Giotto

I believe that painters owe the same debt to Giotto, the Florentine painter, as they owe to nature, which continually serves as a model to those who strive to copy and imitate her, drawing what is good from her finest and most beautiful parts. For after the methods and outlines of good painting had lain buried for so many years beneath the ruins of war, he alone, though born among incapable artists, restored by God’s gift an art that had gone astray, and brought it to such a state that it could be called good. It was indeed a very great miracle that so crude and unskilled an age should have had the power to work so knowledgeably through Giotto that drawing, of which the people of those times knew little or nothing, returned wholly to life through him.

Yet this great man’s beginnings were in the year 1276, in the countryside of Florence, fourteen miles from the city, in the village of Vespignano. His father, named Bondone, was a worker of the land and a simple man. Having this son, whom he named Giotto, he brought him up respectably according to his station. When the boy reached the age of ten, displaying even in his childish actions an extraordinary liveliness and readiness of mind that endeared him not only to his father but to everyone who knew him in the village and beyond, Bondone gave him some sheep to look after. As he moved about the farm, grazing them now in one place and now in another, his natural inclination towards the art of drawing led him continually to draw on flat stones, on the ground or in the sand, either something from nature or whatever came into his imagination.

One day Cimabue, travelling on business from Florence to Vespignano, found Giotto drawing a sheep from life on a smooth, flat stone with a slightly pointed pebble, while his flock grazed. He had learnt how to do this from no one but nature. Cimabue stopped in astonishment and asked whether he would like to come and live with him. The boy replied that, if his father agreed, he would gladly go. Cimabue therefore asked Bondone, who readily entrusted the boy to him and agreed that he should take him to Florence. Once there, aided by nature and taught by Cimabue, the boy soon not only equalled his master’s manner but became so good an imitator of nature that he banished that clumsy Greek manner altogether and revived the good, modern art of painting. He introduced the practice of making good likenesses of living people from nature, which had not been used for more than two hundred years. If anyone had attempted it, as I have said above, he had not succeeded very happily, nor nearly so well as Giotto.

Among others, he portrayed Dante Alighieri, his contemporary and very great friend, in the chapel of the palace of the podestà in Florence, where he may still be seen today. Dante was no less famous as a poet than Giotto was as a painter in those same times: the Giotto so highly praised by Messer Giovanni Boccaccio in the introduction to his tale of Messer Forese da Rabatta and Giotto the painter himself.

In the same chapel are portraits, likewise by his hand, of Ser Brunetto Latini, Dante’s master, and Messer Corso Donati, a great citizen of those days. Giotto’s first paintings were in the chapel of the high altar of the Badia in Florence. There he made many things considered beautiful, particularly an Annunciation to Our Lady. In it he vividly expressed the fear and alarm that Gabriel’s greeting caused the Virgin Mary, who seems so overwhelmed with terror that she is almost about to flee. The panel on that chapel’s high altar is also by Giotto. It has been kept there until today, and remains there still, more from a certain reverence for the work of so great a man than for any other reason.

In Santa Croce there are four chapels by the same hand: three between the sacristy and the principal chapel, and one on the other side. In the first of the three, belonging to Messer Ridolfo de’ Bardi, where the bell ropes hang, is the life of Saint Francis. At his death a good number of friars convey the act of weeping very fittingly. In the next, belonging to the Peruzzi family, are two scenes from the life of Saint John the Baptist, to whom the chapel is dedicated. Here the dancing and leaping of Herodias, and the readiness of servants attending at table, are shown with great life. In the same chapel are two wonderful scenes of Saint John the Evangelist: his raising of Drusiana and his being taken up into heaven. In the third, belonging to the Giugni and dedicated to the Apostles, Giotto painted scenes of the martyrdom of many of them.

In the fourth chapel, on the north side of the church, belonging to the Tosinghi and Spinelli and dedicated to the Assumption of Our Lady, Giotto painted her birth, marriage and Annunciation, the Adoration of the Magi, and the moment when she hands the infant Christ to Simeon. This last is very beautiful: besides the great tenderness apparent in the old man receiving Christ, the child’s movement could not be more touching or beautiful, as, afraid of him, he stretches out his arms and turns timidly towards his mother. In the death of Our Lady are the Apostles and a good number of very beautiful angels holding torches.

In the Baroncelli Chapel in the same church is a panel in tempera by Giotto, showing the Coronation of Our Lady, executed with great care, a very great number of small figures, and a choir of angels and saints, all most diligently worked. Since his name and the date are written on this work in gold letters, artists who consider the age in which Giotto, without any light from the good manner, began the good method of drawing and colouring will be compelled to hold him in the highest reverence.

In the same church of Santa Croce, above the marble tomb of Carlo Marzupini of Arezzo, are a Crucifix, Our Lady, Saint John and the Magdalene at the foot of the cross. On the opposite side of the church, directly facing this, above the tomb of Leonardo of Arezzo towards the high altar, is an Annunciation, which modern painters have repainted—with little judgement on the part of whoever ordered it. In the refectory are scenes of Saint Louis in a Tree of the Cross and a Last Supper by the same hand; and on the cupboards of the sacristy are scenes from the lives of Christ and Saint Francis in small figures.

