Professor Moore considers the statue of the Virgin on the Portal of the Virgin at the west end of Notre Dame in Paris as about the best example of Gothic figure sculpture in France. He says further that the finest statues in portals of any age are those of the north porch at Paris. The Virgin here is marvellously fine also. It combines the dignity and monumental qualities of the first of the Virgins at Amiens, with the living buoyancy of the Virgin on the Gilded Portal. It is the clear result of a study of nature grafted on Byzantine traditions. It dates from 1250.
While sculpture was practised chiefly by monastic artists, it retained the archaic and traditional elements. When trained carvers from secular life began to take the chisel, the spirit of the world entered in. For a time this was a marked improvement: later the pendulum swung too far, and decadence set in.
A favourite device on carved tympana above portals was the Last Judgment. Michael with the scales, engaged in weighing souls, was the tall central figure, and the two depressed saucers of the scales help considerably in filling the triangular space usually left over a Gothic doorway. At Chartres, there is an example of this subject, in which Mortal Sin, typified by a devil and two toads, are being weighed against the soul of a departed hero. As is customary in such compositions,a little devil is seen pulling on the side of the scale in which he is most interested!
One of the most cheerful and delightful figures at Chartres is that of the very tall angel holding a sun dial, on the corner of the South tower. A certain optimistic inconsequence is his chief characteristic, as if he really believed that the hours bore more of happiness than of sorrow to the world.
There is no limit to the originality and the symbolic messages of the Gothic grotesques. Two whole books might be written upon this subject alone to do it justice; but a few notable instances of these charming little adornments to the stern structures of the Middle Ages must be noticed here. The little medallions at Amiens deserve some attention. They represent the Virtues and Vices, the Follies, and other ethical qualities. Some of them deal with Scriptural scenes. "Churlishness" is figured by a woman kicking over her cup-bearer. Apropos of her attitude, Ruskin observes that the final forms of French churlishness are to be discovered in the feminine gestures in the can-can. He adds: "See the favourite print shops in Paris." Times have certainly changed little!
One of these Amiens reliefs, signifying "Rebellion," is that of a man snapping his fingers at his bishop! Another known as "Atheism" is variously interpreted. A man is seen stepping out of his shoes at the church porch. Ruskin explains this as meaning that the infidel is shown in contradistinction to the faithful who is supposedto have "his feet shod with the preparation of the Gospel of Peace;" but Abbé Roze thinks it more likely that this figure represents an unfrocked monk abandoning the church.
One of these displays the beasts in Nineveh, and a little squat monkey, developing into a devil, is wittily characterized by Ruskin as reversing the Darwinian theory.
The statues above these little quatrefoils are over seven feet in height, differing slightly, and evidently portrait sculptures inspired by living models, adapted to their more austere use in this situation.
A quiet and inconspicuous example of exquisite refinement in Gothic bas-relief is to be seen in the medallioned "Portail aux Libraires" at the Cathedral in Rouen. This doorway was built in 1278 by Jean Davi, who must have been one of the first sculptors of his time. The medallions are a series of little grotesques, some of them ineffably entertaining, and others expressive of real depth of knowledge and thought. Ruskin has eulogized some of these little figures: one as having in its eye "the expression which is never seen but in the eye of a dog gnawing something in jest, and preparing to start away with it." Again, he detects a wonderful piece of realism and appreciative work in the face of a man who leans with his head on his hand in thought: the wrinkles pushed up under his eye are especially commended.
In the south transept at Amiens is a piece of elaboratesculpture in four compartments, which are the figures of many saints. There is a legend in connection with those figures: when the millers were about to select a patron saint, they agreed to choose the saint on whose head a dove, released for the purpose, should alight; but as the bird elected to settle on the head of a demon, they abandoned their plan! The figures in these carvings are almost free of the ground; they appear to be a collection of separate statuettes, the scenes being laid in three or four planes. It is not restrained bas-relief; but the effect is extremely rich. The sculptures in high relief, but in more conventional proportion than these, which occur on the dividing wall between the choir and the north aisle, are thoroughly satisfactory. They are coloured; they were executed in 1531, and they represent scenes in the life of the Baptist. In the panel where Salomé is portrayed as dancing, a grave little monkey is seen watching her from under the table. The similar screen surrounding the sanctuary at Paris was the work of the chief cathedral architect, Jean Renoy, with whom worked his nephew, Jehan le Bouteiller. These stone carved screens are quite usual in the Ile de France. The finest are at Chartres, where they go straight around the ambulatory, the whole choir being fenced in, as it were, about the apse, by this exquisite work. This screen is more effective, too, for being left in the natural colour of the stone: where these sculptures are painted, as they usually are, they suggest wood carvings, and havenot as much dignity as when the stone is fully recognized.
