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AMONG the old painters who were much alarmed by the praises so
deservedly bestowed upon Cimabue and Giotto was one Margaritone,
a painter of Arezzo, who having held a high rank among those who
practised the art in that unhappy age became aware that the works
of these new men would almost entirely eclipse his fame. He had
been considered excellent by the other painters of his time who
worked in the old Greek style, and had painted many pictures in
Arezzo, both in tempera and fresco. For the church of S. Margherita
he painted a work on canvas stretched on a panel, in which are
many pictures containing little figures representing stories from
the lives of our Lady and the saints; and the picture is noteworthy
not only because the little figures are painted so well that they
seem to be miniatures, but also because it is a marvel to see
a work on canvas that has been preserved three hundred years He
made a great number of pictures all over the city, and having
painted on wood a large crucifix in the Greek style, he sent it
to Florence to the famous citizen Farinata degli Uberti, because
he had, among his other great works, saved his country from danger
and ruin. Afterwards he gave himself to sculpture with so much
application that he succeeded much better than he had in painting.
He died at the age of seventyseven, disgusted, it is said, with
life, because he had seen the age change so much and new artists
obtain honour.
Andrea Tafi for his works in mosaic was greatly admired, and he
himself was considered almost divine; but Gaddo the Florentine,
who worked with him at Pisa, showed more knowledge of design,
and perhaps this arose from his friendship with Cimabue. For either
through conformity of nature or the goodness of their hearts,
they were united in a close attachment, and while discoursing
lovingly together over the difficulties of their art, the noblest
and greatest conceptions were ever in their mihds. And this so
much the more because they were aided by the subtle air of Florence,
which is wont to produce ingenious and subtle spirits. For those
who are studying any science find that by conferring together
they clear it from obscurity and make it more easy. But some
on the contrary have wickedly made a profession of friendship
with specious appearance of love, only in malice and envy to defraud
others of their conceptions. True love, however, bound together
Gaddo and Cimabue, and also Andrea Tafi and Gaddo. Andrea took
him to aid him in the mosaics of S. Giovanni, and afterwards he
worked alone and applied himself to the study of the Greek manner,
together with that of Cimabue. So his fame being spread abroad,
he was called to Rome and to other cities. Afterwards returning
to Florence for rest after his labours, he set himself to making
little tablets of mosaic, some of which he made of eggshells,
with incredible patience and diligence. He painted also many pictures
maintaining his reputation, but because the manner of painting
in those times cannot greatly help artists, I will pass them over
in silence. Gaddo lived seventythree years, dying in 1312, and
was honourably buried in S. Croce by Taddeo his son, and although
he had many sons, Taddeo, who had been held at the font by Giotto,
alone applied himself to painting, learning the rudiments from
his father and the rest from Giotto, who was his master four and
twenty years. He, surpassing his fellow scholars, produced his
first works with a facility given him by nature rather than by
art. He was indeed an imitator of Giotto's manner, whom he always
held in the greatest veneration.
At the command of the commune he continued the building of Orsanmichele,
begun by Arnolfo di Lapo, and repaired the pillars of the loggia,
building them of wellhewn stone where they had first been made
of brick, yet without altering the design that Arnolfo di Lapo
had left for a palace of two storeys over the loggia, for storing
the grain of the people and commune of Florence. And that the
work might be finished, the Guild of S. Maria, which had the charge
of the building, gave orders that the tax on the sale of grain
and other little customs should go towards it. But what was of
more importance, it was ordained with great wisdom that each of
the guilds of Florence should make a pillar and set up in a niche
in it the patron saint of the guild, and every year on the feastday
the consuls of the guild should go there for offerings, setting
up their standard and standing by the pillar the whole day, but
the offerings given to the Madonna should still be for the help
of those in need.
In the year 1333 a great flood of waters swept away the defences
of the bridge Rubaconte, overthrew the castle Altafronte, and
left nothing of the old bridge but the two middle piers. The bridge
of the Holy Trinity was altogether destroyed except one pier,
which was left in a shattered state; and half the bridge at Carraja
was swept away, the sluices of Ogni Santi bursting. So those who
had the rule of the city deliberated upon this matter, and not
being willing that those who lived on the other side of the Arno
should be subjected to such discomfort as to have to pass to and
from their houses by boats, they called for Taddeo Gaddo and bade
him make a model and design for rebuilding the old bridge, charging
him to make it as handsome and fine as could be. He therefore,
sparing neither expense nor trouble, built it with great piers
and with magnificent arches of hewn stone, so that to this day
it bears the weight of twentytwo shops on each side, in all fortyfour,
to the great advantage of the commune, which receives from them
every year eight hundred florins for rent. For this work, which
cost sixty thousand gold florins, Taddeo deserved infinite praise
then, and is more to be commended now than ever, for, not to speak
of other floods, it remained unmoved on the 13th day of September,
1537, when the water brought down the bridge of the Holy Trinity,
two arches of the Carraja bridge, ruined a great part of the Rubaconte,
besides doing other notable damage. And indeed no one of any judgment
can fail to be astonished and to marvel that this old bridge should
have sustained unmoved the shock of the water, the drift wood,
and the ruins swept down from above.
