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_HANDBOOKS OF THE GREAT CRAFTSMEN_.
EDITED BY G. C. WILLIAMSON, LITT.D.
Illustrated Monographs, Biographical and Critical,
on the Great Craftsmen and Workers of
Ancient and Modern Times.
Edited by G. C. WILLIAMSON, Litt.D.
Imperial 16mo, with numerous Illustrations,
5_s._ net each.
_First Volumes of the Series_
THE PAVEMENT MASTERS OF SIENA.
By R. H. HOBART CUST, M.A.
PETER VISCHER.
By CECIL HEADLAM, B.A.
THE IVORY WORKERS OF THE MIDDLE AGES.
By A. M. CUST.
_Others to follow._
LONDON: GEORGE BELL AND SONS
NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN CO.
[Illustration: DOSSETTER PHOTO.] [BRITISH MUSEUM
1. LEAF OF A DIPTYCH
Byzantine, fifth century
[_See p._ 55.]
THE IVORY WORKERS
OF THE
MIDDLE AGES
BY
A. M. CUST
[Illustration]
LONDON
GEORGE BELL AND SONS
1902
CHISWICK PRESS: CHARLES WHITTINGHAM AND CO.
TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON.
TO MY DEAR FATHER
I DEDICATE THIS BOOK.
PREFACE
This little book can do no more than humbly touch the fringe of a
large subject; but if it leads the reader to a further study of this
beautiful craft, it will have amply fulfilled its duty.
I must express my deep obligation to the magnificent volume on ivories
by M. Emile Molinier, whose masterly arrangement of a very fragmentary
and scattered subject is a model of lucidity; and also to Dr. Hans
Graeven, whose scholarly researches and excellent photographs are
indispensable for a real study of the craft.
A. M. CUST.
_December, 1901._
CONTENTS
PAGE
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS xiii
BIBLIOGRAPHY xvii
CHAPTER I.
CONSULAR AND OTHER SECULAR DIPTYCHS 1
CHAPTER II.
LATIN AND BYZANTINE IVORIES 37
I. Latin and Latino-Byzantine and
the Early Byzantine Ivories 37
II. Byzantine Caskets 75
III. The Byzantine Renaissance 84
CHAPTER III.
LOMBARDIC, ANGLO-SAXON, CARLOVINGIAN
AND GERMAN IVORIES 96
I. Lombard Ivory Carvings 96
II. Anglo-Saxon Ivory Carvings 99
III. The Carlovingian Renaissance 106
IV. German Ivory Carving in the time
of the Ottos 118
CHAPTER IV.
ROMANESQUE AND GOTHIC IVORIES 129
LIST OF DIPTYCHS 157
LIST OF PLACES WHERE IMPORTANT EXAMPLES
OF IVORIES CAN BE FOUND 165
INDEX 167
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
FIG. PAGE
1. AN ANGEL. Leaf of a Diptych.
Fifth century. Byzantine
_British Museum, London_ _Frontispiece_
2. SECOND LEAF OF THE DIPTYCH OF PROBIANUS,
VICE-PREFECT OF ROME. End of fourth century
_Berlin Library_ 8
3. FIRST LEAF OF THE DIPTYCH OF PROBUS,
CONSUL AT ROME, 406 A.D.
_Duomo, Aosta_ 9
4. FIRST LEAF OF THE DIPTYCH OF ORESTES,
CONSUL AT ROME, 530 A.D.
_Victoria and Albert Museum, London_ 14
5. LEAF OF THE DIPTYCH OF AMALASUNTHA(?)
Sixth Century. Italian
_Bargello, Florence_ 30
6. ADAM IN THE TERRESTRIAL PARADISE, AND SCENES
FROM THE LIFE OF ST. PAUL.
Leaves of a Diptych. Fifth century. Italian
_Bargello, Florence_ 41
7 & 8. TWO PLAQUES, THE CRUCIFIXION
and CHRIST LEAVING THE PRÆTORIUM.
Fifth century. Italian
_British Museum_ 46, 47
9. PYX WITH THE SCENE OF CHRIST HEALING
THE PARALYTIC.
Sixth century. Italo-Byzantine
_Musée de Cluny, Paris_ 51
10. COVER OF A BOOK OF THE GOSPELS
(from S. Michele di Murano). Sixth century.
Italo-Byzantine
_Ravenna Museum_ 53
11. COVER OF A BOOK OF THE GOSPELS, with three
scenes from the Nativity (from Metz Cathedral).
Sixth century. Italo-Byzantine
_Bibliothèque nationale, Paris_ 57
12. FRONT OF THE IVORY THRONE OF ST. MAXIMIAN,
with St. John Baptist and the Four Evangelists.
Sixth century. Byzantine
_Duomo, Ravenna_ 59
13. A PANEL FROM THE SAME THRONE, BRINGING JOSEPH’S COAT
TO JACOB. Sixth century. Byzantine
_Duomo, Ravenna_ 63
14. OLIPHANT. Ninth to tenth century.
Oriental Byzantine
_Victoria and Albert Museum, London_ 73
15. VEROLI CASKET. Byzantine
_Victoria and Albert Museum, London_ 77
16. FRONT OF A CASKET, with scenes from the life
of David.
Ninth century. Byzantine
_Museo Kircheriano, Rome_ 81
17. HARBAVILLE TRIPTYCH. Tenth century.
Byzantine _Louvre, Paris_ 87
18. PLAQUE WITH THE ASCENSION OF CHRIST.
Eleventh century. Byzantine
_Bargello, Florence_ 89
19. CHRIST ENTHRONED.
Eleventh century. Byzantine
_Trivulzio Collection, Milan_ 91
20. CHRIST CROWNING THE EMPEROR ROMANUS AND THE
EMPRESS EUDOXIA.
Eleventh century. Byzantine.
_Cabinet des Médailles, Bibliothèque nationale, Paris_ 93
21. THE ADORATION OF THE MAGI.
Eleventh century. Anglo-Saxon
_Victoria and Albert Museum, London_ 101
22. THE XXVIITH PSALM REPRESENTED IN SCENIC FORM.
Ninth century. Carlovingian
_Zürich Museum_ 109
23. COVER OF A BOOK OF THE GOSPELS.
Ninth century. Carlovingian
_Abbey of St. Gall, Switzerland_ 113
24. THE CRUCIFIXION AND ALLEGORICAL FIGURES.
Ninth century. Carlovingian
_Victoria and Albert Museum, London_ 115
25. PANEL OF THE CRUCIFIXION, from a book cover.
Tenth century. German
_John Rylands Library, Manchester_ 123
26. CEREMONIAL COMB. Eleventh century.
English _British Museum, London_ 127
27. A BISHOP’S CROZIER. Fourteenth century.
French _Victoria and Albert Museum, London_ 131
28. THE CORONATION OF THE VIRGIN.
Thirteenth century. French
_Louvre, Paris_ 137
29. THE VIRGIN AND CHILD.
Thirteenth century. French
_Bargello, Florence_ 139
30. THE DESCENT FROM THE CROSS.
Thirteenth century. French
_Louvre, Paris_ 141
31. A POLYPTYCH, with the Virgin and Child
and various scenes from the Nativity.
