III. The Carlovingian Renaissance.
Charlemagne, crowned emperor in 800, if not perhaps the wondrous hero of tradition, was a very powerful factor in the history and civilization of his day, and exerted all his energy to introduce order and learning among the vast hordes of barbarians who more or less willingly acknowledged his rule. He stirred up all latent powers, introduced new ideas and stimulated an admiration for all Roman culture, being dazzled quite as much by the actual pomp and splendour of the Constantinopolitan court as by the memories of ancient Rome. He invited learned men from the East and the West, but the most famous were Alcuin, who was born at York, and his pupil, Eginhardt, who became Secretary and Chronicler to Charlemagne and his successor.
The Carlovingian renaissance was a most composite production. Byzantine Art had long been known to the Northern races, and at this time its influence was spread still further by the presence of artists exiled by the iconoclasts; but the Anglo-Saxon influence was even stronger, encouraged as it was by the bands of missionaries, and by Alcuin and his followers. To these intermingled strains must be added the independent Gallo-Roman reminiscence, the study of the monuments, and also a strange, but undeniable Oriental tendency, arising from communications with the East and the Moors in Spain. This renaissance, though to a certain extent artificial, lasted for nearly three centuries and affected the civilization of the whole of Western Europe.
Carlovingian art flourished for centuries in Germany, but the invasions of the Normans checked for a while the artistic progress of Northern France. What little art they had was in much the same Norse style, but freshly barbaric and not like that of the British Isles, which had undergone centuries of incubation and had the additional Latin element.
It was to this Anglo-Saxon Art, conventional as it had become, the human form often being reduced to a geometrical figure, that the Carlovingian craftsmen turned for inspiration. Two classes of ivory carving arose, one copied almost directly from the miniatures in the Anglo-Saxon manuscripts, which were themselves derived from late Roman types; and the second following more closely in the steps of the Byzantines.
All through the Carlovingian period there is a close connection between the illuminator and the ivory carver, the latter trying to treat his subjects more in the manner of a painter, enlarged the cycle of Christian representations and began to break with tradition and recover his liberty. The figures still, in many cases, retain the heavy and rather crushed forms of degenerate Roman art; and in the endeavour to impart deeper expression the proportions were often spoiled, delicate parts, as the features being delineated in undue size, and the research for originality often leading to violent and exaggerated attitudes, and to the overloading of detail, yet all the gestures are instinct with life, and full of a naïve directness of action.
A small plaque in the museum at Zurich ([Fig. 22]) is a good illustration of the immense influence of the miniatures on ivory carving. The Book of Psalms was especially popular, and this plaque is a word for word translation of certain verses of the XXVIIth Psalm (XXVI. in the Vulgate) into plastic form. v. 2. “When the wicked, even my enemies and my foes, came upon me to eat up my flesh, they stumbled and fell.” (The crowd of warriors, some of whom have fallen). v. 5. “For in the time of trouble he shall hide me in his pavilion: in the secret of his tabernacle he shall hide me: he shall set me up upon a rock.” (David is seen being welcomed into the Tabernacle, which stands on a rock). Part of v. 6. “Therefore will I offer in his tabernacle sacrifices of joy” (altar and lamb). V. 10. “When my father and mother forsake me then the Lord will take me up” (in the right corner a man and woman turn away from a child). The hand above is typical of the protection of God which is asked for throughout the psalm. The slight and thin-ankled figures, and the continuous method of narration are characteristic of the miniatures, which originally derived their technique from late Roman Art, and carried on the old system of an unbroken series of scenes which is to be found in the bas-reliefs of Trajan’s Column. In the Utrecht Psalter (Anglo-Saxon) is an almost identical illustration of this psalm, which proves that this plaque was copied from it or some analogous manuscript, as the Bodley Psalter (No. 603) in the British Museum. These Psalters have furnished a model for another of these scenic psalms, carved on a plaque set in the magnificent binding of the Psalter of Charles the Bald, in the Bibliothèque nationale at Paris. The manuscript was written between the years 842-869, and there is no reason to think that the jewelled and ivory cover is not contemporary. One side gives a graphic picture of the LVIth Psalm, and the other represents Nathan telling David the story of the little ewe lamb (2 Sam. xii.). The Louvre possesses a plaque, also of the ninth century, representing the interview of Abner and Joab (2 Sam. ii.), a subject by no means of general interest, and unlikely to have a plastic type, which proves still further the custom of copying the miniatures with more or less servility.
[SCHWEIZERISCHER LANDESMUSEUM, ZURICH
22. ILLUSTRATION OF PSALM XXVII
Carlovingian, ninth century
One more scenic plaque in the Louvre is of interest, not so much in connection with the MSS., but from the strong resemblance to the Probianus diptych ([Fig. 2]), especially in the lower scene, where the figures raise their hands to Solomon on his judgment seat. On the second half David is dictating his psalms to an assembly of clerks.
It is difficult to class the ivories of this long period, but the majority are of German origin. Art and culture were a great deal dependent on the Court, which had the effect of bringing into line the work of craftsmen of very varying nationalities. Here also was a fear lest the people should worship the images themselves, but an iconoclastic spirit never arose, and these numerous carvings, besides adding to the sumptuousness of the cult, were used for the instruction of the unlettered.
Ivory was classed with the precious metals, and much sought after for ecclesiastical purposes, the great abbeys of eastern France and Germany became regular workshops, making a large number of exquisite objects in goldsmith’s work and ivory. We are given a little side-light on the use of ivory in a letter of Eginhardt to his son, in which he mentions that he is sending him a carved ivory model of classical architecture that he should better understand certain passages in Vitruvius.
