CIMABUE.
"I say 'Consider it' in vain; you cannot consider it, for you
cannot conceive the sickness of heart with which a young
painter of deep feeling toils through his first obscurity; his
sense of the strong voice within him, which you will not hear;
his vain, fond wondering witness to the things you will not
see; his far away perception of things that he could accomplish
if he had but peace and time, all unapproachable, and all
vanishing from him, because no one will leave him peace, or
grant him time."--JOHN RUSKIN, _Political Economy of Art_.
Look back six hundred and forty years, and linger in fancy by the side
of the Arno, where Florence in the height of her power and beauty,
stood then as now, and you may hear the joy-bells ringing across the
swift river for the birth of one of her proudest sons. Thirty years
more, and the whole city will rise in procession to honour him, and
bear his work in triumph to the quiet church of St. Mary; and six
hundred years later, the representation of that honour will hang on
the walls of an English gallery; and people will talk, question, and
whisper about _The Cimabue Procession_. They may well admire it and
ask its meaning; for to the painter it commemorated we owe the art of
England as surely, as that to Leighton we owe the picture which
represents the old master's triumph.
In two ways are we indebted to Cimabue for the emancipation of
painting; first, for the work which he did himself accomplish; and
second and in chief, for his discovery and education of the shepherd
boy, whose fame was ultimately to eclipse his own.[27] I say that the
master's fame was to be eclipsed by his pupil, but that must be taken
with one most important reservation. However much we may be convinced
of Giotto's superiority, we are always forced to bear in mind the
fact, that had it not been for Cimabue, that superiority would in all
probability never have been known. Differing in the particulars of the
story, all the accounts of Giotto's early life agree in this important
fact, that it was Cimabue who discovered his early talent, who
persuaded his father to let him enter his profession, and who educated
him as a painter at his own expense, from the time that he was ten
years old. Is not this a greater monument to Cimabue's name, than any
amount of Madonnas carried in triumph through the "street of
gladness?" Rightly understood, is it not even a surer testimony to the
fact of his being a true artist; for does it not prove that the
painter had more devotion to his art than his fame? To see in a youth,
poor and unknown, the signs of genius, greater perhaps than your own,
to take him from his obscurity, and to instruct his ignorance,
careless of the effect which may be thereby produced upon your own
reputation, and finally to stand aside while he wins the honour which
is his due, but which nevertheless would have fallen to your share,
had it not been for your own action; this seems to me as great a
sacrifice of petty pride, and as great a triumph over natural
selfishness, as can well be conceived. And this is what Cimabue did,
urged by no duty, and without possible reward, save that of doing his
best for his art and his pupil. We owe him then a double debt: for
his own work in loosening the bonds of tradition, and for the
instruction of the artist whose paintings and sculptures were to
inaugurate the real methods of art, and extend its province, from the
mere exponent of religious legend to the representation of the
passions of humanity and the beauty of nature.
What little is known of the life of Cimabue we can give in a very few
words. Even Vasari, garrulous as he is, has little more to tell us,
than that he lived, painted certain pictures, received certain
honours, had a pupil called Giotto, whose fame eclipsed his own, and
died.
"In the year 1240 Giovanni Cimabue, of the noble family of that name
was born at Florence, to give the first light to the art of painting."
Then follows the account of his Greek instruction in the art of
painting, which is doubted for various reasons by most modern
authorities, chiefly, it appears because Vasari has made him paint in
the chapel of the Gondi, which was not built at that time. Crowe and
Cavalcaselle however do not give any other explanation of Cimabue's
teaching; and Lindsay says he painted in the subterranean church under
the instruction of the Greeks; while Lanzi, in the _History of
Painting_, suggests that the paintings of the Greeks who are supposed
to have instructed Cimabue, may be seen in the chapels of the old
church beneath the sacristy of S. Maria Novella.
The point, however, is of little importance. After painting various
works at Florence and Pisa, all of which have now perished, he was
invited to help in the decoration of the church at Assisi. According
to Vasari, he there painted in both the upper and lower churches, but,
with some few exceptions, little of these frescoes remain; and the
whole question as to the authorship of the five remaining frescoes in
these churches has long been a favourite battle-ground for critics.
Vasari, Lanzi, Rumohr, Eastlake, Crowe and Cavalcaselle, and many
others having all theories more or less inconsistent with one another.
