LATIN AND BYZANTINE IVORIES
I. LATIN, LATINO-BYZANTINE AND THE EARLY BYZANTINE IVORIES
At the end of the last chapter it was shown how the Church had
preserved a large number of consular diptychs, either unchanged or
altered to suit Christian iconography. To that list must be added
several ivory carvings with religious subjects, yet so closely
connected with the class of Private Diptychs, that it is more than
probable that they also have undergone transformation.
The most important among these are a fragmentary panel in the Museo
Civico at Bologna and the celebrated Ivory Book of Rouen Cathedral.
On the Bologna fragment is the figure of a bearded man of heavy type,
in a well designed but poorly executed robe; he clasps a roll in his
left land and beneath his neatly sandalled feet is a stool, always
a mark of honour, in the side of which is a deepened space with the
name “Petrus” rudely inscribed. Above, in the broken pediment, is a
niche with the bust of a bearded man, labelled “Marcus.” The whole is
surrounded by a handsome ovolo moulding, as are also the panels of the
Rouen Book Cover, which may be of a slightly later date, but they must
both be placed early in the sixth century. The Rouen carvings represent
St. Peter and St. Paul, without a doubt, for they are already of that
iconographical type which had become fixed by the end of the preceding
century, St. Paul with a bald head and long pointed beard, and St.
Peter with thick hair and a round curling beard; but it is very likely
that the figures on both the Bologna and Rouen tablets were originally
intended for authors or poets as on the series of complimentary
diptychs.
The architecture lends credence to this theory, the cannelated columns
and pediment flanked by so-called “doves,” being much the same as that
on the various sixth century diptychs. The drapery too, has been copied
from good models, that of St. Peter, with the right arm buried in the
folds of his toga, is in imitation of the famous Lateran Sophocles.
Another proof of alteration is the manner in which he holds a narrow
key in a grasp wide enough to contain a roll as large as that in the
Bologna fragment.
There is a diptych in Tongres Cathedral,[8] which has a history
carrying it back to the ninth century. The names of the Bishops of
Tongres from 855-959 being engraved on the back.
It evidently belongs to the large class of ivories of mixed
Latino-Byzantine origin. The vine scroll border, the flat relief and
rather grooved working of the draperies, also the peculiar stockings
and oriental shoes are all features of this class. St. Paul raises his
hand to bless in the Greek manner, with only two fingers extended.
The interpretation of this gesture is variously given, many say it is
symbolical of the dual nature of Our Lord and of the Trinity.
Byzantine, equally with Italian art, sprang from the last _floraison_
of Roman Art, and grew up at Constantinople, the New Rome, but much
modified by Greek and Syrian influences. At first the culture of the
two Empires was so linked together, that it is the merest shade which
distinguishes Roman Art in the East and West. The division widens, and
the two branches stretch out, one, the purely Latin, soon to wither
and almost perish, and the other to grow into that spreading tree of
Byzantine Art, whose branches have scattered fruit in every part of
Europe and the Levant.
The latest bloom on the purely Latin branch, before it commenced
to decay, included ivories of singular beauty, as the splendid
casket at Brescia and the famous Carrand diptych in the Bargello at
Florence (Figs. 5 and 6). This carving is of superb finish, worthy
of the beautiful Bacchante diptych, though the design is less purely
classical. The first leaf represents Adam in the Earthly Paradise,
engaged in naming the animals, the figure is thoroughly Greek, and the
treatment closely resembles an Orpheus scene, though the curiously
crimped hair and heavy hands and feet betray a decline in art. The
animals show delightful touches of first-hand observation, the worrying
attitude of the little dog, who, forgetting he is in Paradise, is just
going to bark at the dignified goat below. The droop of the bull’s head
as he grazes by the side of the Four Rivers is very natural, though the
artist still adheres to the rather dry technique of animal portrayal in
ancient art. These animals may be compared with those on the diptych
of Bourges, which are scattered over the background in much the same
way, but with less defiance of perspective, as they are supposed to be
leaping in the act of fighting.
The object of much controversy is another fine Earthly Paradise carved
on the back of an Areobindus diptych in the Louvre (No. 13). It is
divided into registers by irregular lines of herbage; above are Adam
and Eve and the Serpent, next come a series of weird mythological
creatures, and then follow serried ranks of animals, fabulous and
otherwise. Molinier declares it cannot be later than the sixth century,
and connects it with the Bargello diptych, but there is a real
difference in the feeling and technique of the animals, and a bizarre
element, quite foreign to the matter-of-fact and straightforward
methods of ancient art. In the opinion of de Linas and Graeven, the
carving was added in the early periods of the Italian Renaissance, and
the former points out a connection with the carvings on the façade of
Orvieto Cathedral.
[Illustration: ALINARI PHOTO.] [BARGELLO, FLORENCE
6. DIPTYCH WITH THE EARTHLY PARADISE AND SCENES
FROM THE LIFE OF ST. PAUL
Italian, fifth century]
The second leaf of the Bargello diptych is covered with three rows of
exquisitely carved and well characterized figures. The top row may
represent the meeting of Paul and Barnabas with Peter at Damascus. The
next shows Paul at Malta, shaking the viper into the fire (Acts, xviii.
3), and remaining unhurt, to the surprise of Publius, governor of the
island, who stands by dressed as a man of rank in a chlamys embroidered
with a segment and fastened by a rich fibula. The soldier with the
strange sleeved fur coat hung over his shoulders is probably one of the
governor’s guard. At the bottom we see the healing of the father of
Publius, who lay sick of a fever.
The Lipsanoteca, or large ivory casket in the Museo Civico at Brescia,
is a fine work of early Christian sculpture, and has far more
connection with antiquity than with the early development of the art
of the Middle Ages. But it is difficult to pass it by undescribed, as
it gives the early types of so much that is met again in later art.
Molinier classes it among the sixth century ivories of mixed style. But
Westwood points out that the mingling of subjects from the Old and New
Testament histories, and the small size given to some of them as border
pieces, show the precise treatment of many early sarcophagi, also the
classical nature of many of the details point to an early date, and he
attributes it at latest to the fourth century, with which date Graeven
entirely agrees.
The casket has a frieze of fifteen heads in medallions, and in the
narrow borders are the symbolical Types of Old Testament history. The
large central scenes are from the New Testament, showing Christ as the
Good Shepherd at the Gate of the Fold, and several of the miracles
which became so popular on the Italo-Byzantine ivories, including the
rarer scene of the _Raising of Jairus’s daughter_, which has many
features in common with the _Raising of Tabitha_ on one of a series of
three most interesting little plaques in the British Museum, notably in
the treatment of the long waving hair of the attendant women. On the
flat lid the Cycle of the Passion is most fully illustrated, but stops
short with the scene in the Prætorium before the sad representation of
the Crucifixion.
The great similarity between the art of the Eastern and Western
divisions of the Roman Empire has already been mentioned, and it is
this similarity which causes considerable difficulty in classifying
the early ivories. The three British Museum plaques just referred to
as having a close connection in the scene of the _Raising of Tabitha_
to the Brescia casket, which is undoubtedly of Western origin, have
also a strong resemblance to the first half of a diptych now in the
Trivulzio Collection at Milan, both in the dress of the soldiers, and
in the crouching figure of one of the Holy Women, which are almost
identical on the two ivories. Molinier considers the Trivulzio tablet
to be purely Constantinopolitan, but Graeven produces good evidence for
connecting it with Latin sculpture.
