Part 17

Some writers assert that the works of Cimabue possessed little merit when compared with those of later times; and that the extraordinary applause which he received flowed from an age ignorant of art. It should be recollected, however, that it is much easier to copy or follow, when the path has been marked out, than to invent or discover; and hence that the glorious productions of the "Prince of modern Painters," form no criterion by which to judge of the merits of those of the "Father of modern Painters." The former had "the accumulated wisdom of ages" before him, of which he availed himself freely; the latter had nothing worthy of note, but his own talents and the wild field of nature, from which he was the first of the moderns who drew in the spirit of inspiration. "Giotto," says Vasari, "did obscure the fame of Cimabue, as a great light diminishes the splendor of a lesser one; so that, although Cimabue may be considered the cause of the restoration of the art of painting, yet Giotto, his disciple, impelled by a laudable ambition, and well aided by heaven and nature, was the man, who, attaining to superior elevation of thought, threw open the gate of the true way, to those who afterwards exalted the art to that perfection and greatness which it displays in our own age; when accustomed, as men are, daily to see the prodigies and miracles, nay the _impossibilities_, now performed by artists, they have arrived at such a point, that they no longer marvel at anything accomplished by man, even though it be more divine than human. Fortunate, indeed, are artists who now labor, however meritoriously, if they do not incur censure instead of praise; nay, if they can even escape disgrace." It should be recollected that Vasari held this language in the days of Michael Angelo.

All the great frescos of Cimabue, and most of his easel pictures, have perished. Besides the picture of the Virgin before mentioned, there is a St. Francis in the church of S. Croce, an excellent picture of St. Cecilia, in that of S. Stefano, and a Madonna in the convent of S. Paolino at Florence. There are also two paintings by Cimabue in the Louvre--the Virgin with angels, and the Virgin with the infant Jesus. Others are attributed to him, but their authenticity is very doubtful.

DEATH OF CIMABUE.

According to Vasari, Cimabue died in 1300, and was entombed in the church of S. Maria del Fiore at Florence. The following epitaph, composed by one of the Nini, was inscribed on his monument:

"Credidit ut Cimabos picturæ castra tenere Sic tenuit, vivens, nunc tenet astra poli."

It appears, however, from an authentic document, cited by Campi, that Cimabue was employed in 1302 in executing a mosaic picture of St. John, for the cathedral of Pisa; and as he left this figure unfinished, it is probable that he did not long survive that year.

GIOTTO.

This great artist, one of the fathers of modern painting, was born at Vespignano, a small town near Florence, in 1276. He was the son of a shepherd named Bondone, and while watching his father's flocks in the field, he showed a natural genius for art by constantly delineating the objects around him. A sheep which he had drawn upon a flat stone, after nature, attracted the attention of Cimabue, who persuaded his father, Bondone, to allow him to go to Florence, confident that he would be an ornament to the art. Giotto commenced by imitating his master, but he quickly surpassed him. A picture of the Annunciation, in the possession of the Fathers of Badia at Florence, is one of his earliest works, and manifests a grace and beauty superior to Cimabue, though the style is somewhat dry. In his works, symmetry became more chaste, design more pleasing, and coloring softer than before. Lanzi says that if Cimabue was the Michael Angelo of that age, Giotto was the Raffaelle. He was highly honored, and his works were in great demand. He was invited to Rome by Boniface VIII., and afterwards to Avignon by Clement V. The noble families of Verona, Milan, Ravenna, Urbino, and Bologna, were eager to possess his works. In 1316, according to Vasari, he returned from Avignon, and was employed at Padua, where he painted the chapel of the Nunziata all' Arena, divided all around into compartments, each of which represents some scriptural event. Lanzi says it is truly surprising to behold, not less on account of its high state of preservation beyond any other of his frescos, than for its graceful expression, and that air of grandeur which Giotto so well understood. About 1325 he was invited to Naples by King Robert, to paint the church of S. Chiara, which he decorated with subjects from the New Testament, and the Mysteries of the Apocalypse. These, like many of his works, have been destroyed; but there remains a Madonna, and several other pictures, in this church. Giotto's portraits were greatly admired, particularly for their air of truth and correct resemblance. Among other illustrious persons whom he painted, were the poet Dante, and Clement VIII. The portrait of the former was discovered in the chapel of the Podesta, now the Bargello, at Florence, which had for two centuries been covered with whitewash, and divided into cells for prisoners. The whitewash was removed by the painter Marini, at the instance of Signor Bezzi and others, and the portrait discovered in the "Gloria" described by Vasari. Giotto was also distinguished in the art of mosaic, particularly for the famous Death of the Virgin at Florence, greatly admired by Michael Angelo; also the celebrated Navicella, or Boat of St. Peter, in the portico of the Basilica of St. Peter's at Rome, which is now so mutilated and altered as to leave little of the original design.

