well, that had next door a passing rich woolworker, who, being a
simpleton, was called Capodoca (Goosehead), the wife of this man would
rise every night very early, precisely when Buffalmacco, having up to
then been working, would go to lie down; and sitting at her wheel, which
by misadventure she had planted opposite to the bed of Buffalmacco, she
would spend the whole night spinning her thread; wherefore Buonamico,
being able to get scarce a wink of sleep, began to think and think how
he could remedy this nuisance. Nor was it long before he noticed that
behind a wall of brickwork, that divided his house from Capodoca's, was
the hearth of his uncomfortable neighbour, and that through a hole it
was possible to see what she was doing over the fire. Having therefore
thought of a new trick, he bored a hole with a long gimlet through a
cane, and, watching for a moment when the wife of Capodoca was not at
the fire, he pushed it more than once through the aforesaid hole in the
wall and put as much salt as he wished into his neighbour's pot;
wherefore Capodoca, returning either for dinner or for supper, more
often than not could not eat or even taste either broth or meat, so
bitter was everything through the great quantity of salt. For once or
twice he had patience and only made a little noise about it; but after
he saw that words were not enough, he gave blows many a time for this to
the poor woman, who was in despair, it appearing to her that she was
more than careful in salting her cooking. She, one time among others
that her husband was beating her for this, began to try to excuse
herself, wherefore Capodoca, falling into even greater rage, set himself
to thrash her again in a manner that the woman screamed with all her
might, and the whole neighbourhood ran up at the noise; and among others
there came up Buffalmacco, who, having heard of what Capodoca was
accusing his wife and in what way she was excusing herself, said to
Capodoca: "I' faith, comrade, this calls for a little reason; thou dost
complain that the pot, morning and evening, is too much salted, and I
marvel that this good woman of thine can do anything well. I, for my
part, know not how, by day, she keeps on her feet, considering that the
whole night she sits up over that wheel of hers, and sleeps not, to my
belief, an hour. Make her give up this rising at midnight, and thou wilt
see that, having her fill of sleep, she will have her wits about her by
day and will not fall into such blunders." Then, turning to the other
neighbours, he convinced them so well of the grave import of the matter,
that they all said to Capodoca that Buonamico was speaking the truth and
that it must be done as he advised. He, therefore, believing that it was
so, commanded her not to rise in the night, and the pot was then
reasonably salted, save when perchance the woman on occasion rose early,
for then Buffalmacco would return to his remedy, which finally brought
it about that Capodoca made her give it up completely.
Buffalmacco, then, among the first works that he made, painted with his
own hand the whole church of the Convent of the Nuns of Faenza, which
stood in Florence on the site of the present Cittadella del Prato; and
among other scenes that he made there from the life of Christ, in all
which he acquitted himself very well, he made the Massacre that Herod
ordained of the Innocents, wherein he expressed very vividly the
emotions both of the murderers and of the other figures; for in some
nurses and mothers who are snatching the infants from the hands of the
murderers and are seeking all the assistance that they can from their
hands, their nails, their teeth, and every movement of the body, there
is shown on the surface a heart no less full of rage and fury than of
woe.
