lithe figure draped with the camel-hair tunic which ends above the
knees. Hanging over the left shoulder is a long piece of drapery,
falling to the ground behind him, and giving support to the marble,
just as in the other Baptist. We have the open mouth, the curly hair
and the broad nostrils: in every way it is a typical work of the
sculptor. There are two other early Baptists, both in the Bargello.
The little relief in Pietra Serena[63] is a delightful rendering of
gentle boyhood. The modelling shows Donatello's masterful treatment of
the soft flesh and the tender muscles beneath it. Everything is
subordinated to his object of showing real boyhood with all the charm
of its imperfections. The head is shown in profile, thus enabling us
to judge the precise nature of all the features, each one of which
bears the imprint of callow _morbidezza_. Even the hair has the
dainty qualities of childhood: it has the texture of silk. It is a
striking contrast to the life-sized Baptist who has just reached
manhood. We see a St. John walking out into the desert. He looks
downward to the scroll in his hand, trudging forward with a hesitating
gait,--but only hesitating because he is not sure of his foothold, so
deeply is he absorbed in reading. It is a triumph of concentration.
Donatello has enlisted every agency that could intensify the oblivion
of the world around him. It is from this aloofness that the figure
leaves a detached and inhospitable impression. One feels instinctively
that this St. John would be friendless, for he has nothing to offer,
and asks no sympathy. There is no room for anybody else in his career,
and nobody can share his labours or mitigate his privations. In short,
there is no link between him and the spectator. Unless we interpret
the statue in this manner, it loses all interest--it never had any
beauty--and the St. John becomes a tiresome person with a pedantic and
ill-balanced mind. But Donatello can only have meant to teach the
lesson of concentrated unity of purpose, which is the chief if not the