Fourteenth century. French
_Victoria and Albert Museum, London_ 143
32. FIRST LEAF OF A DIPTYCH.
Fourteenth century. French
_Mayer Coll., Liverpool Museum_ 145
33. PLAQUE FROM A CASKET REPRESENTING DANCERS.
Fourteenth century. French
_Bargello, Florence_ 147
34. A MIRROR CASE, with the Elopement of
Guinivere and Lancelot.
Fourteenth century. French
_Mayer Coll., Liverpool Museum_ 149
35. PANEL FROM A CASKET.
Fourteenth century. French
_Bargello, Florence_ 151
36. TRIPTYCH MADE FOR BISHOP GRANDISON OF EXETER.
1327-1369. English _British Museum, London_ 153
37. TRIPTYCH. Early fifteenth century. Italian
_Victoria and Albert Museum, London_ 155
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Antoniewicz. Romanische Forschungen.
G. Böhne, Leipsic.
Barbier de Montault, Xavier. Le symbolisme du bélier
sur les crosses d’ivoire au moyen âge.
Revue de l’Art Chrétien. 1883, p. 157.
Darcel, Alfred. Collection Basilewsky. Catalogue raisonné.
2 vols. Fol.
Paris, 1874.
Spitzer, Frédéric. La Collection Spitzer. Les Ivoires.
Notice de M. Alf. Darcel.
Paris, 1890.
Garucci. Storia dell’ arte cristiana. Vol. 6.
Prato, 1872-80.
Gatty, Charles T. Catalogue of Mediæval and Later Antiquities
contained in the Mayer Museum.
Gilbert & Walmsley. Liverpool, 1883.
Goodyear, W. H. Roman and Mediæval Art.
Flood & Vincent, Chatauqua Press.
Gori, Ant. Francesco. Thesaurus Veterum Diptychorum Consularium
et Ecclesiasticorum. 3 vols.
Florence, 1759.
Graeven, Hans. “Entstellte Consular Diptychon.” Mitth.
Arch. Instituts. Rom. 1892, p. 204.
“Ein Reliquienkästchen aus Pirano.” Jahrbuch der
Kunsthistorischen Sammlungen des Allerhöchsten
Kaiserhauses, Wien. Vol. XX. 1899.
“Der Wiener-Genesis und byzantinische Elfenbeinwerke.”
Do. Vol. XXI. 1900.
“Antike Vorlagen Byzantinische Elfenbeinreliefs.”
Jahrbuch der K. Preuss. Kunstsammlungen,
XVIII. 3. 1897.
Photographs.
Frühchristliche und mittelalterliche Elfenbeinwerke
in photographischer Nachbildung
“Aus Sammlungen in England.” 1898.
“Aus Sammlungen in Italien.” 1900.
Labarte, Jules. Histoire des Arts Industriels au Moyen Age
et à l’Epoque de la Renaissance.
V^e A. Morel. Paris, 1872.
Maskell, W. Ancient and Mediæval Ivories in the
South Kensington Museum.
London, Chapman and Hall, 1872.
The Introduction is sold separately. Price 1_s._
Meyer, Wilhelm (aus Speyer). Zwei Antike Elfenbeintafeln
der k. Staats-Bibliothek in München.
München, Verlag der K. Akademie. 1879.
Molinier, Emile. Histoire Générale des Arts appliqués
à l’Industrie du V^e à la fin du XVIII^e Siècle.
Vol I. Ivoires.
E. Lévy et C^{ie}. Paris.
Catalogue des Ivoires. Musée national du Louvre.
Paris, 1896.
Oldfield, Edmund. A Catalogue of Specimens of
Ancient Ivory Carvings in various collections.
With Memoir by Sir Digby Wyatt. First edition, 1856.
New edition, without memoir, 1893.
Pulzky, Francis. Catalogue of the Fejéváry Ivories
in the Museum of Joseph Mayer, Esq.
Liverpool, 1856.
Roujon, Molinier et Marcou. Catalogue Illustré Officiel
de l’Exposition Rétrospective de l’Art Français
des Origines à 1800.
Paris, 1900.
Scharf, Sir G. Article on “Sculpture” in Waring’s
Art Treasures of the United Kingdom.
Manchester, 1873.
Schlumberger, G. Un Empereur Byzantin au X^e Siècle.
Nicéphore Phocas.
Paris. Didot. 1890.
L’Epopée Byzantine à la fin du X^e Siècle.
Paris, Hachette et C^{ie}. 1896.
Stuhlfauth, G. Die altchristliche Elfenbeinplastik.
Leipsig, 1896.
Venturi, Adolfo. Un cofano civile bizantino di Cividale.
Gallerie nazionale italiane.
Vol 3. 1897.
Storia dell’ arte italiana. I. Dai primordi dell’ arte
cristiana al tempo di Giustiano.
Hoepli. Milan, 1901.
Vöge, W. Katalog der Berliner Elfenbeinwerke.
(In course of publication.) Berlin, 1900.
“Ein deutscher Schnitzer des X Jahrhunderts.” Jahrbuch
der k. preuss. Kunstsammlungen.
Vol. XX. Berlin, 1899.
Westwood, J. O. A Descriptive Catalogue of the
Fictile Ivories in the South Kensington Museum.
With an Account of the Continental Collections
of Classical and Mediæval Ivories.
Chapman and Hall. London, 1876.
Wilpert, Josef. Un Capitolo della Storia di Vestario.
L’Arte. 1898, 1899.
THE IVORY WORKERS OF THE MIDDLE AGES
CHAPTER I
CONSULAR AND OTHER SECULAR DIPTYCHS
From the earliest dawn of the human race until our time, Ivory has held
a first place as a material for making the pleasing little luxuries of
life, religious or civil. Cave-Man has left behind him incised sketches
of animals, the product of his leisure moments; all literature tells
of the use of it, and the digger’s spade turns up a series of charming
objects, from the ornamental hair combs of a prehistoric princess, who
dazzled the Egyptian court some 7000 years B.C., to the ivory-handled
walking-stick of some gouty old Greek who lived at the outset of this
most prosaic era.