The Door of St. Marcel has the oldest carving on Notre Dame in Paris. The plate representing the iron work, in Chapter IV., shows the carving on this portal, which is the same that has Biscornette's famous hinges. The central figure of St. Marcel himself presents the saint in the act of reproving a naughty dragon which had had the indiscretion to devour the body of a rich but wicked lady. The dragon is seen issuing from the dismantled tomb of this unfortunate person. The dragon repented his act, when the saint had finished admonishing him, and showed his attachment and gratitude for thus being led in paths of rectitude, by following the saint for four miles, apparently walking much as a seal would walk, beseeching the saint to forgive him. But Marcel was firm, and punished the serpent, saying to him: "Go forth and inhabit the deserts or plunge thyself into the sea;" and, as St. Patrick rid the Celtic land of snakes, so St. Marcel seems to have banished dragons from fair France.
At Chartres there are eighteen hundred statues, and almost as many at Amiens and at Rheims and Paris. One reason for the superiority of French figure sculpture in the thirteenth century, over that existing in other countries, is that the French used models. There has been preserved the sketch book of a mediæval French architect, Vilard de Honcourt, which is filledwith studies from life: and why should we suppose him to be the only one who worked in this way?
Rheims Cathedral is the Mecca of the student of mediæval sculpture. The array of statues on the exterior is amazing, and a walk around the great structure reveals unexpected riches in corbels, gargoyles, and other grotesques, hidden at all heights, each a veritable work of art, repaying the closest study, and inviting the enthusiast to undue extravagance at a shop in the vicinity, which advertises naïvely, that it is an "Artistical Photograph Laboratory."
On the door of St. Germain l'Auxerrois in Paris, there is a portrait statue of St. Geneviève, holding a lighted candle, while "the devil in little" sits on her shoulder, exerting himself to blow it out! It is quite a droll conceit of the thirteenth century.
Of the leaf forms in Gothic sculpture, three styles are enough to generalize about. The early work usually represented springlike leaves, clinging, half-developed, and buds. Later, a more luxuriant foliage was attempted: the leaves and stalks were twisted, and the style was more like that actually seen in nature. Then came an overblown period, when the leaves were positively detached, and the style was lost. The foliage was no longer integral, but was applied.
There is little of the personal element to be exploited in dealing with the sculptors in the Middle Ages. Until the days of the Renaissance individual artists were scarcely recognized; master masons employed "Imagers"as casually as we would employ brick-layers or plasterers; and no matter how brilliant the work, it was all included in the general term "building."
The first piece of signed sculpture in France is a tympanum in the south transept at Paris, representing the Stoning of Stephen. It is by Jean de Chelles, in 1257. St. Louis of France was a patron of arts, and took much interest in his sculptors. There were two Jean de Montereau, who carved sacred subjects in quite an extraordinary way. Jean de Soignoles, in 1359, was designated as "Macon et Ymageur." One of the chief "imageurs," as they were called, was Jacques Haag, who flourished in the latter half of the fifteenth century, in Amiens. This artist was imprisoned for sweating coin, but in 1481 the king pardoned him. He executed large statues for the city gates, of St. Michael and St. Firmin, in 1464 and 1489. There was a sculptor in Paris in the fourteenth century, one Hennequin de Liege, who made several tombs in black and white marble, among them that of Blanche de France, and the effigy of Queen Philippa at Westminster.
It was customary both in France and England to use colour on Gothic architecture. It is curious to realize that the façade of Notre Dame in Paris was originally a great colour scheme. A literary relic, the "Voyage of an Armenian Bishop," named Martyr, in the year 1490, alludes to the beauty of this cathedral of Paris, as being ablaze with gold and colour.
An old record of the screen of the chapel of St. Andrewat Westminster mentions that it was "adorned with curious carvings and engravings, and other imagery work of birds, flowers, cherubims, devices, mottoes, and coats of arms of many of the chief nobility painted thereon. All done at the cost of Edmond Kirton, Abbot, who lies buried on the south side of the chapel under a plain gray marble slab." H. Keepe, who wrote of Westminster Abbey in 1683, mentioned the virgin over the Chapter House door as being "all richly enamelled and set forth with blue, some vestigia of all which are still remaining, whereby to judge of the former splendour and beauty thereof." Accounts make frequent mention of painters employed, one being "Peter of Spain," and another William of Westminster, who was called the "king's beloved painter."