This tablet is divided into two scenes from the first Easter Morn, the
startled soldiers by the tomb of Christ, and the Angel appearing to the
two Maries. The proportions are on the whole good, though inclining
to the dumpiness peculiar to the reliefs on the sarcophagi. There are
other details which betray the influence of these sculptures. The half
opened door of the tomb is found on pagan coffins, and the dress of
the soldiers, with the strange round headgear, rather like a cook’s
cap, is often characteristic of the Jews, and is found on several of
the sarcophagi. In the British Museum plaques the Israelites who stoop
down to drink of the water from the rock wear exactly the same dress,
treated in exactly the same manner, even to the ends of the chlamys,
which fly out in rapid movement.
This dress is also found in a Codex (No. 286) at Corpus Christi
College, Cambridge, and again on another set of plaques in the British
Museum, which belonged to a casket, and are of a deep reddish colour.
On these plaques the types of the Holy Women are the same as those
on the Trivulzio tablet, and the crouching women in the _Raising of
Tabitha_ in the British Museum set of three. The Crucifixion (Fig. 7)
belongs to the coloured set, and is the earliest representation known,
excepting that on the carved wood doors of St. Sabina at Rome, which
were made by Greek workmen for Pope Celestin (432-440), and the two
conceptions have much in common in modelling and pose.
It should be noticed that the _titulus_ is written only in Latin.
A most important proof of the Latin origin of these ivories is the
finely cut honeysuckle moulding which surrounds the door of the tomb
in the Trivulzio tablet, and which is found both on the diptych of
Probianus (Fig. 2) and on that of the Nicomachi family (No. 58). The
tablet has another close connection with the Probianus diptych in
the division of the surface into two tiers by the border, and the
recognition of the existence of three dimensional space, by grouping
the figures firmly on the ground. This knowledge was soon forgotten,
and the figures on sculptures of scarcely later date float about one
over the other without the artist being in the least troubled by the
problem of the depth of inclosed space. The close connection with these
diptychs points to an early date, probably not later than the first
decades of the fifth century. The dividing border[9] is very common
in Carlovingian ivories, and is, perhaps, one reason why Westwood
and Stuhlfauth attribute the Trivulzio plaque to that epoch, but a
comparison of the “space” arrangement, imperfect as it is, with any
Carlovingian ivory, clearly shows the superiority of the more ancient
work.
[Illustration: DR. GRAEVEN PHOTO.] [BRITISH MUSEUM
7. THE CRUCIFIXION
Italian, commencement of fifth century]
[Illustration: DR. GRAEVEN PHOTO.] [BRITISH MUSEUM
8. CHRIST LEAVING THE PRÆTORIUM
Italian, commencement of fifth century]
After this time angels were rarely represented without wings; the
absence of wings makes the beautiful nimbed angel on the Trivulzio
plaque quite indistinguishable from the figures of Christ on the
British Museum plaques with the Passion. It is interesting to note,
just about the end of the fourth century, the earliest representation
of the symbolism of the Apocalypse in the presence of the Bull of St.
Luke and St. Matthew’s Angel. The round shape of the tomb, with the
raised tiled roof, is a difficult point, it appears to be the germ
of the elaborate circular edifice with a cupola which became such a
feature in purely Byzantine Art; but there were many circular tombs[10]
in Rome for the artist to copy, and the huge round mass of the
Mausoleum of Hadrian consisted of a drum, raised on a square basis, and
decorated with columns and statues in a rather similar manner to the
tomb on the fine Byzantine plaque with the _Ascension_, in the Munich
Museum.
Thus we find the two sets of plaques in the British Museum and the
Trivulzio tablet closely connected with each other and in touch with
the Brescia casket. The workmanship is not so good on the smaller
pieces, but on the whole the drawing is fairly correct, the drapery
well designed and falling in few and soft folds over the rather chubby
forms; and the whole technique is very different from the unyielding
draperies and the too minute details of the consular diptychs.
Sculpture in ivory prospered, while that in marble declined. The
fashion of sculptured marble sarcophagi had almost died out in the
sixth century; but the Latin types and traditions were carried on
by a series of carved pyxes, till they gradually merged in the
Latino-Byzantine Art.
These pyxes are little circular boxes made in Italy, and dating
practically from the fifth and sixth centuries. Many were of pagan
origin, and decorated with mythological subjects, some being used for
the toilet requisites of Roman ladies; and others were, doubtless,
_accerae_, or boxes for holding incense for heathen worship, such as we
see in the hand of the lovely Bacchante on the diptych of the Symmachi
family in the Victoria and Albert Museum. Afterwards they found a place
in Christian liturgy, being used to hold the Reservation of the Host.
The most ancient and beautiful pyx of Christian origin is in the
Berlin Museum. It was probably carved in the fifth century from good
antique models; on it, Christ, posed like Probianus on his diptych, and
represented as a beardless youth, is teaching the Apostles. St. Peter
and St. Paul (who usually takes the place of Judas among the twelve)
are seated at His feet. The apostle on the right of Christ raises his
hand, just in the manner of a consul about to throw the _mappa_. On the
other side is a very beautiful figure of Abraham sacrificing Isaac.
The style is so completely that of the sarcophagi that when the design
is drawn as a flat strip it could easily be mistaken for one. In the
Bargello there is a well-carved pyx with a lively picture of the Angel
appearing to the Shepherds, who, with their rough short garments and
thick crooked sticks are typical antique figures and very like Joseph’s
brothers on the Throne of Maximian (Fig. 13). We also find on the
Throne the strange basket chair in which the Virgin sits. The onward
rush of the Magi, as they bear gifts to the Infant Saviour, is a very
favourite motive in Byzantine Art. Their barbaric costume, of trousers
and short girdled shirt, surmounted by a Phrygian cap, traces back all
through ancient Greek Art, and, minus the cap, is still the summer
dress of the Russian peasant.
A pyx in the Musée de Cluny (Fig. 9) is of interest, giving some of the
same series of miracles that are found so repeatedly at this period,
both in carvings and in the mosaics. The Healing of the Paralytic, who
carries his bed, Restoring sight to the man born blind, the Woman of
Samaria, the Raising of Lazarus, and the ever popular whale scenes from
the Life of Jonah (Fig. 10).
The minds of the early Christians seemed turned away from the scenes of
Christ’s Passion and Death, and only dwelt on His human relations as
a Teacher and Healer, and on His glorious position as “Pantocrator,”
Ruler of All. A great triumphal joy seems to break out in the glowing
mosaics of the earlier basilicas, and again and again, Christ, the
Mighty, the Ruler, is represented in enormous size on the glittering
walls, and not a trace of His sufferings, which formed the chief theme
of later art.
In the series of miracles Christ is nearly always represented is a
young beardless man, with a slight smile, the hair sometimes cut short
in Roman fashion, but more often at this period with clustering curls.
This younger, or “Ideal” type is, perhaps, slightly the earlier, and
we find it in the catacomb frescoes and the most ancient mosaics and
sarcophagi. The so-called “Portrait” type of Christ, as a Nazarene,
with long hair and beard and a grave face, tending to severity was
employed at the same time and sometimes side by side in the same
decoration, as in the Ivory Book of St. Lupicien, and the mosaics of S.
Vitale at Ravenna, both sixth century. In each case He is figured as
Pantocrator, this type being invariably bearded in Byzantine Art. On
some few sarcophagi He is also represented with a beard.