To this passion for carved ivory we owe our knowledge of the continuity
of art for many centuries after the break up of the Roman Empire, and
the almost complete cessation of monumental sculpture. In fact, no
such continuous chain has survived in any other artistic production;
and this alone makes the study of the craft of such intense interest,
illustrating as it does the early quickening of art in a period of
great obscurity between the old order and the new.
There is no real break between Classical art and that of the Middle
Ages; the early Christian was the last phase of Roman art, and the
Church handed on with the Christian religion a mass of Judaic and Latin
culture which the barbarian races, having none of their own, accepted,
but through their different nature and requirements, modified and
debased. Thence we see the continuity, and also the two main causes of
the deterioration of Classical art: first, by the rise of Christianity,
which was in its early days antagonistic to the plastic arts, owing
to a haunting horror of images, inherited from Judaism, and a fear of
falling back under the pagan spell of sensuous beauty: and though later
and for a long period the Church became by far the most munificent
and inspiring patron, the final tendency in the Eastern Empire was to
stifle the true spirit of art by subjecting it to as dogmatic a rigour
in design as in doctrine. Secondly the near presence of the powerful
and rapidly assimilating barbarian, who imitating all things, often
ignorant of their meaning, and incapable of good workmanship, reduced
art in the Western Empire to the lowest ebb.
In Constantinople there lingered a fading shadow of the old Greek
spirit, which, at least, inspired the craftsman to finished workmanship
and a love of elegant form.
In spite of the paralysis caused by the enforcement of a fixed canon of
iconography there were long periods of high artistic excellence (Figs.
17 and 18). We have an exaggerated idea of the rigidity of Byzantine
art owing to the numerous repetitions by inferior craftsmen which
are found in our museums, and by confusing the Golden Age, with the
period of real deadness which commenced in the twelfth century, and
has lasted to this very day in the art of the Greek Church. Byzantine
art became the technical school of the younger nations, teaching them
craftsmanship and design, thus enabling them to express their more
impulsive religious emotions and leading them on till they found the
full expression of their genius in the aspiring beauty of Gothic art.
The best period for commencing the study of mediæval ivory-carving
is with the fourth century, A.D., and the great series of Consular
Diptychs which form the backbone of the early history of the craft and
created a type which lasted through the whole mediæval era.
Theodosius the Great (✝395), divided the Roman Empire between his
two sons. Arcadius ruled the Eastern Empire, his capital continuing
at Constantinople. Honorius, then only eleven years old, nominally
governed the Western. He did not make the Eternal City his seat of
government, in fact the Imperial Court had rarely returned there since
it was deserted by Diocletian. Milan was considered too exposed to the
attacks of the barbarians, so the city of Ravenna, almost impregnable
owing to the surrounding marshes, was chosen, and remained the capital
of the varying rulers of Italy until the eighth century.
Two Consuls were chosen for the East and West, their names continuing
to give the legal date to the year, according to the ancient custom.
And though every vestige of political power was gone, the post was the
object of much ambition, it being a personal favour of the Emperor,
and conferring on the holder the highest rank. It also brought great
popularity with the people, who still honoured the name of Consul,
full of memories of the great republic, and still more passionately
appreciated the Games in the Circus, which it was the expensive
privilege of the Consul to inaugurate on his accession.
These Games were an occasion for great ostentation, and were carried
out with lavish expenditure. First there was a procession of all the
dignitaries of the city, in which the Consul was the most important
figure; this was greeted on its arrival at the amphitheatre by the tens
of thousands of spectators starting up and clapping their hands; then
all were breathlessly still while the Consul, cynosure of every eye,
flung down into the arena the small white napkin, or _Mappa Circensis_,
with which he, and he alone, might signal the commencement of the games.
This was the psychic moment, and the scene has been preserved for all
time on the carved ivory diptychs which were presented by the Consul to
the Senators and other high officials in commemoration of his office.
The word diptych is derived from the Greek δίπτυχον or “double folded,”
and the diptychs given by the Consuls were an elaborate form of the
ordinary writing-tablets or _pugillares_, “a thing held in the fist.”
They consisted of two pieces of ivory joined together like a book by
hinges, decorated on the outside and grooved inside to hold the wax,
which was written on by a sharp style. The most important leaf is the
right hand one, or that which comes uppermost when the book is closed,
on it, with a few early exceptions, the Consul’s name was always
inscribed, the second leaf bearing his titles.
These consular diptychs probably contained the _Fasti Consulares_ or
List of Consuls up to the year of the donor.
They were often gilded, the inscriptions being painted in red; and
some were of great size, as the Byzantine Angel in the British Museum
(frontispiece), which measures 16¼ by 5½ in., and is so large that
no known tusk would suffice to cut it. It has been thought that the
ancients possessed some secret for rolling out ivory or joining it
invisibly; but it is more likely that elephants had not been so
much killed down for the sake of their ivory, so larger tusks were
obtainable.
These tablets were so costly that Theodosius decreed in 384 that they
should only be given away by the _Consules Ordinarii_, or the Consuls
admitted on the 1st of January and who named the year, and not by
those who replaced them or by any other officials; but this law was
soon disregarded, and nine years later we read in a letter of the
noble Roman Symmachus that, in honour of his son’s elevation to the
quæstorship he is sending to the very same Emperor a diptych set in
gold.
This series of diptychs spreads over a period of about 150 years, from
the end of the fourth to the middle of the sixth century. The sculpture
steadily decreasing in value, the earliest examples show freedom
of design and good work, but the last were nothing but indifferent
repetitions of the same subjects, in bad proportion and worse relief
till it became possible to produce a figure such as that of Orestes
(Fig. 4). Soon after Orestes the Emperor Justinian abolished this
ancient office, and, really, he must be held justified if all the
consuls could do was to give bloodthirsty shows to the citizens, and
still more corrupt the standard of art by distributing such despicable
types of art among the provincials.
It is noticeable that all the fifth century diptychs, the earliest and
the best, both consular and otherwise are from the West. By the end
of the century there was a complete collapse, following the further
invasions of the Huns and other barbarians, and the Western Empire
flickered out with the suppression, by Odoacer the Goth, of the last
emperor, grotesquely named Romulus Augustulus, a sort of satire on his
unworthy following of such mighty predecessors.
Orestes, Consul at Rome, 530 (Fig. 4), No. 34,[1] is the only Western
Consul of the sixth century whose diptych has been preserved; the style
is so like that of Constantinople, that it gives weight to Graeven’s
theory that the medallions on it represent Amalasuntha, daughter of
Theodoric the Ostro-Goth, who was then ruling in the name of her young
son Athalric, and who carried on that short renaissance of the Arts, so
artificially introduced from Constantinople by her father. The busts
cannot represent the reigning Emperor Justinian and his wife Theodora,
because at that time he was forty-eight years of age, and they never
had a son.