King René of Anjou was an amateur of much versatility; he painted and made many illuminations: among other volumes, copies of his own works in prose and verse. Aside from his personal claim to renown in the arts, he founded a school in which artists and sculptors were included. One of the chief sculptors was Jean Poncet, who was followed in the king's favour by his son Pons Poncet. Poor Pons was something of a back-slider, being rather dissipated; but King René was fond of him, and gave him work to do when he was reduced to poverty. The monument to his nurse, Tiphanie, at Saumur, was entrusted to Pons Poncet. After the death of Pons, the chief sculptor of the court was Jacques Moreau.
(England and Germany)
A progressive history of English sculpture in stone could be compiled by going from church to church, and studying the tympana, over the doors, in Romanesque and Norman styles, and in following the works in the spandrils between the arches in early Gothic work. First we find rude sculptures, not unlike those in France. The Saxon work like the two low reliefs now to be seen in Chichester Cathedral show dug-out lines and almost flat modelling; then the Norman, slightly rounded, are full of historic interest and significance, though often lacking in beauty. The two old panels alluded to, now in Chichester, were supposed to have been brought from Selsea Cathedral, having been executed about the twelfth century. There is a good deal of Byzantine feeling in them; one represents the Raising of Lazarus, and the other, Our Lord entering the house of Mary and Martha. The figures are long and stiff, and there is a certain quality in the treatment of draperies not unlike that in the figures at Chartres.
Then follows the very early Gothic, like the delightfullittle spandrils in the chapter house at Salisbury, and at Westminster, familiar to all travellers. They are full of life, partly through the unanatomic contortions by means of which they are made to express their emotions. Often one sees elbows bent the wrong way to emphasize the gesture of denunciation, or a foot stepping quite across the instep of its mate in order to suggest speed of motion. Early Gothic work in England is usually bas-relief; one does not find the statue as early as in France. In 1176 William of Sens went over to England, to work on Canterbury Cathedral, and after that French influence was felt in most of the best English work in that century. Before the year 1200 there was little more than ornamented spaces, enriched by carving; after that time, figure sculpture began in earnest, and, in statues and in effigies, became a large part of the craftsmanship of the thirteenth century.
The transition was gradual. First small separate heads began to obtain, as corbels, and were bracketed at the junctures of the arch-mouldings in the arcade and triforium of churches. Then on the capitals little figures began to emerge from the clusters of foliage. In many cases the figures are very inferior to the faces, as if more time and study had been given to expressing emotions than to displaying form. The grotesque became very general. Satire and caricature had no other vehicle in the Middle Ages than the carvings in and out of the buildings, for the cartoon had not yet become possible, and painting offered but a limitedscope to the wit, especially in the North; in Italy this outlet for humour was added to that of the sculptor.
Of the special examples of great figure sculpture in England the façade at Wells is usually considered the most significant. The angel choir at Lincoln, too, has great interest; there is real power in some of the figures, especially the angel with the flaming sword driving Adam and Eve from Eden, and the one holding aloft a small figure,—probably typical of the Creation. At Salisbury, too, there is much splendid figure sculpture; it is cause for regret that the names of so few of the craftsmen have survived.
Wells Cathedral is one of the most interesting spots in which to study English Gothic sculpture. Its beautiful West Front is covered with tier after tier of heroes and saints; it was finished in 1242. This is the year that Cimabue was three years old; Niccola Pisano had lived during its building, Amiens was finished forty-six years later, and Orvieto was begun thirty-six years later. It is literally the earliest specimen of so advanced and complete a museum of sculpture in the West. Many critics have assumed that the statues on the West Front of Wells were executed by foreign workmen; but there are no special characteristics of any known foreign school in these figures. Messrs. Prior and Gardner have recently expressed their opinion that these statues, like most of the thirteenth century work in England, are of native origin. The theory is that two kinds of influence were brought to bear to create English "imagers."In the first place, goldsmiths and ivory carvers had been making figures on a small scale: their trade was gradually expanded until it reached the execution of statues for the outside ornament of buildings. The figures carved by such artists are inclined to be squat, these craftsmen having often been hampered by being obliged to accommodate their design to their material, and to treat the human figure to appear in spaces of such shapes as circles, squares, and trefoils. Another class of workers who finally turned their attention to statuary, were the carvers of sepulchral slabs: these slabs had for a long time shown the effigies of the deceased. This theory accounts for both types of figures that are found in English Gothic,—the extremely attenuated, and the blunt squat statues. At Wells it would seem that both classes of workmen were employed, some of the statues being short and some extremely tall. They were executed, evidently, at different periods, the façade being gradually decorated, sometimes in groups of several statues, and sometimes in simple pairs. This theory, too, lends a far greater interest to the west front than the theory that it was all carried out at once, from one intentional design.