The mention of the work done in the monasteries brings us to the Abbey of St. Gall and the monk Tuotilo, who has long been the hero of the craft; but, alas, the charming picture that the chronicler Ekkehardt gives, a hundred years later, of this Leonardo among craftsmen is utterly without foundation; that there was a monk Tuotilo at the end of the ninth and the beginning of the tenth centuries the records of the monastery tell us, and a note added by a later hand says that he was learned and a sculptor.
Ekkehardt spoils his argument in favour of Tuotilo by attributing to him too many perfections, and by finally quoting the opinion of Charlemagne, who had been dead and buried nearly a hundred years. It is very sad to have to give up the one real individual who greets us on the rather weary path of anonymity. The fine book cover, one leaf of which Ekkehardt attributes to Tuotilo ([Fig. 23]), is still safely preserved in the Abbey of St. Gall, but the two leaves appear to be by the same hand, though there is every reason to attribute the workmanship to the ninth century. On the upper leaf Christ is represented in glory, youthful and beardless in type, as is often the case in Carlovingian ivories which come from the Germanic part of the empire. There was a flourishing school of German craftsmen who closely imitated the ivories of the Italo-Byzantine school of the sixth century, the great abbeys having many specimens of ancient ivory carving in their treasuries. The two cherubim and Four Evangelists with their symbolic beasts are also strongly Byzantine; above are busts of the sun and moon and beneath the figures of Ocean and Earth. In fact, the arrangement is borrowed wholesale from a very frequent Carlovingian type of the crucifixion ([Fig. 24]), even to the little tombs which have no connection with the subject. The workmanship is delicate, but very conventional, and the concentric folds on this and on the second leaf, point to the influence of the manuscripts. The second leaf represents the Assumption of the Virgin, the attitude is stiff and the drapery is terribly unreal, having almost the appearance of corrugated iron, but the movements of the angels are freer, especially the forward movement of the one on the Virgin’s right.
SCHOBINGER AND][EPISCOPAL LIBRARY,
SANDHERR PHOTO.ST. GALL, SWITZERLAND
23. COVER OF A BOOK OF THE GOSPELS
Carlovingian, ninth century
The lower scene represents St. Gall taming the bears, which bring him bread whilst his companion sleeps. In this carving we see what the craftsman can do when left to himself; it is not a very artistic production, but it has a freshness entirely lacking in the other panels. The ornamental panels are splendidly carved, and recall the beautiful openwork panels on the book cover at Monza, which most probably belonged to Berenger, King of Italy in 888, and Emperor 916, and also the marble screens and balustrades which decorate so many Byzantine buildings. There are two more plaques at Cluny[18] which should be classed with these, and which are decorated with scroll-work containing figures of men fighting with satyrs and lions. The figures have a great likeness to those on the sixth century diptychs, especially the diptych in the Hermitage at St. Petersburg; and as that diptych formed part of the treasure of Metz Cathedral, it could easily have served as a model to the Carlovingian ivory workers. The rich border is of scroll-work with alternating rosettes and animals. The second plaque is still more like the Byzantine original, and this similarity has caused many writers to differ with Molinier and class it among pure Byzantine work.
[VICTORIA AND ALBERT MUSEUM, LONDON
24. CRUCIFIXION
Carlovingian, ninth century
One of the most important ivories of the tenth century is the Frankfort book cover; the second leaf is still in the Library, but the other was in the late Spitzer Collection. It represents the large figure of An Archbishop chanting the Psalms in company with some smaller canons, the whole group being surrounded by a battlemented wall, probably that of the convent. The work is dry, but very exact and particularly interesting for the study of early ecclesiastical vestments, which are given with great detail. In the Frankfort leaf, the Archbishop celebrates the mass, surrounded by attendant priests and acolytes.
The numerous representations of the crucifixion of the ninth and tenth centuries can be roughly divided into two classes: those decidedly original and others copied from Byzantine models. The Carlovingian type is filled with symbolism, not altogether of Christian origin. These plaques are very numerous and all vary slightly. [Fig. 24] is typical of a large number. The whole scene is emotional, all creation is moved, the sun and moon are represented with mournful faces, while the attendant angels weep bitterly; and below, the old pagan personifications of Earth and Sea bow their heads in sorrow. Stephaton with reed and sponge, and Longinus with his spear, stand on each side of the Cross, and the Virgin and St. John are always near. The two women carrying banners are allegorical figures of the Church and the Synagogue[19] or the Old and New Dispensations; the banner of the latter is sometimes reversed and broken, while the Church in some renderings of the scene catches the blood of the Redeemer in a chalice. These figures seem to be the successors of the little cities of Jerusalem and Bethlehem in the Early Christian mosaics, which likewise typified the Old and New Dispensations.
At the foot of the Cross is often rolled a serpent, emblem of Christ’s triumph over Evil and Death; and on each side the dead are rising and stretching out their hands towards their Redeemer.
On the Metz book cover in the Bibliothèque nationale, Adam and Eve crouch beneath the feet of the Saviour. On the Brunswick casket, Sol and Luna are each depicted driving in a biga and bearing torches. On this Brunswick casket, and on one in the Berlin Museum, Christ is represented beardless, and the technique is close to the St. Gall book cover.
In the Carlovingian period the plaques are nearly always framed by a deeply cut acanthus border. Many of these carvings show traces of colour and others have been studded with gold nails, and portions incrusted with gold foil ([Fig. 24]). Two plaques in the Bargello have a charming additional border of tiny dots and beads inlaid with gold.
