them is that whereas Gattamelata is the faithful portrait of a modest though successful warrior, it must be confessed that Verrocchio makes an idealised soldier of fortune, full of bravado and swagger, a Malbrook s’en va-t-en guerre of the Quattrocento.  But, striking as the contrast of sentiment is, noticeable alike in the artist and his model, these two statues remain the finest equestrian monuments in the world, their one possible rival being Can Grande at Verona.  Donatello has decorated Gattamelata’s saddle and armour with a mass of delicate and vivacious detail, which modifies the severity without distracting the eye.  The putti which act as pommels to the saddle are delightful little figures, and the damascened and chased fringes of the armour are excellent.  Moreover, the armour does not overweight the figure.  The horse, of rather a thick and “punchy” breed, is well suited to carry a heavy load; he is full of spirit, and is neighing and chafing, as the old critics pointed out.  An enormous wooden horse, some twenty-four feet long, is preserved in the Sala della Raggione at Padua.  It used to belong to the Capodalista family, and has been considered Donatello’s model for the Gattamelata charger.  This is unlikely, and it was more probably used in some procession, being ridden by a huge emblematic figure.  It is improbable that Donatello should have done more than sketch the design; but the head of the horse is admirable, with the feathery ears and bushy topknot which one finds in the Venice quadriga, on Gattamelata’s steed, and on the colossal bronze head of a horse now preserved in the Naples Museum.  This used to be considered an antique, but it is now established beyond all question that Donatello made it; and it was presented in 1471 to Count Mataloni by Lorenzo de’ Medici.  It is an interesting work, defective in some places, and treated similarly to classical examples; indeed, Donatello was obviously influenced in all his equine statuary by the most obvious classical horses at his command, namely, those at Venice.  He does not seem to have taken ideas from the Marcus Aurelius, which he had not seen for upwards of ten years when commissioned to make the Gattamelata.  The base of the statue is simple, but scarcely worthy of the monument it supports.  The pedestal made by Leopardi for the Colleone monument is both more decorative and dignified.  On Donatello’s pedestal there are two marble reliefs of winged boys holding the general’s helmet, badge and cuirass.  The reliefs on the monument are copies of the maimed originals now preserved in a dark passage of the Santo cloister.  There must be many statues elsewhere, now taken for originals, which are nothing more than replicas of what had gradually perished.  If one closely examines the sculpture on some of the church facades—­Siena Cathedral, for instance—­one finds that most of the statues are only held together by numberless metal ties and clamps; and one may safely assume that many of those in really good condition have been placed there at later dates.