Taddeo, however, did not cease from painting, and made a great
number of pictures of importance both in Florence and elsewhere;
and in process of time he gained so much wealth that he laid the
foundation of the riches and nobility of the family, being always
held to be a wise man and prudent. He painted the chapter house
of S. Maria Novella, being called to the work by the prior of
the place. But because the work was great, and the chapterhouse
of Santo Spirito had been by that time uncovered, to the great
fame of Simone Memmi who had painted it, the prior desired to
give Simone half of the work, and conferring with Taddeo about
it, found him right content, for he loved Simone greatly, they
having been schoolfellows together under Giotto, and ever loving
friends and com panions. Oh, truly noble souls! without emulation
or envy, loving one another like brothers, and rejoicing each
one at the honour and praise of the other, as if it were his own!
So the work was divided between them, three sides being given
to Simone, and to Taddeo the left side and all the ceiling.
So Taddeo, having procured to himself by his industry and labours
not only a name but also great riches, passed to the other life,
leaving him his sons Agnolo and Giovanni, and that Agnolo particularly
would become nt in painting. But he who in his youth shoed signs
of far surpassing his father, did not succeed according to the
opinion that had been conceived of him, for having been born and
brought up in ease, which has often proved an impediment to study,
he gave himself more to trade and merchandise than to the art
of painting, which thing should not be thought either new or strange,
for avarice has often hindered many who would have risen to great
heights if the desire of gain in their first and better years
had not impeded their way. Nevertheless he worked as the caprice
took him, sometimes with more care and sometimes with less, and
having in a sense inherited the secret of working in mosaic, having
also in his house the instruments and other things that Gaddo
his grandfather had used, he for pastime, when it seemed good
to him, made some things in mosaic. Thus many of his works may
be seen in Florence, at which he laboured much to own profit,
though he worked rather for sake of doing as his fathers had done
than for the love of it, his mind going after merchandise; and
when his sons, refusing to be painters, gave themselves up wholly
to trade, establishing a house at Venice in partnership with their
father, he worked no more at his art, except for his pleasure.
Buonamico di Cristofano, nicknamed Buffa]macco, was a pupil of
Andrea Tafi, and has been celebrated as a jester by Boccaccio.
Franco Sacchetti also tells how when Buffalmacco was still a boy
with Andrea, his master had the habit, when the nights were long,
of getting up before day to work, and calling his boys. This was
displeasing to Buonamico, who had to rise in the middle of his
best sleep, and he considered how he might prevent Andrea from
getting up before day to work, and this was what occurred to him.
Having found thirty great beetles in an illkept cellar, he fastened
on each of their backs a little candle, and at the hour when Andrea
was used to rise, he put them one by one through a hole in the
door into Andrea's chamber, having first lighted the candles.
His master awaking, the time being come to call Buffalmacco, and
seeing the lights, was se~zed with terror and began to tremble
like a fearful old man as he was, and to recommend his soul to
heaven, and say his prayers, and repeat the psalms, and at last,
putting his head under the clothes, he thought no more that night
of calling Buffalmacco, but lay trembling with fear till daybreak.
The morning being come, he asked Buonamico if, like him,
he had seen more than a thousand demons. To which Buonamico answered
no, for he had kept his eyes closed and wondered he had not been
called. "What!" said Tafi, "I had something else
to think of than painting, and I am resolved to go into some other
house." The next night, although Buonamico only put three
beetles into Tafi's chamber, yet he from the last night's terror
and the fear of these few demons, could get no sleep at all, and
as soon as it was day left the house determined never to return,
and it took a great deal of good counsel to make him change his
mind. At last Buonamico brought the priest to him to console him.
And Tafi and Buonamico discussing the matter, Buonamico said,
"I have always heard say that demons are the greatest enemies
of God, and consequently they ought to be the chief adversaries
of painters, because not only do we always make them hideous,
but we also never cease making saints on all the walls, and so
cause men in despite of the demons to become better and more devout.
