedral, are
dancing upon a ground strewn with flowers and fruit. The idea was
charming, but in executing it Donatello could only make _cut_ flowers
and withered fruit. There is no life in them, no savour, and the
energy of the children seems to have exhausted the humbler form of
vitality beneath their feet. Years afterwards, when Donatello's
assistants were allowed a good deal of latitude, we find an effort to
make more use of this invaluable decoration: the pulpits of San
Lorenzo, for instance, have some trees and climbing weeds showing keen
study of nature. But Donatello himself always preferred the