Of this work, that convent being to-day in ruins, there is to be seen
nothing but a coloured sketch in our book of drawings by diverse
masters, wherein there is this scene drawn by the hand of Buonamico
himself. In the doing of this work for the aforesaid Nuns of Faenza,
seeing that Buffalmacco was a person very eccentric and careless both in
dress and in manner of life, it came to pass, since he did not always
wear his cap and his mantle, as in those times it was the custom to do,
that the nuns, seeing him once through the screen that he had caused to
be made, began to say to the steward that it did not please them to see
him in that guise, in his jerkin; however, appeased by him, they stayed
for a little without saying more. But at last, seeing him ever in the
same guise, and doubting whether he was not some knavish boy for
grinding colours, they had him told by the Abbess that they would have
liked to see the master at work, and not always him. To which Buonamico
answered, like the good fellow that he was, that as soon as the master
was there, he would let them know; taking notice, none the less, of the
little confidence that they had in him. Taking a stool, therefore, and
placing another above it, he put on top of all a pitcher, or rather a
water-jar, and on the mouth of that he put a cap, hanging over the
handle, and then he covered the rest of the jar with a burgher's mantle,
and finally, putting a brush in suitable fashion into the spout through
which the water is poured, he went off. The nuns, returning to see the
work through an opening where the cloth had slipped, saw the
supposititious master in full canonicals; wherefore, believing that he
was working might and main and was by way of doing different work from
that which the untidy knave was doing, they left it at that for some
days, without thinking more about it. Finally, having grown desirous to
see what beautiful work the master had done, fifteen days having passed,
during which space of time Buonamico had never come near the place, one
night, thinking that the master was not there, they went to see his
paintings, and remained all confused and blushing by reason of one
bolder than the rest discovering the solemn master, who in fifteen days
had done not one stroke of work. Then, recognizing that he had served
them as they merited and that the works that he had made were worthy of
nothing but praise, they bade the steward recall Buonamico, who, with
the greatest laughter and delight, returned to the work, having given
them to know what difference there is between men and pitchers, and that
it is not always by their clothes that the works of men should be
judged. In a few days, then, he finished a scene wherewith they were
much contented, it appearing to them to be in every way satisfactory,
except that the figures appeared to them rather wan and pallid than
otherwise in the flesh-tints. Buonamico, hearing this, and having learnt
that the Abbess had some Vernaccia, the best in Florence, which was used
for the holy office of the Mass, said to them that in order to remedy
this defect nothing else could be done but to temper the colours with
some good Vernaccia; because, touching the cheeks and the rest of the
flesh on the figures with colours thus tempered, they would become rosy
and coloured in most lifelike fashion. Hearing this, the good sisters,
who believed it all, kept him ever afterwards furnished with the best
Vernaccia, as long as the work lasted; and he, rejoicing in it, from
that time onwards made the figures fresher and more highly coloured with
his ordinary colours.
This work finished, he painted some stories of S. James in the Abbey of
Settimo, in the chapel that is in the cloister, and dedicated to that
Saint, on the vaulting of which he made the four Patriarchs and the four
Evangelists, among whom S. Luke is doing a striking action in blowing
very naturally on his pen, in order that it may yield its ink. Next, in
the scenes on the walls, which are five, there are seen beautiful
attitudes in the figures, and the whole work is executed with invention
and judgment. And because Buonamico was wont, in order to make his
flesh-colour better, as is seen in this work, to make a ground of
purple, which in time produces a salt that becomes corroded and eats
away the white and other colours, it is no marvel if this work is spoilt
and eaten away, whereas many others that were made long before have been
very well preserved. And I, who thought formerly that these pictures had
received injury from the damp, have since proved by experience, studying
other works of the same man, that it is not from the damp but from this
particular use of Buffalmacco's that they have become spoilt so
completely that there is not seen in them either design or anything
else, and that where the flesh-colours were there has remained nothing
else but the purple. This method of working should be used by no one who
is anxious that his pictures should have long life.
