When he had finally finished his work with the painting of St Francis, Giotto returned to Florence where, after his arrival, he did a panel picture to be sent to Pisa, showing St Francis standing on the fearful rock of La Vernia. He took extraordinary pains over this work, for as well as depicting a landscape full of trees and rocks, which was an innovation for that time, he showed in the attitude of St Francis, who is eagerly kneeling down to receive the stigmata, a burning desire to be granted it and a tremendous love for Jesus Christ, who is seen above surrounded by seraphim and who concedes it to him, showing such expressive tenderness that it is impossible to imagine anything better. On the predella of the same painting are three other scenes from the life of St Francis, all beautifully executed.
This painting, which can be seen today on a pillar at the side of the high altar in San Francesco at Pisa, where it is kept as a memorial of so great a man, was the reason why the Pisans, who had just finished the fabric of the Campo Santo according to the designs of Giovanni, the son of Nicolò Pisano (as I have described already) commissioned Giotto to paint some of the interior. They wanted the inside walls to be decorated with the most noble paintings, since the outside had been encrusted at very great expense with marbles and intaglios, the roof covered with lead, and the interior contained very many antique monuments and tombs from the times of the pagans which had been brought to Pisa from all parts of the world. So having gone to Pisa for this purpose, Giotto made a start on one of the walls of the Campo Santo with six great frescoes showing scenes from the life of the patient prophet Job. Now, very judiciously, Giotto took note of the fact that the marble in the part of the building where he had to work was turned towards the sea and therefore, being exposed to the sirocco, was always damp and tended to exude salt, just as do nearly all the walls in Pisa, with the result that colours and paintings are eaten into and fade away. So to preserve his work as long as possible, wherever he intended to paint in fresco he first laid on an undercoat, or what we would call an intonaco or plaster, made of chalk, gypsum, and powdered brick. This technique was so successful that the paintings he did have survived to the present day. They would be in even better condition, as a matter of fact, if they had not been considerably damaged by damp because of the neglect of those who were in charge of them. No precautions were taken (although it would have been a simple matter to have done so) and as a result the paintings which survived the damp were ruined in several places, the flesh tints having darkened and the plaster flaked off. In any case when gypsum is mixed with chalk it always deteriorates and decays, so although when it is used it appears to make an excellent and secure binding, the colours are invariably spoilt.
In these histories as well as the portrait of Farinata degli Uberti there are many beautifully executed figures, notably those of a group of villagers bringing Job the sad news of his losses; their emotion and grief at the loss of Job’s cattle and his other misfortunes could not have been better portrayed. There is also tremendous grace in the figure of a servant with a fan of branches in his hand standing by the side of Job, who is weeping and abandoned by everyone else; the figure of the servant is beautiful no matter how it is considered, but his attitude is especially striking as with one hand he brushes away the flies from his leprous, stinking master, and with the other holds his nose in disgust, to avoid the stench.
The comparable beauty of the other figures in these histories and of the heads of the men and the women, along with the delicate treatment of the draperies, make it no wonder that because of this work Giotto won such a reputation in Pisa and beyond that Pope Benedict IX, who was intending to have some paintings commissioned for St Peter’s, sent one of his courtiers from Trevisi to Tuscany to find out what sort of man Giotto was and what his work was like. On his way to see Giotto and to find out whether there were other masters in Florence who could do skilful work in painting and mosaic, this courtier spoke to many artists in Siena. He took some of their drawings and then went on to Florence itself, where one day he arrived at Giotto’s workshop to find the artist at work. The courtier told Giotto what the Pope had in mind and the way in which he wanted to make use of his services, and, finally, he asked Giotto for a drawing which he could send to his holiness. At this Giotto, who was a very courteous man, took a sheet of paper and a brush dipped in red, closed his arm to his side, so as to make a sort of compass of it, and then with a twist of his hand drew such a perfect circle that it was a marvel to see. Then, with a smile, he said to the courtier: ‘There’s your drawing.’
