After his work for Malatesta was finished, at the request of the Florentine prior of San Cataldo of Rimini Giotto executed for the exterior of the church door a portrait of St Thomas Aquinas reading to his brethren. Then he left for Ravenna where he decorated a chapel in San Giovanni Evangelista with frescoes which were very highly praised. And then he returned to Florence, renowned and prosperous, where he painted for San Marco a larger than life-size Crucifixion, in tempera on a gold background. He did a similar Crucifixion for Santa Maria Novella, working with the help of his assistant Puccio Capanna. This work is still there today, above the principal door on the right over the tomb of the Gaddi family by the entrance. In the same church for Paolo di Lotto Ardinghelli he executed over the screen a portrait of St Louis, at the foot of which he painted life-portraits of Paolo and his wife.
In 1327 Guido Tarlati da Pietramala, bishop and ruler of Arezzo, died at Massa di Maremma when he was returning from Lucca where he had gone to visit the emperor, and his body was brought to Arezzo to receive the honour of a magnificent funeral; and then Piero Saccone and Dolfo da Pietramala, the bishop’s brother, decided that this great man, who had been both a spiritual and a temporal lord and head of the Ghibellines of Tuscany, should be properly commemorated with a marble tomb. So they wrote to Giotto, instructing him to design a very rich tomb, as noble as possible; they sent him the measurements and they asked if he would put them in touch with the best sculptor he knew in Italy, since they were ready to place themselves completely in his hands. Giotto, who was always very courteous, sent them the finished design, and the tomb was executed in accordance with it, as I shall describe. Shortly after he received the design, Piero Saccone, who had boundless admiration for Giotto’s abilities, captured the Borgo di San Sepolcro and brought back to Arezzo a panel by Giotto showing various small figures, which later on fell to pieces. However, a Florentine gentleman, Baccio Gondi, a great lover of talent and the fine arts, who was then commissary at Arezzo, searched very diligently for the pieces, found some of them, and brought them to Florence where he has since treasured them along with various other works from the hand of Giotto, who indeed executed so many that it would scarcely be believed if I described them all.
Not many years ago, when I happened to be visiting the hermitage of Camaldoli where I have done a good deal of work for the reverend fathers, I saw an autograph painting by Giotto in one of the cells, where I was taken by the Very Reverend Don Antonio of Pisa.1 It was a small Crucifix on a field of gold, a very beautiful work; and today, according to what I was told by the Reverend Don Silvano Razzi, a monk of the Camaldoli, this work is in the Degli Angeli monastery at Florence, in the prior’s cell, where it is guarded as a precious work from the hand of Giotto, along with a very beautiful little painting by Raphael of Urbino.
For the Umiliati friars of Ognissanti at Florence Giotto painted a chapel and four panel pictures, including a Madonna and Child with a choir of angels, and a large Crucifix on wood, whose design was used by Puccio Capanna who was expert in Giotto’s own style and who subsequently reproduced many copies of it in various parts of Italy. When my Lives of the Painters, Sculptors, and Architects was first printed, there was also in the transept of Ognissanti a small panel picture in tempera which had been painted by Giotto with great care and which showed the death of Our Lady, with a group of apostles and with the figure of Christ receiving her soul into his arms. This work has been highly praised by painters, especially by Michelangelo Buonarroti, who, as I record elsewhere, affirmed it was a painting of great quality and truth. Well, as I say, this little picture attracted considerable attention after my book was first published and was then removed by someone or other who perhaps, as our poet says, acted ruthlessly out of piety and love of the arts, because he thought that the painting was not held in respect. And it was indeed miraculous that in those days Giotto could paint with such sublime grace, especially when we consider that he learned his art, so as to speak, without any instructor.