He also painted the entire life of Saint John the Baptist, divided into several pictures, in that saint’s chapel in the church of the Carmine. In the palace of the Guelf Party in Florence is a scene of the Christian faith in fresco by his hand, most perfectly painted. It includes a portrait of Pope Clement IV, who established that magistracy and gave it his coat of arms, which it has always retained and retains still.

After these things, leaving Florence to finish the works begun by Cimabue at Assisi, he passed through Arezzo. In the Pieve he painted the chapel of Saint Francis above the baptismal font and, on a round column beside a very beautiful ancient Corinthian capital, Saint Francis and Saint Dominic portrayed from life. In the cathedral outside Arezzo he painted a little chapel with the Stoning of Saint Stephen, with a beautiful arrangement of figures.

Having finished these works, he went to Assisi, a city of Umbria, summoned by Fra Giovanni di Muro della Marca, then minister general of the Franciscans. In the Upper Church, below the gallery that runs across the windows, he painted in fresco thirty-two scenes of the life and deeds of Saint Francis, sixteen on each side, with such perfection that he won very great fame. Indeed, this work displays great variety, not only in the gestures and attitudes of each figure but also in the composition of all the scenes. The variety of the costumes of those days, and certain imitations and observations of things in nature, are also very beautiful to see.

Among the rest, one scene is particularly beautiful: a thirsty man, in whom the longing for water is vividly apparent, bends down to the ground and drinks at a spring, with such great and truly marvellous expression that he almost seems a living person drinking. There are many other things most worthy of consideration, which I shall not discuss further so as not to be lengthy. It is enough to say that this whole work won Giotto very great fame through the excellence of its figures and through the order, proportion, liveliness and ease that he possessed by nature, greatly increased through study, and could clearly display in everything. Because, besides his natural gifts, Giotto was exceptionally studious, continually thinking of new things and drawing them from nature, he deserved to be called the pupil of nature, and of no one else.

After completing those scenes, he painted in the same place, but in the Lower Church, the upper walls beside the high altar and all four compartments of the vault above the place where Saint Francis’s body lies, with beautiful and imaginative inventions. In the first is Saint Francis glorified in heaven, surrounded by the virtues required of anyone who wishes to be fully in God’s grace. On one side Obedience places a yoke around the neck of a friar kneeling before her; its cords are drawn heavenwards by certain hands. With a finger to her lips she commands silence, looking towards Jesus Christ, who sheds blood from his side. Prudence and Humility accompany this virtue, to show that wherever there is true obedience there are always humility and the prudence that makes every action good.

In the second compartment is Chastity, who stands in a very strong fortress and will not be conquered by the kingdoms, crowns or palms that some present to her. At her feet is Cleanliness, washing naked people, while Fortitude leads others to be washed and cleansed. Beside Chastity, on one side, is Penitence, driving away winged Love with a scourge and putting Impurity to flight.

In the third place is Poverty, walking barefoot over thorns. A dog barks behind her, a boy nearby throws stones at her, and another uses a stick to press thorns against her legs. Here Poverty is shown marrying Saint Francis, while Jesus Christ holds her hand; Hope and Chastity are present, not without a deeper meaning. In the fourth and last compartment is Saint Francis again glorified, dressed in a white deacon’s tunicle, triumphant in heaven among a multitude of angels forming a choir around him. He has a banner bearing a cross with seven stars, and above is the Holy Spirit. Inside each compartment are Latin words explaining the scenes.

Besides these four compartments, the side walls contain very beautiful paintings, truly worthy of esteem, both for the perfection visible in them and because they were worked with such care that they have remained fresh until today. In these scenes is a very well-made portrait of Giotto himself. Above the sacristy door is another fresco by him, of Saint Francis receiving the stigmata, so full of feeling and devotion that I consider it the finest painting Giotto made among these works, which are all truly beautiful and praiseworthy.

When he had finished this Saint Francis, the last of the works, he returned to Florence. There he painted, with extraordinary care, a panel to be sent to Pisa, showing Saint Francis on the fearful rock of La Verna. Besides landscapes full of trees and rocks, which were a new thing in those days, the attitude of Saint Francis, kneeling and eagerly receiving the stigmata, reveals a burning desire to receive them and an infinite love for Jesus Christ. Christ grants them to him from the air, surrounded by seraphim, with feelings so vividly expressed that nothing better can be imagined. Below, on the same panel, are three very beautiful scenes from the saint’s life.

This panel, now seen on a pier beside the high altar of San Francesco in Pisa and held in great veneration in memory of so great a man, led the Pisans to commission Giotto to paint part of the inner walls of the Camposanto. The building had just been completed to the design of Giovanni, son of Nicola Pisano, as I said above. Since this great structure was faced outside with marble and carving made at enormous expense, roofed with lead, and filled within with ancient pagan sarcophagi and tombs brought to Pisa from various parts of the world, they wanted its interior walls to be adorned with the noblest paintings.

