From the middle of the fourth century down to the end of the sixteenth
we have an unbroken chain of examples still existing. Individual pieces
may, perhaps, in many instances be of questionable origin as regards
the country of the artist, and, sometimes, with respect to the exact
date within fifty or even a hundred years. But there is no doubt
whatever that, increasing in number as they come nearer to the middle
ages, we can refer to carved ivories of every century preserved in
museums in England and abroad. Their importance with reference to the
history of art cannot be overrated. There is no such continuous chain
in manuscripts, or mosaics, or gems, or textiles, or porcelain, or
enamels. Perhaps, with the exception of manuscripts, there never was
in any of these classes so large a number executed nor the demand for
them so great. The material itself or the decorations by which other
works were surrounded very probably tempted people to destroy them; and
we may thank the valueless character of many a piece of carved ivory,
except as a work of art, for its preservation to our own days.
The most important ivories before the seventh century are the consular
diptychs. The earliest which still exists claims to be of the middle
of the third century, the latest belongs to the middle of the sixth.
Anything doubled, or doubly folded, is a diptych: δίπτυχον; but the
term was chiefly applied to the tablets used for writing on with
metallic or ivory styles by the ancients. When these tablets had
three leaves they were called triptychs, and of five or more leaves
pentaptychs or polyptychs. Inside, each leaf was slightly sunk with
a narrow raised margin in order to hold wax; outside, they were
ornamented with carvings. They were not always of ivory; frequently of
citron or of some less costly wood, and for common use were probably of
small size, convenient for the hand and for carrying about.
Homer, in the sixth book of the Iliad, speaks of such tablets, and
there are frequent references to them in Latin writers; in Juvenal,
Martial, and other authors. Many passages are to be found quoted in
books upon the ancient Roman diptychs. It happens also that two ancient
specimens have been found. Both were discovered in gold mines in
Transylvania, and have been described by Massmann in a volume published
at Leipsic in 1841. Each consists of three leaves, one of fir-wood, the
other of beech, and about the size of a modern octavo book. The outer
part exhibits the plain surface of the wood, the inner part is covered
with wax surrounded by a margin. The edges of one side are pierced
that they might be fastened together by means of a thread or wire
passed through them. The wax is not thick on either set of tablets;
it is thinner on the beechen set, in which the stylus of the writer
has in places cut through the wax into the wood. There is manuscript
still remaining on both of them: the beginning of the beechen tablets
containing some Greek letters. The writing on the other is in Latin,
a copy of a document relating to a collegium. The name of one of the
consuls is given, determining the date to be A.D. 169. An abridged
account of these very curious tablets is given in Smith’s “Dictionary
of antiquities” under the word “tabulæ.”
The consular diptychs were of much larger size than those made for
everyday use: generally about twelve inches in length by five or six in
breadth. Diptychs of this kind were part of the presents sent by new
consuls on their appointment to very eminent persons; to the senators,
to governors of provinces, and to friends. Each consul probably sent
many such gifts, and duplicates of more than one example have been
preserved. These naturally varied greatly, not only in the workmanship
but in the material. For persons in high station or authority the
diptychs would be carved by the best artists of the time, and if not
made entirely of some metal very costly and valuable the material
would be ivory, perhaps also mounted in gold. As we find in the fifth
book of the letters of Symmachus (consul, A.D. 391), “Domino principi
nostro auro circumdatum diptychon misi, cæteros quoque amicos eburneis
pugillaribus et canistellis argenteis honoravi.” For others of lower
rank or for dependents, they would be roughly finished and of bone or
wood.
It is to the custom of sending these diptychs to people of rank in the
provinces that we owe the preservation of some still extant, and which
have been kept in the country into which they came by gift or otherwise
in very early times. Generally, in somewhat later days, they were given
or bequeathed to churches; and, having been first used in the public
services, were afterwards laid by in their treasuries.
Inside these official diptychs the wax may have been inscribed with the
Fasti Consulares or list of names of all preceding consuls, closing
with that of the new magistrate, the donor. As Ausonius, himself consul
in the year 379, says in one of his epigrams:
“Hactenus adscripsi fastos. Si sors volet, ultra
Adjiciam: si non, qui legis, adjicies.