After this, on 9 July 1334, Giotto set his hand to the campanile of Santa Maria del Fiore; a foundation of solid stone was laid at a depth of about forty feet, after the water and gravel had been excavated, and on this base he laid about twenty-four feet of good ballast and then had the remaining sixteen feet filled with masonry. The bishop of the city attended the ceremony, solemnly laying the first stone in the presence of all the clergy and magistrates. The work was carried forward according to the original plan, which was in the contemporary German style, and Giotto designed all the subjects for the ornamentation, very carefully marking the model with white, black, and red colours where the marbles and the friezes were to go. The base measured some 200 feet, namely, fifty feet for each side, and the height was about 288 feet. And if what Lorenzo di Cione Ghiberti left in writing is true, and I certainly think it is, Giotto was responsible not only for the model for the campanile but also for some of the scenes in marble in which are the beginnings of all the arts of sculpture and relief. Lorenzo also claims to have seen models in relief from the hand of Giotto and in particular models for the works mentioned above; and this we can readily believe, because design and invention are the father and mother of all, and not merely one, of the arts.
According to Giotto’s model, the campanile was in fact meant to have a spire, or rather a four-sided pyramid, about 100 feet high; but because of its old-fashioned, German style, modern architects have never thought this worth doing, believing it better to leave the campanile as it is. For all these works, Giotto was not only given Florentine citizenship but also granted by the Commune a hundred gold florins a year, which was a lot of money in those days. He was also made overseer of the work on the campanile, which was later on brought to a conclusion by Taddeo Gaddi, after Giotto’s death.
While work was progressing on the campanile, Giotto painted a panel picture for the nuns of San Giorgio, and on an arch inside the doorway of the abbey of Florence he painted three half-length figures, since covered in whitewash to lighten the church. And in the great hall of the Podestà at Florence he painted a representation of the Commune, plundered by many. The figure is represented as a judge seated with a sceptre in his hand, the balanced scales of justice over his head, and attended by four virtues, namely, Strength with generosity, Prudence with the laws, Justice with arms, and Temperance with the word.
Then he returned to Padua where as well as decorating several chapels and executing many other works he painted a Worldly Glory for the church of the Arena, which won him considerable honour and profit. He also executed some works in Milan, which are dispersed in various parts of the city and which are still regarded as extremely good.
Eventually, in the year 1336, fairly soon after his return from Milan, Giotto (who had made so many beautiful works of art and whose devout life as a Christian matched his achievements as a painter) gave up his soul to God, to the great sorrow of all his fellow citizens and all those who had known him or merely heard his name. And he was buried, as his accomplishments deserved, with great honour. During his life he was loved by everyone, especially by those who were eminent in the professions; for apart from Dante, whom we mentioned above, Giotto and his works were greatly esteemed by Petrarch, and so much so that we read in the latter’s will that he left to Signor Francesco da Carrara, ruler of Padua, among the other possessions he treasured, a painting from the hand of Giotto, depicting the Madonna, as a rare and pleasing gift. The relevant clause of the will reads as follows:
Transeo ad dispositionem aliarum rerum; et praedicto igitur domino meo Paduano, quia et ipse per Dei gratiam non eget, et ego nihil aliud habeo dignum se, mitto tabulam meam sive historiam Beatae Virginis Mariae, opus Jocti pictoris egregii, quae mihi ab amico meo Michaele Vannis de Florentia missa est, in cujus pulchritudinem ignorantes non intelligunt, magistri autem artis stupent: hanc inconem ipsi domino lego, ut ipsa Virgo benedicta sibi sit propitia apud filium suum Jesus Christum etc.1
This same Petrarch, in a letter in Latin in the fifth book of his
Intimate Letters, writes as follows:
Atque (ut a veteribus ad nova, ab externis ad nostra transgrediar), duos ego novi pictores egregios, nec formosos, Joctum Florentinum civem, cujus inter modernos fama ingens est, et Simonem Senensem. Novi scultores aliquot etc.2
Giotto was buried in Santa Maria del Fiore, on the left of the entrance to the church where there is a slab of white marble as his memorial. And, as I mentioned in the Life of Cimabue, a commentator on Dante, who was contemporary with the great Giotto, said:
Giotto was and is the greatest of painters and comes from the same city of Florence; and his work at Rome, Naples, Avignon, Florence, and Padua, and in many other parts of the world bears this out.