Giotto therefore went to Pisa and painted six large fresco scenes of the most patient Job at the beginning of one wall of that Camposanto. He prudently considered that the marble on the side where he was to work faced the sea and, saturated with salt by the south-east winds, was always damp and exuded a certain salinity, as most Pisan bricks do, which dims and eats away colours and paintings. To preserve his work as long as possible, he therefore had a rough coat—or plaster or rendering, as we choose to call it—made everywhere he intended to paint in fresco, mixing lime, gypsum and crushed brick so suitably that the paintings he afterwards made upon it have survived to this day.

They would be in better condition if the extreme negligence of those responsible had not allowed damp to damage them greatly. Failing to prevent this, as could easily have been done, has caused the paintings to suffer from moisture: they have deteriorated in places, the flesh tones have blackened and the plaster has flaked. Moreover, gypsum mixed with lime naturally decays and deteriorates with time, and so inevitably ruins the colours, although at first it seems to make a very strong and sound bond.

Besides a portrait of Messer Farinata degli Uberti, these scenes contain many beautiful figures, especially certain countrymen bringing sorrowful news to Job. They could not be more expressive or better show their grief at the loss of the livestock and the other misfortunes. There is also an astonishing grace in the figure of a servant with a fan attending Job, covered in sores and almost abandoned by everyone. Though well made in every part, he is marvellous in his action: with one hand he drives flies from his leprous, stinking master, while with the other, full of disgust, he holds his nose against the smell.

The other figures and the heads of both men and women in these scenes are likewise very beautiful, and the draperies are handled so softly that it is no wonder the work won him such fame in Pisa and beyond that Pope Benedict IX of Treviso sent a courtier into Tuscany to discover what sort of man Giotto was and what his works were like, intending to have some paintings made in Saint Peter’s.

Travelling to see Giotto and learn what other masters in Florence excelled in painting and mosaic, the courtier spoke to many masters in Siena. After obtaining drawings from them, he came to Florence. One morning he visited Giotto at work in his workshop, explained the Pope’s wishes and how he intended to employ him, and finally asked for a small drawing to send to His Holiness. Giotto, who was a most engaging man, took a sheet of paper and, with a brush dipped in red, held his arm against his side to make a compass of it. Turning his hand, he drew a circle so even in its shape and outline that it was a marvel to behold. Then, smiling, he said to the courtier, “Here is your drawing.”

The man, thinking himself mocked, said, “Am I to have no other drawing than this?” “This is enough, and more than enough,” Giotto replied. “Send it with the others, and you will see whether it is understood.” Seeing that he could obtain nothing else, the messenger left thoroughly dissatisfied, suspecting that he had been made a fool of. Nevertheless, when he sent the Pope the other drawings and their makers’ names, he sent Giotto’s too, explaining how he had drawn his circle without moving his arm and without compasses. From this the Pope and many knowledgeable courtiers recognised how far Giotto surpassed all the other painters of his time.

When the story spread, it gave rise to the proverb still used of dull-witted people: “You are rounder than Giotto’s O.” The proverb is good not only because of the incident that produced it, but even more because of its meaning, which depends on an ambiguity: in Tuscany “round”, besides describing a perfect circle, also means slow and thick in understanding.

The Pope therefore summoned him to Rome, where he greatly honoured and rewarded his ability, and had him paint five scenes from the life of Christ in the tribune of Saint Peter’s and the principal panel in the sacristy. Giotto executed these with such care that no more finished work in tempera ever left his hands. The Pope, considering himself well served, rewarded him with six hundred gold ducats, besides granting so many favours that they were spoken of throughout Italy.

At this time in Rome Giotto was a close friend of Oderigi of Gubbio—to mention something belonging to art that deserves remembrance—an excellent illuminator of those days. Summoned by the Pope for this purpose, he illuminated many books for the palace library, most of which have now been consumed by time. My book of old drawings contains some surviving pieces by his own hand. He was indeed an able man, although a much better master was Franco Bolognese, an illuminator who worked excellently in that manner at the same time for the same Pope and library. This may be seen in my book, where I have drawings for paintings and illuminations by him, including a very well-made eagle and a most beautiful lion breaking a tree. Dante mentions these two excellent illuminators in the eleventh canto of the Purgatorio, where he discusses the vainglorious, in these verses:

“Oh,” I said to him, “are you not Oderigi,the honour of Gubbio and the honour of that artwhich in Paris is called illumination?”“Brother,” he said, “the pages paintedby Franco Bolognese smile more brightly;the honour is all his, and only partly mine”, and so forth.