In the ivory plaque on the cover of the gospels which were presented by the Emperor Henry II. to the Abbey at Bamberg (now in the Munich Library), the stronger Byzantine influence is visible, the relief, also, is exceptionally deep, the figures of the two soldiers being almost detached, as in the purely Byzantine ivory of The Death of the Virgin in the same library. This Byzantine influence is also to be seen in The Crucifixion in the Musée de Cluny; the arrangement of this carving is more like a Reliquary of the True Cross, the four compartments being crowded with figures. The figure of Christ is robed in a flowing garment, as in many Byzantine renderings of the subject, and there is a greater delicacy of technique, showing the more intimate knowledge of Byzantine models.
The drapery on the Essen and Tongres plaques is particularly good, and they probably were carved in the same atelier.
IV. German Ivory Carving
in the Time of the Ottos.
Otto the Great having consolidated his power in Germany, undertook, in 962, the classic expedition to Rome to be crowned Emperor of the West. An ivory tablet, now in the Trivulzio Collection at Milan, appears to commemorate that event. It represents Otto, his wife Adelheid, and their little son, kneeling at the feet of Christ, while their patron saints, Maurice and Mary, intercede for them, the name OTTO IMPERATOR being inscribed beneath. The apparent age of the young Otto, about seven years, would coincide with the date of the coronation, making this carving valuable for comparison with other German ivories, many being of far earlier date and closely connected with the Carlovingian, from which this characteristically German art slowly developed.
The style of the Trivulzio plaque is rude, the figures heavy and inclined to be coarse, but there is a largeness of design, the drapery being arranged in wide planes, and the energetic heads, with the typical long pointed beards and round cut hair, are of marked Germanic type.
With this certain knowledge of the German style in the second half of the tenth century, it is easier to turn back and examine the transitional period, which is represented by a series of caskets in the Louvre, Brunswick Museum, and the Bamberg Reliquary, half of which is at Munich, and half in the Berlin Museum.
The Louvre casket has many Carlovingian features, the long tiled roofs with slender columns are exactly like those in the Bible of Charles le Chauve (ninth century). That of Brunswick shows strong Byzantine influence, and the Bamberg casket is typical of the German imitations of Byzantine type; the forms have a greater fulness and a certain swing is introduced into the placid folds of the Byzantine drapery, a swing which develops into the gusty flutterings which are a curious characteristic of some of the German schools.[20] A gorgeous ivory casket is still preserved in the cathedral at Quedlinburg adorned with exquisite jewelled filigree work, and repoussée plaques. The plaques are in conventional Byzantine design, while the ivory sides of the casket are ornamented with seated figures and scenes from the gospels, of Byzantine inspiration it is true, but translated into the most colloquial German. Martin Luther might have sat as a model for the heavily built angel in the Easter Morning scene, and if this casket really dates back to the time of Henry the Fowler, whose gift it is said to have been, it proves that this German national art had existed as early as the second decade of the tenth century.
A most interesting series of square plaques belong to the second half of the century, and are much the same type as the Trivulzio tablet; the figures are positively grotesque, with their peculiar cap-like hair, staring eyes, heavy features, and large unmodelled forms, yet there is such a sincere reverence and solemn earnestness about them, that the attention is forcibly arrested.
The Darmstadt plaque represents Christ healing the Demoniac, who is held, whilst the evil spirit struggles forth from his lips. The British Museum possesses an equally well-carved plaque with the Raising of the Widow’s Son at Nain, the vertical folds are finely fluted, and the features, though peculiar, are in no way coarse. The background of this plaque like one in the Berlin Museum, and another at Liverpool, is covered with a diaper of cruciform perforations, like those on St. Patrick’s Bell and other early Irish antiquities. Christ is youthful and beardless on the Berlin plaque, which represents Mary and Joseph finding Him in the Temple. The technique in this and the remaining plaques at Liverpool is slightly coarser, but the style in all is identical. Christ alone is nimbed, and in each the figures have heavy masses of hair drawn back half over the ears, and strange solid robes, with the folded edge of the transverse drapery passing just below the knee.
Another very exceptional series, which must be the work of some Rhenish master at the end of the century, is intensely forcible in style; but the artist is already preoccupied with the technical effects of which he shows himself such a master. The cover of the Echternach codex, which is said to have belonged to the Empress Theophano, bears in the centre an ivory plaque representing Christ on the Cross, with Longinus and Stephaton. These bizarre figures seem to presage the whole future of German art, the love of descriptive figures, that evil should appear evil, and earthly things should have no heavenly aspect. Perhaps they carried their love of naturalism to extremes, and as heavenly things were few and far between, they also gained a strong earthly taint.
The Crucifixion on a binding in the John Rylands Library at Manchester ([Fig. 25]) is evidently by the same artist. The grouping is purely Byzantine, but the severance of feeling is as far as the East is from the West. The gesture of the beloved disciple as he clasps his hands to control his passionate emotion, is worth all the stereotyped poses of Byzantine art, and one forgets the crudity of the whole thing in wonder at the emotion pent up in those rugged forms.
The clumsy features and moustache divided into two solid pieces, with the forceful attitudes and the peculiar drapery edged with an embroidered hem, are found again on several other carvings,[21] notably an aged figure of St. Paul in the Musée de Cluny. The bald head, wrinkled forehead, and the fulness of the drooping lids, are portrayed with wonderful realism in a wide and rough technique, the very reverse of the caressing finish of the contemporary Byzantine artist.