Scire cupis, qui sim? titulum qui quartus ab imo est
Quære; legis nomen consulis Ausonii.”
This, however, as a rule, is matter of conjecture. Outside, the
leaves were carved with various ornaments; sometimes with scrolls, or
cornucopiæ, or the bust of the new consul in a medallion. Sometimes—and
as the diptychs which we now possess repeat this style the most
frequently we may conclude it to have been the usual practice at least
for the more important of those presented—the consul was represented
at full length and sitting in the cushioned curule chair: one hand
often being uplifted and holding the _mappa circensis_. He is clothed
in the full ceremonial vestments of his office, as used when he was
inducted into it. The dress itself seems to be a splendid imitation
of that worn by the old generals at the celebration of a triumph; a
richly embroidered cloak (_toga picta_) with ample folds, beneath which
is a tunic striped with purple (_trabea_) or figured with palm leaves
(_tunica palmata_). On his feet are shoes of cloth of gold (_calcei
aurati_), and in one hand the consular staff or sceptre (_scipio_)
surmounted by an eagle or an image of Victory.
The conspicuous representation of a cushion on the seat of the chair is
probably not to be overlooked as of small signification or importance.
Cushions were permitted only to certain privileged classes during the
games of the circus; and Caligula conceded the use of cushions to
senators as a graceful compliment at the beginning of his reign.
Some will remember also the advice given by Ovid, in his “Art of Love,”
to the lover in attendance on his mistress in the theatre or at public
games (he had just before been speaking of the ivory statues carried in
the procession):
“Parva leves capiunt animos. Fuit utile multis
Pulvinum facili composuisse manu.
Profuit et tenui ventum movisse tabella [_flabello_?];
Et cava sub teneram scamna dedisse pedem.”
Not unusually in the lower part of each leaf, in a separate
compartment, were representations of the shows which the consul
intended to give, of the manumission of slaves, and of the presents,
money, bread, &c., which were also to be distributed among the people.
The series of consular diptychs, having each of them in many cases a
known date, is of essential value and importance in the history of art,
whilst the fashion of them lasted. Similar as they are one to another
in certain respects, nevertheless there is a considerable variety of
treatment and undoubtedly various degrees of excellence or inferiority
of style and execution. When so many would be required by the consul
of the year, it was impossible that all could be made by good artists,
and probably one or two of the best kind were roughly copied by common
workmen. It was sufficient if the general character, dress, or special
ornament of the consul were represented.
Rapidly as art declined during the three centuries after the birth
of Constantine, as shown especially in these consular diptychs, we
may nevertheless trace a certain grandeur in the figures and in the
attitudes which show that earlier and better models of antiquity were
still followed by the sculptors. Labarte further observes that the
diptychs carved at Constantinople were far superior to those which were
made in Italy.
Many of these diptychs are identified by the name of the consul which
is carved across the top of one leaf; the full legend generally running
across both being equally divided. It has been said that these legends
(as well as portions of the sculpture) were sometimes coloured red.
We know no extant example, but the following passage from Claudian is
important, and not on that particular point alone:
“Tum virides pardos, et cetera colligit austri
Prodigia, immanesque simul Latonia dentes,
Qui secti ferro in tabulas auroque micantes,
Inscripti rutilum cælato consule nomen,
Per proceres et vulgus eant; stupor omnibus Indis
Plurimus ereptis elephas inglorius errat
Dentibus.”
We usually find also a profusion of proper names, according to the
fashion and taste of the court of Constantinople and of the last years
of the consulate. Following these names was a formula which expressed
the style and dignities: “Vir illustris, comes domesticorum equitum, et
consul ordinarius.” The “vir illustris” signified that the new consul
had either filled or was of rank great enough to fill high official
positions in the state. The “comes domesticorum equitum” was his title
as commander of the bodyguard of the emperor. The “consul ordinarius”
declared the true consular dignity itself.
Some of the consular diptychs also add the names of the persons or
communities to whom they were sent. Thus, the diptych of Flavius
Theodorus Philoxenus, A.D. 525, has the following inscription in Greek
iambics, part upon one tablet, part upon the other: “I, Philoxenus the
consul, offer this gift to the wise senate.”