Before passing to the real consular diptychs, it is impossible to leave
unmentioned the splendid tablets of Probianus at Berlin (Fig. 2), No.
50.
We know no more than what the well-cut inscription tells us, that he
was VICARIUS URBIS ROMÆ, or Vice-Prefect of the city of Rome. But,
judging from the style, the good proportions (admitting the convention
which made the person of highest rank the largest), the dignified
faces, and the natural arrangement of the drapery, it must be of early
date, probably towards the end of the fourth century, about the time
of the beautiful tablets of the Nicomachi and the Symmachi (No. 58), to
which it is closely allied by the well-hung drapery and the surrounding
border of delicately cut honeysuckle pattern.
[Illustration: [BERLIN MUSEUM
2. SECOND LEAF OF THE DIPTYCH OF PROBIANUS
End of fourth century]
The top has a slight gable, as in the early diptych of Probus (Fig.
3), No. 2. Probianus is depicted in the Tribunal, sitting on his
high-backed throne, surrounded by his clerks, who bear piles of writing
tablets, and below, probably outside the _cancelli_ or barrier, which
is to be found in all Roman basilicas, stand the litigants, who appear
to be congratulating him. Outstretched fingers, in early art, meant
the act of speech, and then, as now, congratulatory addresses were
inscribed and presented. On the second leaf we see the address on his
knee, and by a curious convention he is writing with his own hand the
words they acclaim him with, “PROBIANE FLOREAS.”
[Illustration: ALINARI PHOTO.] [AOSTA CATHEDRAL
3. FIRST LEAF OF THE DIPTYCH OF PROBUS]
In the first leaf he is delivering judgment, and the two lower figures
wear the toga, showing they are of high rank, and on the other both he
and the litigants are arrayed in the chlamys of ordinary folk. Below,
between the litigants is seen a mysterious object on a tripod stand,
which some say is the _clepsydra_ or water-clock, and others declare to
be the official inkpot. On the right of the Vice-Prefect is a curious
standard-like erection called the _vexilla regalia_, on which was
painted the portraits of the Emperor and Empress, and which was never
absent from any important ceremonial.
The diptych first on Molinier’s list covers an antiphonary in the
Treasury of the Basilica at Monza, which contains so many other
interesting antiquities.
Legend tells us that this ivory was sent about the year 600 to the
Lombard queen, Theodolinda, by Pope Gregory the Great in acknowledgment
of her efforts to convert her very barbaric subjects from the Arian
heresy to Catholicism.
Three figures are represented, a bearded soldier and a stately lady,
who has with her a little boy. It is evidently a portrait group,
and has given rise to many questionings; and among the names of the
numerous historical personages connected with it are those of the
general Constantius, his wife, the famous Galla Placidia, daughter
of Theodosius I., and their little son, afterwards Valentinian III.
This would place it towards the end of the first twenty-five years of
the fifth century. This theory is quite possible, historically; but,
judging from the style, the attribution of Molinier is more likely. He
considers that the figures represent another trio who lived a quarter
of a century earlier. The decadence in art was so exceedingly rapid
that it is very doubtful if such good craftsmanship and originality of
design were possible at the later period. Molinier suggests that the
carving represents the great general Stilicho, who though of Vandal
origin, raised himself to a position of great power. He faithfully
served Theodosius I., and the Emperor on his deathbed intrusted to him
the care of his two young sons.
Stilicho, however, finding his influence in the Eastern Court was
checked by Rufinus, concentrated his energies in the West, and
practically ruled the Western Empire, and his weak young son-in-law,
the Emperor Honorius. He kept the invading hordes at bay by conquest
and treaty till his fall in 408, in which year the three persons
depicted on these tablets—Stilicho, his wife Serena, adopted daughter
and niece of Theodosius I., and their young son, Eucherius, were all
cruelly murdered. This attribution would date it about 400, and an
examination of the style supports the idea. The proportions are good,
and the drapery well rendered, especially Serena’s girdled tunic. The
whole design shows originality, and the figures being portraits, the
craftsman was thrown on his own resources and could not copy from
classical sculpture.
The pose of the figures is somewhat uneasy, and contrasts unfavourably
with the grace of the Bacchantes on the beautiful private diptych, part
in the Musée de Cluny, and part in the Victoria and Albert Museum (No.
58), which probably formed the cover of a marriage contract between
the families of the Nicomachi and the Symmachi. These tablets, though
nearly of the same date, adhere closely to some Greek model, and though
gaining much in beauty, lose in originality.
Camille Jullian in an interesting article[2] points out how in the
midst of thoroughly Roman surroundings, it is only the energetic face
of Stilicho which is not Roman in type and betrays his barbarian origin.
The short tunic worn by Stilicho is embroidered all over with pictures
of his wife and son, his long chlamys having only portraits of the
boy. It was a popular custom at this period to have the portraits of
near relations embroidered on State garments, especially pictures of
children. The poet Claudian in his panegyric on Stilicho, alludes
to scenes from the lives of Eucherius and his little sisters being
embroidered on the robe of their father. More often the portrait was
on a square of stuff, or segment, which was let into the front of the
garment (see Fig. 5).
The first diptych of certain date is that of Probus, Consul at Rome,
406, No. 2 (Fig. 3), and probably intended as a gift for the Emperor
Honorius, who is depicted thereon as a figure of heavy proportions,
borrowed from the common type of imperial statue. The head is evidently
a portrait, as even at the most decadent period there was always a
striving, even if an unsuccessful one, after portraiture and naturalism.
It is interesting to note the nimbus round the head of Honorius. In
heathen times the nimbus was given to the immortals[3] and to images
of the deified emperors. Christian art adopted it, but not invariably,
and it appears to have been regarded more as an attribute of power than
saintliness. Though Christ and his disciples and the Old Testament[4]
heroes received it, it also encircled the heads of the great people of
this world. We find it on the celebrated Justinian mosaics at S. Vitale
in Ravenna, and on the medals of Justinian, and as late as the eleventh
century on the plaque of the Emperor and Empress, Romanus and Eudoxia,
in the Bibliothèque nationale at Paris (Fig. 20).
Next in date and infinitely coarser in execution is that of Felix, 428
(No. 3); the head is of a rugged type, and the Consul is represented
standing alone at the door of his house. Asturias, 449 (No. 4), on
the contrary, is throned high in front of a colonnade and accompanied
by two attendants. In the tablet, however, of the Consul Boethius,
487 (No. 5), we see for the first time the Consul seated, _mappa_ in
hand, signalling the commencement of the games; but the design on
the two leaves still has some variation, and on the second leaf he
stands without the _mappa_. The diptych of Sividius, 488 (No. 6),
furnishes the earliest example of the tablets of simpler type, which
were probably given to people of lower degree. It is decorated by an
inscribed medallion surrounded by foliated scrolls and four rosettes.