Having seen these works and being immensely pleased with Giotto’s manner, the Pope ordered him to paint scenes from the Old and New Testaments all around Saint Peter’s. Giotto began with the angel seven braccia high above the organ and many other frescoes. Some have been restored by others in our own day; others, when the new walls were founded, were destroyed or moved from old Saint Peter’s to the area beneath the organ. One was a Madonna painted on a wall. To prevent its destruction, the wall was cut around it, secured with beams and ironwork, and lifted out. Because of its beauty, it was then set into a wall where Messer Niccolò Acciaiuoli, a Florentine doctor of law, wished: such was his devotion to and love for excellent works of art. He richly adorned this work of Giotto with stucco and other modern paintings.

Giotto also made the mosaic ship above the three doors of the portico in the courtyard of Saint Peter’s. It is truly marvellous and rightly praised by all discerning minds. Besides its drawing, there is the arrangement of the Apostles, struggling in different ways against the stormy sea, while the winds blow into a sail that has so much relief that a real one would scarcely have more. Yet it is difficult to achieve with those pieces of glass such unity as is seen in the whites and shadows of this great sail: even with the greatest effort, a brush could hardly equal it. Moreover, in a fisherman fishing with a line from a rock, his posture reveals the extreme patience proper to that occupation, and his face the hope and desire of making a catch. Below this work are three little arches painted in fresco; since they are mostly ruined, I shall say no more of them. The praise universally given to this work by artists is therefore deserved.

After painting a large Crucifix in tempera on panel in the Minerva, the church of the Dominican friars, much praised at the time, Giotto returned to his native city, having been away for six years.

But shortly afterwards Clement V was elected Pope at Perugia following the death of Benedict IX, and Giotto was obliged to accompany him to Avignon, where he took his court, to make some works there. He painted many very beautiful panels and frescoes, not only in Avignon but in many other places in France, which greatly pleased the Pope and the whole court. When he had finished, the Pope dismissed him affectionately with many gifts, and he returned home no less wealthy than honoured and famous. Among other things he brought a portrait of that Pope, which he later gave to his pupil Taddeo Gaddi. This return to Florence took place in 1316.

He was not, however, allowed to remain long in Florence. Through the efforts of the lords della Scala he was brought to Padua, where he painted a very beautiful chapel in the Santo, a church built in those times. From there he went to Verona, where he made several paintings for Messer Cane in his palace, particularly a portrait of that lord, and a panel for the Franciscan friars. Having finished these works, on his way back to Tuscany he was obliged to stop at Ferrara and paint for the Este lords, both in their palace and in Sant’Agostino, where some of his works may still be seen today.

Meanwhile Dante, the Florentine poet, heard that Giotto was in Ferrara and arranged to bring him to Ravenna, where he was living in exile. There he had him paint some fresco scenes around the church of San Francesco for the lords da Polenta; these are creditable works. From Ravenna he went to Urbino and worked there too. Afterwards, passing through Arezzo, he could not refuse Piero Saccone, who had treated him with great affection. On a pier of the cathedral’s principal chapel he therefore painted Saint Martin in fresco, cutting his cloak in half and giving part to an almost naked poor man before him. After making a large wooden Crucifix in tempera for the Badia of Santa Fiore, now in the middle of that church, he finally returned to Florence. Among many other things, he painted frescoes and tempera works in the convent of the women of Faenza. These no longer exist, the convent having been destroyed.

Likewise, in 1322, his great friend Dante having died the previous year to his deep sorrow, he went to Lucca. At the request of Castruccio, then lord of that city, his native place, Giotto made a panel in San Martino with Christ in the air and the city’s four patron saints—Saint Peter, Saint Regulus, Saint Martin and Saint Paulinus—apparently commending to him a pope and an emperor. Many believe these to be Frederick the Bavarian and the antipope Nicholas V. Some also believe that Giotto designed the impregnable castle and fortress of the Giusta at San Frediano in the same city of Lucca.

After Giotto returned to Florence, Robert, King of Naples, wrote to his eldest son Charles, King of Calabria, who was then in Florence, telling him to send Giotto to Naples at all costs. He had finished building Santa Chiara, a convent of women and a royal church, and wanted Giotto to adorn it with noble paintings. Hearing himself summoned by so celebrated and highly praised a king, Giotto went more than willingly to serve him. On arriving he painted many scenes from the Old and New Testaments in several chapels of that convent. The scenes from the Apocalypse in one of them were, it is said, Dante’s invention, as perhaps were the much-praised scenes at Assisi, of which enough has already been said above.

Though Dante was dead by this time, they could well have discussed these things, as friends often do. But to return to Naples: Giotto made many works in the Castel dell’Ovo, especially the chapel, which greatly pleased the King. The King loved him so much that Giotto often found him keeping him company as he worked, taking pleasure in watching him paint and listening to his conversation. Giotto always had a joke at hand and a witty answer ready, entertaining the King by painting with his hand and jesting in pleasant conversation.

One day the King told him that he wanted to make him the first man in Naples. Giotto replied, “That is why I am lodged at the Royal Gate: to be the first in Naples.” Another time the King said, “Giotto, if I were you, now that it is hot, I would leave off painting for a while.” He answered, “And so would I, certainly, if I were you.” Being so welcome to the King, he made a good number of paintings in a hall that King Alfonso I later demolished to build the castle, and likewise in the Incoronata. Among the paintings in that hall were portraits of many famous men, including Giotto himself.