Another diptych of Flavius Petrus, A.D. 516, has this inscription
within a large circle: “I, the consul, offer these presents, though
small in value, still ample in honours, to my [senatorial] fathers.”
This is given by M. Pulszky, in his essay on antique ivories. The
same writer quotes the often-cited decree of the emperor Theodosius;
by which, because of the honour attached to the receiving of these
diptychs, the presenting of them by anyone but the ordinary consuls
was forbidden. The law ought not to be omitted here: “Lex XV. Codex
Theodosianus, _tit._ xi. De expensis ludorum. Illud etiam constitutione
solidamus, ut exceptis consulibus ordinariis, nulli prorsus alteri
auream sportulam aut diptycha ex ebore dandi facultas sit. Cum publica
celebrantur officia, sit sportulis nummus argenteus, alia materia
diptycha.”
During the period when these ivory diptychs were in use or fashion,
that is (so far as we know) from the first or second centuries to the
sixth, the office of consul was entirely in the hands of the emperors,
who conferred it on whom they would, and assumed it themselves as often
as they thought fit. Augustus was consul thirteen times; Vitellius
proclaimed himself perpetual consul; Vespasian eight times; and
Domitian seventeen. The consuls, therefore, gradually became mere
ciphers in the state. It is true that they presided in the senate and
on other public occasions with all the ancient forms; and the mere
title, down to the extinction of the western empire, was nominally the
most exalted and honourable of all official positions.
The most complete list which we have of the existing consular diptychs
is given by professor Westwood in a carefully written paper read before
the Oxford architectural society, and printed in their proceedings for
1862. These are supposed to have been all identified, and, in most
instances, by the inscription on the ivory. Nevertheless, we must still
acknowledge to a grave doubt about more than one:—
A.D.
1. M. Julius Philippus Augustus. In the Meyer
collection at Liverpool. One leaf 248
2. M. Aurelius Romulus Cæsar. In the British museum. One leaf 308
3. Rufius Probianus. At Berlin. Both leaves 322
4. Anicius Probus. In the treasury of the cathedral of Aosta.
Both leaves 406
5. Flavius Felix. Bibliothèque Impériale, Paris. One leaf 428
6. Valentinian III. In the treasury of the cathedral of Monza.
Both leaves 430
7. Flavius Areobindus. At Milan, in the Trivulci collection.
Both leaves 434
8. Flavius Asturius. At Darmstadt. One leaf 449
9. Flavius Aetius. At Halberstadt. One leaf 454
10. Narius Manlius Boethius. In the bibl. Quiriniana at
Brescia. Two leaves 487
11. Theodorus Valentianus. At Berlin. Both leaves 505
12. Flavius Dagalaiphus Ariobindus. At Lucca; both leaves.
At Zurich; both leaves. And in private possession at Dijon;
one leaf 506
13. Flavius Taurus Clementinus. In the Meyer collection at
Liverpool. Both leaves 513
14. Flavius Petrus Justinianus. Bibliothèque Impériale, at
Paris; one leaf. And at Milan, in the Trivulci collection;
both leaves 516
15. Flavius Anastasius Paulus Probus Pompeius. At Berlin;
one leaf. The other leaf in South Kensington museum.
Bibliothèque Impériale, Paris; both leaves. And Verona;
one leaf 517
16. Flavius Paulus Probus Magnus. Two in the Imperial library
at Paris; each one leaf. Another, so attributed, in the
Mayer collection at Liverpool; one leaf 518
17. Flavius Anicius Justinus Augustus. At Vienna; one leaf 519
18. Flavius Theodorus Philoxenus. Bibliothèque Impériale,
Paris; both leaves. And in the Mayer collection; one leaf;
very doubtful 525
19. Flavius Anicius Justinianus Augustus. At Paris 528
20. Rufinus Orestes. South Kensington museum. Both leaves 530
21. Anicius Faustus Albinus Basilius. In the Uffizii, at
Florence; one leaf. The companion leaf is in the Brera,
at Milan 541
A few remarks may be of use to the student with reference to some of
these important diptychs. The leaves of no. 3 now form the covers of a
manuscript life of St. Ludgerus. This diptych is erroneously named by
Labarte as the most ancient known to exist.
Of no. 5, the other leaf was lost or stolen during the French
revolution of 1792.