[Illustration: [MUSÉE DE CLUNY, PARIS
9. PYX, CHRIST RAISING THE PARALYTIC
Italo-Byzantine, sixth century]
Early in the third century there had been a sharp struggle about
the appearance of Our Lord; many sided with Tertullian, making Him
of abject form, others with Jerome and John Chrysostom declared He
conquered souls by His beauty. The latter opinion prevailed, as it
agreed with the existing traditions of the beauty of the Immortals. It
is interesting to note that during this controversy no actual portrait
was referred to, all the so-called portraits of Our Lord being of later
date.
Fig. 10 is typical of a large group of ivory carvings of mixed origin.
These book covers and the later pyxes are closely allied to the scenic
pieces on the Throne of Maximian, though the technique is inferior,
some being of very rough workmanship.
The arrangement of these panels is like that of the five-piece consular
diptych mentioned in the last chapter, only the vertical side panels
are divided into two pieces by a border. The three important examples
of this kind of book cover are: this single panel from S. Michele di
Murano, now in the Ravenna Library, the two panels of the Book of
St. Lupicien, in the Bibliothèque nationale at Paris, and the pair
lately discovered by Dr. Strzygowski in the Patriarchal Library at
Etschmiadzin on the slopes of Mount Ararat.
[Illustration: ALINARI PHOTO.] [MUSEUM, RAVENNA
10. COVER OF A BOOK OF THE GOSPELS,
FROM S. MICHELE DI MURANO
Italo-Byzantine, sixth century]
The figures on the Murano panel are long and slight, and the modelling,
though very barbarous, does round off to the background. Above are the
well-known group of flying angels supporting a garland. These figures
in the course of time have gone through a whole cycle of changes;
starting from the flying Erotes who so commonly support the portrait of
the deceased on Roman sarcophagi, they became clothed and elongated,
as we see them here, and at last stripped and chubby again we find
them on the tombs of the Medici, while their grown-up relations hover
over many an Italian picture and sculpture. The peculiar dumpy dolphin
is an interesting specimen of longevity, going through more than two
thousand years of life from the Choragic Monument at Athens to a London
Drinking Fountain without changing a line. The surprised gesture of the
accompanying disciple (Fig. 9), and of the Three Children in the Fiery
Furnace (Fig. 10), is another of those delightful conventions that meet
us at every turn in this most naïve group of sculptures. We meet it
again in the St. Lupicien panels, which are very similar, but nearer
in technique to the scenes on the Throne of Maximian. The subjects
vary little, but instead of Jonah there is a charming picture of the
Woman of Samaria standing by the well. The figure of Christ seated in
the central panel is old and bearded, and it so closely resembles the
St. John Baptist on the Throne (Fig. 12) that, except for the large
cruciform nimbus, it might be taken for that saint. The workmanship is
coarse and the hands are terribly large and ill drawn.
The drawing on the Etschmiadzin Book Cover, which is in the same style
as St. Lupicien, is still more incorrect, the legs and arms of the
flying angels being quite detached and merely placed in the drapery at
suitable angles. The modelling is even worse, and goes in many places
sheer down to the background from a surface covered with grooved lines.
Yet the figure of the youthful Christ is not unpleasing, with the wide
smooth face so characteristic of early Byzantine art. The pose, with
fingers raised to teach or bless, is taken directly from the Roman
official type, and should be compared with the diptych of Probianus.
The Virgin is accompanied by two angels, who, though without wings, can
be recognized by their pointed diadems, which have been inherited by
the angels in Italian painting.
There are a number of ivories of a double character, strongly
influenced by Byzantine art yet not so closely allied to the Ravenna
Throne as those already mentioned. The magnificent angel in the British
Museum should probably be classed among these (frontispiece). It is
the first half of a diptych of unusual size, and though the drapery
is a little unmeaning in places, still it is good, and with the rich
architecture and the thickly feathered wings, forms a splendid whole.
There is nothing to compare with it in the sixth century for firmness
of design; yet the tendency to fullness in the face and the wealth
of detail are signs of lateness, and it can hardly be dated with any
certainty before the last years of the fifth century. The first half of
the Greek inscription reads, “_Receive these things that are present
and learning the cause_—”. It is sad to see how soon this fine type was
debased and moon faces and unstructural forms became the order of the
day.
A beautiful book cover in the Bibliothèque nationale at Paris (Fig.
11) came from the Cathedral of Metz, where it had been for centuries
a model to the Carlovingian and German craftsmen. The pure design and
justness of the movements, together with the generous folds of the
drapery, all denote a close study of the fine work of antiquity; yet
the complication of the design and the exaggerated fineness of the
carving, which is pierced right through, show how far the work is
from the simplicity of ancient art. The Italian craftsman had still
individuality enough to resist the Byzantine influence in some things.
The Virgin is draped like a Roman lady, and Herod has not yet donned
the dress of a Byzantine functionary, as on the later ivories where
court etiquette reigns supreme.
The artist of the Milan book covers had not so much strength, and has
succumbed still more to Byzantine influence. These panels have been
enriched at a later date by a jewelled lamb and cross. Much of the
dress and detail is still Latin, but he draws his inspiration from the
apocryphal gospel of Nicodemus, and represents the Virgin receiving the
Divine message, not in her own house but by the side of a stream, from
which she is drawing water in a tall vase.
The three plaques of the casket of Werden (now in the Victoria and
Albert Museum) belong to this series; there are the same rushing
figures of the Magi, bearing strange gifts on flat dishes, and the
Virgin also stands by the stream. A curious survivor of paganism is
present at the Baptism of Our Lord, the allegorical figure of Jordan,
not by any means a modest accessory, but a large muscular figure,
proudly comparing his fine shoulders with the rather meagre proportions
of the sacred figures. Decidedly the Christian artists preferred the
Spirit to the Flesh, and the era of elongated figures and champagne
bottle shoulders was soon to commence.
[Illustration: A. GIRAUDON PHOTO.] [BIBLIOTHÈQUE NATIONALE, PARIS
11. COVER OF A BOOK OF THE GOSPELS, WITH
THREE SCENES FROM THE NATIVITY
Italo-Byzantine, sixth century]
Milan Cathedral possesses another ivory carving too important to be
passed over, which Molinier and Graeven attribute to this period in
contradiction to Labarte, who declares it to be Italian Carlovingian
of the ninth century, but the design is too closely connected with
the series just under discussion for it to be possibly of later date
than the sixth century. The two leaves of the diptych are crowded with
active little figures, all intent on the business in hand. It should be
noted that though the angel by the tomb is almost identical with that
on the Trivulzio tablet, the guards are differently dressed, having the
crested helmet and mailed tunic of antique Roman soldiers.
The separation of the two schools had become complete when the plaque
in the Munich Museum was carved, probably well on in the sixth century.
It is unmistakably Byzantine; in the lower half the Holy Women visit
the Tomb, whilst above, there is a fine figure of Christ ascending
to heaven; He rises with a powerful impetus, and the whole scene is
far superior in vigour to the later representations. There is an
interesting plaque in the Liverpool Museum, on which the Carlovingian
craftsman has closely imitated the grouping of the Holy Women and the
soldiers round the tomb.
The glory of the ivory craft is at Ravenna, the magnificent Throne of
St. Maximian, bishop of that city from 546-553.
[Illustration: L. RICCI PHOTO.] [CATHEDRAL, RAVENNA
12. FRONT OF THE THRONE OF MAXIMIAN
Italo-Byzantine, sixth century]
This _cathedra_ or episcopal chair is entirely covered with carved
ivory, and has been treasured in the Cathedral for more than fourteen
centuries. The throne was made in the sixth century, during that
period of great artistic activity, when Justinian was engaged in
beautifying Constantinople and the other great cities of his Empire.