This contrast of German and Byzantine art on a book belonging to the Empress, raises the question of how much of the Byzantine influence was attributable to Theophano, grandchild of the artistic Constantine Porphrygenitus, and sister of the Emperors Basil and Constantine.
After long hesitation on the part of the proud Byzantine Court, the German offer was accepted and Theophano, the delicately nurtured Porphrygenite, was married to that little boy we see kneeling by his mother’s side on the Trivulzio tablet, and set forth on a journey to the savage wilds of Germany. Otto II. grew up to be an heroic dreamer, and on his early death, during one of his campaigns in Italy, the youthful Theophano claimed to be regent, and had a hard struggle for the rights of her young son, Otto III.
[JOHN RYLANDS LIBRARY, MANCHESTER
25. CRUCIFIXION
German, tenth century
Theophano, whose grand figure stands out against a background of incredible rudeness and turbulence, must, undoubtedly, have had considerable influence in introducing the softer Byzantine manners. Her husband, Otto II., is said to have adopted much of the Byzantine court ceremonial, and the wedding presents she brought with her, on her arrival in 972, must have formed a fund of novel design for the German craftsmen. Yet it is very easy to exaggerate her personal influence. Byzantium had always been a remarkable civilizing agent, and in the tenth to eleventh centuries was exercising the strongest influence on the West. Relations with Germany had been established long before the time of Theophano, and were continued long after. In reality Otto III. was the more special admirer and imitator of Byzantine arts and customs, this influence coming, no doubt, indirectly from his mother’s care in choosing for his masters, men of high culture. One of these men, the most trusted councillor of Theophano, was the refined and learned Greek, John of Calabria; and the other, the German, Bernward, was a most enthusiastic amateur of the arts, and on his appointment to the See of Hildesheim, helped to create the new German school which flourished all through the eleventh and twelfth centuries.
In every museum there are examples of the Byzantino-German school, one branch of which was situated in the Rhine Provinces. The relief of the Rhenish carvings is usually bold, and the figures large and long, but they often lack both the spontaneity of the Germans and the elegance of the Byzantines. A charming representation of the Nativity encircled by an embattled wall, and another plaque with the Visitation of the Magi, in the Victoria and Albert Museum, show these features, the figures having almost the appearance of children’s toys set out at random without the slightest relation to the background. A peculiar feature in some of these carvings, is the row of dots drilled down the centre of each fold. There was also a school of direct copiers of Byzantine carvings, which varies from the most miserable caricatures to such splendidly finished work, that critics experience great difficulty in deciding for or against the Byzantine origin. A case in point is the magnificent book cover in the Vatican, which came from the Abbey of Lorsch in Germany, and the similar panel in the Victoria and Albert Museum.
The central figure of Christ on the Vatican panel has a wide smooth face (without a beard), as in the sixth century sculptures. The Virgin’s face is much narrower and more of the Byzantine type, and the robes are treated with a wonderful complexity of folds. Both these panels are divided like the five-piece diptych ([Fig. 10], with a single figure on each side), and have a similar pair of flying angels above, and long narrow scene beneath. Westwood has attributed them to Italy in the sixth to eighth centuries, but that is impossible, as the actual technique is far more delicate than anything that could have been accomplished even in the sixth century. Molinier thinks it probable that the Vatican panel is an original from the finest period of Byzantine Art, and the English panel is an imitation by an almost contemporary German craftsman. The extraordinary similarity of technique, even down to such small details as the folds of drapery on the thighs of the standing figures, seems to point that the two panels came from the same atelier, even if they were not made for the same book cover, the latter seeming to be disproved owing to the slight variation in size and shape of some of the panels. The book cover in the Bodleian Library at Oxford is a variant of the panel in the Vatican.
[BRITISH MUSEUM
26. CEREMONIAL COMB
English, eleventh century
Most of the small objects connected with ecclesiastical ceremonial are of this period, for instance the liturgic combs used by the bishop or officiating priest before celebrating high mass; the comb was a special feature in Anglo-Saxon ritual, and several have been found in Great Britain. The strange large comb in the British Museum is said to have been found in Wales, and is probably about the eleventh century ([Fig. 26]). It shows the later forms of the Anglo-Saxon scroll-work and has much in connection with Romanesque decoration. The comb of St. Gauzelin, Bishop of Toul is still preserved in the cathedral at Nancy, and the comb of St. Loup in the cathedral at Sens; both betray strong Byzantine and oriental influence, and both date from the tenth century. These combs all have the more general arrangement of a double row of teeth, in two sizes; but that attributed to St. Heribert (in Cologne Museum), has only one row, and is probably more ancient, as the grouping of the Crucifixion is like that on the Carlovingian plaques of the ninth century ([Fig. 24]). The urcei, or holy water stoups are usually of German origin. A magnificent example in Milan Cathedral bears the inscription of Gotfredus, Archbishop of Milan, 973-978. It is very handsome in design, being surrounded by an arcade, above which rise the towers of the new Jerusalem. Underneath are seated the Virgin and Child and the Four Evangelists, modelled in the rather heavy German style of the tenth century.
Another urceus in the Hermitage Museum at St. Petersburg is of the same bucket shape, but ornamented with two tiers of arcades containing complicated scenes from the Passion. The Cathedral Treasury at Aix-la-Chapelle contains two of these urcei one of an octagon shape, each panel having two figures. The style of carving is like that of the school of ivory carvers founded by Bernward at Hildesheim in the eleventh century.