As an architect, Giotto attained considerable eminence, according to Milizia, and erected many important edifices, among which is the bell-tower of S. Maria del Fiore. The thickness of the walls is about ten feet; the height is two hundred and eighty feet. The cornice which supports the parapet is very bold and striking; the whole exterior is of Gothic design, inlaid with marble and mosaic, and the work may be considered one of the finest specimens of campanile in Italy.

GIOTTO'S ST. FRANCIS STIGMATA

In the church of S. Francesco at Pisa, is a picture by Giotto, representing St. Francis receiving the Stigmata,[A] which is in good preservation, and held in great veneration, not only for the sake of the master, but for the excellence of the work. Vasari says, "It represents St. Francis, standing on the frightful rocks of La Verna; and is finished with extraordinary care. It exhibits a landscape with many trees and precipices, which was a new thing in those times. In the attitude and expression of St. Francis, who is on his knees receiving the Stigmata, the most eager desire to obtain them is clearly manifest, as well as infinite love towards Jesus Christ, who, from heaven above, where he is seen surrounded by the seraphim, grants those stigmata to his servant, with looks of such lively affection, that it is not possible to conceive anything more perfect. Beneath this picture are three others, also from the life of St. Francis, and very beautiful."

[Footnote A: Stigmata, signifies the five wounds of the Saviour impressed by himself on the persons of certain saints, male and female, in reward for their sanctity and devotion to the service.]

GIOTTO'S INVITATION TO ROME.

Boniface VIII., desirous of decorating St. Peter's church with some paintings, having heard of the extraordinary talents of Giotto, despatched one of his courtiers to Tuscany, to ascertain the truth, as to his merits, and to procure designs from other artists for his approbation and selection. Vasari says, "The messenger, when on his way to visit Giotto, and to enquire what other good masters there were in Florence, spoke first with many artists in Siena--then, having received designs from them, he proceeded to Florence, and repaired one morning to the workshop where Giotto was occupied with his labors. He declared the purpose of the Pope, and the manner in which that pontiff desired to avail himself of his assistance, and finally requested to have a drawing that he might send it to his holiness. Giotto, who was very courteous, took a sheet of paper and a pencil dipped in a red color; then resting his elbow on his side to form a sort of compass, with one turn of the hand, he drew a circle so perfect and exact that it was a marvel to behold. This done, he turned smiling to the courtier, saying, 'There is your drawing.' 'Am I to have nothing more than this?' enquired the latter, conceiving himself to be jested with. 'That is enough and to spare,' replied Giotto, 'send it with the rest, and you will see if it will not be recognized.' The messenger, unable to obtain anything more, went away very ill satisfied, and fearing that he had been fooled. Nevertheless, having despatched the other drawings to the Pope, with the names of those who had done them, he sent that of Giotto also, relating the mode in which he had made his circle, without moving his arm and without compass; from which the Pope, and such of the courtiers as were well versed in the subject, perceived how far Giotto surpassed all the other painters of his time. This incident becoming known, gave rise to the proverb still used in relation to people of dull wits, 'In sei più tondo che l'O di Giotto,' (round as Giotto's O,) the significance of which consists in the double meaning of the word _tondo_, which is used in the Tuscan for slowness of intellect, and slowness of comprehension, as well as for an exact circle. The proverb besides has an interest from the circumstance which gave it birth."

Giotto was immediately invited to Rome by the Pope, who received him with distinction, and commissioned him to paint a large picture in the sacristy of St. Peter's, with five others in the church, representing subjects from the life of Christ, which gave so much satisfaction to the pontiff, that he commanded 600 gold ducats to be paid to the artist, "besides conferring on him so many favors," says Vasari, "that there was talk of them throughout Italy."

GIOTTO'S LIVING MODEL.