The new Church of St. Sophia was being decorated in the most gorgeous
manner. The old chroniclers tell of gold and silver doors, and six
doors of carved ivory; so the custom of overlaying large surfaces with
ivory plaques was not an innovation. The bishop ordered his Throne and
set it up at a time when Ravenna was still an important centre, and
yearly adding to the number of its beautiful buildings.
S. Vitale, newly finished and decorated with the celebrated mosaic
portraits of Justinian and Theodora, was consecrated by St. Maximian
himself, who is pictured on the walls by the side of the Emperor. Yet,
in spite of all this encouragement, art, and sculpture in particular,
had already commenced that steady decline to the period of comparative
stagnation which, as Professor Krumbacher, the well-known Byzantine
scholar, says, affected not only art but literature, and lasted nearly
two hundred years, from about 650 to 850. The decline can be traced in
the mosaics at Ravenna; those in S. Vitale are not so good as those in
the tomb of Galla Placidia, while the decoration of the Baptistery is
the most ancient and the best.
The Throne is most precious as an exception, showing really artistic
work in a period when originality was rare. The height is one yard
fourteen inches, the seat being flanked by two panels rising above it
and forming the arms; the front is entirely filled in by the large
panel with five saints, the back is high and semi-circular, the top
being arched. At the junction of the side panels, with the front and
back, are upright posts, which form the feet, and rising slightly
above the level of the panels are capped by flattened balls; these,
and the strips of ivory which divide the back into little scenes, are
carved with the most decorative vine scrolls, growing out of vases of
classical shape, and peopled with a whole world of animals leaping in
and out amid the leaves and bunches of grapes.
These borders show real progress and the adoption of new oriental
ideas. The animated scroll work is often found on the Eastern textiles
of this period, which must have formed objects of constant trade. The
Koptic tombs on the Nile Delta[11] have yielded a numerous collection
of contemporary textiles with beautifully woven patterns in much the
same style. The vine from being a popular pagan decoration became
closely connected with the Christian religion.
The carving of the wide borders on the back, if rather summary, attains
the largeness of treatment as of sculpture in marble. The actual
manual work on the Throne varies somewhat, and is probably the work of
different artizans, Byzantine or Italian, but there can be little doubt
that the whole was the work of one master mind.
The Five Saints on the front panel are of noble design and most
carefully carved, but lacking in spontaneity. Each stands under the
familiar round arch, and the scallop shell is arranged as a kind of
halo behind each head.
The grand figure of John the Baptist stands in the middle of the Four
Evangelists, among whom we are tempted to recognize St. Peter and St.
Paul, but this resemblance is probably owing to the artist’s poverty of
types. Above, in the border, flanked by two peacocks of evident Syrian
origin, is the monogram of the saint, which reads
_Maximianus episcopus_.
The plaques on the side panels deal with the life of Joseph, and those
on the back have scenes from the life of Christ. The latter were
twenty-four in number, but only seven remain, four inside and three
out. Some of these are carved on each side, and all are bordered with
a narrow and much debased Greek bead and lozenge moulding, which is
an additional help in the identification of the straying pieces. One
of these lost plaques is now in the collection of Count Stroganoff at
Rome; it represents on one side “the Entry into Jerusalem,” and on the
other “the Nativity,” with an additional incident in the withering of
the hand of the incredulous attendant, Salome, which is recounted in
the apocryphal gospels. The type of Joseph in this scene is just the
low-browed, bullet-headed type of the Greek wrestler, and must have
been borrowed from some ancient sculpture.
[Illustration: L. RICCI PHOTO.] [CATHEDRAL, RAVENNA
13. PANEL FROM THE THRONE OF MAXIMIAN
Italo-Byzantine, sixth century]
In the scene of the Annunciation the Virgin sits in a high-backed chair
of basket-work, just like that on the Bargello pyx, with the Visit of
the Magi. She is spinning, as described in the apocryphal gospels, and
beside her stands a basket for her wool.
The plaque, with the Virgin riding on an ass, is not the flight into
Egypt, but the journey to Bethlehem just before the Child was born,
and the languid attitude of the Virgin as she leans in weakness on the
shoulder of Joseph, is rendered with much feeling.
The Baptism of Christ is peculiarly interesting as it gives an insight
into the early types of this subject. The Holy Spirit in the form of a
dove flies headlong downwards, and Christ is represented as a little
naked child, and beside him, leaning on an urn is the personification
of the River Jordan. Another remnant of pagan tradition is found in the
winged and bearded genius of Sleep, who stands by Pharaoh’s couch in
the “Dream Scene.” This figure also appears on a plaque in the Early
Christian Room at the British Museum, which is decorated with scenes
from the life of Christ, the strange bearded angel being present at
the baptism. There is a very interesting ivory in the same room, a pyx
representing the Martyrdom of St. Menas, which has another peculiarity
in common with the carvings on the Throne, in the elaborate and
curiously embroidered blouse worn by the executioner, which is like
that worn by Joseph in the house of Potiphar.
The scenes from Joseph’s life are more deeply carved than the others,
the figures are wonderfully characterized, the oriental faces of the
Egyptians are framed in long plaits, like the Egyptian hair dressing
on the monuments, which is even now to be seen on the Upper Nile. All
these reliefs are a curious mixture of close observation of nature
and servile imitations of classical types. The woman present at the
sale of Joseph, holds her hand in her veil like many a stately figure
in Roman art, but the meeting of Joseph with his old father is quite
modern in its emotional force, the old man tremblingly totters forward
into the arms of his stalwart young son, and one cannot help feeling
irritated at the bystanders’ conventional gestures as they gaze on
such a touching scene. Jacob’s wild distress (Fig. 13) is terribly
realistic, and the contrasted stony despair of the bereaved Rachel is
most dramatic. Rachel appears in other presentments of this subject,
but the Bible narrative mentions her death some time before.
The _provenance_ of this great monument is a very thorny question,[12]
many writers notice the strongly marked oriental characteristics, and
some infer that it was imported from Alexandria, which then had a
flourishing school of artists and craftsmen. St. Maximian certainly
visited Alexandria before he was made bishop, and he may afterwards
have ordered the Throne to be made there, or brought over Alexandrian
workmen. There is every reason to believe the story that the Emperor
Heraklius brought over a carved ivory throne from Alexandria in
the beginning of the next century. The difficulty of adopting this
Alexandrian theory lies in the existence of an Italo-Byzantine school
in Italy, which is proved by the number of pyxes and book covers,
which seem to show nearly every step between the old Latin and the
almost entirely Byzantine art of the Ravenna Throne. Of course many
of these may have been influenced by the carvings on the Throne, but
many are undoubtedly of earlier date. Any way, with the acceptance
or rejection of this theory stands or falls the European origin of
several other most important ivories: first and most important, the
much-discussed Berlin diptych, representing on one leaf Christ as a
middle-aged man, very similar in type to the John Baptist (Fig. 12),
and on the others the Virgin, attended by wingless angels; Schmirnoff,
by close examination of the border, which has been partially cut away,
believes he has discovered the remains of a monogram similar to that
on the front panel of the Throne. Also the plaque with the _Baptism
of Christ_, in the British Museum, the Tongres diptych, the “Bateman”
diptych, and one or two others which are closely related in style.