CHAPTER IV
ROMANESQUE AND GOTHIC IVORIES
Romanesque Art grew up north of the Alps in the valley of the Lower Rhone and South France, and is especially the work of the French people. The Italians led the way in the first centuries A.D., and were followed by the Greeks of Byzantium, and then by the Carlovingian Germanic peoples in the great art development of Europe; but from the eleventh century France entirely fills the stage, and this pre-eminence was kept up till the early Renaissance, when Italy again takes a leading part.
The Romanesque style was transitional, and turned for re-inspiration to the Gallo-Roman monuments, but it is deeply influenced by that northern spirit which later on triumphed in the full perfection of the Gothic Art.
There was a great revival of monumental sculpture with the growth of the Romanesque spirit, and sculptured figures, from being introduced tentatively in the capitals and other parts connected with the structure, later, entirely filled the great tympana or arches surmounting the doors of the churches, and from thence spread to every nook and cranny till in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries they were numbered by thousands.
Carved ivories are not so numerous in the eleventh and twelfth centuries as in the years before, and when they became popular again, in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, the division between the sculptors in stone and the ivory workers had taken place, beautiful and clever imitations of the sculptures were turned out by the dozen, but it is exceedingly rare to find the work of a real artist.
The sculptures of the eleventh and early twelfth centuries have many details in common with the book cover at St. Gall ([Fig. 23]); but gradually the folds of the drapery grew vertical and the figures more drawn out, and with a peculiar tendency to arrange the hair in set curled locks. One of the most important transitional ivories is the diptych of St. Nicasius, Bishop of Rheims, which is preserved in the Cathedral of Tournai, and is still strongly Carlovingian, as will be seen in the typical representation of the Crucifixion. Each leaf has a central medallion, that on the first leaf containing the Agnus Dei supported by angels, whose movements can be closely paralleled in the St. Gall plaque. Above, Christ is throned in a mandorla and accompanied by the symbols of the four evangelists. On the second leaf, in addition to the medallion containing the figure of St. Nicasius are some pierced vine scrolls rather like those on [Fig. 23], and by far the best part of a very poor work. The drapery is, perhaps, better designed than in the Carlovingian sculptures, but the folds are only engraved, and though there is a certain change in the type of the faces, in the matter of beauty it is entirely for the worse. A plaque in the British Museum seems also to belong to this period, it is bordered by a flowered scroll and has representations of The Nativity, The Announcement to the Shepherds and The Baptism, the latter being very strange; the figure of Christ being immersed to the waist in a large vase.
[VICTORIA AND ALBERT MUSEUM,
LONDON
27. CROZIER
French, fourteenth century
The Romanesque age was, above all, the age of symbolism; the sculptures on the pastoral staves are full of hidden meaning. The tau, or crutch shape, is the earliest form and belonged, more especially, to the insignia of the abbots, though in later days they also had croziers. The most ancient tau[22] belonged to Morard, Abbot of St. Germain de Près (990-1014) and is ornamented with a network pattern. Another fine tau, with the ends curling upwards and finished with lions’ heads, belonged to Gérard, Bishop of Limoges.
The earlier croziers had a simple volute usually ending in a dragon’s or serpent’s head, with snapping jaws, which symbolizes the struggle between the serpent and the cross,[23] the latter being borne by the symbolic ram, a development of the Agnus Dei. This ram is the symbol of Christ; as St. Ambrose says, because he washes his fleece, guides the flock, clothes the shepherd, conquers the wolves by his strength and was the victim which replaced Isaac at the sacrifice, and again, because the ram is silent before the shearers, as Christ was before his judges, and finally the crozier curls like the horn of a ram, a symbol of force.
The famous crozier (so-called of “St. Gregory”) in the Monastery of St. Gregory on the Cœlian Hill at Rome, shows the dragon’s head, the ram bearing the cross and a strange little lion cub, which is a direct reference to the death and resurrection of Christ. In the natural history of the Middle Ages, which drew more on fancy than on fact, it was narrated how the lion cub died at birth and could only be recalled to life by the breath of its father.
The Romanesque Church plunged even deeper into this symbolic thought, and the Pascal Taper, which signifies the life of Christ on earth was placed in a candelabrum supported by lions.
The strange pagan form, half human and half serpent, with a cock’s head, is none other than the mystic Abraxas, whose name in Greek numerals represented in the elaborate Gnostic calculations the whole hierarchy of heaven and the Supreme Ruler of the Universe.
This symbol was supposed to have great talismanic powers to ward off evil, and though it was contrary to canonical rules, Gnostic gems engraved with the Abraxas deity were often set in the episcopal croziers, or even the crook was decorated with this mysterious symbol, as on the ivory crozier in the British Museum.
These croziers became more and more complicated in design, whole groups of figures were introduced and foliage of a freer pattern, as in the Staff of St. Ives, Bishop of Chartres, which is now in the Bargello at Florence. The Gothic artists of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries filled the volutes with figures and exquisite foliage, the groups of the Crucifixion and the Virgin in glory fitting back to back so accurately, that each side appeared perfect, and the join of the ivory volute on to the wooden staff was often hidden by a row of saints under delicate Gothic canopies.
The book cover of the Princess Melisanda, daughter of Baldwin II., King of Jerusalem (✝1160), is preserved in the MS. Department of the British Museum; it is especially interesting as it shows the curious mixture of Byzantine, Arabian, and Western art which had been adopted by the Frankish rulers of the East, and which must have had considerable influence on French art. The upper panel is ornamented with representations of the six good actions, the principal actor being richly apparelled as a Byzantine basileus. These medallions are surrounded by a cord-like scroll, and the spaces are filled with struggling oriental animals, which symbolize the combat of the Virtues and Vices. On the lower leaf the medallions contain scenes from the life of King David and both panels are surrounded by a border of thoroughly oriental design.
