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.
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.