St. Nicholas, the patron saint of Baptism, is here represented, holding a child on his arm, and standing in water up to his knees. The water, being treated in a very conventional way, coiling about the lower limbs, is so suggestive of tiers of flat discs, that it has won for this statue the popular name of "the pancakeman," for he certainly looks as if he had taken up his position in the midst of a pile of pancakes, into which he had sunk.
The old statue of St. Hugh at Lincoln is an attractive early Gothic work. In 1743 he was removed from his precarious perch on the top of a stone pinnacle, and was placed more firmly afterwards. In a letter from the Clerk of the Works this process was described. "I must acquaint you that I took down the antient image of St. Hugh, which is about six foot high, and stood upon the summit of a stone pinnacle at the South corner of the West Front... and pulled down twenty-two feet of the pinnacle itself, which was ready to tumble into ruins, the shell being but six inches thick, and the ribs so much decayed that it declined visibly.... I hope to see the saint fixed upon a firmer basis before the Winter." On the top of a turret opposite St. Hugh is the statue of the Swineherd of Stowe. This personage became famous through contributing a peck of silver pennies toward the building of the cathedral. As is usually the case, the saint and the donor therefore occupy positions of equal exaltation! The swineherd is equipped with a winding horn. A foolish tradition without foundation maintains that this figure does not represent the Swineherd at all, but is a play upon the name of Bishop Bloet,—the horn being intended to suggest "Blow it!" It seems hardly possible to credit the mediæval wit with no keener sense of humour than to perpetrate such a far-fetched pun.
The Lincoln Imp, who sits enthroned at the foot of a cul-de-lampe in the choir, is so familiar to every child, now, through his photographs and casts, that it is hardly necessary to describe him. But many visitors to the cathedral fail to come across the old legend of his origin. It is as follows: "The wind one day brought two imps to view the new Minster at Lincoln. Both imps were greatly impressed with the magnitude and beauty of the structure, and one of them, smitten by a fatal curiosity, slipped inside the building to see what was going on. His temerity, however, cost him dear, for he was so petrified with astonishment, that his heart became as stone within him, and he remained rooted to the spot. The other imp, full of grief at the loss of his brother, flew madly round the Minster, seeking in vain for the lost one. At length, being wearied out, he alighted, quite unwittingly, upon the shoulders of a certain witch, and was also, and in like manner, instantly turned to stone. But the wind still haunts the Minster precincts, waiting their return, now hopelessly desolate, now raging with fury." A verse, also, is interesting in this connection:
"The Bishop we know died long ago,The wind still waits, nor will he go,Till he has a chance of beating his foe.But the devil hopped without a limp,And at once took shape as the Lincoln Imp.And there he sits atop of a column,And grins at the people who gaze so solemn,Moreover, he mocks at the wind below,And says: 'You may wait till doomsday, O!'"
The effigies in the Round Church at the Temple in London have created much discussion. They represent Crusaders, two dating from the twelfth century, and seven from the thirteenth. Most of them have their feet crossed, and the British antiquarian mind has exploited and tormented itself for some centuries in order to prove, or to disprove, that this signifies that the warriors were crusaders who had actually fought. There seems now to be rather a concensus of opinion that they do not represent Knights Templars, but "associates of the Temple." As none of them can be certainly identified, this controversy would appear to be of little consequence to the world at large. The effigies are extremely interesting from an artistic point of view, and, in repairing them, in 1840, Mr. Richardson discovered traces of coloured enamels and gilding, which must have rendered them most attractive.
Henry III. of England was a genuine art patron, and even evinced some of the spirit of socialism so dear to the heart of William Morris, for the old records relate that the Master Mason, John of Gloucester, was in the habit of taking wine each day with the King! This shows that Henry recognized the levelling as Well as the raising power of the arts. In 1255 the king sent five casks of wine to the mason, in payment for five with which John of Gloucester had accommodated his Majesty at Oxford! This is an intimate and agreeable departure from the despotic and grim reputation of early Kings of England.