Before entering on the subject of Gothic carvings, one class of bone caskets should be mentioned which are roughly carved in imitation of the Romanesque monumental style, with rows of tall figures under round arcades. Molinier thinks they are rather archaistic than archaic, being made in Constantinople as late as the thirteenth century, from old models, and sold to contain the relics brought back from the East by the Crusaders.
There are examples in the Berlin Museum, the Louvre, and the Musée Cluny; the latter contained the relics of St. Barnaby, and was the gift of Hugh, Abbot d’Estival and Bishop of Ptolemaïs in the thirteenth century.
The stages of development from the Romanesque to Gothic are almost imperceptible, and it is hard to say when the lingering classical traditions received their final transformation. The same breath which awakened the life in architecture freed the sculptor from the chains of custom, and we may consider the statues on the porch at Chartres as the commencement of modern sculpture. Like the Greeks, the Gothic artists formed a type by the process of selection from individuals. The new art was at first absolutely religious and simple, but the research for grace and the ever growing naturalism, mitigated, it is true, by extreme elegance and delicacy, gradually engrossed the entire mind of the artist and ended in the exclusion of all spirituality.
The ivory carvers long continued repeating the old formulæ, and it was only by the end of the thirteenth century that they commenced to copy the exquisite statues which decorated the new cathedrals in such numbers.
There are several examples of thirteenth century work still extremely old-fashioned in style, as the three little pierced plaques in the Louvre, representing the twelve apostles, accompanied by the favourite French saints, Denis, Rusticus and Eleutherius. The style is still transitional, but the forms of the foliage are freer, and a considerable modification of type is visible. The Virgin in the Collection Fillon is seated full face with the Child sitting equally on both knees, the stiffness of the pose being only relieved by a little freedom in the turn of the Child’s head.
The marvellous impulse of religious enthusiasm, which, arising in the thirteenth century, became evident by the passionate fervour of the worship of the Virgin, and the multiplication of her images for public and private devotion. One of the most ideally noble representations is that in the group of The Coronation of the Virgin in the Louvre, ([Fig. 28]); it closely resembles the best sculpture in its severe lines, and was probably made about 1280. A hundred years later there is an entry in the Inventory of Charles V. which most probably refers to this group; it reads most quaintly in the old French. “Item, ung courronnement de Nostre Seigneur à Nostre-Dame, d’yvire et trois angellotz de mesmes.”
The earlier ivories were always painted, and much of the original colouring is preserved. The Virgin is dressed in rich robes, semées de France (as much in honour of the Royal House as of her attribute the “lily”), but she is utterly unconscious of self as she humbly bows her head to receive the crown. The two little ecstatic angels form a part of every group of the Glorification of the Virgin, either bearing tall candles, or with their hands raised in adoration.
A. GIRAUDON PHOTO.][LOUVRE, PARIS
28. CORONATION OF THE VIRGIN
End of thirteenth century
There is hardly fifty years between this purely idealistic conception and the beautiful, but completely mundane Vierge de la Sainte Chapelle in the same collection. This magnificent figure is carved from one huge piece of ivory, and was probably the gift of St. Louis to his new chapel, about 1320. The masterly arrangement of the drapery and the exquisite finish make it one of the most celebrated ivories of the fourteenth century, but the old simplicity is quite gone, and the studied ease of the Virgin’s pose is chosen to give value to every line of drapery and figure. There is a feeling of movement in all her being, which, with the beautiful broken folds of the drapery has within it the germ of that restlessness which, rapidly increasing, became a painful fault in later Gothic sculpture. The colouring is very delicate, the pupils of the eyes are dark; the lips, which are just parting in a rather affected smile, are lightly touched with carmine, and a faint gilded border relieves the edges of the garments. The little seated figure of the Virgin in the Bargello ([Fig. 29]), is more direct and simple in design, and is probably of the last years of the thirteenth century.
The curve in many of these figures has been put down to the shape of the tusk; this is no doubt the case in many examples, but the peculiar twist is first found in some of the stone figures of the Sainte Chapelle, where it seems to have been introduced as a contrast to the perpendicular shafts of the architecture, and the constant employment of this peculiar twist in the tiny figures of the ivory reliefs and in stone carving, proves it to be more a question of taste than necessity.
ALINARI PHOTO.][BARGELLO, FLORENCE
29. THE MADONNA AND CHILD
Thirteenth century
In the Paris Exposition of 1900 two lovely ivory figures were placed together and formed a group of the Annunciation. They belong to different private collections,[24] and have been beautifully illustrated in the splendid series of photogravures of the treasures in the Exposition retrospective de l’Art français. Whether they are by the hand of the same craftsman seems a matter of doubt, as the technique of the drapery varies somewhat; but nothing can equal the exquisite softness of the Virgin’s robes and the dignified pose, worthy of the best work of the thirteenth century.
The ideal and pathetic group of The Descent from the Cross now in the Louvre ([Fig. 30]). It is strangely reminiscent in design, recalling the Byzantine rendering of the same subject in an eleventh century ivory, late in the Bonaffé Collection, in which the Virgin raises the hand of Christ to her lips with the same noble and restrained gesture, while His lifeless body slips helplessly down over the shoulder of Joseph of Arimathea. A similar group is sculptured in the Church of Le Bourget in Savoy, which is also useful in giving a clue to the fourth figure, which is evidently missing from the Louvre group.