Buonamico wrought, after that which has been described above, two panels
in distemper for the Monks of the Certosa of Florence, whereof one is
where the books of chants are kept for the use of the choir, and the
other below in the old chapels. He painted in fresco the Chapel of the
Giochi and Bastari in the Badia of Florence, beside the principal
chapel; which chapel, although afterwards it was conceded to the family
of the Boscoli, retains the said pictures of Buffalmacco up to our own
day. In these he made the Passion of Christ, with effects ingenious and
beautiful, showing very great humility and sweetness in Christ, who is
washing the feet of His Disciples, and ferocity and cruelty in the Jews,
who are leading Him to Herod. But he showed talent and facility more
particularly in a Pilate, whom he painted in prison, and in Judas
hanging from a tree; wherefore it is easy to believe what is told about
this gay painter--namely, that when he thought fit to use diligence and
to take pains, which rarely came to pass, he was not inferior to any
painter whatsoever of his times. And to show that this is true, the
works in fresco that he made in Ognissanti, where to-day there is the
cemetery, were wrought with so much diligence and with so many
precautions, that the water which has rained over them for so many years
has not been able to spoil them or to prevent their excellence from
being recognized, and that they have been preserved very well, because
they were wrought purely on the fresh plaster. On the walls, then, are
the Nativity of Jesus Christ and the Adoration of the Magi--that is,
over the tomb of the Aliotti. After this work Buonamico, having gone to
Bologna, wrought some scenes in fresco in S. Petronio, in the Chapel of
the Bolognini--that is, on the vaulting; but by reason of some accident,
I know not what, supervening, he did not finish them.
It is said that in the year 1302 he was summoned to Assisi, and that in
the Church of S. Francesco, in the Chapel of S. Caterina, he painted all
the stories of her life in fresco, which have been very well preserved;
and there are therein some figures that are worthy to be praised. This
chapel finished, on his passing through Arezzo, Bishop Guido, by reason
of having heard that Buonamico was a gay fellow and an able painter,
desired him to stop in that city and paint for him, in the Vescovado,
the chapel where baptisms are now held. Buonamico, having put his hand
to the work, had already done a good part of it when there befell him
the strangest experience in the world, which was, according to what
Franco Sacchetti relates, as follows. The Bishop had an ape, the
drollest and the most mischievous that there had ever been. This animal,
standing once on the scaffolding to watch Buonamico at work, had given
attention to everything, and had never taken his eyes off him when he
was mixing the colours, handling the flasks, beating the eggs for making
the distempers, and in short when he was doing anything else
whatsoever. Now, Buonamico having left off working one Saturday evening,
on the Sunday morning this ape, notwithstanding that he had, fastened to
his feet, a great block of wood which the Bishop made him carry in order
that thus he might not be able to leap wherever he liked, climbed on to
the scaffolding whereon Buonamico was used to stand to work, in spite of
the very great weight of the block of wood; and there, seizing the
flasks with his hands, pouring them one into another and making six
mixtures, and beating up whatever eggs there were, he began to daub over
with the brushes all the figures there, and, persevering in this
performance, did not cease until he had repainted everything with his
own hand; and this done, he again made a mixture of all the colours that
were left him, although they were but few, and, getting down from the
scaffolding, went off. Monday morning having come, Buonamico returned to
his work, where, seeing the figures spoilt, the flasks all mixed up, and
everything upside down, he stood all in marvel and confusion. Then,
having pondered much in his own mind, he concluded finally that some
Aretine had done this, through envy or through some other reason;
wherefore, having gone to the Bishop, he told him how the matter stood
and what he suspected, whereat the Bishop became very much disturbed,
but, consoling Buonamico, desired him to put his hand again to the work
and to repaint all that was spoilt. And because the Bishop had put faith
in his words, which had something of the probable, he gave him six of
his men-at-arms, who should stand in hiding with halberds while he was
not at work, and, if anyone came, should cut him to pieces without
mercy. The figures, then, having been painted over again, one day that
the soldiers were in hiding, lo and behold! they hear a certain rumbling
through the church, and a little while after the ape climbing on to the
scaffolding; and in the twinkling of an eye, the mixtures made, they see
the new master set himself to work over the saints of Buonamico. Calling
him, therefore, and showing him the culprit, and standing with him to
watch the beast at his work, they were all like to burst with laughter;
and Buonamico in particular, for all that he was vexed thereby, could
not keep from laughing till the tears came. Finally, dismissing the
soldiers who had mounted guard with their halberds, he went off to the
Bishop and said to him: "My lord, you wish the painting to be done in
one fashion, and your ape wishes it done in another." Then, relating the
affair, he added: "There was no need for you to send for painters from
elsewhere, if you had the true master at home. But he, perhaps, knew not
so well how to make the mixtures; now that he knows, let him do it by
himself, since I am no more good here. And his talent being revealed, I
am content that there should be nothing given to me for my work save
leave to return to Florence." The Bishop, hearing the affair, although
it vexed him, could not keep from laughing, and above all as he thought
how an animal had played a trick on him who was the greatest trickster
in the world. However, after they had talked and laughed their fill over
this strange incident, the Bishop persuaded Buonamico to resume the work
for the third time, and he finished it. And the ape, as punishment and
penance for the crime committed, was shut up in a great wooden cage and
kept where Buonamico was working, until this work was entirely finished;
and no one could imagine the contortions which that creature kept making
in this cage with his face, his body, and his hands, seeing others
working and himself unable to take part.