All these are from the Western Empire.
[Illustration: [VICTORIA AND ALBERT MUSEUM, LONDON
4. FIRST LEAF OF THE DIPTYCH OF ORESTES, 530 A.D.]
With the commencement of the sixth century and the diptych of
Areobindus, Consul at Constantinople, 506, we change to the Eastern
Empire and find the formal type already fixed (see Fig. 4).
The Consul is seen sitting on the _sella curulis_, or consular chair.
This has no back, and is usually made of ivory, with elaborately carved
masks and claws of lions, and sometimes has small figures of Victory on
the arms. On it is a richly embroidered cushion, rather ostentatiously
showing; for to sit on a cushion in the Circus was only allowed to
certain privileged classes. His feet rest on the _scabellum_, or stool,
and he is clad in his gorgeous festival robe, which is a development of
the purple triumphal garb of the victorious generals in earlier days.
The component parts of this dress are still under discussion, but
according to Meyer[5] they consist of four parts:
1st. The _paenula_. A long plain under-robe with long
narrow sleeves;
2nd. The _colobium_. A shorter embroidered over-tunic,
with half length wide sleeves;
3rd. An embroidered strip, which is laid over one shoulder
and hangs down before and behind;
4th. A nameless wrap of lighter material, embroidered or
woven in a pattern.
The complete dress was called the _trabea_ or _toga picta_.
Wilpert,[6] however, declares that Nos. 3 and 4 are one long piece
equal to the ancient toga: without which, by a decree of 382, the
Senators were forbidden to appear in public, and which by more and
more folding was reduced into the narrow Byzantine _lorum_. The feet
were covered with red leather shoes, fastened by crossed ribbons with
falling ends.
The Consul holds in his right hand the _mappa circensis_ and in his
left the _scipio_ or sceptre. These sceptres are crowned by many
devices—an eagle, busts of the imperial family and even two sitting
figures.
As in the diptych of Orestes, there are often two female
personifications of Rome and Constantinople; the former, on the
Consul’s right hand, holds a tessera in her right and a spear in her
left hand. Her helmet has three crests, while that of Constantinople
only one. The latter holds up her right hand and bears a shield or
standard in the left. These cities are sometimes represented in little
medallions on the Consul’s chair (No. 17).
Very often above the head of the central figure were medallions with
the portraits of imperial personages, or, perhaps, renowned ancestors.
These niches were designed in imitation of those wooden shrines in
which Roman households kept the waxen busts of their ancestors.
Sometimes these diptychs were finished with a cross, and some have a
medallion with the bust of Christ (No. 36).
The upper part was inscribed with the name and titles of the Consul,
the last name always denominating the year.
Some early tablets have the name in the genitive, always a sign of
antiquity, as _Nicomachorum_ and _Symmachorum_ (No. 58), _Felicis_ (No.
3), _Lampadorium_ (No. 33), and the plain tablets bearing the name
_Gallieni Concessi V.C._
_V. Inl._ or _Vir Inlustris_, _V. C._ or _Vir Clarissimus_, and even
_Patric._ or _Patrician_, were personal titles and not hereditary. They
denoted that the bearer had held high office. We also find _Præfectus_,
and _Comes domesticorum equites_, or commander of the imperial
bodyguard. To be called _Vir spectabilis_, or a respectable man, was
then esteemed a high honour, while in our degenerate days it is almost
considered an insult. But _Cons. ordin._ or _Consul ordinarius_ was the
real dignity, and with one exception always stood last.
In the lower division of the Orestes tablet, two servants pour money
from sacks, doubtless commemorating the Consul’s largesse to the
people. In some diptychs they scatter prizes for the Games, and often
there are lively representations of the chariot races (No. 33), and
the fights with wild beasts. Areobindus has left us the most varied
pictures. A row of spectators look on at the struggling gladiators
(No. 9), or _Bestiarii_ fighting with all sorts of wild beasts, lions
and bears (No. 7), a bull-fight (No. 10), and on an anonymous diptych
at Liverpool (No. 51), five magnificent elans are being attacked by
hunters.
The fights do not appear to have been very dangerous for the men; the
scenes are often quite comic from the numerous precautions taken,
especially on the Basilewsky tablet at St. Petersburg (No. 52). The
fighters, carefully packed in leather protectors, bolt through doors
with peep-holes, or climb into a sort of crow’s-nest, curling up their
ferocious opponents at the end of extremely long spears. In fact
there was every means of escape, trap-doors, turnstile exits, and
even dummy figures to divert the attention of the animals. Perhaps it
was necessary, for we read of Pompey providing six hundred lions for
a single show, and of Trajan celebrating his Dacian victories by the
slaughter of eleven thousand beasts. If these little precautions had
not been taken, the entertainment might have ended abruptly, and more
in favour of the lower animals than the lords of creation.
The fights of the gladiators represented on the Besançon tablet must
have been more exhibitions of skill than struggles to the death.
These gladiatorial fights ceased after the generous act of the monk
Telemachus. He, after travelling to Rome from the far East with the
set purpose, stept down into the arena, at the triumphal games of the
Emperor Honorius (404), and tried to part the combatants. He was stoned
to death by the enraged multitude; but his death was not unavailing,
for his memory was respected, and these degrading exhibitions were for
ever abolished.
Basilius, Consul at Constantinople, 541, was the last of the Consuls
before the Emperor Justinian, impatient of the empty show of power,
absorbed the office among his other titles, and from that time the
Emperors always went through the form of being made Consul once on
their accession. Basilius is represented on the first leaf of his
diptych (No. 37) standing by the figure of Constantinople, who holds
a standard on a gigantic pole. Below is a minute chariot race. On the
second leaf, which has been cut, a figure of Victory holds an oval
medallion portrait of the Consul. Below is an eagle with outstretched
wings. These two leaves, though widely separated, were proved to be
a pair by the likeness of the thin sickly face of the Consul on each
leaf. This diptych varies considerably from the contemporary design,
and though all idea of the real structure of the body, and of the hang
of drapery from the limbs has disappeared, still it shows so much
originality and clever portraiture, that Graeven, after a careful
consideration of the fashion of the dress, attributes it to an earlier
Consul Basilius of 480, at a time before the grouping had become so
stereotyped.
The number of these carvings given away was so considerable that all
were not of the same richness. There are many tablets of simpler design
and rougher make, several being smaller and in camel bone (No. 43).
These were, as already stated, intended for persons of lower degree.