Maskell, in the introductions to his Catalogue of Ivories in the Victoria and Albert Museum, refers to a small carving from the centre of a crozier which represents the Dead Christ on the knees of the Virgin, which is treated with strong but reserved feeling.
A. GIRAUDON PHOTO.][LOUVRE, PARIS
30. THE DESCENT FROM THE CROSS
End of thirteenth century
The series of religious tableaux cloans are very numerous, especially in the fourteenth century; they consist of two, three or more pieces and were intended for private devotions or as portable decorations for the various altars of a church, being taken with the cross and candles by the acolyte and placed on the altar for mass. The ornamentation was usually in tiers of little scenes, or with one large central figure ([Fig. 31]). The subjects have little variety and are taken from the Passion or the popular Légende dorée. The scenes usually follow in chronological order from the bottom of the left leaf to the corresponding corner on the right. The composition is often very confused, owing to the tendency to portray different stages of the same action in different compartments, to avoid placing figures on a second plane, and often the complicated architectural setting compelled the figures to be placed in contorted attitudes; in many representations of the Crucifixion the figure of Christ is strangely twisted to bring the head on a level with the other figures beneath the arcade.
[VICTORIA AND ALBERT MUSEUM, LONDON
31. POLYPTYCH. VIRGIN AND CHILD—SCENES FROM THE NATIVITY
French, fourteenth century
A fine triptych of the thirteenth century, in the Collection Martin le Roy at Paris, is especially interesting, as it is an early example of the composition of the scenes of The Death of the Virgin, as described by Jaques Voragine in the Légende dorée, and it shows how the types hardly altered all through the succeeding century. The angel coming to the Virgin to announce her death brings her a palm from Paradise as a sign; the group of men in uneasy attitudes are the apostles newly dropped from the clouds, having been collected from all parts to be present. The lowest scene of the central part is the most important; in it the Virgin is lying dead, surrounded by the apostles, whilst the little naked soul is on the arm of Christ, Who raises His hand to bless the dead body. The whole imagery is the same as on the Byzantine ivory in the Library at Munich. In another part the body is borne away for burial. On the second register the Virgin rises in glory carrying a palm and book and accompanied by the most charming group of music-making angels; above, she sits enthroned beside Christ and attended by the two candle-bearing angels.
The only known signed mediæval ivory is a box in the British Museum which bears the name of Jehan Nicolle. In the Inventory of Charles V. the name of one ivory carver has survived, but he was also goldsmith to the king. “Item, deux grans beaulx tableaux d’yvire des troys Maries que fist Jehan le Braellier, en ung estuy de cuir.” These estuys de cuir were made of very beautiful tooled leather, two fine examples are in the Salting Collection in the Victoria and Albert Museum. Reference is made to as many as three degrees of ivory carvers in the list of mestiers and marchandise of the town of Paris in 1258.
[MAYER COLLECTION, LIVERPOOL MUSEUM
32. FIRST LEAF OF A DIPTYCH
French, fourteenth century
As the country grew more settled, riches and comfort increased, and once more the ivory carvers turned their attention to ornamenting the little objects of civil life, and we find exquisitely carved writing tablets, caskets and articles for the toilet, as combs, long hair wavers, and above all, the covers for the little metal mirrors that were worn hanging from the girdle. No self-respecting woman could dispense with these little luxuries, and in the lengthy Miroir de Mariage of Eustache Deschamps, one verse deals with the requirements of a wife:
Pigne, tressoir, semblablement Et miroir, pour moy ordonner D’yvoire me devez donner, Et l’estuy qui soit noble et gent Pendre a cheannes d’argent.
ALINARI PHOTO.][BARGELLO, FLORENCE
33. PLAQUE FROM A CASKET
French, fourteenth century
Quite a new range of subjects were introduced at the end of the thirteenth century, and in civil as in religious subjects the compositions were fixed and varied but little afterwards; though we know that about 1340 there was a complete change in dress, and the old-fashioned long loose robes, which fell in such soft folds were discarded for tighter and rather shorter garments; these are sometimes seen in social groups, as the games of la mourre and la main chaude (a sort of forfeits), which are carved on a pair of writing tablets in the Louvre. The subjects are nearly all from literary sources, the miniatures of the MSS. having once more furnished models for the ivory carver. There is a beautiful little casket in the British Museum with scenes from the romance of La Chastelaine de Vergi, and the delightful dancing group in the Bargello ([Fig. 33]) formed part of a similar casket. The rhythmic flow of the soft rich drapery as the dancers move to the sound of music is exceedingly beautiful and the treatment broad, considering that the whole scene is contained in little more than six square inches. The figures are well proportioned, but with hardly any muscular development, and there is an entire absence of manliness in the male figures, who can only be recognized by the arrangement of the hair, the centre lock being cut across the forehead, and by the slightly shorter robes.
Scenes are taken from the Lai d’Aristote and the other so-called classical romances of Jason, Alexander and Virgil, the latter being described as a mediæval enchanter. Both he and poor Aristotle were most cruelly treated by their mistresses, the dignified Virgil being compelled to crawl on all fours while the lady rides on his back, and Aristotle fared even worse, being suspended in mid-air in a basket. The cycle of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table are ever popular themes, especially the scene of Tristan and Iseult surprised by the reflection of King Mark in the fountain. The Assault of the Castle of Love was taken from an allegory in the Romaunt de la Rose. The knights ride up to force the gate or scale the battlements and are met with a shower of posies, but the fair garrison makes but a faint show of resistance, and the enemy is soon within.