The work in this chapel finished, the Bishop, either in jest or for some
other reason known only to himself, commanded that Buffalmacco should
paint him, on one wall of his palace, an eagle on the back of a lion
which it had killed. The crafty painter, having promised to do all that
the Bishop wished, had a good scaffolding made of planks, saying that he
refused to be seen painting such a thing. This made, shutting himself up
alone inside it, he painted, contrary to what the Bishop wished, a lion
that was tearing to pieces an eagle; and, the work finished, he sought
leave from the Bishop to go to Florence in order to get some colours
that he was wanting. And so, locking the scaffolding with a key, he went
off to Florence, in mind to return no more to the Bishop, who, seeing
the business dragging on and the painter not returning, had the
scaffolding opened, and discovered that Buonamico had been too much for
him. Wherefore, moved by very great displeasure, he had him banished on
pain of death, and Buonamico, hearing this, sent to tell him to do his
worst; whereupon the Bishop threatened him to a fearful tune. But
finally, remembering that he had begun the playing of tricks and that it
served him right to be tricked himself, he pardoned Buonamico for his
insult and rewarded him liberally for his labours. Nay, what is more,
summoning him again no long time after to Arezzo, he caused him to make
many works in the Duomo Vecchio, which are now destroyed, treating him
ever as his familiar friend and very faithful servant. The same man
painted the niche of the principal chapel in the Church of S. Giustino,
also in Arezzo.
Some writers tell that Buonamico being in Florence and often frequenting
the shop of Maso del Saggio with his friends and companions, he was
there, with many others, arranging the festival which the men of the
Borgo San Friano held on May 1 in certain boats on the Arno; and that
when the Ponte alla Carraia, which was then of wood, collapsed by reason
of the too great weight of the people who had flocked to that spectacle,
he did not die there, as many others did, because, precisely at the
moment when the bridge collapsed on to the structure that was
representing Hell on the boats in the Arno, he had gone to get some
things that were wanting for the festival.
Being summoned to Pisa no long time after these events, Buonamico
painted many stories of the Old Testament in the Abbey of S. Paolo a
Ripa d'Arno, then belonging to the Monks of Vallombrosa, in both
transepts of the church, on three sides, and from the roof down to the
floor, beginning with the Creation of man, and continuing up to the
completion of the Tower of Nimrod. In this work, although it is to-day
for the greater part spoilt, there are seen vivacity in the figures,
good skill and loveliness in the colouring, and signs to show that the
hand of Buonamico could very well express the conceptions of his mind,
although he had little power of design. On the wall of the right
transept which is opposite to that wherein is the side door, in some
stories of S. Anastasia, there are seen certain ancient costumes and
head-dresses, very charming and beautiful, in some women who are painted
there with graceful manner. Not less beautiful, also, are those figures
that are in a boat, with well-conceived attitudes, among which is the
portrait of Pope Alexander IV, which Buonamico had, so it is said, from
Tafo his master, who had portrayed that Pontiff in mosaic in S. Pietro.