Reference was made to an ivory throne brought from Alexandria to
Constantinople by Heraklius (610-641). This throne was ultimately
placed in the Cathedral at Grado, and the legend grew up that it was
actually the episcopal throne of St. Mark, who was the first Bishop of
Alexandria.
In the Castello at Milan there are a series of five plaques dealing
with the subject of St. Mark’s mission to Alexandria and Cyrene, as
told in the Acts of St. Mark; there is every probability that they
belonged to the throne of St. Mark in Grado, which appears to have
been more or less perfect in the sixteenth century, but is reported by
a later writer to be entirely stripped of its decoration. The Milan
reliefs are of a very distinctive technique, the drapery being marked
by rib-like folds, usually in couples, and the type of face is refined,
though over elaborated. They are earlier than the time of Heraklius,
and probably date from the sixth century.
Three scattered plaques are unmistakably connected with this series;
_St. Peter dictating the Gospel of St. Mark_, with a winged figure
behind, in the Victoria and Albert Museum; _The Raising of Lazarus_ in
the British Museum, and _The Annunciation_, in the Trivulzio Collection
at Milan. The two last are more delicately carved, but the striking
similarities of pose and drapery, and the same violent perspective of
the architecture, make it almost certain that they are from the same
_atelier_, if not by the hand of the same craftsman.
Two ivories of a totally different style seem to belong to the next
century, but their dates are still a matter of doubt. One is a plaque
in the Treasury of Trèves Cathedral, deeply undercut and full of little
figures and details. Westwood says it represents the arrival of the
Holy Coat to that very Cathedral.[13] The relic is in a casket held by
two ecclesiastics, who sit in a gorgeous car drawn by a pair of horses.
The procession is led by the Emperor Constantine and received at the
church doors by his mother, Helena, who holds a cross in memorial of
her journey to Jerusalem to fetch the True Cross. In the background is
the Porta Nigra, and the nave of a basilica showing an apse.
Unfortunately, there is no proof of this attractive theory, though
the building in the background does resemble the Porta Nigra (still
existing at Trèves) and the basilica there has a very similar apse;
but all Roman architecture imperfectly depicted looks much alike, every
basilica has an apse, and it is not recorded how long the ivory has
been in the Treasury at Trèves. Thus we must be reconciled to call it
by an indeterminate name. It is certainly Byzantine, and most probably
about the seventh century.
If possible there is still greater uncertainty about the second ivory,
which is also of an architectural character and has lately been
acquired by the Louvre authorities. It is without doubt Byzantine,
and represents the conventional type of St. Paul, preaching to a
distinguished and eager crowd. The relief of the ivory is very deep,
and there is a certain boldness in the treatment of the mass of
the crowd, also the city which towers over head, is of a very real
structure and seems intended for some actual city.
Comparing the round arched buildings with the types of architecture on
the sixth and seventh century mosaics, Molinier and Saglio attribute
this ivory to the same period, but Schlumberger cannot believe it to
be more ancient than the tenth century. The deep red colour is the
remnant of the purple stain, which was probably still further enriched
by gilding.
With few exceptions, it has been the common practice to colour ivories
as well as statues, and though much at variance with our modern taste
(which is founded on a mistaken appreciation of the tint of marble
from which the colour has faded), it must have greatly enhanced the
effect, especially in the smaller objects which enter almost into the
province of _bijouterie_.
In the eighth century the iconoclastic[14] troubles commenced; the
movement was at first one of real reform, the charge of idolatry which
had been brought against the Greek Christians by their Mahometan
neighbours was not without foundation, but unfortunately the love of
images was deeply rooted in the heart of the people, who transferred to
these little pictures and images the same homage they had paid to their
local protecting deities in pagan times.
A powerful party, always a minority, gained the ear of the Emperor
Leo III., the Isaurian (717-741), a man of low birth, who had raised
himself to his high station by sheer merit on the field of battle, and
though he has been bitterly abused by his enemies, he appears to have
been quite above the average of imperial character, which, it must be
confessed, did not reach an overpoweringly high level.
This man, having subdued his country’s enemies in the East, turned
his active mind to the annihilation of the unhappy artists and all
their works. At first his measures were moderate, the removing of
pictures out of reach of the lips of the worshippers; but superstition
was so deeply rooted that an abortive revolt broke out, instigated
by the monks, who, besides being the most strenuous advocates for
images, were also the chief manufacturers. This rebellion was easily
suppressed, but it provoked severer measures, an edict was promulgated
that all images were to be destroyed, and the painted walls of the
churches to be covered with plaster. All opposition was punished
by a rapid crescendo of penalties, by imprisonment, mutilation and
excommunication. More revolts followed, Leo became still more angry,
and the next thing we read of is the destruction by fire of the great
Library of Constantinople, guards and all, by order of the Emperor.
The guards were not a matter of importance, as a violent death one way
or other was of small moment in those most unpleasant times; but the
manuscripts were an irreparable loss, almost as terrible as the burning
of the Alexandrian Library by the Mahometans, only a hundred years
before, and for the same unreasonable reason.
These struggles continued, with less or more violence, for nearly 150
years; the choleric Leo was succeeded by his still more violent son,
Constantine V. who, according to the opposite party (which contained
all the chroniclers), was closely related to the Evil One, but he
certainly had great energy, and was probably not so black as he was
painted. He continued the work of his father with great vigour, and, it
must be added, considerable cruelty.
Sometimes there was comparative calm, as when the Empress Irene seized
the reins of government from her unhappy son, Constantine VI., in
797, and issued an edict of tolerance. She was a wonderful woman, and
lived in imperial state for many years, against all law, human and
divine; for she was many bad things, besides being a woman, and as
such, debarred from government. Among her schemes was an alliance with
Charlemagne, to whom she offered her hand; the offer was not accepted,
and soon after she was exiled to Lesbos by another usurper, who,
being a violent iconoclast, immediately restored all the oppressive
laws. With delightful readiness the ecclesiastical General Councils
promulgated decrees for, or against, the cult of images, according to
the taste of the ruling power.
Theophilus, the last of the iconoclastic emperors, was a great builder
of churches and palaces, and none of the iconoclasts went to the
length of forbidding the introduction of the human form, and reducing
decoration to geometrical motives and scroll work, as is the case of
Arabian art.
Theophilus was succeeded by his widow, the Empress Theodora, who
governing in the name of her infant son Michael III., promptly reversed
all the edicts of her husband and his predecessors, and endeared
herself to the Greeks, by the restoration of their beloved images, and
the final defeat of the iconoclastic party, which was accomplished
about 842.
Though there was a sensible difference after this movement, still it
is easy to exaggerate its influence on Byzantine art. The edicts of
the Emperor were not always carried out to the letter, except, perhaps,
in the capital city, and even there the smaller objects were secreted,
and women, always conservative, clung to their _lares_ and _penates_,
keeping up the old observances as much as possible. Many an obstinate
monk took pride and pleasure in setting the law at defiance, carving
little diptychs with the decoration on the inner side, so that they
could be folded together and slipped away in safety.
[Illustration: [VICTORIA AND ALBERT MUSEUM, LONDON
14. OLIPHANT
Oriental-Byzantine, ninth and tenth centuries]
The civil art went on uninterruptedly, and in such a luxurious city the
objects of secular use must have been very rich and varied. A large
series of caskets have come down to us, preserved in the treasuries of
churches as shrines for the relics of saints, also large oliphants, or
complete tusks, hollowed out and thickly covered with linked patterns
of strongly oriental style; these were first imported from the East and
afterwards imitated more or less exactly by Byzantine craftsmen. In
early ritual they were used as horns to announce the commencement and
the end of the Mass, and also to contain relics, and it was the latter
use which brought them in such numbers to the West. The miniaturists,
also, continued their art, copying and illustrating texts of Homer and
Virgil and other classical writers.
