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.