Ghirlandaio! what a difficult name that sounds to our English ears. But
it has a very simple meaning, and when you understand it the difficulty
will vanish.
It all happened in this way. Domenico's father was a goldsmith, one of
the cleverest goldsmiths in Florence, and he was specially famous for
making garlands or wreaths of gold and silver. It was the fashion then
for the young maidens of Florence to wear these garlands, or
'ghirlande' as they were called, on their heads, and because this
goldsmith made them better than any one else they gave him the name of
Ghirlandaio, which means 'maker of garlands,' and that became the
family name.
When the time came for the boy Domenico to learn a trade, he was sent,
of course, to his father's workshop. He learned so quickly, and worked
with such strong, clever fingers, that his father was delighted.
'The boy will make the finest goldsmith of his day,' he said proudly,
as he watched him twisting the delicate golden wire and working out his
designs in beaten silver.
So he was set to make the garlands, and for a while he was contented
and happy. It was such exquisite work to twine into shape the graceful
golden leaves, with here and there a silver lily or a jewelled rose,
and to dream of the fair head on which the garland would rest.
But the making of garlands did not satisfy Domenico for long, and like
Botticelli he soon began to dream of becoming a painter.
You must remember that in those days goldsmiths and painters had much
in common, and often worked together. The goldsmith made his picture
with gold and silver and jewels, while the painter drew his with
colours, but they were both artists.
So as the young Ghirlandaio watched these men draw their great designs
and listened to their talk, he began to feel that the goldsmith's work
was cramped and narrow, and he longed for a larger, grander work. Day
by day the garlands were more and more neglected, and every spare
moment was spent drawing the faces of those who came to the shop, or
even those of the passers-by.
But although, ere long, Ghirlandaio left his father's shop and learned
to make pictures with colours, instead of with gold, silver, and
jewels, still the training he had received in his goldsmith's work
showed to the end in all his pictures. He painted the smallest things
with extreme care, and was never tired of spreading them over with
delicate ornaments and decorations. It is a great deal the outward show
with Ghirlandaio, and not so much the inward soul, that we find in his
pictures, though he had a wonderful gift of painting portraits.
These portraits painted by the young Ghirlandaio seemed very wonderful
to the admiring Florentines. From all his pictures looked out faces
which they knew and recognised immediately. There, in a group of
saints, or in a crowd of figures around the Infant Christ, they saw the
well-known faces of Florentine nobles, the great ladies from the
palaces, ay, and even the men of the market-place, and the poor peasant
women who sold eggs and vegetables in the streets. Once he painted an
old bishop with a pair of spectacles resting on his nose. It was the
first time that spectacles had ever been put into a picture.
Then off he must go to Rome, like every one else, to add his share to
the famous frescoes of the Vatican. But it was in Florence that most of
his work was done.
In the church of Santa Maria Novella there was a great chapel which
belonged to the Ricci family. It had once been covered by beautiful
frescoes, but now it was spoilt by damp and the rain that came through
the leaking roof. The noble family, to whom the chapel belonged, were
poor and could not afford to have the chapel repainted, but neither
would they allow any one else to decorate it, lest it should pass out
of their hands.
Now another noble family, called the Tournabuoni, when they heard of
the fame of the new painter, greatly desired to have a chapel painted
by him in order to do honour to their name and family.
Accordingly they went to the Ricci family and offered to have the whole
chapel painted and to pay the artist themselves. Moreover, they said
that the arms or crest of the Ricci family should be painted in the
most honourable part of the chapel, that all might see that the chapel
still belonged to them.
To this the Ricci family gladly agreed, and Ghirlandaio was set to work
to cover the walls with his frescoes.
'I will give thee twelve hundred gold pieces when it is done,' said
Giovanni Tournabuoni, 'and if I like it well, then shalt thou have two
hundred more.'
Here was good pay indeed. Ghirlandaio set to work with all speed, and
day by day the frescoes grew. For four years he worked hard, from
morning until night, until at last the walls were covered.
One of the subjects which he chose for these frescoes was the story of
the Life of the Virgin, so often painted by Florentine artists. This
story I will tell you now, that your eyes may take greater pleasure in
the pictures when you see them.
The Bible story of the Virgin Mary begins when the Angel Gabriel came
to tell her of the birth of the Baby Jesus, but there are many stories
or legends about her before that time, and this is one which the
Italians specially loved to paint.
Among the blue hills of Galilee, in the little town of Nazareth, there
lived a man and his wife whose names were Joachim and Anna. Though they
were rich and had many flocks of sheep which fed in the rich pastures
around, still there was one thing which God had not given them and
which they longed for more than all beside. They had no child. They had
hoped that God would send one, but now they were both growing old, and
hope began to fade.
Joachim was a very good man, and gave a third of all that he had as an
offering to the temple; but one sad day when he took his gift, the high
priest at the altar refused to take it.