In 1321 the greatest mediæval craftsman in England was Alan de Walsingham, who built the great octagon from which Ely derives its chief character among English cathedrals. In a fourteenth century manuscript in the British Museum is a tribute to him, which is thus translated by Dean Stubbs (now Bishop of Truro):
"A Sacrist good and Prior benign,A builder he of genius fine:The flower of craftsmen, Alan, Prior,Now lying entombed before the choir...And when, one night, the old tower fell,This new one he built, and mark it well."
This octagon was erected to the glory of God and to St. Etheldreda, the Queen Abbess of Ely, known frequently as St. Awdry. Around the base of the octagon, at the crests of the great piers which carry it, Prior Alan had carved the Deeds of the Saint in a series of decorative bosses which deserve close study. The scene of her marriage, her subsequently taking the veil at Coldingham, and the various miracles over which she presided, terminate in the death and "chesting" of the saint. This ancient term is very literal, as the body was placed in a stone coffin above the ground, and therefore the word "burial" would be incorrect.
The tomb of Queen Eleanor in Westminster is of Purbeck marble, treated in the style of Southern sculpture, being cut in thin slabs and enriched with low relief ornamentation. The recumbent effigy is in bronze, and was cast, as has been stated, by Master WilliamTorel. Master Walter of Durham painted the lower portion. Master Richard Crundale was in charge of the general work.
Master John of St. Albans worked in about 1257, and was designated "sculptor of the king's images." There was at this time a school of sculpture at the Abbey. This Westminster School of Artificers supplied statuettes and other sculptured ornaments to order for various places. One of the craftsmen was Alexander "le imaginator." In the Rolls of the Works at Westminster, there is an entry, "Master John, with a carpenter and assistant at St. Albans, worked on the lectern." This referred to a copy which was ordered of a rarely beautiful lectern at St. Albans' cathedral, which had been made by the "incomparable Walter of Colchester." Labour was cheap! There is record of three shillings being paid to John Benet for three capitals!
Among Westminster labourers was one known as Brother Ralph, the Convert; this individual was a reformed Jew. Among the craftsmen selected to receive wine from the convent with "special grace" is the goldsmith, Master R. de Fremlingham, who was then the Abbey plumber.
There was a master mason in 1326, who worked at Westminster and in various other places on His Majesty's Service. This was William Ramsay, who also superintended the building then in progress at St. Paul's, and was a man of such importance in his art, that the mayor and aldermen ordered that he should "not beplaced on juries or inquests" during the time of his activity. He was also chief mason at the Tower. But in spite of the city fathers it was not possible to keep this worthy person out of court! For he and some of his friends, in 1332, practically kidnapped a youth of fourteen named Robert Huberd, took him forcibly from his appointed guardian, and married him out of hand to William Ramsay's daughter Agnes, the reason for this step being evidently that the boy had money. Upon the complaint of his guardian, Robert was given his choice whether he would remain with his bride or return to his former home. He deliberately chose his new relations, and so, as the marriage was quite legal according to existing laws, everything went pleasantly for Master William! It made no difference, either, in the respect of the community or the king for the master mason; in 1344, he was appointed to superintend the building at Windsor, and was made a member of the Common Council in 1347. Verily, the Old Testament days were not the last in which every man "did that which was right in his own eyes."
Carter gives some curious historical explanations of some very quaint and little-known sculptures in a frieze high up in the Chapel of Edward the Confessor in Westminster. One of them represents the Trial of Queen Emma, and is quite a spirited scene. The little accusing hands raised against the central figure of the queen, are unique in effect in a carving of this character. Queen Emma was accused of so many misdemeanours,poor lady! She had agreed to marry the enemy of her kingdom, King Canute: she gave no aid to her sons, Edward the Confessor and Alfred, when in exile; and she was also behaving in a very unsuitable manner with Alwin, Bishop of Winchester: she seems to have been versatile in crime, and it is no wonder that she was invited to withdraw from her high estate.
The burial of Henry V. is interestingly described in an old manuscript of nearly contemporary origin: "His body was embalmed and cired and laid on a royal carriage, and an image like to him was laid upon the corpse, open: and with divers banners, and horses, covered with the arms of England and France, St. Edward and St. Edmund... and brought with great solemnity to Westminster, and worshipfully buried; and after was laid on his tomb a royal image like to himself, of silver and gilt, which was made at the cost of Queen Katherine... he ordained in his life the place of his sepulchre, where he is now buried, and every daye III. masses perpetually to be sungen in a fair chapel over his sepulchre." This exquisite arrangement of a little raised chantry, and the noble tomb itself, was the work of Master Mapilton, who came from Durham in 1416.