Mr. Oldfield, a very high authority, suggests that no. 6 should be
given to Valentinian II., in which case the date would be about A.D.
380. The earlier date is supported by the great beauty and admirable
execution of the diptych.
No. 7 has no inscription: it bears a monogram which contains all the
letters of the name Areobindus. It is engraved in the Thesaurus of Gori.
No. 8 was formerly in the church of St. Martin at Liége, and it was
long supposed to be lost. Professor Westwood, however, has found the
greater portion of one leaf, used as the cover of a book of the gospels
in the royal library at Darmstadt. This, probably, is not a fragment of
the Liége diptych, but of another of the same consul. The two leaves
are engraved in Gori.
A folio volume of more than 200 pages was edited by Hagenbuch in
1738, containing a number of learned essays on the diptych of Manlius
Boethius, no. 10. It has at the beginning engravings of both leaves:
and the consul is represented on one in a standing position; on
the other, sitting and holding the _mappa_ in his right hand. The
inscription is unusually obscure: how much so may be judged from
the fact that the editor of the book has collected more than half a
dozen different interpretations of it. Some of them are amusing. The
inscription on one leaf runs thus: NARMANLBOETHIVSVCETINL, on the
other, EXPPPVSECCONSORDETPATRIC. The members of the Academy at Paris,
to whom the difficulty had been referred, proposed to read “Natales
regios Manlius Boethius vir clarissimus et inlustris ex propria pecunia
voto suscepto edixit celebrandos consul ordinarius et patricius.” But a
more probable reading is, “Narius Manlius Boethius vir clarissimus et
inlustris, expræfectus prætorio, præfectus, et comes, consul ordinarius
et patricius.” Again, against this last some have disputed that the PPP
meant three times prefect, and CC twice consul.
We must remember that artists in ivory were driven, because of the
narrow limits at their disposal, to use extreme forms of contractions
and symbols, scarcely intelligible even in their own time, instead of
words: far more so, indeed, than were the carvers of inscriptions upon
monumental stones, altars, and sarcophagi.
Professor Westwood leaves the date of no. 11 doubtful: it is
remarkable, as representing in a medallion, between the busts of the
emperor and empress, the head of Christ with a cruciferous nimbus.
The Paris diptych of the consul Anastasius was long known as
the diptych of Bourges, under which name it is well engraved in
Montfaucon’s “Antiquities”: and no. 18 as the diptych of Compiegne;
having been given by Charles the Bald in the ninth century to the abbey
church of St. Corneille, where the leaves were preserved until its
destruction in 1790, and were then transferred to Paris. The diptych
is admirably figured in the Trésor de numismatique et de glyptique of
Lenormant, who refers also to previous writers on this diptych.
Basilius, consul of Constantinople, whose name is attached to no. 21,
was the last of the long and illustrious line of consuls. They had
continued, with a few short interruptions of the tribunes, for more
than a thousand years. After Basilius, the emperors of the East took
the title, until at length it fell into oblivion. The last consul of
Rome was Decimus Theodorus Paulinus, A.D. 536. The second leaf of this
diptych has been identified by professor Westwood: M. Pulszky believed
it to have been lost. It is but a fragment of the right wing of the
diptych, the upper half. Gori gives figures of both leaves: he decides
against their being of the same pair. Mr. Westwood, however, says that
“it is certainly the companion” to the leaf in the Uffizii.
A detailed description and arguments about many of these diptychs will
be found in the dissertations printed by Gori in his Thesaurus. Other
authorities are Du Cange, Mabillon, and Montfaucon. Their statements
have been ably and briefly summed up in the very interesting paper
already mentioned, read before the architectural society of Oxford, by
professor Westwood; and by M. Pulszky in his essay on antique ivories.
A Roman diptych, undescribed, is preserved at Tarragona in Spain, and
it is extremely probable that a careful search amongst the treasures
still remaining in the churches of that country would discover others.
The very learned editor of the Thesaurus of Gori (writing more than a
hundred years ago) says: “Suspicio enim invaluit in locupletissimis
Hispaniæ sacrariis, quo totius fere orbis donaria confluxerunt, multa
hujusmodi abscondi, quæ nusquam adhuc comparuere, quia hactenus nec
perquisita nec curata.”