Ghiberti has three works here—­the St. Stephen, the St. Matthew, and the St. John Baptist, the only sculptures of the kind he ever produced.  Full of energy though the St. Stephen may be, it has about it a sort of divine modesty that lends it a charm altogether beyond anything we may find in the St. John Baptist, a figure full of character, nevertheless.  It is, however, in the St. Matthew that we see Ghiberti at his best perhaps, in a figure for once full of strength, and altogether splendid.

Donatello, too, had three figures here beside the relief beneath the St. George.  The St. Peter on the north side is probably the earliest work done for Or San Michele, and is certainly the poorest.  The St. Mark on the south side is, however, a fine example of his earlier manner, with a certain largeness, strength, and liberty about it a frankness, too, in expression so that he has made us believe in the goodness of the Apostle, which, as Michelangelo is reported to have said must have vouched for the truth of what he taught.

The masterpiece, certainly, of these Tuscan sculptures is the bronze group of Christ and St. Thomas by Verrocchio, which I have so loved.  All the work of this master is full of eagerness and force:  something of that strangeness without which there is no excellent beauty, that later was so characteristic of the work of his pupil Leonardo, you will find in this work also, a subtlety sometimes a little elaborate, that, as I think is but a sort of over-eagerness to express all he has thought to say.  Donatello prepared this niche for him at the end of his life it was almost his last work; and Verrocchio, after many years of labour, had thought to place here really his masterpiece, in the church that, more than any other, belonged to the people of the city, that middle class, as we might say, from which he sprang.  How perfectly, and yet not altogether without affectation, he has composed that difficult scene, so that St. Thomas stands a little out of the setting, and places his finger—­yes, almost as a child might do—­in the wounded side of Jesus, who stands majestically fair before him.  It is true the drapery is complicated, a little heavy even, but with what care he has remembered everything!  Consider the grace of those beautiful folds, the beauty of the hair, the loveliness of the hands:  and then, as Burckhardt reminds us, as a piece of work founded and cast in bronze, it is almost inimitable.

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Within, the church is strange and splendid.  It is as though one stood in a loggia in deep shadow, at the end of the day in the last gold of the sunset; and there, amid the ancient fading glory of the frescoes, is the wonderful shrine that Orcagna made for the picture of Madonna, who had turned the Granary of S. Michele into the Church of the People.  Finished in 1359, this tabernacle is the loveliest work of the kind in Italy, an unique masterpiece, and perhaps