In the last scene, likewise, wherein is the martyrdom of that Saint and
of others, Buonamico expressed very well in the faces the fear of death
and the grief and terror of those who are standing to see her tortured
and put to death, while she stands bound to a tree and over the fire.
A companion of Buonamico in this work was Bruno di Giovanni, a painter,
who is thus called in the old book of the Company; which Bruno (also
celebrated as a gay fellow by Boccaccio), the said scenes on the walls
being finished, painted the altar of S. Ursula with the company of
virgins, in the same church. He made in one hand of the said Saint a
standard with the arms of Pisa, which are a white cross on a field of
red, and he made her offering the other hand to a woman who, rising
between two mountains and touching the sea with one of her feet, is
stretching both her hands to her in the act of supplication; which
woman, representing Pisa, and having on her head a crown of gold and
over her shoulders a mantle covered with circlets and eagles, is seeking
assistance from that Saint, being much in travail in the sea. Now, for
the reason that in painting this work Bruno was bewailing that the
figures which he was making therein had not the same life as those of
Buonamico, the latter, in his waggish way, in order to teach him to make
his figures not merely vivacious but actually speaking, made him paint
some words issuing from the mouth of that woman who is supplicating the
Saint, and the answer of the Saint to her, a device that Buonamico had
seen in the works that had been made in the same city by Cimabue. This
expedient, even as it pleased Bruno and the other thick-witted men of
those times, in like manner pleases certain boors to-day, who are served
therein by craftsmen as vulgar as themselves. And in truth it seems
extraordinary that from this beginning there should have passed into use
a device that was employed for a jest and for no other reason, insomuch
that even a great part of the Campo Santo, wrought by masters of repute,
is full of this rubbish.
The works of Buonamico, then, finding much favour with the Pisans, he
was charged by the Warden of the Works of the Campo Santo to make four
scenes in fresco, from the beginning of the world up to the construction
of Noah's Ark, and round the scenes an ornamental border, wherein he
made his own portrait from the life--namely, in a frieze, in the middle
of which, and on the corners, are some heads, among which, as I have
said, is seen his own, with a cap exactly like the one that is seen
above. And because in this work there is a God, who is upholding with
his arms the heavens and the elements--nay, the whole body of the
universe--Buonamico, in order to explain his story with verses similar
to the pictures of that age, wrote this sonnet in capital letters at the
foot, with his own hand, as may still be seen; which sonnet, by reason
of its antiquity and of the simplicity of the language of those times,
it has seemed good to me to include in this place, although in my
opinion it is not likely to give much pleasure, save perchance as
something that bears witness as to what was the knowledge of the men of
that century:
Voi che avisate questa dipintura
Di Dio pietoso, sommo creatore,
Lo qual fe' tutte cose con amore,
Pesate, numerate ed in misura;
In nove gradi angelica natura,
In ello empirio ciel pien di splendore,
Colui che non si muove ed e motore,
Ciascuna cosa fece buona e pura.
Levate gli occhi del vostro intelletto,
Considerate quanto e ordinato
Lo mondo universale; e con affetto
Lodate lui che l'ha si ben creato;
Pensate di passare a tal diletto
Tra gli Angeli, dov'e ciascun beato.
Per questo mondo si vede la gloria,
Lo basso e il mezzo e l'alto in questa storia.
And to tell the truth, it was very courageous in Buonamico to undertake
to make a God the Father five braccia high, with the hierarchies, the
heavens, the angels, the zodiac, and all the things above, even to the
heavenly body of the moon, and then the element of fire, the air, the
earth, and finally the nether regions; and to fill up the two angles
below he made in one, S. Augustine, and in the other, S. Thomas
Aquinas. At the head of the same Campo Santo, where there is now the
marble tomb of Corte, Buonamico painted the whole Passion of Christ,
with a great number of figures on foot and on horseback, and all in
varied and beautiful attitudes; and continuing the story he made the
Resurrection and the Apparition of Christ to the Apostles, passing well.