As if he were being ridiculed, the courtier replied:
‘Is this the only drawing I’m to have?’
‘It’s more than enough,’ answered Giotto. ‘Send it along with the others and you’ll see whether it’s understood or not.’
The Pope’s messenger, seeing that that was all he was going to get, went away very dissatisfied, convinced he had been made a fool of. All the same when he sent the Pope the other drawings and the names of those who had done them, he also sent the one by Giotto, explaining the way Giotto had drawn the circle without moving his arm and without the help of a compass. This showed the Pope and a number of knowledgeable courtiers how much Giotto surpassed all the other painters of that time. And when the story became generally known, it gave rise to the saying which is still used to describe stupid people: ‘You are more simple than Giotto’s O.’ This is a splendid witticism, not only because of the circumstances which gave rise to it but also because of the pun it contains, the Tuscan word tondo meaning both a perfect circle and also a slow-witted simpleton.
So the Pope sent for Giotto to come to Rome, where he recognized and honoured his genius, and commissioned from him five scenes from the life of Christ for the apse of St Peter’s, as well as the principal work for the sacristy. Giotto executed these so painstakingly that they were the most finished work in tempera ever to have left his hands. The Pope, realizing how well he had been served, had Giotto given as a reward six hundred gold ducats, and did him so many other favours besides that it was talked about through all Italy.
In Rome at that time (to mention something that deserves to be recorded) there was a great friend of Giotto’s called Oderisi of Agobbio. As he was a first-class illuminator he had been brought to Rome by the Pope, and he illuminated many books for the Vatican library, most of which have not survived the passage of time. However, in my book of old drawings there are one or two things of his. He was indeed a very competent artist, although Franco of Bologna was a far better craftsman. Franco did a great deal of excellent work for the same Pope, and for the same library, in exactly the same style as Oderisi, as can be seen in my book where I have designs done by him for paintings and illuminations, among them a beautifully drawn eagle and a very fine lion which is tearing a tree. Dante mentions these two superb illuminators in the eleventh canto of the Purgatorio, where he describes the vainglorious, in these lines:
O, dissi lui, non se’ tu Oderisi,
L’onor d’Agobbio e l’onor ai quell’arte,
Ch’alluminare è chiamata in Parisi?
Frate, diss’ egli, più ridon le carte
Che pennelleggia Franco Bolognese:
L’onor è tutto or suo, e mio in parte.1
When the Pope had seen what Giotto could do, he was so pleased with his style that he ordered him to decorate the interior of St Peter’s with scenes from the Old and New Testaments. First, Giotto painted in fresco the angel, fourteen feet high, which is now over the organ; he did many other paintings, some of which have been restored in our own time and some of which, when work was started on the new walls, were either destroyed or else moved from old St Peter’s to under the organ. This was the case with a wall painting of Our Lady. To save the picture from destruction, it was cut out of the wall, supported with beams and bars of iron, and in this way carried away and for the sake of its beauty built into a place chosen by the piety and devotion of the Florentine doctor Niccolò Acciaiuoli, an admirer of great works of art, who lavishly a
dorned the work with a framework of modern paintings and stuccoes. The Navicella mosaic above the three doors of the portico in the courtyard of St Peter’s is also by Giotto; this is really a miraculous work, rightly praised by all discerning minds because of the excellence of the drawing and the grouping of the apostles who in various attitudes strain to guide their boat through the raging sea while the wind fills a sail which seems to be in such high relief that it looks real. It must have been extremely difficult to achieve with pieces of glass the harmonious composition shown in the lights and shadows of that great sail; even a painter working deftly with the brush would have found the task challenging. And Giotto also succeeded in conveying by the attitude of a fisherman who is throwing his line from a rock and on whose face is a look of eager anticipation the extraordinary patience one associates with that occupation. Under the mosaic there are three little arches painted in fresco, but I shall say no more about them since they are all nearly ruined. This work thoroughly deserves the praise it has won from all other artists.