Four lions or basilisks crawl along the outer edge of these mirrors for convenience in opening the circular cover. There are examples in all collections of these civil ivories, some of a perfectly marvellous delicacy and minuteness, and it is unnecessary to name any special examples, except, perhaps, a fine but broken mirror cover in the Musée de Cluny which is splendidly carved with the figures of a king and queen.
[MAYER COLLECTION, LIVERPOOL MUSEUM
34. THE ELOPEMENT OF GUINIVERE
French, fourteenth century
The art of Southern France had a peculiar local style, the figures being heavier and flabbier with little thought of the modelling of forms, which were thickly covered with brilliant paint; there is perhaps a greater freedom in the grouping of the figures.
By the end of the fourteenth century the Franco-Flemish influence appears, and art rapidly lost its delicacy in the attempts at realism.
A magnificent chess-board in the Bargello of the closely allied Burgundian school, is carved with a tourney and other festivities, and gives a good picture of the costumes of the fifteenth century. The beautiful ivory harp in the Louvre, and the prettily carved wand of the Lord High Falconer of England in the Liverpool Museum are some of the latest Gothic efforts before the advent of the Renaissance.
There is little to distinguish German ivories in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries from the French; perhaps there is a tendency to greater elaboration in the architecture, and on rare occasions the figures betray the German type; but in the fifteenth century the love of realism gained ground, and the ivory carvers more closely imitated the painters and the rapidly increasing school of wood carving.
ALINARI PHOTO.][BARGELLO, FLORENCE
35. PANEL FROM A CASKET
French, fourteenth century
The English were also profoundly influenced by the French Gothic art, but gradually worked out a style of their own. There was less monotony of design and a considerable modification of types, the figures becoming thinner and the faces graver, more earnest and sweeter in expression, though, at the same time, more realistic; also there is a variation in certain details of the costumes. Two pierced plaques with scenes from The Life of St. Agnes which were in the Meyrick and Spitzer Collections, and a plaque representing Christ with the apostles, the group being surrounded by rich architecture, and two other pierced plaques with scenes of the Passion, in the Victoria and Albert Museum, seem to be English work. In the Salting Collection, now in the same museum, is a deeply cut diptych of a strongly characteristic type representing the Virgin and Child, and Christ teaching; the figures are framed in architecture of an English type decorated with small heraldic roses. This diptych formed part of both the Soltykoff and Spitzer Collections.
The triptych in the British Museum ([Fig. 36]) is closely connected with it, and is said to have been carved for Bishop Grandison of Exeter (1327-1369), but Molinier thinks that the style is far nearer that of the early fifteenth century. In the British Museum there is also the wing of a diptych, in two divisions, with The Annunciation, and below, John Baptist; the other wing is in the Louvre and represents the Coronation, with John the Evangelist in the lower compartment.
Before closing this short survey, one small statuette in the Victoria and Albert Museum should be mentioned, as the sweet and affectionate earnestness of the Virgin’s face is typical of the English ivories, for if far inferior to the French in actual technique, they have a depth of reverent feeling which is too often entirely wanting in the latter.
The Italian ivory workers continued long under the spell of the Byzantines, and when aroused to the fresh ideas of Gothic art, their work at first showed few features that could distinguish it from the French models. Gradually the designs became less concentrated and many differences crept in, especially in the treatment of the conventional foliage. The gorgeously coloured crozier in the Salting Collection is an example of this period; it belonged to Benci Aldobrandini, Bishop of Volterra in 1331. On the top is a half-length figure of Christ between two men; The Adoration of the Magi is figured within the crook, which emerges from the throat of a dragon, and just below, in four highly-painted shrines, sit the Evangelists.
MANSELL PHOTO.][BRITISH MUSEUM
36. TRIPTYCH OF BISHOP GRANDISON OF EXETER
English, fourteenth century
In the late fourteenth century the Italians commenced an entirely original style of carving on narrow strips of bone. The figures with the scenic accessories are closely related to the early schools of painting. These sculptures, unlike the unmixed ivory of the French carvings, were always framed in narrow intarsia borders. Small triptychs ([Fig. 37]) developed into enormous size, as the great altar-piece in the old Sacristy at the Certosa at Pavia and the famous retable in the Louvre, which comes from the abbey of Poissy, and was the gift of the Due de Berri, brother of Charles V., and one of the regents for the young Charles VI. in 1380. It contains his portrait and that of his wife, Jehanne de Bourgogne. The fragments of a third large retable still exist, divided between the John Rylands Library at Manchester and the Victoria and Albert Museum.
These retables are large in size, but not great in design, and though the groups of figures are lovely in detail, they are not impressive as a whole, the low relief giving little scope for the play of light and shade.
There are many beautiful polygonal caskets with domed covers, also combs and other small articles, and a very excellent account of the whole series has been given by Julius v. Schlosser in the Wiener Jahrbuch for 1900.
[VICTORIA AND ALBERT MUSEUM, LONDON
LOAN COLLECTION HON. A. BERESFORD-HOPE, M.P.
37. TRIPTYCH IN CARVED BONE
Italian, early fifteenth century
This short account of the Ivory Workers of the Middle Ages commenced with Italy in the last years of the fourth century, and, having made the round of Europe, returns to her after a thousand years, at the end of the fourteenth century, and must close, just at the outgoing of the mediæval era, with this magnificent group of carvings, which lies half across the border line of the early and true Renascimento.