So these demons being enraged against us, as they have greater
power by night than by day, they come playing us these tricks,
and it will be worse if this custom of getting up early is not
quite given up." With such words Buffalmacco managed the
matter, what the priest said helping him, so that Tafi left off
getting up early, and the demons left off going about the house
at night with candles. But not many months after, Tafi, drawn
by the desire of gain, and having forgotten his fears, began afresh
to get up early and to call Buffalmacco, whereupon the beetles
began again to appear, until he was force~ by his fears to give
it up entirely, being earnestly counselled to do so by the priest
And the matter being noised abroad in the city for a time, neither
Tafi nor any other painter ventured to get up at night to work.
But after a time Buffalmacco, having become a good master himself,
left Tafi, as Franco relates, and began to work for himself, work
never failing him. Now he had taken a house both to work and to
live in next to a worker in wool, very well to do, who was nicknamed
Capodoca (Goosehead), and this man's wife used to rise at daybreak
just when Buffalmacco, having worked till then, was going to rest.
Sitting down to her spinningwheel, which by ill fortune was just
behind Buffalmacco's bed, she would set to work to spin. So Buffalmacco,
not being able to sleep, began to think what he could do
to remedy the evil. And before long he perceived that, on the
other side of the wall of brick which divided him from Capodoca,
was the chimney of his neighbour, and through a hole he could
see all that she did at the fire. So having considered his trick,
he hollowed out a tube, by means of which, whenever she was not
at the fire, through the hole in the wall he could put as much
salt as he liked into his neighbour's saucepan. Capodoca then,
coming home to his dinner or supper, often found that he could
eat neither soup nor meat, because everything was too salt. The
first time or two he was patient and only grumbled a little, but
when he found words were not enough, several times he struck the
poor woman, who was in despair, for she thought herself very careful
about seasoning her cookery. And once when her husband beat her,
she began to excuse herself, which making Capodoca more angry,
he set to work again until she began to cry as loud as she could,
and all the neighbours ran to see what was the matter. Among the
rest came Buffalmacco, and hearing of what Capodoca accused his
wife, and how she excused herself, he said to Capodoca, "In
faith, comrade, do you think you are reasonable? You complain
that morning and evening your food is too salt, but I wonder how
your good woman does anything right. I don't know how she keeps
on her feet, considering that all night she is at her spinningwheel,
and does not sleep an hour, I believe. Stop her getting up at
midnight, and you will see that when she has her fill of sleep
her brains will be clear and she will run into no more such errors."
And turning to the other neighbours, he put the matter before
them, so that they all said that Buonamico said the truth, and
he had better do as he advised. And he believing that it was so,
commanded her not to get up so early. So the food was found to
be reasonably salt, unless the woman got up early, when Buffalmacco
returned to his remedy, and Capodoca made her give it up.
Among the first works that Buffalmacco undertook was the painting
of the church of the convent of Faenza in Florence, and among
other stories was the slaughter of the Innocents by Herod, in
which he represented in a most lively manner the emotions both
of the slayers and the other figures, some of the nurses and mothers
tearing their children out of the murderers' hands, and helping
themselves as best they could with their hands and their nails
and their teeth, and showing themselves as full of rage and fury
as of grief.
While doing this work for the ladies of Faenza, Buffalmacco, who
was very careless and negligent in his dress as in other things,
did not always wear his hood and mantle as was the fashion at
the time, and the nuns, watching him through the screen he had
erected, began to complain that it did not please them to see
him in his doublet. At last, as he always appeared in the same
fashion, they began to think that he was only some boy employed
in mixing colours, and they gave him to understand through their
abbess that they should prefer to see his master and not always
him. To this Buonamico answered good humouredly that when the
master came he would let them know, understanding nevertheless
how little confidence they had in him. Then he took a stool and
placed it upon another, and on the top he put a pitcher or waterjug
and fastened a hood on the handle, and covered up the rest of
the jug with a cloak, fastening it well behind the tables, and
having fixed a pencil in the spout of the jug, he went away. The
nuns, coming again to see the picture through a hole that they
had made in the screen, saw the supposed master in his fine attire,
and not doubting that he was working with all his might, doing
very different work from what that boy did, for several days were
quite content. At last, being desirous to see what fine things
the master had done in the last fortnight (during which time Buonamico
had not been there at all), one night, thinking the master was
gone, they went to see his picture, and were overcome with confusion,
when one more bold than the rest detected the solemn master who
during the fortnight had done no work at all. But acknowledging
that he had only treated them as they deserved, and that the work
which he had done was worthy of praise, they sent their steward
to call Buonamico back, and he with great laughter went back to
his work, letting them see the difference between men and waterjugs,
and that it does not do always to judge a man's work by his clothes.
So in a few days he finished a picture with which they were greatly
pleased, except that the faces seemed to them too pale and wan.