I shall content myself with noticing the chief theories on the subject
when I speak later on of the work of Giotto at Assisi. After this,
Cimabue returned to Florence, and executed his great panel, the
_Virgin Enthroned_, a picture of colossal size, which was placed in
the church of S. Maria Novella; this was the work which was carried
through the city by a triumphant procession of the people. "It is
further reported, and may be read in certain records of old painters,
that whilst Cimabue was painting this picture in a garden near the
gate of S. Pietro, King Charles the Elder of Anjou passed through
Florence, and the authorities of the city, among other marks of
respect, conducted him to see the picture of Cimabue. When this work
was thus shown to the King it had not before been seen by any one;
wherefore all the men and women of Florence hastened in great crowds
to admire it, making all possible demonstrations of delight. The
inhabitants of the neighbourhood, rejoicing in this occurrence, ever
afterwards called that place Borgo Allegri, and this name it has ever
since retained, although in process of time it became enclosed within
the walls of the city."[28]
Vasari has little to tell us of the incidents of Cimabue's life, nor
can I find any other records likely to be authentic, which have fuller
details. In a short time after the execution of this Madonna, the
artist was appointed to superintend the building of Santa Maria del
Fiore, in conjunction with a celebrated architect, Arnolfo Lapo, and
he died, whilst the building was still unfinished, at the age of
sixty.[29] If he adopted Giotto in 1286, _i.e._ when the latter was
ten years of age (the time given by most of the authorities), his
pupil must, according to the time given by Cennini, have just finished
his novitiate when his master died; as, in his treatise on painting,
that author gives thirteen years as the time in which the art of
painting can be acquired. As it may well be that amongst my readers
there be some who are desirous of knowing the shortest time in which
it is possible to learn to paint, I will quote the words of the
treatise. They may perchance aid amateurs to think a little more
justly of what the mechanical difficulties of painting were, even in
the rude days of early pre-Raphaelitism:--
[Illustration: THE MADONNA ENTHRONED. BY CIMABUE.
_In the Rucellai Chapel, S. Maria Novella, Florence._]
"Know that you cannot learn to paint in less time than that which I
shall name to you. In the first place you must study drawing for at
least one year, then you must remain with a master at the workshop for
the space of six years, at least, that you may learn all the parts and
members of the art; to grind colours, to boil down glues, to grind
plaster (gesso), to acquire the practice of laying grounds on
pictures, to work in relief, and to scrape (or smooth) the surface,
and to gild; afterwards to practise colouring, to adorn with mordants,
paint cloths of gold, and paint on walls for six more years, drawing
without intermission on holy days and work days. And by this means you
will acquire great experience. If you do otherwise you will never
attain perfection. There are many who say you may learn the art
without the assistance of a master. Do not believe them; let this book
be an example to you, studying it day and night. And if you do not
study under some master, you will never be fit for anything; nor will
you be able to show your face among the masters."
There is another curious statement about Cimabue, and one which is
very significant of his intense care for the best interests of art; it
occurs in an MS. commentary upon Dante, called the _Anonimo_, and was
written while Giotto was still living, that is before 1330.[30] The
author says:--"Cimabue of Florence, a painter of the time of our
author (_i.e._ Dante) knew more of the noble art (that of painting)
than any other man, but he was so arrogant and proud withal, that if
any one discovered a fault in his work, or if he perceived one himself
(as will often happen to the artist who fails from the defects in the
material that he uses, or from insufficiency of the instrument with
which he works), he would instantly destroy that work, however costly
it might be." There could be no surer testimony to the light in which
Cimabue regarded his painting than this of the old Florentine
commentator's, and it is amusing to see how, six hundred years ago,
artists were liable to exactly the same amount of mistaken blame and
misapprehension as they are to-day. [It is not six months ago since I
heard one of the greatest of our living painters severely censured,
because he would not part with a portrait which did not come up to his
standard of good work, and though the opinion was expressed in the
choicest slang of the nineteenth century, it was almost an exact
equivalent for the words of the author _Anonimo_; for I suppose "he
did it for swagger," really means much the same as "proud and
arrogant."]
The changes introduced by Cimabue into the conventional
representations of religious subjects were numerous, and though each
slight in itself, formed, when taken as a whole, a very marked
progression from the Byzantine manner, but whether owing to respect
for his early masters, or from the almost overpowering effect of
Church tradition, the artist never wholly succeeded in shaking off the
established forms of painting in the general arrangement of his
figures and backgrounds.