One day the King, on a whim, asked him to paint his kingdom. Giotto, it is said, painted a donkey wearing a pack-saddle, with another new pack-saddle at its feet; it was sniffing at the new one and appeared to desire it. On both saddles were the royal crown and the sceptre of power. When the King asked what the painting meant, Giotto replied that such were his subjects and such his kingdom, where a new lord was desired every day.

Leaving Naples for Rome, Giotto stopped at Gaeta, where he was obliged to paint some scenes from the New Testament in the Annunziata. These are now damaged by time, but not so badly that one cannot clearly see Giotto’s own portrait beside a very beautiful large Crucifix. After finishing this work, unable to refuse Lord Malatesta, he first stayed in Rome for a few days in his service, then went to Rimini, of which Malatesta was lord. There he made very many paintings in San Francesco, which were later pulled down and destroyed by Sigismondo, son of Pandolfo Malatesta, when he rebuilt the entire church.

In the cloister of the same place, opposite the church’s façade, he also painted in fresco the story of the blessed Michelina. This was one of the most beautiful and excellent things Giotto ever made, for the many fine observations he brought to it. Besides the beauty of the draperies and the marvellous grace and liveliness of the heads, there is a young woman as beautiful as a woman can be. To clear herself of an accusation of adultery, she swears on a book in an astonishing attitude, fixing her eyes on those of her husband. He has made her swear because he suspects her after the birth of a black child, whom he cannot bring himself to believe is his. As the husband’s face shows anger and distrust, so the piteous expression of her brow and eyes reveals to anyone looking closely her innocence and simplicity, and the wrong done her in making her swear and falsely proclaiming her a prostitute.

He also expressed very great feeling in a man suffering from sores. All the women around him, offended by the smell, make gestures of disgust with the greatest grace.

The foreshortenings seen in another picture, among a number of poor people portrayed there, are highly praiseworthy and should be valued by artists. From these came the first beginning and method of making them; and, as first attempts, they can certainly be called creditable. But above everything else in this work, the action of the blessed woman towards certain usurers paying her the money from the sale of her possessions, to be given to the poor, is most marvellous. She shows contempt for money and other earthly things, which seem to stink in her nostrils; in the usurers one sees the very image of human avarice and greed.

The figure of a man counting the money and apparently signalling to the notary to write is likewise very beautiful. Though his eyes are on the notary, his hands remain over the money, revealing his attachment, avarice and distrust. The three figures in the air holding up Saint Francis’s habit, representing Obedience, Patience and Poverty, deserve infinite praise. Especially in their draperies, the natural flow of the folds shows that Giotto was born to bring light to painting.

In a boat in this work he also portrayed Lord Malatesta so naturally that he seems thoroughly alive. Certain sailors and other people, through their readiness, feeling and attitudes, reveal Giotto’s excellence, particularly a figure who, while speaking to others, puts a hand to his face and spits into the sea. Certainly this may be called one of the best of all the paintings made by this master: among so many figures, not one lacks great skill or an imaginatively chosen pose. It is therefore no wonder that Lord Malatesta rewarded and praised him magnificently.

Having completed that lord’s works, at the request of a Florentine prior then at San Cataldo in Rimini, he painted Saint Thomas Aquinas lecturing to his friars outside the church door. Leaving there, he returned to Ravenna and made a much-praised fresco chapel in San Giovanni Evangelista. Then, returning to Florence with very great honour and substantial means, he made a wooden Crucifix in tempera for San Marco, larger than life and on a gold ground, which was placed on the right side of the church. He made another similar one in Santa Maria Novella, with his pupil Puccio Capanna working alongside him. This remains today above the principal doorway, on the right as one enters the church, over the tomb of the Gaddi. In the same church, above the screen, he painted a Saint Louis for Paolo di Lotto Ardinghelli, with portraits from life of Paolo and his wife at the saint’s feet.

In 1327 Guido Tarlati da Pietramala, bishop and lord of Arezzo, died at Massa di Maremma on his return from Lucca, where he had visited the Emperor. After his body had been brought to Arezzo and given a most honourable funeral, Piero Saccone and Dolfo da Pietramala, the bishop’s brother, resolved that he should have a marble tomb worthy of so great a man, who had been both spiritual and temporal lord and head of the Ghibelline party in Tuscany. They therefore wrote to Giotto, sending the measurements and asking him to design as splendid and honourable a tomb as possible. They also asked him to find them the sculptor he considered the finest in Italy, entrusting everything to his judgement.

Giotto, courteous as he was, made the design and sent it to them. The tomb was made according to it, as will be told in its proper place. Piero Saccone so greatly admired this man’s ability that, having captured Borgo San Sepolcro not long after receiving the design, he took from there to Arezzo a panel by Giotto with small figures, which afterwards fell to pieces. Baccio Gondi, a Florentine gentleman who loved these noble arts and every kind of excellence, diligently searched for the fragments while serving as commissioner of Arezzo. Finding some, he took them to Florence, where he holds them in great veneration, together with other works he owns by Giotto, who produced so much that an account of it would hardly be believed.