The decoration consisted usually of a medallion, inscribed, or with
the bust of the Consul, surrounded by foliated scrolls (Areobindus
has left several of this latter kind among his numerous diptychs). The
Barbarini leaf has a charming variation, the bust being inclosed in a
garland bound with hanging ribbons (No. 41). Some are fully inscribed
(No. 35), and others have only a monogram like that formed from the
Greek letters of the name Areobindus (No. 12).
Justinianus, Consul at Constantinople in 541, and afterwards Emperor,
has, in addition to his names, a Latin dedication framed in a circular
moulding of delicate honeysuckle pattern. The diptych of Philoxenus
at the Bibliothèque nationale (No. 29) is quite a new departure.
Three medallions, linked by knotted cords, contain the portrait
of the Consul, his name and titles in Latin, and below, a female
bust, who, some think, represents his wife. She is more likely to
be the personification of Constantinople, judging from the absence
of the fashionable headgear, the hair being simply parted under a
narrow diadem, and from the standard she grasps in her hand, which
is embroidered with a garland in the same fashion as that held
by Constantinople in the Basilius diptychon. The faces are well
characterized and the whole workmanship is excellent, round it is an
elaborate border, the spaces being filled in by a Greek verse, which
runs as follows:
“I Philoxenus being Consul, offer this present to the wise Senate.”
There is a simpler diptych of this Consul at Liverpool, which bears a
Greek dedication to a friend.
The most important among the anonymous consular diptychs is the fine
one preserved in the Cathedral Treasury at Halberstadt (No. 38) on
which the bearded Consul stands among his friends, the group being
varied on each leaf. Above, in a narrow division, are two small
imperial figures seated on a wide throne with the figures of Rome and
Constantinople; at the back stands a Victory, as in the similar design
on a coin of Theodosius I. Below, in another narrow division, are
pathetic groups of captive barbarians. The inscription has been cut
from the top, but the whole style points to an early date, and Meyer
places it between those of Asturias and Boethius in the third quarter
of the fifth century.
The tablet of Lampadius at Brescia is especially interesting for the
large picture it gives of a chariot race, showing the quadrigas rushing
past the _spina_ or turning post.
The Consul, clad in the _trabea_ sits with two companions behind
the richly carved _cancelli_ or balustrade. The only similar
representation is on the magisterial diptych at Liverpool (No. 51),
but the identification is very confusing. In the Brescia tablet the
central _trabea_-clad figure and the man on his left both hold the
_mappa_, but on that at Liverpool there is, more reasonably, only one
starter, but he is on the left of the central figure, who holds a
libation cup instead of the _mappa_, and all three figures have the
same un-consular dress. Meyer points out an inscription announcing the
restoration of the Flavian Amphitheatre by Caecina Felix Lampadius,
in the second half of the fifth century; the inscription being in the
genitive is also a sign of antiquity. But the smooth and rather too
minute workmanship connect it with the best diptychs of the early
sixth century, and so Molinier attributes it to Lampadius, Consul at
Constantinople in 530, and the same year as our old friend Orestes
(Fig. 4), and the smooth finish of the Lampadius tablet can be
contrasted, not altogether unfavourably, with the rougher modelling of
what had become by then almost a provincial school.
The nameless consular diptych of Bourges (No. 39), divides into two
equal registers. Above, the bearded Consul is seated between two
guards, on one leaf these have long hair, and may have been intended
for Goths, and in the corners of the arch are two eagles exactly like
those on the St. Gregory diptych at Monza (No. 44). In each lower half
is a _bestiarius_ transfixing lions and leopards with his spear. The
treatment, if rough, is free, and the grouping of the lions is somewhat
similar to that in the Adam tablet at the Bargello (Fig. 6). It is
probably fifth or early sixth century.
Meyer quotes the text of Gregory of Tours, who describes the
installation of Clovis the Frankish king as Consul of the West in 508,
with all the pomp and honour of Roman custom, and repeats the rather
problematic suggestion that this diptych commemorates the occasion.
The ivory tablet in the British Museum, called the Apotheosis of
Romulus, from a very doubtful reading of the monogram, is probably
also of the fifth or even sixth century, though its thoroughly heathen
subject seems to necessitate an earlier date. The composition is
most elaborate. Below, the Consul, clad in the toga, is seated in an
architectural triumphal car drawn by four elephants, each with their
driver. In the centre he is seen in miniature driving in a quadriga,
which bears him upward, preceded by eagles, from the funeral pile to
the heavens, where he is again represented in the hands of winged
genii, who present him to the assembled gods.
This is interesting as being an example of that continuous method of
composition, in which the same figure is repeated acting in sequence.
This method was introduced into Roman art about the Augustan age, and
was largely continued by Christian art, especially in the MSS. It
gained great popularity, and for a while it seemed doubtful whether the
“continuous” or the “episodic” method would be the leading feature in
modern art.[7]
Several consular diptychs have been turned to Christian religious
uses by slight alterations of the figures, and by the removal of
inscriptions and scenes from the games.
The most important transformed diptych is in the Cathedral Treasury
at Monza (No. 44), which now represents St. Gregory and King David.
The alterations have been considerable, and have given rise to many
differences of opinion, but the latest writers, with the exception
of Meyer, have gone back to the opinion of the earliest, Gori, who
declared the consular origin of these tablets.
St. Gregory did not die till 604, so could not have been canonized
before the seventh century, and the style is fully that of the consular
diptychs in the first half of the preceding century. The saints are
depicted in full consular robes, the right hand raised with the _mappa_
in the act of flinging it into the arena, and in the left the _scipio_.
The background has the typical decorated arch, supported by cannelated
pilasters, over the capitals of which are rectangular spaces having
the names of Gregory and David cut with a deep background, as if to
destroy any under carving. Above the arch is a cross similar to that
on Fig. 4, on each side are two eagles of the Bourges pattern (No.
39). David sits on a curule chair, his feet resting on a stool in good
consular fashion. On each side of the chair, above the leg, is a square
with deep cut carving. These squares might have contained the now
obliterated busts of Rome and Constantinople, which decorate that part
on the diptych of Anastasius (No. 17). In fact the knot and twisted
stalks almost follow the outlines of a head and shoulders. There is
more deep carving let in a narrow groove between the pilasters and the
smooth background, all of which has a Carlovingian character.
St. Gregory has been given a tonsure and his hair has been cut at
the expense of his ears, which have been cut away too. The robes
are untouched, but Gregory’s sceptre has been altered to a cross.
Above the head of David are faint traces of an inscription on the
smooth background, and on the other leaf there is a later inscription
referring to Gregory’s Antiphonary, to a copy of which the tablets
formerly acted as a cover.