The iconoclastic movement, though lasting a century and a quarter,
had no permanent effect in checking the natural development of art.
In fact, the greater impetus given to the civil art had rather the
effect of purifying the Byzantine style by constant reference to the
antique, and prepared the way for the Renaissance of the tenth century.
Byzantine art is still so little known that it is probable that many
ivories now classed in the tenth may belong to the preceding century.
Molinier attributes even the Vienna and Bargello diptych (Fig. 5) to
the mid iconoclastic period, to that lull in the storm during the
reign of the Empress Irene (end of eighth century), whose portrait
he considers it to be. This ivory, though more probably of the sixth
century, has some slight likeness in the wide face and full neck to
the two busts of Christ and the symbolic angel of St. Matthew in the
Library, Ravenna (the eagle of St. John is in the Victoria and Albert
Museum). These must be classed with another ivory of this period in
the Louvre, a figure of Christ standing under a richly decorated arch,
but the low forehead and staring eyes, with the pompous attitude, in
imitation of the beautiful British Museum angel, make it positively
ridiculous.
Another plaque in the Berlin Museum, the only dated ivory of the ninth
century, represents an emperor being crowned by the Virgin, and bears
the name of a “Basileus Leo.” The early emperors of this name are too
ancient, and the last three were rabid iconoclasts, so that brings
it to the Emperor Leo VI., crowned in 886. Unfortunately this work,
which should be most useful for comparison, is of rough technique, and
evidently a provincial production, for no craftsman of the great
metropolis could have produced such uncultivated work, even on the
morrow of the iconoclastic crisis.
II. BYZANTINE CASKETS.
We owe to the series of secular caskets most of our knowledge of this
transitional period. They do not appear to have been articles of great
luxury and were usually made of bone and sometimes indifferently
carved. The fashion continued for several hundred years, and side by
side with these secular caskets we have others decorated with scenes
from Old Testament history, which, though very few in number at first,
become more frequent as time goes on. The religious caskets have many
details in common with the secular, but draw their inspiration from a
different source.
There is great similarity in the design of the secular caskets, the box
itself being made of wood and covered with ivory plaques. The lids are
either in the shape of a truncated pyramid, and hinged, or flat and
sliding into grooves. The decoration consists of an elaborate border
surrounding either long scenic plaques, as in the _Veroli_ casket in
the Victoria and Albert Museum (Fig. 15), or more often little squares
containing a single figure (Bargello, etc.). The borders show strong
oriental influence, and invariably consist of ringed rosettes connected
by a pointed leaf; these rosettes sometimes alternate with coin-like
medallions, and there are occasionally additional bands of varying
pattern, as on the _Volterra_ casket (late Spitzer Collection) at the
Musée de Cluny.
The subjects are a proof of the still lingering power of classical
antiquity, and of the infiltration of oriental designs. They are either
taken from ancient myths (often very imperfectly understood by the
adaptor), or from scenes in the hippodrome or circus (_Volterra_);
perhaps also from the statues, part of the Grecian loot that
Constantine had brought from Rome to decorate his new city.
[Illustration: [VICTORIA AND ALBERT MUSEUM, LONDON
15. THE VEROLI CASKET
Byzantine, ninth and tenth centuries]
Most of these caskets are composed in the gayest frame of mind;
on the beautiful ivory _Veroli_ casket the little loves, on the
light fantastic toe, dance to the harping of poor, melancholy, old
Polyphemus, who is compelled to cease his solitary lament and play
hornpipes and jigs for the benefit of wild Bacchantes, who whirl round
and round till their drapery is tossed out like foam. It is amusing
to see these same ladies on the casket at Cividale, no longer carved
with delicate finish, but angular and rough, the drapery flying out
like wire, and the development of the muscles rivalling that of a prima
ballerina.
The maker of the _Pirano_ casket in the Vienna Museum imitated the
_Veroli_ in many things, as the putti and the panther, and the group
of Mars caressing Venus under the chin, in the good old-fashioned
Brescia diptych way, also the peculiar treatment of the hair in tiny
knobby ringlets, which is found again on the Bologna casket, and on two
most interesting plaques in the British Museum. One plaque represents
_Christ freeing the Souls in Hades_, and the other _The Nativity_. On
the first there is a group of little child-souls with polished round
muscles and knobby hair, also the hair of the angels in both the scenes
is of the same character, the rest of the technique has little to
distinguish it from the so-called X-XI century type; but the conception
of the subject is not the ordinary stereotyped one of later years, and
those few peculiarities of style have such a marked connection with the
_Veroli_ casket, that Graeven considers it likely that they both came
from the same _atelier_, and may, perhaps, be dated about the middle of
the ninth century.
Before pointing out the various similarities between these secular
caskets, and those with religious subjects, it would be well to inquire
into the ancestry of the separate styles.
The classical designs on the secular caskets are more completely
conventionalized than would be the result of direct imitation of
antique originals by later craftsmen; and the coin-like borders give a
clue to finding out what were their actual models. They must have been
inspired by the _repoussé_ designs on gold and silver plate, it being a
very common practice, in all ages, to insert coins round the edges of
precious vessels. The peculiar tapering ankles and delicate wrists are
another proof of some other technique intervening between the marble
sculpture and the ivories. The tendency of marble to crack if exposed
to too great a weight, led to a sturdiness in all detached forms,
and not even in the bronze statues are such exaggeratedly slender
extremities to be found.
Ancient records often tell of large masses of plate being presented to
churches in the West. A single gift to St. Germain at Auxerre in the
seventh century, consisted of one hundred silver vessels, including two
great dishes decorated with reliefs from the Æneid, and a third with
the “Rape of Europa,” and having Greek inscriptions. If there was such
a mass of plate in the West, the richness of Constantinople in gold and
silver vessels must have been simply fabulous. The descriptions of the
Byzantine chroniclers, and the figures given of the Venetian share in
the sack of Constantinople by the Crusaders in 1204, are astounding.
The silver casket at Anagni forms a connecting link; it is the same
shape and style as the ivory caskets, and the little silver reliefs are
mounted in the same manner with border strips.
The caskets with religious subjects are derived from the miniatures in
ancient and contemporary manuscripts, as has been abundantly proved by
the complete correspondence of existing plaques and miniatures. The
Victoria and Albert Museum possesses an excellent example in the strip
of ivory, with Joshua receiving envoys from the people of Gibeon, which
is taken almost line for line from two miniatures in the famous Joshua
Roll in the Vatican Library; except that in the translation of the
painting into sculpture, certain details had to be simplified, and the
serried ranks of Joshua’s soldiers were reduced to a faithful copy of
the forward group.
A tiny plaque in the Grüne Gewölbe at Dresden is another instance
of this connection with the manuscripts. It is one of two surviving
portions of a casket decorated with the life of Joseph, and is
directly inspired by the wonderful Genesis codex at Vienna. This
codex is especially interesting as showing the artist’s delight in
scenes of domestic affection; the picture, which coincides with the
ivory carving, illustrates the departure of Joseph to get news of his
brethren. His father with a stately gesture bids him go, and as he goes
he turns to kiss his little brother Benjamin, who follows him a little
way. The sculptor has taken the moment of the kiss, and the gentleness
of the action is like the little domestic scene on the casket in the
Museo Kircheriano at Rome (Fig. 16).
