young choristers bearing their wax candles and consecrated palms, and finally Cimabue himself, the young artist, crowned with the laurel wreath, and followed by the nobles of Florence.

The procession slowly moved toward the church of Maria Novella, and there the Virgin was received by the holy brotherhood with fresh honors, and placed in her new residence. High mass was performed, and the day concluded with feasting and mirth; while, in the evening, the Arno reflected from its glassy bosom, the fire-works which arose with new acclamations from the enthusiastic multitude.

Cimabue was a descendant of the Gondi family, one of the most noble in Florence. They had given a long line of Saints to the calendar, and now the last count determined to adorn the family chapel with rich paintings. But where were the artists to be found? Not in Italy. The destructive wars had crushed the arts, and nothing remained worthy of the name. It was necessary to send to Greece for painters. They came, and, however imperfect were their works, fired the genius of the young Cimabue. After studying and becoming familiar

in practice and in theory with their manner, he abandoned it for a better, and, inspired, as he said, "by the blessed Mother herself, who sat to him in her own person," he produced a painting of her to adorn the church dedicated to her worship. It was no sooner beheld, than it was pronounced a miracle. A day was appointed in which it was to be carried to the place of its destination, with divine honors, a portion of which were showered upon the head of the artist.

Encouraged by this success, Cimabue ventured to paint without the immediate patronage or inspiration of the Virgin Mary. He now produced a picture of Christ crucified, with the mother and St. John near; but it is evident his conceptions went far beyond his execution, as he was reduced to the necessity of putting written labels into their mouths, to express the sentiments of the individuals.

Of all his admirers none was more ardent than Giotto, a simple hind, in the duke his father's service, who had been appointed to the honorable office of guarding the flocks among the hills of Tuscany. Cimabue had saved his life; but this was not the only source of his enthusiasm ;-he had been sometimes admitted to a sight of his paint

ings, was a worshipper of his Maria at the church Novella, and now might be daily seen in the fields with a piece of chalk in his hand, sketching figures on the rocks, while his sheep were grazing near him.

In one of Ciambue's rambles over his paternal domains, he was struck with a drawing of a lamb on one of the smooth rocks. It seemed to him very remarkable; and, inquiring who had made it, he learned that it was Giotto. He immediately sought out the father, and offered to take the boy as a pupil.

He

Giotto well repaid his instructions. at once threw off the fetters of the Greeks, with whom the art had been degenerating from the time of Apelles, and who now had little to bestow on the Italians, after having stimulated them to the cultivation of their native powers. -

The extreme rapidity with which Giotto advanced in design, undoubtedly arose from the study of the ancient sculpture, many specimens of which had already been discovered among the ruins of the ancient cities and villas.

His pure taste soon discarded the use of labels. "I must express by my pencil,” said he, "what Dante would by words."

This was indeed a difficult task, and imperfectly accomplished; yet he arrived at so much excellence as to be called the pupil of nature, and marked out the path in which the art ought to be pursued. He did not confine himself to painting in fresco, (the use of oil was then unknown,) but executed figures in mosaic also. One of these is preserved, representing Christ walking on the water, and the disciples in the boat, exhibiting each characteristic signs of fear and This was afterwards placed

amazement.

over the great entrance to St. Peter's Church, at Rome, and is known by the name of "Giotto's Boat."

The devotion and constant deference of Giotto to Cimabue, was a grateful tribute to that noble artist; for the pupil had now far surpassed the master, though always yielding him the attention of a son. Cimabue bequeathed to his young friend the favor of his admiring fellow-citizens, and the friendship of his family.

At that time Dante had just become known as a poet. Between him and Giotto a strict friendship was formed. They might well consider themselves engaged in a common for it is difficult to mark a line of dis

cause;

tinction between the two arts of poetry and painting, when their respective operations upon the character are superficially considered. Painting, however, has a tendency to abstract the mind from the causes of popular excitement; while poetry sometimes connects an author with the heart-stirring interests of social life. This was the case with Dante; he was engaged in violent factions, and finally exiled from his native city, FloPreviously, however, he was one day contemplating Giotto's picture of St. Francisco, where he represents the various scenes of that Saint's life in thirty-two pieces. "I perceive," said he, "you will

rence.

win immortality."

"Not unless you will secure it to me, by permitting me to paint your portrait," replied the artist.

Dante consented; and it is to Giotto that the world owes the portrait of the illustrious poet.

The fame of the artist could not be confined to Florence. Pope Benedict sent for him to Rome, and employed him in the Vatican, and in St. Peter's Church.*

*It was he who sent to Florence for an artist, and selected Giotto, on account of the perfection of an O that he drew