His pupils included Taddeo Gaddi, who as I have said was his godson, and the Florentine, Puccio Capanna. At Rimini, in the church of San Cataldo belonging to the Friars Preachers, Capanna executed a superb fresco showing the abandonment of a ship which is sinking under the waves while the men are throwing their belongings into the water, among the sailors being a self-portrait of Puccio himself. After Giotto’s death, the same artist completed many works in the church of San Francesco at Assisi. And in the church of Santa Trinità at Florence he decorated the Strozzi Chapel, beside the door on the river-front, painting in fresco the Coronation of the Virgin, with a choir of angels, which owes a great deal to Giotto’s own style; on the walls he painted some very finely executed scenes from the life of St Lucy. In the abbey of Florence he painted the Covoni Chapel, dedicated to St John the Evangelist, which is near the sacristy. And at Pistoria he painted in fresco the principal chapel of the church of San Francesco and the chapel of San Lodovico with scenes from the lives of the two saints, which are reasonably good. In the same city, in the middle of the church of San Domenico, there is a Crucifixion by Puccio with a Madonna and St John, painted with great tenderness; at the feet of these figures there is an entire skeleton, which demonstrates how at a time when this was unheard of Puccio endeavoured to discover the basic principles of art. This work is signed by the author as follows: PUCCIO DI FIORENZA ME FECE. Also in the same church, in the tympanum above the door of Santa Maria Novella, are three half-length figures, namely, Our Lady holding her son in her arms, with St Peter on one side and St Francis on the other.
As I mentioned before, Puccio also worked in Assisi, where in the Lower Church of San Francesco he executed some frescoes, showing scenes from the Passion of Jesus Christ, which were skilfully and vigorously done, and he painted a fresco for the chapel of the church of Santa Maria degli Angeli depicting Christ in glory with the Virgin interceding with him on behalf of all Christians; this work is very fine, but it has been all blackened by smoke from the lamps and candles which are always burning there in great numbers. As far as can be judged, in fact, Puccio had captured the personal style and approach of his master Giotto and knew how to express them very competently in the works that he did (although it has been asserted that his life was cut short because working too much in fresco undermined his health and then killed him). He is also credited with the frescoes depicting scenes from the life of St Martin, executed for Cardinal Gentile in the chapel dedicated to that saint in the same church. And in the middle of the street called Portica there is a Christ at the Column and a picture of Our Lady between St Catherine and St Clare.
Paintings by Puccio Capanna are found in various other parts of Italy, as in Bologna, for example, where in the nave of the church there is a panel picture of the Passion of Christ with scenes from the life of St Francis; in short, Puccio left many other works which it would take too long to discuss. It is worth mentioning, however, that in Assisi, where most of his works are and where, I believe, he assisted Giotto, I have discovered that they regard him as their fellow citizen and that there are some members of the family of Capanni still living; from this we may readily conclude that he was born in Florence (since he wrote this himself), and that he was a disciple of Giotto, but that he then took a wife in Assisi by whom he had children whose descendants still live there. But there is little point in worrying about the exact truth of this; it is enough that he was a good artist.
Another of Giotto’s pupils, and a very expert painter, was Ottaviano da Faenza: he painted a number of pictures at Ferrara in San Giorgio, the church belonging to the monks of Monte Oliveto. At Faenza, where he lived and died, he painted in the tympanum above the door of San Francesco a figure of Our Lady with St Peter and St Paul; and he completed many other works in his own native city and in Bologna.
Yet another of Giotto’s pupils was Pace da Faenza, who stayed with him for a long time and helped him very often. There are some frescoes by his hand at Bologna, on the façade of San Giovanni Decollate. Pace was a very skilful painter, especially of small figures, as one can see today in the church of San Francesco at Forlì where there are two very successful paintings of his: a Tree of the Cross and a little panel picture in tempera depicting the life of Christ and four small subjects from the life of Our Lady. It is also reported that in the chapel of Sant’Antonio at Assisi he executed some frescoes depicting scenes from the life of St Anthony for a duke of Spoleto, who is buried there with one of his sons. (These two were killed when fighting on the outskirts of Assisi, as may be seen from a lengthy inscription on their tomb.) In the old book of the Guild of Painters it is recorded that he had a certain Francesco, said to be ‘of Master Giotto’, as his pupil; but I know nothing more about this.