For the Dominican church of Santa Maria sopra Minerva Giotto painted a large Crucifixion, coloured in tempera, which was very enthusiastically praised; and then, after an absence of six years, he went back to his own country. However, shortly afterwards Benedict IX died, Clement V was declared Pope in Perugia and Giotto was forced to go and work for him in Avignon where he established his court. He executed a large number of very fine panel pictures and frescoes in Avignon and elsewhere in France, giving great satisfaction to the Pope and all his court. When the time came for him to leave, therefore, he was dismissed very affectionately and loaded with gifts; and so he returned home having acquired as much wealth as he had honour and fame, and bringing with him, among other things, a portrait of the Pope which he later gave to his pupil, Taddeo Gaddi. It was the year 1316 when Giotto returned to Florence; but he was not allowed to stay there long before being called to Padua to work for the Signori della Scala, for whom he decorated a very fine chapel in the Santo, a church which had just been built. From Padua he went to Verona, where he painted several pictures for the palace of messer Cane, notably a portrait of the ruler himself as well as a panel picture for the friars of San Francesco. When these works were finished, on his way back to Tuscany Giotto had to stop at Ferrara to do some paintings for the palace of the Este family, and some work in Sant’Agostino which can still be seen there today.
In the meantime, the poet Dante got to hear that Giotto was in Ferrara and so arranged matters that he went to Ravenna where Dante himself was in exile. When Giotto arrived Dante persuaded him to paint some histories in fresco around the interior of the church of San Francesco, for the lords of Polenta; and these are moderately good. From Ravenna Giotto went on to Urbino where he also did some paintings. Then, having decided to go through Arezzo, he could not refuse to do something for Piero Saccone, who had been very good to him, and so he painted on a pillar in the principal chapel of the bishop’s palace a fresco showing St Martin cutting his cloak in two and giving half to a beggar who is standing before him almost completely naked. After this, for the abbey of Santa Fiore, he did a large panel painting of the Crucifixion, in tempera, which is now in the middle of the church; and then he at length returned to Florence where, among many other things, he did some paintings both in fresco and tempera for the convent of the nuns of Faenza. These no longer survive as the convent has been destroyed.
Giotto also worked in Lucca, where he went in 1322 (his very dear friend Dante having, to his great sorrow, died the year before), and at the request of Castruccio, who was then ruler of his native city, he painted a panel picture for San Martino; this showed Christ above and the four patron saints of the city, namely, St Peter, St Regulus, St Martin, and St Paulinus, recommending a Pope and an Emperor, these, it is commonly believed, being Frederick of Bavaria and the anti Pope Nicholas V. It is also believed by some that Giotto designed the impregnable castle and fortress of Giusta at San Frediano in the same city.
Subsequently, after Giotto had returned to Florence, Robert, king of Naples, wrote to his eldest son, Charles, king of Calabria, who was then in Florence, telling him at all costs to send Giotto to Naples, because the building of the convent and royal church of Santa Chiara had been completed and he wanted Giotto to decorate it with some truly noble paintings. At the request of so famous and renowned a king Giotto was more than willing to go to Naples, where on his arrival he painted many scenes from the Old and the New Testaments in several of the convent chapels. It is said that Dante provided suggestions for the scenes from the Apocalypse which Giotto did in one of the chapels, just as he may well have provided ideas for the famous paintings at Assisi, which I talked about in detail earlier on. To be sure, Dante was no longer living, but Giotto and he could have talked together about these subjects in the way that friends often do. But to return to Naples: Giotto did a great deal of work in the Castel Nuovo, especially for the chapel, and the results greatly pleased the king who became so fond of him that very often he would come and talk with him when he was working. The king enjoyed watching Giotto at work and hearing what he had to say; and Giotto, who was always ready with a joke or a witty response, would hold the king’s interest with his painting on the one hand and a stream of amusing conversation on the other. Once, for example, the king told Giotto that he wanted to make him the first man in Naples, and Giotto retorted that he was already the first man in Naples, since he was living at the very gates of the city by the Porta Reale. Another time, the king said to him:
‘Giotto, if I were you I would leave off painting for a while, now it’s so hot.’