[Illustration: DR. H. GRAEVEN PHOTO.] [MUSEO KIRCHERIANO, ROME
16. FRONT OF A CASKET. SCENES FROM THE LIFE OF DAVID
Byzantine, ninth century]
The carvings on this casket give a graphic account of the early life
and adventures of David, and are most probably derived from some
lost manuscript of the Book of Samuel. The active little figures are
exceedingly droll, and it is difficult not to think that a little of
the gay secular spirit had crept into these more sober scenes. The lamb
which sits up and begs while David pipes is particularly engaging. The
front side of the sloping lid is given up to most tragic scenes. _The
Massacre of the Innocents_, and the _Murder of Zachariah, the High
Priest_, “_killed between the temple and the altar_.” The inscription
tells us that the casket was intended as a marriage gift to a Basileus
and Basilissa from another wedded pair, the portraits all being on the
top.
The various details which the two series of caskets have in common,
prove they belong to the same period. On the _Veroli_ casket (Fig. 15),
the group of men stoning the bull which bears away Europa corresponds
with a miniature in the Joshua Roll, which depicts the stoning of
the captive people of Achan. The rosette border is also found on a
twelfth century casket with half-length figures of saints in the
Bargello. On some of these caskets the plaques are decorated with
designs taken bodily from Oriental textiles and carvings; the smaller
_Volterra_ casket in the Musée de Cluny is a case in point, and it has
the additional charm of an openwork border of maple leaves on a gilt
background.
Some writers call these caskets Italo-Byzantine because a large number
have been found in the treasuries of Italian cathedrals, but their
ancestry is thoroughly Byzantine. It is not impossible that some few
examples were made in the West, as several stone reliefs have been
found in Venetia, clearly dating from the first decade of the eleventh
century, and ornamented with the same classical subjects, confused in
the same way with foreign elements, and surrounded by the customary
rosette border, and which are most probably copies of these Byzantine
fancy goods.
The Throne of St. Peter in the apse of his church in Rome, is made
up in the same way with little plaques representing the _Labours of
Hercules_ and other purely pagan subjects. The ivory carvings belong
to two periods, one, admittedly, of the ninth century when the Throne
was restored, and the others are traditionally supposed to date from
the lifetime of the apostle. It was inclosed 200 years ago in a hideous
casing, and no close examination is permitted. If this chair is really
of great antiquity, even if not so early as the first century, it would
be a great support to Venturi’s assumption that all these secular
caskets belong really to classical antiquity, and are of late Roman
origin. There is a beautiful casket in the Cathedral of Troyes, of the
tenth or eleventh century, which was sent back by Garnier de Traisnel,
Bishop of Troyes, and Almoner to the Crusaders. Garnier died in the
East, but sent home his share of the spoil from Constantinople. It is
stained a rich purple and evidently belonged to the Basileus, who is
depicted on horseback.
III. THE BYZANTINE RENAISSANCE.
The Golden Age of Byzantine Art commences about the beginning of the
tenth century, and, roughly speaking, coincides with the rule of the
great Macedonian dynasty, a period when the warrior emperors, usurpers
or otherwise, kept the invading barbarians at bay.
The Byzantine chroniclers expatiate at great length on the unparalleled
luxury of the Court and how the “Sacred Palace” was filled with art
treasures; and they also tell us that Constantine VII., Porphrygenitus
(911-959), was an enthusiastic amateur, and even employed his “sacred”
fingers in carving and painting beautiful objects; it was about the
only thing he did do, for the government was entirely taken out of his
hands by a series of usurpers who were nominally his colleagues.
Ivory carving was only one small portion of this great stream of
decorative work, but an important part, as there was practically no
sculpture in stone. In the new basilica at Constantinople were some
animals carved on the marble fountains, and a few inferior bas-reliefs
have been found in the Crimea and Mount Athos, but the technique is
merely an enlargement of the tiny reliefs, with a complete loss of that
delicacy and loving finish which is the greatest charm of the ivory
craft.
The number of examples of carved ivory during the tenth and eleventh
centuries is so great that it is most difficult to make a selection.
The Reliquary of the True Cross in the Franciscan Church at Cortona
is valuable for comparison with other carvings of the tenth century,
for it is dated by an inscription mentioning the Basileus Nicephorus,
Conqueror of the Barbarians, who can be no other than Nicephorus Phocas
(963-969). The reliquary is divided in the usual manner into four
compartments by the arms of the great central crucifix, and owing to
the shallowness of the space the figures are not so disproportionately
tall as was mostly the case. In the research for dignity and reverence
the figures became less and less earthly, the shoulders sloping away
to nothing, and a growing tendency crept in to exaggerate the height
out of all proportion; also the calm expression on the delicate oval
faces grew more and more solemn, till on some of the later ivories it
is positively lugubrious. Yet the quiet grace and exquisite dignity
of a figure like that of the Virgin on the Harbaville Triptych (Fig.
17), is hardly to be found in the finest Italian art. The pose of this
figure and that of John the Forerunner, Πρόδρομος, are almost identical
with those on the Cortona Reliquary; the Virgin’s gesture of adoration
is simple and spontaneous, and it is only when it is repeated by St.
John that the balance of the pattern becomes too exact and pains the
eye. The figure of Christ, grandly posed on the highbacked throne, is
the type of nearly every other representation of the Saviour throughout
the whole period (cf. Fig. 19) and traces back directly to the Roman
official diptychs. The drapery is elegant and well considered, though
the folds have a hard flatness in spite of the soft finish of the
technique. The features inherit much from the antique, the well-cut
brow and deeply set eyes, but the noses have increased in length and
have that slight curve at the tip which is so characteristic, and
becomes so pronounced, in later Byzantine Art. The fine heads, framed
in their rugged mane of hair, are very picturesque, but there is such
a strong family likeness among them, that it is quite refreshing to
meet a bald forehead like that of St. Paul or St. John Theologus,
here represented as an aged man and not as the beardless stripling
of Western art. Above all, it is the hands and the well-proportioned
muscular feet, which show the power of the real artist escaping from
the conventionality of his subject. On the back of the panel he has
freed himself entirely from the spell of classical antiquity and drunk
deeply of new oriental ideas, creating a most decorative design,
illustrating the “Triumph of the Cross,” which rises, ornamented with
roses, above the flowering earth, stretching up to the skies, which
are thickly covered with stars, and bear the Greek inscription _Jesus
Christ Victorious_. Two tall cypresses, tightly bound by the symbolical
vine and by ivy, bow before it, whilst from the ground spring small
trees and reeds, among which wild animals run in and out.
[Illustration: A. GIRAUDON PHOTO.] [LOUVRE, PARIS
17. TRIPTYCH D’HARBAVILLE
Byzantine, tenth century]
The trees may be contrasted with the fruitful olives on the Bargello
plaque of the Ascension (Fig. 18). The composition of this scene is
grand in character, in spite of its small size, and there is great
freedom of movement in the lower group, each pose being cleverly
characterized; the grouping is scarcely freer in the Italian conception
of this subject, and the upraised hand of the apostle on the Virgin’s
left is to be seen, centuries later, in the famous “Assumption of the
Virgin” by Titian. There are many other plaques with scenic pictures.
The elaborate carving of the _Death of the Virgin_ is still fixed to
the Bamberg Missal, which belonged to Cunigunda, wife of the Emperor
Henry II. (1002-1028). The scene is crowded, and takes place under a
richly pierced canopy. Christ holds the Infant Soul of the Virgin,
whilst two angels with veiled hands fly down to receive it.