Guglielmo da Forlì was also one of Giotto’s pupils, and his many commissions included the painting of the chapel of the high altar for the church of San Domenico at Forll, his native town. Still other pupils of Giotto were Pietro Laureati, Simon Memmi of Siena, Stefano of Florence, and the Roman, Pietro Cavallini. But I shall discuss these when I come to write their lives, merely recording here the fact that they were taught by Giotto. And how well Giotto drew for his time, and what his personal style was like, can be seen from a number of parchments in my book of drawings; these contain water-colours, pen-and-ink drawings, and chiaroscuros with the lights in white, all from his hand. In comparison with the work of artists who lived before Giotto, these are truly marvellous.
As I have already said, Giotto was a very sharp-witted, light-hearted man, always ready with a witty remark, as is well remembered in Florence; apart from what Giovanni Boccaccio wrote, Franco Sacchetti in his Three Hundred Novelle records many of Giotto’s best sayings. I think it is worth while recording some of these, using Franco’s own words, so that in reading one of his stories we can be reminded of some of the phrases and modes of speech used in those days. So here is one of his stories, under its proper title:
A man of no importance asked the great painter Giotto to paint a buckler for him. In mockery, Giotto paints it in such a way that he is covered in confusion.
NOVELLA LXII
Everyone must have heard of Giotto, and how he surpassed every other painter. His fame came to the ears of a common workman who for some reason, perhaps to do feudal service, decided to have his buckler painted. So straightaway he went along to Giotto’s workshop, followed by someone carrying the buckler. When he arrived and found Giotto, he said:
‘Good day, sir. Be good enough to paint my coat-of-arms on this buckler.’
Giotto considered both the man and his manners, and then said merely:
‘When d’you want it done?’
When he was told this, he added:
‘Leave it to me.’
The man went his way and Giotto was left behind, thinking to himself:
‘What is all this about? Could the fellow have been sent for a joke? Well, no matter what it is, I’ve never before been asked to paint a buckler. The man who brought it is a miserable little fool, asking me to paint his coat-of-arms just as if he were a member of the royal house of France. Well, I will certainly make him an original coat-of-arms.’
Musing in this fashion, Giotto took the buckler, improvised a design, and then told one of his pupils to finish the painting. When this was done,
it showed a head-piece, a gorget, a pair of armlets, a pair of iron gauntlets, a pair of cuirasses, a pair of cuisses and gamadoes, a sword, a dagger, and a lance.
The worthy owner, whom nobody knew anything about, came back and said:
‘Well sir, is that buckler ready?’
Said Giotto: ‘Certainly it is. Bring it down here.’
The buckler arrived, the proxy gentleman stared at it, then he turned to Giotto and said:
‘What’s this rubbish you’ve daubed on?’
‘You’d better have the rubbish to pay for it,’ said Giotto.
‘I won’t pay you a penny.’
‘Well, what did you ask me to paint?’ said Giotto.
‘My coat-of-arms.’
‘Isn’t that what I’ve done?’ retorted Giotto. ‘Is there something missing?’
‘There certainly is.’
‘God damn you,’ said Giotto, ‘you must be a great fool. If someone asked who you were you’d scarcely know what to say; yet you come here and demand “paint my coat-of-arms”. That would be fine – if you belonged to the house of Bardi. What are your arms? Where do you come from? Who are your ancestors? Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? You’ll have to make people aware you exist before you start talking about your coat-of-arms, as if you were the duke of Bavaria himself. I’ve painted all your arms for you on your buckler. If there’s anything more, tell me and I’ll put it in.’
Lives of the Artists Page 8