Not many years ago, when I was at the hermitage of Camaldoli, where I have made many works for those reverend fathers, I saw in a cell a very beautiful small Crucifix on a gold ground, by Giotto and bearing his name. It had been brought there by the Very Reverend Don Antonio of Pisa, then general of the Camaldolese congregation. According to the Reverend Don Silvano Razzi, a Camaldolese monk, it is now kept in the superior’s cell in the monastery of the Angeli in Florence, as a most rare thing because it is by Giotto, together with a very beautiful little picture by Raphael of Urbino.

For the Humiliati friars of Ognissanti in Florence, Giotto painted a chapel and four panels, one showing Our Lady with her son in her arms and many angels around her. He also made a large wooden Crucifix. Taking his design from it, Puccio Capanna afterwards made many throughout Italy, being thoroughly practised in Giotto’s manner. When this book of the Lives of painters, sculptors and architects was first printed, there was on that church’s screen a small panel in tempera, painted by Giotto with infinite care, showing the death of Our Lady with the Apostles around her and Christ receiving her soul in his arms.

This work was much praised by painters, particularly Michelangelo Buonarroti, who declared, as I have said elsewhere, that the aptness of this painted scene could not have been more true to life. After the first publication of these Lives brought it to notice, this little panel, I say, was removed by someone who perhaps, from love of art and pity, thinking it insufficiently valued, became—as our poet said—pitiless. Truly it was a miracle in those days that Giotto should have had so much grace in painting, especially considering that in a certain sense he learnt the art without a master.

After these things, on 9 July 1334, he began the bell tower of Santa Maria del Fiore. Its foundations were dug twenty braccia deep, and a bed of strong stone was laid in the part from which water and gravel had been removed. Above this bed he made a solid mass of poured material rising twelve braccia from the bottom of the foundations; the remaining eight braccia were built in masonry laid by hand. At this beginning and foundation the city’s archbishop was present and solemnly laid the first stone before all the clergy and magistrates.

As the work proceeded according to that model, in the German manner then in use, Giotto designed all the narrative scenes for its decoration. He carefully marked the model in white, black and red wherever the stones and friezes were to go. Its circumference at the base was one hundred braccia, twenty-five on each side, and its height one hundred and forty-four braccia. If what Lorenzo di Cione Ghiberti left in writing is true—and I hold it to be entirely true—Giotto made not only the model of the bell tower but also sculpted in relief some of the marble scenes showing the beginnings of all the arts. Lorenzo states that he saw relief models by Giotto, particularly those for these works. This is readily believable, since drawing and invention are the father and mother of all these arts, not of one alone.

According to Giotto’s model, the bell tower was to be finished above what we now see by a point, or square pyramid, fifty braccia high. But because this was German and old-fashioned, modern architects have always advised against making it, thinking the tower better as it is. For all these things Giotto was not only made a Florentine citizen but granted by the commune an allowance of one hundred gold florins a year—a great sum in those days—and appointed superintendent of the work. After him it was continued by Taddeo Gaddi, since Giotto did not live long enough to see it finished.

While this work was going forward, he made a panel for the nuns of San Giorgio and, in an arch above the doorway inside the Badia in Florence, three half-length figures, now whitewashed over to brighten the church. In the great hall of the podestà in Florence he painted the Commune being robbed by many people. He represented it seated as a judge with a sceptre in its hand and balanced scales above its head, for the just decisions it administered, aided by four virtues: Fortitude with courage, Prudence with laws, Justice with arms and Temperance with words. It was a beautiful painting, with an apt and convincing invention.

Afterwards, going again to Padua, besides many other works and chapels that he painted there, he made a Worldly Glory in the Arena, which brought him much honour and profit. He also worked in Milan, where his paintings are scattered throughout the city and are still considered very beautiful. Finally, not long after returning from Milan, having made so many beautiful works during his lifetime and having been no less a good Christian than an excellent painter, he gave his soul to God in 1336, to the great sorrow of all his fellow citizens—indeed, of everyone who had not only known him but even heard his name.

He was honourably buried, as his abilities deserved, having been loved in life by everyone and particularly by outstanding men in every profession. Besides Dante, whom we have discussed above, Petrarch greatly honoured both him and his works. Indeed, Petrarch’s will records that among the things he held in the greatest reverence he left Lord Francesco da Carrara, lord of Padua, a picture by Giotto containing Our Lady, as a rare work that had been very dear to him. The words of that clause of the will are as follows:

I pass to the disposal of my other possessions. To my aforesaid lord of Padua, therefore, since by God’s grace he lacks nothing and I have nothing else worthy of him, I send my panel, or image of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the work of the excellent painter Giotto, sent to me from Florence by my friend Michele Vanni. The ignorant do not understand its beauty, but masters of the art are astonished by it. I bequeath this image to that lord, that the Blessed Virgin herself may be gracious to him before her son Jesus Christ, and so forth.