Giotto, about to paint a picture of the Crucifixion, induced a poor man to suffer himself to be bound to a cross, under the promise of being set at liberty in an hour, and handsomely rewarded for his pains. Instead of this, as soon as Giotto had made his victim secure, he seized a dagger, and, shocking to tell, stabbed him to the heart! He then set about painting the dying agonies of the victim to his foul treachery. When he had finished his picture, he carried it to the Pope; who was so well pleased with it, that he resolved to place it above the altar of his own chapel. Giotto observed, that, as his holiness liked the copy so well, he might perhaps like to see the original. The Pope, shocked at the impiety of the idea, uttered an exclamation of surprise. "I mean," added Giotto, "I will show you the person whom I employed as my model in this picture, but it must be on condition that your holiness will absolve me from all punishment for the use which I have made of him." The Pope promised Giotto the absolution for which he stipulated, and accompanied the artist to his workshop. On entering, Giotto drew aside a curtain which hung before the dead man, still stretched on the cross, and covered with blood.

The barbarous exhibition struck the pontiff with horror; he told Giotto he could never give him absolution for so cruel a deed, and that he must expect to suffer the most exemplary punishment. Giotto, with seeming resignation, said that he had only one favor to ask, that his holiness would give him leave to finish the piece before he died. The request had too important an object to be denied; the Pope readily granted it; and, in the meantime, a guard was set over Giotto to prevent his escape.

On the painting being replaced in the artist's hands, the first thing he did was to take a brush, and, dipping it into a thick varnish, he daubed the picture all over with it, and then announced that he had finished his task. His holiness was greatly incensed at this abuse of the indulgence he had given, and threatened Giotto that he should be put to the most cruel death, unless he painted another picture equal to the one which he had destroyed. "Of what avail is your threat," replied Giotto, "to a man whom you have doomed to death at any rate?" "But," replied his holiness, "I can revoke that doom." "Yes," continued Giotto, "but you cannot prevail on me to trust to your verbal promise a second time." "You shall have a pardon under my signet before you begin." On that, a conditional pardon was accordingly made out and given to Giotto, who, taking a wet sponge, in a few minutes wiped off the coating with which he had bedaubed the picture, and instead of a copy, restored the original in all its beauty to his holiness. Although this story is related by many writers, it is doubtless a gross libel on the fair fame of this great artist, originating with some witless wag, who thought nothing too horrible to impose upon the credulity of mankind. It is discredited by the best authors. A similar fable is related of Parrhasius. See the Olynthian Captive, vol. I. page 151 of this work.

GIOTTO AND THE KING OF NAPLES.

After Giotto's return to Florence, about 1325, Robert, King of Naples, wrote to his son Charles, King of Calabria, who was then in Florence, desiring that he would by all means send Giotto to him at Naples, to decorate the church and convent of Santa Clara, which he had just completed, and desired to have adorned with noble paintings. Giotto readily accepted this flattering invitation from so great and renowned a monarch, and immediately set out to do him service. He was received at Naples with every mark of distinction, and executed many subjects from the old and New Testaments in the different chapels of the building. It is said that the pictures from the Apocalypse, which he painted in one of the chapels, were the inventions of Dante; but Dante was then dead, and if Giotto derived any advantage from him, it must have been from previous discussions on the subject. These works gave the greatest satisfaction to the King, who munificently rewarded the artist, and treated him with great kindness and extraordinary familiarity. Vasari says that Giotto was greatly beloved by King Robert, who delighted to visit him in his painting room, to watch the progress of his work, to hear his remarks, and to hold conversation with him; for Giotto had a ready wit, and was always as ready to amuse the monarch with his lively conversation and witty replies as with his pencil. One day the King said to him, "Giotto, I will make you the first man in Naples," to which Giotto promptly replied, "I am already the first man in Naples; for this reason it is that I dwell at the Porta Reale." At another time the King, fearing that he would injure himself by overworking in the hot season, said to him, "Giotto, if I were in your place, now that it is so hot, I would give up painting for a time, and take my rest." "And so would I do, certainly," replied Giotto, "were I the King of Naples." One day the King to amuse himself, desired Giotto to _paint his kingdom_. The painter drew an ass carrying a packsaddle loaded with a crown and sceptre, while a similar saddle, also bearing the ensigns of royalty, lay at his feet; these last were all new, and the ass scented them, with an eager desire to change them for those he bore. "What does this signify, Giotto?" enquired the King. "Such is thy kingdom," replied Giotto, "and such thy subjects, who are every day desiring a new lord."

GIOTTO AND DANTE.

The children of Giotto were remarkably ill-favored. Dante, one day, quizzed him by asking, "Giotto, how is it that you, who make the children of others so beautiful, make your own so ugly?" "Ah, my dear friend," replied the painter, "mine were made in the dark."

DEATH OF GIOTTO.