On a reliquary book cover at Prague is another consul changed into
St. Peter (No. 45). This figure has suffered considerably, for the
_trabea_ has been so much smoothed that it is hardly distinguishable.
The _mappa_ has been turned into a _volumen_ or roll, the _scipio_ into
a key, and the feet have been bared.
There appears to have been a class of diptychs, each leaf consisting
of five pieces joined together by ivory beading or metal mountings.
The four pieces were arranged like a frame round the central and most
important plaque. (See the later Christian book cover, Fig. 10.) Meyer
suggests they were especially intended for gifts to members of the
imperial family.
Some of these five-piece panels were more probably intended as book
covers, but one undoubted consular diptych in five parts still
survives, though the pieces are scattered. Two horizontal strips are
in the collection of the Marchese di Trivulzio at Milan. The upper one,
with a bust of Constantinople borne by two winged figures, is inscribed
with a dedication to an Emperor, while the lower strip, which is carved
with barbarians rushing forward to present tribute (the same motive as
that of the Magi), bears the Consul’s titles.
Two upright pieces of slightly varying width, on a book cover in
the Munich Library, represent a consul in the act of walking to his
right, and carrying what is probably a congratulatory address to the
Emperor, his hands being religiously veiled. Above and behind him is an
Imperial Guard, with large shield and spear, his robe embroidered on
the shoulders, and his neck encircled by a collar from whence hangs a
bulla, just as we see them on the mosaic in St. Vitale at Ravenna.
The narrower piece has a rigidly vertical design. Below is the full
face figure of a man holding a long staff, and above, the upper portion
of a figure of Victory, holding up over her head a wreath containing a
bust of the Emperor, the exact enlargement of those Victories which so
often stand on the arms of the curule chair (No. 17).
Meyer considers that these two unequal pieces formed the two sides,
but the complete want of balance in the composition makes Molinier’s
opinion that they both formed the right side the more probable. This
increases the number of pieces to seven, but the Victory having no
border may have been sawn off the central plaque. On the other hand,
in the five-piece panel at Ravenna (Fig. 10), the central plaque is
divided horizontally by a beading, if not in two separate pieces. If
we consider that these two pieces formed the right side, and multiply
their combined width for the left side, and then compare the total of
the two sides with the width of the horizontal strips, there is still
ample space for a central plaque representing the Emperor.
Meyer adds to the list of diptychs the celebrated five-piece tablet
in the Barbarini Library at Rome. The upper and lower strips are of
exactly the same character, and in the central plaque the Emperor
(probably Constantine the Great) is seen on a rearing horse, under
whose feet is a woman with her lap full of fruit, who personifies
some conquered country. In the left piece is the figure of a
soldier bringing a Victory, and the other side, which should have a
representation like the Munich Consul, is lost.
Molinier emphatically declares this could not have been a consular
diptych, as there is no trace of inscription; but suggests that it was
the cover of a book intended for the Emperor.
There is one more diptych in exceedingly high relief, which may
possibly be classed among the consular series, the date and subject of
which is still a matter of much discussion. One leaf is in the Bargello
at Florence (Fig. 5), and the other in the Vienna Museum (No. 57).
The Florentine portion represents a personage clad in a robe blazing
with jewels, and standing under an elaborate edifice, holding orb and
sceptre. The Vienna leaf is practically the same, only the figure is
seated on a throne set with precious stones, and extends the right hand
in the same manner as the Empress Eudoxia on Fig. 20, whilst the left
hand supports the orb. The sex of this personage was long disputed, but
now it is considered by most writers to represent a woman, both from
the modelling of the form and from the dress.
The robes of Emperor and Empress were very similar, but on examining
the mosaics of St. Vitale at Ravenna, we find that though Justinian and
Theodora both wear the _chlamys_, hers is more lavishly decorated, and
she wears a large collar of pendant jewels, while Justinian has the
_fibula_. But the head-dresses were always tolerably distinctive till
considerably later. Ladies of high rank all wore a kind of wig-like
turban, sometimes double, as in the case of Serena (No. 1). That it was
a turban and not hair is evident from the striped pattern on that of
Serena. This was often bound with jewels, and the imperial family wore
diadems with long strings of jewels hanging over the ears, as on the
Bargello tablet. These pendants were often, but not invariably, worn by
the Emperor, but his diadem fitted close on to his forehead without the
intervening wig, as we see on the interesting ninth century casket in
the Museo Kircheriano in Rome, where both head-dresses are represented.
A large segment is inserted on the front of her robe by a jewelled
edging, on which we see the portrait of a chubby boy dressed in the
_trabea_, and wielding _mappa_ and _scipio_, a diadem with pendants
being on his head.
Having decided that the figure is intended for a lady, there remains
the vexed question of who she is. Molinier thinks she is of Byzantine
origin, not wrought with the delicate art of the tenth to the eleventh
centuries, but earlier and coarser, and going through the various
historic characters in search of a name, he attributes the portrait
to the Empress Irene, widow of Leo IV., and long Regent for her
ten-year-old son Constantine IV., for she alone would dare to be
portrayed throned, and with all the attributes of sovereignty. It
was Irene who, in the middle of the Iconoclastic period, convened a
council of the Church, repealed the new laws, and encouraged the use of
religious images throughout her realm.
This attribution would bring the date of the diptych down to the end
of the eighth century, and later than the style would seem to warrant;
and it is vigorously opposed by Graeven, who declares that after the
first half of the sixth century, there were no more purely secular
representations; and that the coins of Irene represent her with both
diadem and sceptre surmounted by a cross.
To this may be added the affinity of the architecture with that on
diptychs of the early sixth century, as the eagles on the top, which
are exactly like those surmounting the Bourges (No. 39) and St. Gregory
(No. 44) diptychs. Also the columns with tightly wound curtains are
extremely near in design to those on the tablets of the Poet and Muse
at Monza (No. 63). Curtains, however, with horizontal stripes were
fairly constant all through early art, but were less used in strictly
Byzantine Art than in any other.
[Illustration: ALINARI PHOTO.] [BARGELLO, FLORENCE
5. LEAF OF THE DIPTYCH OF AMALASUNTHA(?)
Italian, sixth century]
Graeven having given good reasons for placing this ivory in the first
half of the sixth century, suggests that it represents Amalasuntha,
daughter of Theodoric, who, by right of conquest and the reluctant
consent of the Emperor of the East, was King of Italy from 493-526; and
who, by good government, had brought about some measure of order, and
induced a slight renaissance of the arts. Amalasuntha governed at Pavia
in the name of her young son Athalric (Fig. 5).