In a Latin letter in the fifth book of his Familiar Letters, the same Petrarch says these words:

And—to pass from the old to the new, and from foreign matters to our own—I have known two excellent painters, neither of them handsome: Giotto, a citizen of Florence, whose fame among the moderns is immense, and Simone of Siena. I have known some sculptors, and so forth.

Giotto was buried in Santa Maria del Fiore, on the left as one enters the church, where a slab of white marble commemorates so great a man. As I said in the Life of Cimabue, a commentator on Dante who lived while Giotto was alive wrote: “Giotto was, and is, the greatest among the painters of the same city of Florence; his works bear witness to this in Rome, Naples, Avignon, Florence, Padua and many other parts of the world.”

His pupils included Taddeo Gaddi, for whom he had stood godfather, as has been said, and the Florentine Puccio Capanna. In the Dominican church of San Cataldo in Rimini, Puccio painted an excellent fresco of a votive ship that seems to be sinking into the sea, with men throwing goods into the water. Among a good number of sailors is a portrait from life of Puccio himself. After Giotto’s death he painted many works in San Francesco at Assisi. In Florence, in Santa Trinita, beside the side door towards the river, he painted the Strozzi Chapel. There is a Coronation of the Virgin in fresco, with a choir of angels approaching Giotto’s manner, and, at the sides, very well-executed scenes of Saint Lucy.

In the Badia in Florence he painted the Covoni family’s chapel of Saint John the Evangelist beside the sacristy. In Pistoia he frescoed the principal chapel of San Francesco and the chapel of Saint Louis with their stories, which are creditable. In the middle of San Domenico in the same city are a Crucifix, a Madonna and a Saint John, handled with much sweetness, and at their feet an entire human skeleton in marble. In this—an unusual thing at the time—Puccio showed that he had attempted to investigate the foundations of art. On this work his name is written by his own hand in this form: “Puccio of Florence made me.” Also by his hand, in the same church, in the arch above the door of Santa Maria Nuova, are three half-length figures: Our Lady with the child in her arms, Saint Peter on one side and Saint Francis on the other.

In the Lower Church of San Francesco in Assisi he also painted some fresco scenes of the Passion of Jesus Christ with good and very confident execution. In the frescoed chapel of Santa Maria degli Angeli he made Christ in glory with the Virgin praying to him for the Christian people. This work, which is quite good, is entirely blackened by the smoke of the lamps and the wax that burns there continually in great abundance. Indeed, as far as one can judge, possessing the manner and entire method of his master Giotto, Puccio knew how to put them to good use in his works, although some say that he did not live long, falling ill and dying from working too much in fresco.

As far as can be recognised, the chapel of Saint Martin in the same church, with the saint’s stories painted in fresco for Cardinal Gentile, is also by him. Halfway along the street called Portica one may still see a Christ at the Column and, in a picture, Our Lady between Saint Catherine and Saint Clare. His works are scattered in many other places: in Bologna, for example, a panel on the church screen showing the Passion of Christ and stories of Saint Francis; and others that I omit for brevity.

I will say, however, that in Assisi, where most of his works are and where I think he helped Giotto to paint, I found that they regard him as a citizen of their own, and that members of the Capanni family still live there today. It is therefore easy to believe that he was born in Florence, since he wrote this himself, and was Giotto’s pupil, but afterwards married in Assisi, had children there and has descendants there now. Yet it matters little to know this precisely: enough that he was a good master.

Ottaviano of Faenza was likewise Giotto’s pupil and a very practised painter. He painted many things in San Giorgio in Ferrara, belonging to the monks of Monte Oliveto. In Faenza, where he lived and died, he painted Our Lady, Saint Peter and Saint Paul in the arch above the door of San Francesco, and many other works in his native city and Bologna.

Pace of Faenza was also Giotto’s pupil. He stayed with him a long time and helped him in many works. In Bologna there are fresco scenes by him on the outer façade of San Giovanni Decollato. Pace was an able man, particularly in making small figures, as can still be seen in San Francesco at Forlì in a Tree of the Cross and a little tempera panel containing the life of Christ and four small scenes of Our Lady’s life, all very well executed. It is said that he painted fresco scenes from Saint Anthony’s life in that saint’s chapel at Assisi for a Duke of Spoleto, buried there with his son. They had been killed fighting in certain suburbs of Assisi, as appears from a long inscription on the chest of the tomb.

The old book of the painters’ confraternity records that a certain Francesco, called “di Maestro Giotto”, was a pupil of the same master. I can say nothing else about him. Guglielmo of Forlì was also Giotto’s pupil; besides many other works, he painted the chapel of the high altar in San Domenico in his native city of Forlì. Giotto’s pupils also included Pietro Laurati and Simone Memmi of Siena, Stefano of Florence and Pietro Cavallini of Rome. Since each is discussed in his own Life, it is enough to have said here that they were Giotto’s pupils.