Perhaps the most beautiful of all these pictorial sculptures is a
diptych now unfortunately divided. Each leaf has two scenes, the first,
representing the _Holy Women kneeling before the risen Christ_ and the
_Resurrection_, is at Dresden, while the other, with the _Crucifixion_
and the _Deposition_, is in the Provincial Museum at Hanover. The
various scenes are treated with much freedom, and the proportions are
excellent. It is enough to glance at the appalling length of the two
Maries in a twelfth century plaque with the _Resurrection_ (Bargello)
to realize how much we have to be thankful for in the earlier periods.
[Illustration: DR. H. GRAEVEN PHOTO.] [BARGELLO, FLORENCE
18. ASCENSION
Byzantine, eleventh century]
There are a large number of triptychs[15] all more or less of the
Harbaville school. A fine one at the Louvre of _Christ_ and _St.
Theodore_ has lost the second wing, and of another still finer one,
only the splendidly carved wings remain, widely separated now, one
being in Vienna and the other in the Doge’s Palace at Venice. Several
of these little shrines inclose a group of the _Virgin and Child_,
the two most beautiful being in the Episcopal Museums of Utrecht and
Liège. Count Strogonoff in his interesting collection at Rome has a
particularly fine seated _Virgin and Child_. The whole pose is most
pleasing and the Infant Christ on her knee has a far more childish face
than usual, the Holy Child being more often like a little man, raising
his hand to bless with exaggerated dignity. But the ineradicable love
of ostentation and luxury leads the artist to diminish the importance
of a really dignified figure by adding a mass of gigantic and
over-decorated accessories, and the legs of the throne are wrought with
more exactitude than he bestows on the robe of the central figure.
[Illustration: G. ROSSI PHOTO.] [TRIVULZIO COLLECTION, MILAN
19. CHRIST ENTHRONED
Byzantine, eleventh century]
There are many other interesting ivories in this fine collection, which
even contains one of the lost plaques from the Throne of Maximian.
Among them is a noble figure of _Christ Teaching_ which might well
correspond to the _John Baptist_ at Liverpool, one of the gems of the
Mayer Collection. John bears a roll with the text commencing, “Behold
the Lamb of God,” which would refer to the Christ on the opposite leaf
of a diptych. The Liverpool Museum also possesses a fine triptych,
with Christ on the Cross, the Virgin and St. John. This is a type
which seized the imagination of the German people, who constantly
repeated it, losing, perhaps, in technique, but gaining in vigour and
expression, as will be seen on referring to Fig. 24.
The plaque in the Cabinet des Médailles of the Bibliothèque nationale,
Paris (Fig. 20), is a fitting end to an account of the ivories of the
Byzantine Renaissance. It represents the _Emperor Romanus IV. and the
Empress Eudoxia being crowned by Christ_. It is doubly interesting,
as through its certain date (the Emperor’s reign only lasting four
years 1067-1071), we can compare it with earlier work, as the Cortona
Reliquary or the Harbaville triptych (Fig. 17), and see that after
more than a hundred years the art had not changed for better or worse.
This plaque is also interesting from its artistic value, which is very
high, the figure of Christ being one of the finest in the whole range
of Byzantine ivory carving. We can see that the artist was perfectly
capable of rendering drapery in a soft and pliant manner, yet the
tyranny of the court etiquette compelled him to envelope the Basileus
and Basilissa in the stiffest of sheaths, covered with a regular mosaic
of jewels; and to pay honour to the Saviour he was obliged to place
under His feet that triple platform of hideous device.
[Illustration: A. GIRAUDON PHOTO.] [CABINET DES MÉDAILLES,
BIBLIOTHÈQUE NATIONALE, PARIS
20. ROMANUS IV. AND EUDOXIA CROWNED BY CHRIST
Byzantine, eleventh century]
“The composition of the figures is not the invention of the painters,
but the law of tradition of the Catholic Church.” These are the words
of a decree of the Nicene Council in the eighth century, and it is not
surprising that these compositions, settled on theological grounds were
inclined to be unvarying and hieratic, the wonder is that they have so
many artistic qualities. Another bond for the unfortunate artist was a
certain work called “A Guide to Painting,” in which minute regulations
are laid down for every detail of form and colouring. It does not
appear to have been in force till after this period of renaissance,
but a strict adherence to these formulæ is, without doubt, the reason
why it is practically impossible to tell a nineteenth from a twelfth
century mosaic by reference alone to style.
This great stream of art and culture went on uninterruptedly, no matter
what were the palace intrigues or the sudden changes of government.
One winter night a great cry is raised, the Emperor, the brave general
whose glorious campaigns had enabled the city to increase its wealth
and commerce a thousandfold, had been slain, foully murdered by order
of his wife and his ancient friend. Yet there is no revolt among the
people; what is it to them? A few dangerous partizans are killed,
and later a few of the hired murderers, and the wife in question,
are offered up to the Church in expiation of the usurper’s crime. In
the evening Nicephorus Phocas is Emperor, and by the next morning
John Zimisces is crowned and reigning in his stead. Both the emperors
were good generals, and could keep the barbarians at bay, and, for
the matter of that, they were both flagrant usurpers, the rightful
sovereigns, Basil and Constantine, being kept half prisoners in the
palace, while their so-called colleagues ruled the country; and if
freedom from invasion, wealth, and munificent patronage of the arts
are signs of good government, then these usurpers were pattern rulers.
This was by no means the case with Basil II., who, at the mature age
of sixty flung off the tutelage of his colleagues and plunged into a
wild career of conquest, earning for himself not only the title of
“Destroyer of the Bulgarians,” but the hearty hatred of his subjects at
home and in the provinces.
With Basil we must leave the Byzantine Empire, which had reached its
apogee of political power and art production. It was centuries before
the internal decay made itself felt, but the great edifice never
recovered the shock of the invasion and sack of Constantinople by the
Crusaders in 1204, and falling bit by bit before the attacks of the
Mahometans, finally fell an easy prey to the Seljuk Turks in 1453.
FOOTNOTES:
[8] Second leaf in the Royal Museum of Decorative and Industrial Art,
Brussels.
[9] See the plaque with the _Judgment of Solomon_ in the Louvre.
[10] A round tomb with a cupola has been excavated in the Via
Praestina, and the circular Church of S. Costanzo is the tomb of a
daughter of the Emperor Constantine.
[11] _Les Tapisseries Coptes_, par M. Gerspach, Paris, 1890.
[12] Venturi considers that the Throne was made for another Maximian,
Archbishop of Constantinople 345, and being taken in the course of
time to Venetia, is identical with that mentioned in the Chronicle of
the Deacon John; who tells of an ivory throne sent in December, 1001,
by the Doge Pietro Orseolo, to the Emperor Otto III., who was then
residing in Ravenna, and gave it to the Cathedral. There is no mention
of an ivory throne in the Cathedral before this date. Cf. _Storia dell’
arte italiana_, vol. i., p. 466. Ricci connects this throne with that
of St. Mark in Grado. Cf. _L’arte italiana decorativa e industriale_,
vol. vii., p. 104.
[13] This coat is said to be the one “without seam,” for which the
soldiers cast lots, and which has an undoubted history from the time of
the Empress Helena, in the fourth century.
[14] From εἰκὼν, a likeness, and κλάω, I break in pieces.
[15] Full list given by Molinier, _Les Arts appliqués_, vol. i.