And Giotto answered: ‘And so would I, if I were you.’
So Giotto delighted the king and painted for him a large number of pictures, both in the hall which King Alfonso I later destroyed to build the castle and in the church of the Incoronata; and among those in the hall were portraits of many famous men, including Giotto himself. One day the king asked him, for a joke, to paint his kingdom; and Giotto, so the story goes, painted an ass with a saddle on its back and another at its feet, eagerly sniffing the one on the ground. Both saddles, the one on the animal’s back and the new one at its feet, carried the royal crown and sceptre. When the king asked Giotto to explain what this meant, he said that it represented his kingdom, and his subjects, who wanted to have a new ruler every day.
Having left Naples for Rome, Giotto then stopped at Gaeta, where he had to paint some scenes from the New Testament for the church of the Annunziata. These have been spoilt by the passage of time, though not to the extent that one cannot see clearly a portrait of Giotto himself next to a large and very beautiful Crucifixion. When this work was finished, Giotto was persuaded to spend some days in Rome in the service of Signor Malatesta, and from there he went to Rimini, which was ruled by Malatesta. There he painted very many pictures in San Francesco, which were later torn down and destroyed by Gismondo, the son of Pandolfo Malatesta, when he completely rebuilt the church.
Giotto also painted a fresco for the cloisters opposite the façade of San Francesco, depicting the life of the Blessed Michelina; and because of the many beautiful ideas it expressed this was one of the finest and most wonderful paintings he ever did. The beautiful draperies and the graceful and lively heads are both marvellous; but the outstanding feature is the remarkably lovely young woman who is swearing on a book to refute an accusation of adultery. Her attitudes and gestures are stupendous: she stands there, staring straight into the eyes of her husband, who is compelling her to declare her innocence on oath because of the distrust aroused in him by the dark-skinned boy to whom she has given birth, and whom he just cannot accept as his own. While her husband shows suspicion and contempt in his expression, the purity of her face and her eyes proclaim to those who are watching her so intently her innocence and her simplicity and the wickedness of the wrong that is being done in having her make her protestation and be falsely accused as a whore. Giotto also showed great powers of expression in the figure of
a sick man covered in sores; the women standing near him are all wriggling in disgust, but in the most graceful fashion imaginable. Then again Giotto’s use of foreshortening in another picture showing a group of deformed beggars is very creditable and should be valued very highly by all artists since it marked a new departure, apart from the fact that for the first attempt at that kind of effect it was reasonably successful. The most marvellous feature of the fresco, however, is the attitude of the Blessed Michelina as she stands before a group of usurers who are paying her for the possessions she has sold them in order to help the poor. One can see how she despises and loathes the money and all other worldly things; and on their part the usurers are the personification of human greed and avarice. Again, the face of the man who is counting the money and at the same time making signs to the notary, who is writing, is very fine indeed; the way his eyes are fixed on the notary, although he keeps his hands over the money, betrays his lust for gain, his avarice, and his suspicion. And one cannot praise too highly the three figures representing Obedience, Patience, and Poverty who are holding up the habit of St Francis; for the style in which Giotto has painted their garments, with the folds falling so convincingly, demonstrates clearly that he was born to shed new light on the art of painting. As well as this, he did a very realistic portrait of Signor Malatesta, on board a ship, looking so lifelike that he seems to be breathing; there are also some sailors and other people whose lively movements, dispositions, and attitudes (and notably those of the man who as he talks with the others is putting a hand to his mouth and spitting into the sea) all proclaim Giotto’s great skill. Certainly of all Giotto’s pictures this is the best, seeing that among the many he depicted there no two figures are alike and each one reflects his creative genius. It is no wonder, therefore, that he was magnificently rewarded and praised by Signor Malatesta.
Lives of the Artists Page 7