If we compare his great picture in S. Maria Novella with one of a
similar subject by Guido of Siena, his predecessor,[31] in the Church
of S. Domenico at Siena, we shall find that the main lines of the
composition are much the same. Nevertheless the advance is very
clearly marked. The folds of the drapery have lost much of the
stiffness and angularity, and the attitude and expression of the
Virgin, though still wanting life and energy, are simple and
comparatively natural. A still greater improvement may be noticed in
the gestures of the angels which support the throne, and in the action
of the child Saviour on the Virgin's lap. In this picture there is, I
think, a direct contradiction to the assertion of Crowe[32] that "in
the flow of his drapery Cimabue made no sensible progress;"[33] though
in other respects that author does full justice to the improvements
introduced by the artist. Many other modifications of style are
noticeable in Cimabue's works, especially the manner in which he
abandoned what we may call the mosaic-like manner of painting, which
had been in use for so long a time, and blended one colour with
another instead of leaving it as a bright patch, divided by a sharp
line. Much of his colour has either faded or disappeared entirely, but
enough is left to show that it must have been originally very rich in
hue, and though of a deep tone, free from the heaviness and obscurity
which was so prevalent in the work of the Byzantine artists. In the
_Enthroned Madonna_ of the Lower Church at Assisi, which is
indisputably one of his works, the colouring is far richer and deeper
than anything remaining of Giotto's, though it does not possess the
exquisite clearness and delicacy of the latter; and is comparatively
monotonous. This picture has however suffered so severely from damp,
that it cannot be judged fair to say what the colour has, or has not,
been, though it is still beautiful, and fortunately unrestored.[34]
In the Accademia of Florence there is another colossal Madonna by
Cimabue, also an altar-piece representing the same subject as that of
the one in S. Maria Novella, the arrangement, however, being slightly
different. Instead of the six guardian angels who support the chair on
which the Virgin is seated (in the former picture), there are here
eight, and beneath the throne in niches stand four prophets; the
thirty medallions of saints which surround the frame in the former
picture are here absent. I am unable to give an accurate description
of the differences between these two pictures, as I have only studied
the one in the Accademia;[35] but there is, according to Crowe and
Cavalcaselle, "a more obstinate maintenance of the old types" in the
latter picture: and it is certainly true, from my own observation,
that the colour has sustained such injuries from restoration and time,
as to be almost entirely destroyed. This picture was originally of the
gable form, but some ingenious artist, who considered that an
unpleasant shape for a picture, has supplied the two triangular pieces
necessary to complete the oblong, and painted thereon two cherubim, as
poor in conception, colour, and execution as could well be imagined.
The old shape of the work is still clearly visible, and in any other
country than Italy would be at once restored.[36]
FOOTNOTES:
[27] I have, throughout this essay, followed the mass of authority
which describes Giotto's father as a poor tenant farmer, or lower
still in the social scale; but the most recent researches go to prove
that he was in well-to-do circumstances, was, in fact, of the rank of
"Cavaliere," and it is certain that Giotto inherited some property
from him.
[28] Vasari, _Lives of the most Eminent Painters, &c._, vol. i. p. 42.
[29] Lord Lindsay gives the date of his death as 1302, on the
authority of Ciampi.
[30] See notes to Mrs. Foster's translation of Vasari.
[31] There are excellent engravings of both these pictures in Kugler's
_Handbook of Painting_, pages 105 and 109 of the fifth edition.
[32] _History of Painting in Italy_, vol. i. p. 205.
[33] Look, for instance, at the natural manner in which the border of
the Virgin's drapery falls into its folds. The woodcut of this picture
here given does little more than show the arrangement of the picture;
but even here the advance is perceptible.
[34] Vol. i. p. 206. Vasari attributes the loss of colour in
Buffulmacco's pictures to the use of a peculiar purple mixed with
salt, which corroded the other colours; possibly this may be the case
with Cimabue's.
[35] Since writing the above sentence I have been to the Rucellai
Chapel for the purpose of studying the great Cimabue referred to
above, the description of which is accordingly given in a later
chapter.
[36] It is noticeable that in Lindsay's _Christian Art_, it is to the
influence of the sculptor, Niccola Pisano, rather than that of
Cimabue, that Giotto owed his study of nature, &c., vol. ii. p. 82.