'God has shown that He will have nought of thee,' said the priest,
'since thou hast no child to come after thee.'
Filled with shame and grief Joachim would not go home to his wife, but
instead he wandered out into the far-of fields where his shepherds were
feeding the flocks, and there he stayed forty days. With bowed head and
sad eyes when he was alone, he knelt and prayed that God would tell him
what he had done to deserve this disgrace.
And as he prayed God sent an angel to comfort him.
The angel placed his hand upon the bowed head of the poor old man, and
told him to be of good cheer and to return home at once to his wife.
'For God will even now send thee a child,' said the angel.
So with a thankful heart which never doubted the angel's word, Joachim
turned his face homewards.
Meanwhile, at home, Anna had been sorrowing alone. That same day she
had gone into the garden, and, as she wandered among the flowers, she
wept bitterly and prayed that God would send her comfort. Then there
appeared to her also an angel, who told her that God had heard her
prayer and would send her the child she longed for.
'Go now,' the angel added, 'and meet thy husband Joachim, who is even
now returning to thee, and thou shall find him at the entrance to the
Golden Gate.'
So the husband and wife did as the angel bade them, and met together at
the Golden Gate. And the Angel of Promise hovered above them, and laid
a hand in blessing upon both their heads.
There was no need for speech. As Joachim and Anna looked into each
other's eyes and read there the solemn joy of the angel's message,
their hearts were filled with peace and comfort.
And before long the angel's promise was fulfilled, and a little
daughter was born to Anna and Joachim. In their joy and thankfulness
they said she should not be as other children, but should serve in the
temple as little Samuel had done. The name they gave the child was
Mary, not knowing even then that she was to be the mother of our Lord.
The little maid was but three years old when her parents took her to
present her in the temple. She was such a little child that they almost
feared she might be frightened to go up the steps to the great temple
and meet the high priest alone. So they asked if she might go in
company with the other children who were also on their way to the
temple. But when the little band arrived at the temple steps, Mary
stepped forward and began to climb up, step by step, alone, while the
other children and her parents watched wondering from below. Straight
up to the temple gates she climbed, and stood with little head bent low
to receive the blessing of the great high priest.
So the child was left there to be taught to serve God and to learn how
to embroider the purple and fine linen for the priests' vestments.
Never before had such exquisite embroidery been done as that which
Mary's fingers so delicately stitched, for her work was aided by angel
hands. Sleeping or waking, the blessed angels never left her.
When it was time that the maiden should be married, so many suitors
came to seek her that it was difficult to know which to choose. To
decide the matter they were all told to bring their staves or wands and
leave them in the temple all night, that God might show by a sign who
was the most worthy to be the guardian of the pure young maid.
Now among the suitors was a poor carpenter of Nazareth called Joseph,
who was much older and much poorer than any of the other suitors. They
thought it was foolish of him to bring his staff, nevertheless it was
placed in the temple with the others.
But when the morning came and the priest went into the temple, behold,
Joseph's staff had budded into leaves and flowers, and from among the
blossoms there flew out a dove as white as snow.
So it was known that Joseph was to take charge of the young maid, and
all the rest of the suitors seized their staves and broke them across
their knees in rage and disappointment.
Then the story goes on to the birth of our Saviour as it is told to you
in the Bible.
It was this story which Ghirlandaio painted on the walls of the chapel,
as well as the history of John the Baptist. Then, as Giovanni directed,
he painted the arms of the Tournabuoni on various shields all over the
chapel, and only in the tabernacle of the sacrament on the high altar
he painted a tiny coat of arms of the Ricci family.
The chapel was finished at last and every one flocked to see it, but
first of all came the Ricci, the owners of the chapel.
They looked high and low, but nowhere could they see the arms of their
family. Instead, on all sides, they saw the arms of the Tournabuoni. In
a great rage they hurried to the Council and demanded that Giovanni
Tournabuoni should be punished. But when the facts were explained, and
it was shown that the Ricci arms had indeed been placed in the most
honourable part, they were obliged to be content, though they vowed
vengeance against the Tournabuoni. Neither did Ghirlandaio get his
extra two hundred gold pieces, for although Giovanni was delighted with
the frescoes he never paid the price he had promised.
To the end of his days Ghirlandaio loved nothing so much as to work
from morning till night. Nothing was too small or mean for him to do.
He would even paint the hoops for women's baskets rather than send any
work away from his shop.
'Oh,' he cried, one day, 'how I wish I could paint all the walls around
Florence with my stories.'
But there was no time to do all that. He was only forty-four years old
when Death came and bade him lay down his brushes and pencil, for his
work was done.
Beneath his own frescoes they laid him to rest in the church of Santa
Maria Novella. And although we sometimes miss the soul in his pictures
and weary of the gay outward decoration of goldsmith's work, yet there
is something there which makes us love the grand show of fair ladies
and strong men in the carefully finished work of this Florentine 'Maker
of Garlands.'