"Giotto," says Vasari, "having passed his life in the production of so many admirable works, and proved himself a good Christian, as well as an excellent painter, resigned his soul to God in the year 1336, not only to the great regret of his fellow citizens, but of all who had known him, or even heard his name. He was honorably entombed, as his high deserts had well merited, having been beloved all his life, but more especially by the learned men of all professions." Dante and Petrarch were his warm admirers, and immortalized him in their verse. The commentator of Dante, who was cotemporary with Giotto, says, "Giotto was, and is, the most eminent of all the painters of Florence, and to this his works bear testimony in Rome, Naples, Avignon, Florence, Padua, and many other parts of the world."

BUONAMICO BUFFALMACCO.

The first worthy successor of Giotto in the Florentine school, was Buffalmacco, whose name has been immortalized by Boccaccio in his _Decameron_, as a man of most facetious character. He executed many works in fresco and distemper, but they have mostly perished. He chiefly excelled in Crucifixions and Ascensions. He was born, according to Vasari, in 1262, and died in 1340, aged 78; but Baldinucci says that he lived later than 1358. His name is mentioned in the old Book of the Company of Painters, under the date of 1351, (_Editors of the Florentine edition of Vasari_, 1846.). Buffalmacco was a merry wag, and a careless spendthrift, and died in the public hospital.

BUFFALMACCO AND HIS MASTER.

"Among the Three Hundred Stories of Franco Saccheti," says Vasari, "we find it related to begin with, what our artist did in his youth--that when Buffalmacco was studying with Andrea Tafi, his master had the habit of rising before daylight when the nights were long, compelling his scholars also to awake and proceed to their work. This provoked Buonamico, who did not approve of being aroused from his sweetest sleep. He accordingly bethought himself of finding some means by which Andrea might be prevented from rising so early, and soon found what he sought." Now it happened that Tafi was a very superstitious man, believing that demons and hobgoblins walked the earth at their pleasure. Buffalmacco, having caught about thirty large beetles, he fastened to the back of each, by means of small needles, a minute taper, which he lighted, and sent them one by one into his master's room, through a crack in the door, about the time he was accustomed to rise and summon him to his labors. Tafi seeing these strange lights wandering about his room, began to tremble with fright, and repeated his prayers and exorcisms, but finding they produced no effect on the apparitions, he covered his head with the bed clothes, and lay almost petrified with terror till daylight. When he rose he enquired of Buonamico, if "he had seen more than a thousand demons wandering about his room, as he had himself in the night?" Buonamico replied that he had seen nothing, and wondered he had not been called to work. "Call thee to work!" exclaimed the master, "I had other things to think of besides painting, and am resolved to stay in this house no longer;" and away he ran to consult the parish priest, who seems to have been as superstitious as the poor painter himself. When Tafi discoursed of this strange affair with Buonamico, the latter told him that he had been taught to believe that the demons were the greatest enemies of God, consequently they must be the most deadly adversaries of painters. "For," said he, "besides that we always make them most hideous, we think of nothing but painting saints, both men and women, on walls and pictures, which is much worse, since we thereby render men better and more devout to the great despite of the demons; and for all this, the devils being angry with us, and having more power by night than by day, they play these tricks upon us. I verily believe too, that they will get worse and worse, if this practice of rising to work in the night be not discontinued altogether." Buffalmacco then advised his master to make the experiment, and see whether the devils would disturb him if he did not work at night. Tafi followed this advice for a short time, and the demons ceased to disturb him; but forgetting his fright, he began to rise betimes, as before, and to call Buffalmacco to his work. The beetles then recommenced their wanderings, till Tafi was compelled by his fears and the earnest advice of the priest to desist altogether from that practice. "Nay," says Vasari, "the story becoming known through the city, produced such an effect that neither Tafi, nor any other painter dared for a long time to work at night."

Another laughable story is related of Buffalmacco's ingenuity to rid himself of annoyance. Soon after he left Tafi, he took apartments adjoining those occupied by a man who was a penurious old simpleton, and compelled his wife to rise long before daylight to commence work at her spinning wheel. The old woman was often at her wheel, when Buonamico retired to bed from his revels. The buzz of the instrument put all sleep out of the question; so the painter resolved to put a stop to this annoyance. Having provided himself with a long tube, and removed a brick next to the chimney, he watched his opportunity, and blew salt into their soup till it was spoiled. He then succeeded in making them believe that it was the work of demons, and to desist from such early rising. Whenever the old woman touched her wheel before daylight, the soup was sure to be spoiled, but when she was allowed reasonable rest, it was fresh and savory.

BUFFALMACCO AND THE NUNS OF THE CONVENT OF FAENZA.