Buonamico having heard this, and knowing that the abbess had some
wine which was the best in Florence, and which she kept for the
mass, told them that if they wished to remedy the defect it could
only be done by mixing the colours with good wine, and then if
the cheeks were touched with the colour they would become red
and of a more lively colour. The good sisters hearing this, and
ready to believe everything, kept him always supplied with excellent
wine while he worked, and he, while enjoying the wine himself,
to please them made his colours more fresh and bright.
It is said that in 1302 he was fetched to Assisi, and in the church
of S. Francis painted the chapel of S. Catherine with her history.
When passing through Arezzo after finishing the chapel, he was
stopped by the Bishop Guido, who having heard that he was a pleasant
man and a painter of worth, desired him to paint the chapel in
his house. Buonamico set to work, and had already done a great
part when there befel him the strangest accident in the world,
according to Franco Sacchetti. The bishop had a monkey the most
amusing and the most mischievous that ever was seen. This animal
being sometimes on the scaffold watching Buonamico work, gave
his whole mind to the matter, and never took his eyes off him
when he was mixing his colours, handling his paintpots, beating
up the eggs to make the tempera, or in fact doing any part of
his work. Now Buonamico left his work one Saturday evening, and
on Sunday morning this monkey, in spite of a great log of wood
which the bishop had had tied to his feet to prevent his jumping
about everywhere, climbed on to the scaffold where he was used
to sit and watch Buonamico work, and having got hold of the paintpots,
poured their contents one into the other and made up a mixture,
breaking up all the eggs there were, and began to paint with the
brushes, and never stopped until he had repainted everything.
This done, he mixed up again all the colour that was left, though
that was little, and came down from the scaffold and went away.
So on Monday morning Buonamico returned to his work, and finding
the painting spoilt, and the paintpots in a mess, and everything
wrong side upwards, he was thrown into great confusion and dismay.
But having considered the matter well, he came to the conclusion
that it was some native of Arezzo who had done it out of envy
or some other reason; therefore going to the bishop, he told him
what had happened and what he supposed. The bishop was greatly
troubled, but he encouraged Buonamico to set to work again, and
repaint what had been spoiled. And because he thought what he
suspected was very likely true, he gave him six of his armed soldiers
with orders to lie in wait with their swords drawn whenever he
was not working, and to cut down without mercy any one who came.
So he painted it over a second time, and one day when the soldiers
were on guard they heard a noise in the church, and behold in
a moment the monkey sprang on the scaffold, and the new master
set to work upon Buonamico's saints. So they called him and showed
him the malefactor, and stood watching him, all bursting with
laughter, Buonamico especially, who could not help laughing till
he cried. At last, dismissing the soldiers from their guard, he
went himself to the bishop and said, "My lord, you want the
painting done one way, and your monkey wants it done another."
And having told him the thing, he added, "You had no need
to send for painters elsewhere when you had a master in your own
house; but perhaps he did not know then how to mix his colours.
But now that he knows and can do it all, I am no longer any good,
and recognising his talents, I am content to take nothing for
my work, but leave to return to Florence."
The bishop hearing the story, though it displeased him, could
not restrain his laughter, particularly considering that an animal
should have played a joke upon the greatest joker in the world.
So when they had talked and laughed the matter over, Buonamico
set to work a third time and finished the picture. And the monkey
as a punishment was shut up in a great wooden cage and kept where
Buonamico worked until he had quite finished, and no one can imagine
the grimaces and gesticulations that the little animal made with
his face and his hands and his whole body at seeing some one else
at work and not being able to help.
The work in the chapel being finished, the bishop, either in jest
or from some caprice, ordered that Buffalmacco should paint on
the facade of his palace an eagle on the back of a lion which
it had killed. The crafty painter, having promised to do what
the bishop wished, had a great screen erected, saying he did not
wish to be seen painting such a subject. And there, shut in all
by himself, he painted the contrary of what the bishop desired,
a lion tearing an eagle. When he had finished, he asked leave
of the bishop to go to Florence for some co]ours that he needed.
And having locked up his screen, he went to Florence, intending
to return no more to the bishop, who seeing the time going on
and the painter not returning, had the screen opened, and found
that the painter had been sharper than he. Then, moved to great
anger, he published his ban against him, which Buonamico hearing,
he sent to bid him do his worst. But finally the bishop, considering
that it was he who had begun the joke, and that it served him
right to have it turned against him, pardoned Buonamico, and rewarded
him liberally for his labours. And more than that, not long after
he fetched him again to Arezzo, and gave him many things to do
in the old cathedral, treating him as his familiar and most faithful
servant. But lest I should be too long if I were to tell of all
the jokes that Buonamico Buffalmacco played, as well as of all
the pictures that he painted, I will end by saying that he died
at the age of seventyeight, and was nursed in his illness by the
Society of the Misericordia, for he was very poor, and had spent
more than he earned, being a man of that nature.