Giotto drew very well for his time and in that manner, as is shown by many sheets of parchment drawn by his hand in wash, outlined in pen, shaded in light and dark and heightened with white. They are in our book of drawings and, beside those of the masters before him, are truly a marvel.

As I have said, Giotto was inventive, very agreeable and extremely witty in his sayings, of which the memory is still alive in this city. Besides what Messer Giovanni Boccaccio wrote of him, Franco Sacchetti tells many excellent examples in his Three Hundred Tales. I shall not consider it a labour to write down some of them in Franco’s exact words, so that, alongside the telling of the story, certain ways of speaking and expressions of those times may also be seen.

He begins one with this heading: “A man of little standing gives Giotto, the great painter, a shield to paint. Giotto makes fun of him and paints it in such a way that the man is put to shame.”

The tale.

Everyone may already have heard who Giotto was, and how great a painter, above all others. Hearing of his fame, a lout who needed his shield painted—perhaps because he was going to serve in a castle—went straight to Giotto’s workshop with someone carrying the shield behind him. Finding Giotto, he said, “God save you, master. I would like you to paint my arms on this shield.” Giotto considered the man and his manner and said nothing except, “When do you want it?” The man told him. Giotto said, “Leave it to me,” and off he went.

Left alone, Giotto thought to himself, “What does this mean? Has this fellow been sent to make fun of me? Whatever it is, no one has ever brought me a shield to paint before. The man who brings it is a simple little nobody, and he tells me to paint his arms as though he were one of the French royal family. Certainly I ought to make him some new arms.”

Thinking this over, he set the shield before him, drew what he thought fit, and told one of his pupils to finish the painting. So he did. The painting consisted of a skullcap, a gorget, a pair of armguards, a pair of iron gauntlets, a cuirass, a pair of thigh-pieces and greaves, a sword, a knife and a lance.

When the worthy fellow, who did not know his own place, arrived, he stepped forward and said, “Master, is that shield painted?” Giotto said, “Indeed it is. Go and bring it down.” When the shield appeared, this gentleman by proxy began to examine it and said to Giotto, “What rubbish have you painted for me?” Giotto replied, “And you’ll think it fine rubbish when it comes to paying.” The man said, “I wouldn’t pay four denari for it.” Giotto said, “What did you tell me to paint?” He answered, “My arms.” Giotto said, “Aren’t they here? Is any piece missing?” “A fine thing!” said the fellow.

“No, a bad one, may God give you one!” said Giotto. “You must be a great beast. If someone asked who you were, you could scarcely say; yet you come here and tell me, ‘Paint my arms.’ If you had been one of the Bardi, that would have been enough. What arms do you bear? Where do you come from? Who were your ancestors? Aren’t you ashamed? First begin to exist in the world before you talk of arms as though you were the Duke of Bavaria. I’ve painted a full suit of armour on your shield. If there’s anything else, say so, and I’ll have it painted.”

The man said, “You insult me and you’ve ruined a shield.” He went away to the market magistracy and had Giotto summoned. Giotto appeared and brought a counterclaim, demanding two florins for the painting, while the fellow made his claim against him. Having heard their arguments—which Giotto put much better—the officials decided that the man should take his shield as it was painted and give Giotto six lire, because Giotto was in the right. So he had to take the shield and pay, and the matter was dismissed. Thus this fellow, not knowing his own measure, was measured.

It is said that while Giotto, still a youngster, was with Cimabue, he once painted a fly on the nose of a figure Cimabue had made, so naturally that when the master returned to continue his work he tried more than once to brush it away with his hand, thinking it real, before he discovered his mistake. I could tell many other pranks of Giotto’s and many witty replies; but I am content to have related these here, since they concern matters belonging to art, leaving the rest to Franco and others.

Finally, Giotto’s memory survived not only in the works that came from his hands but also in those that came from the hands of writers of those times, since he was the man who rediscovered the true way of painting, lost for many years before him. Therefore, by public decree, and through the efforts and particular affection of the Magnificent Lorenzo the Elder de’ Medici, who admired the abilities of so great a man, his likeness, carved in marble by the excellent sculptor Benedetto da Maiano, was placed in Santa Maria del Fiore. It bore the following verses by that divine man, Messer Angelo Poliziano, so that those who became excellent in any profession might hope to receive from others such memorials as Giotto abundantly deserved and obtained through his excellence.

I am the man through whom dead painting lived again,whose hand was as correct as it was ready.What my art lacked, nature herself lacked;no one could paint more, or paint better.Do you marvel at the splendid tower ringing with sacred bronze?It too rose to the stars from my design.In short, I am Giotto: why tell all this?This name will stand in place of a long poem.

And so that those who wish may see drawings by Giotto’s own hand, and through them better understand the excellence of so great a man, there are some marvellous examples in our book already mentioned, found by me with no less diligence than labour and expense.

End of the Life of Giotto.