Graeven suggests that these two are also represented in the medallions
on the diptych of Orestes (Fig. 4). Athalric is represented without a
diadem, like his grandfather on the gold medal, and he wears a coat in
Gothic fashion, like that on the coins of Theodatus, his successor, and
his mother’s second husband. Amalasuntha attempted to control Theodatus
in the same manner as her dead son, but he resented the interference
and had her murdered, thus severing the last link with the enlightened
_régime_ of Theodoric, and plunging the country once more in darkness
and barbarism.
There still remain for attention the Private Diptychs, which were
given away to celebrate a marriage, or a happy recovery to health, or
some other domestic reason. The subjects were usually mythological, and
the compositions, sometimes of great beauty, were chiefly borrowed from
Classical Art.
First, and by far the most beautiful, is the magnificent diptych of
the noble families of the Nicomachi and the Symmachi; the two leaves
are, respectively, in the Musée de Cluny at Paris and the Victoria and
Albert Museum in London. The wonderful preservation of the surface
shows the soft modelling of the ivory, and though the Paris leaf has
been cruelly shattered and several pieces lost, the soft flow of the
drapery is still sufficiently visible.
It is rather saddening to think of the long periods which must elapse
in the history of ivory carving, from this time when drapery was still
a thing of beauty, showing the form it seemed to hide, on through
phases in which the garments were laid on in a series of flat lumps,
or covered with a multitude of meaningless lines, until, finally, it
emerges in Gothic art, no longer diaphanous and clinging, it is true,
but drapery, real drapery, hanging in long swaying folds and falling
round the feet in delicate little heaps in a manner whose perfection
was the sole prerogative of the French craftsmen.
Between the Nicomachus diptych and the famous Diptychon Quirinalis of
Brescia (No. 59), there is a great abyss. On one leaf of the latter
are carved Hippolytus and Phædra, a poor copy of some Greek model; on
the other Diana and Endymion.
Meyer thinks it probable that in the representation of the chaste
Diana, coyly saluting her lover under the chin, we may find the
portrait of a Roman lady. Certainly the attitude of the lady’s left
hand, firmly placed on her hip, could have been copied from no Greek
original, and further, these two figures have curtains behind them and
embroidery on the shoulders of their tunics, after the popular fashion
of the fifth and sixth centuries.
It is interesting to note the architectural background, an arch
supported by two pilasters, which is very similar to that on the St.
Gregory diptych, except that here the string-course which supports the
scallop shell has not been cut away as in that at Monza.
Liverpool Museum has a fine pair of tablets representing Æsculapius and
Hygeia (No. 61); which undoubtedly refer to recovery from an illness.
The figure of Æsculapius appears to be taken from the Farnese Hercules.
Another small ivory of this subject is in a private collection in
Zurich; the figures vary considerably, but are evidently of the same
period—mid sixth century.
There is one more diptych in that wonderful collection in the Treasury
of the Basilica at Monza; representing an elderly bald-headed man,
whose heavy torso and fat puffy face are well characterized, though
the pose is rather awkwardly rendered. He appears to be a poet, for
writing tablets and a _volumen_ lie at his feet, and on the adjoining
leaf we see a Muse playing on the lyre. But from her matronly figure
and his uncompromising ugliness, we appear to be dealing with another
of those portrait diptychs, like the one at Brescia, in which the noble
Roman had his portrait taken in fancy dress.
There are two most interesting tablets now in the Bibliothèque
nationale at Paris, originally from Sens, where they long served as
a binding to the thirteenth century MS. containing “The Office of
Fools,” or that read on the first day of the year, and in which was
incorporated many customs derived from the Roman Saturnalia. The
decoration is frankly pagan, and is somewhat similar in style to the
sarcophagi of the third century, on which the various scenes are
superimposed in much the same manner.
On one leaf Bacchus Helios is represented clasping a thyrsis in one
hand and an empty wine-cup in the other, while he stands upright in
a car drawn by a male and female centaur. Above are lively scenes of
the vintage, little figures gathering grapes and gaily treading out
the wine. At the bottom of the tablet a group of sea-gods are seen
disporting themselves among dolphins and other fish.
In the centre of the other tablet Diana Lucifera, rises like the moon
from the sea; she wears a crescent on her brow, and round her head
floats a cloud of airy drapery. She carries a lighted torch, and the
two bulls which draw her chariot bound rapidly upward out of the sea.
Above are a satyr and nymph, some women, Cupid and the tiny figure of
Venus in a shell, and below, lying on the waters, is a figure of the
Sea, surrounded by fish and holding a curious crustacean in her hand.
These diptychs have passed through many vicissitudes during the lapse
of time. In the Victoria and Albert Museum there is a later carving on
the back of a mutilated consular diptych, from which the whole surface
has been smoothed away, leaving only a deeper outline here and there.
This gives an idea of the fate of a large number of carved ivories, and
of our great loss; and it is entirely to the adoption of diptychs for
liturgical purposes by the Church that we owe the preservation of those
that remain. The bishops, being high functionaries, may have received
them as gifts, and others were votive.
The Council of Mopsueste, in 550, ordered the churches to keep the
diptychs, and the names of those persons to be prayed for during
the celebration of mass to be inscribed in them, in the following
categories, all having a more or less local connection with the
particular church:
Firstly: Neophytes, or newly baptized;
Secondly: Benefactors, Sovereigns and Bishops;
Thirdly: Saints and Martyrs; and
Lastly: The Faithful Dead “in the sleep of peace.”
People were very anxious to have their names inscribed, and fearful of
being scratched out for heresy.
For the dead bishops the prayer was less for them, than to them, from
which comes the word “canonize,” or to be named in the Canon of the
Mass. On the inner side of the diptych of Clementinus, at Liverpool,
there is in roughly written Greek letters a prayer for the clergy of a
church of St. Agatha, and for “our Shepherd Hadrian the Patriarch,” who
can be none other than Pope Hadrian (✝795); this diptych probably came
from a church in Sicily, for Greek was still spoken, and the patron
saint of Palermo is St. Agatha.
Lists of bishops were inscribed, and when the list grew too long
parchment leaves were inserted. Whole services were bound in these
carvings, and the covers of many of the oldest MSS. are of diptychs,
set in an elaborate border of goldsmith’s work, to increase the size as
well as to enhance the beauty.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] The numbers to the diptychs, in all cases, refer to those in the
list of diptychs at the end of the book.
[2] _Mélanges de l’Archéol. et d’Histoire_, Rome, 1882.
[3] See the figure of Circe in the Casa di Modesta, Pompeii.
[4] See the Joshua Rotulus, edited by the Directors of the Vatican
Library, Rome.
[5] _Zwei Antike Elfenbeintafeln_, Munich, 1879.
[6] _L’Arte_, 1898.
[7] _Roman Art_, Wickhoff, Eng. trans. by Mrs. A. Strong.