Mr. W. R. Lethaby calls attention to the practical and expedient way in which mediæval carvers of effigies utilized their long blocks of stone: "Notice," he says, "how... the angels at the head and the beast at the foot were put in just to square out the block, and how all the points of high relief come to one plane so thata drawing board might be firmly placed on the statue." Only such cutting away as was actually necessary was encouraged; the figure was usually represented as putting the earthly powers beneath his feet, while angels ministered at his head. St. Louis ordered a crown of thorns to be placed on his head when he was dying, and the crown of France placed at his feet. The little niches around the tombs, in which usually stood figures of saints, were called "hovels." It is amusing to learn this to-day, with our long established association of the word with poverty and squalor.
Henry VII. left directions for the design of his tomb. Among other stipulations, it was to be adorned with "ymages" of his patron saints "of copper and gilte." Henry then "calls and cries" to his guardian saints and directs that the tomb shall have "a grate, in manner of a closure, of coper and gilte," which was added by English craftsmen. Inside this grille in the early days was an altar, containing a unique relic,—a leg of St. George.
Sculpture and all other decorative arts reached their ultimatum in England about the time of the construction of Henry VII.'s chapel at Westminster. The foundation stone was laid in 1502, by Henry himself. Of the interesting monuments and carvings contained in it, the most beautiful is the celebrated bronze figure by Torregiano on the tomb of the king and queen, which was designed during their lives. Torregiano was born in 1470, and died in 1522, so he is not quite a mediævalfigure, but in connection with his wonderful work we must consider his career a moment. Vasari says that he had "more pride than true artistic excellence." He was constantly interfering with Michelangelo, with whom he was a student in Florence, and on one memorable occasion they came to blows: and that was the day when "Torregiano struck Michelangelo on the nose with his fist, using such terrible violence and crushing that feature in such a manner that the proper form could never be restored to it, and Michelangelo had his nose flattened by that blow all his life." So Torregiano fled from the Medicean wrath which would have descended upon him. After a short career as a soldier, impatient at not being rapidly promoted, he returned to his old profession of a sculptor. He went to England, where, says Vasari, "he executed many works in marble, bronze, and wood, for the king." The chief of these was the striking tomb of Henry VII. and the queen. Torregiano's agreement was to make it for a thousand pounds: also there is a contract which he signed with Henry VIII., agreeing to construct a similar tomb also for that monarch, to be one quarter part larger than that of Henry VII., but this was not carried out.
St. Anthony appears on a little sculptured medallion on the tomb of Henry VII., with a small pig trotting beside him. This is St. Anthony of Vienna, not of Padua. His legend is as follows. In an old document, Newcourt's Repertorium, it is related that "the monks of St. Anthony with their importunate begging, contraryto the example of St. Anthony, are so troublesome, as, if men give them nothing, they will presently threaten them with St. Anthony's fire; so that many simple people, out of fear or blind zeal, every year use to bestow on them a fat pig, or porker, which they have ordinarily painted in their pictures of St. Anthony, whereby they may procure their good will and their prayers, and be secure from their menaces."
Torregiano's contract read that he should "make well, surely, cleanly, and workmanlike, curiously, and substantially" the marble tomb with "images, beasts, and other things, of copper, gilte." Another craftsman who exercised his skill in this chapel was Lawrence Imber, image maker, and in 1500 the names of John Hudd, sculptor, and Nicolas Delphyn, occur. Some of the figures and statuettes on the tomb were also made by Drawswerd of York.
On the outer ribs of Henry VII.'s chapel may be detected certain little symmetrically disposed bosses, which at first glance one would suppose to be inconspicuous crockets. But in an admirable spirit of humour, the sculptor has here carved a series of griffins, in procession, holding on for dear life, in the attitudes of children sliding down the banisters. They are delightfully animated and amusing.
The well-known figures of the Vices which stand around the quadrangle at Magdalen College, Oxford, are interpreted by an old Latin manuscript in the college. The statues should properly be known as the Virtuesand Vices, for some of them represent such moral qualities as Vigilance, Sobriety, and Affection. It is indeed a shock to learn from this presumably authoritative source, that the entertaining figure of a patient nondescript animal, upon whose back a small reptile clings, isnotintended to typify "back biting," but is intended for a "hippopotamus, or river-horse, carrying his young one upon his shoulders; this is the emblem of a good tutor, or fellow of the college, who is set to watch over the youth." But a large number of the statues are devoted to the Vices, which generally explain themselves.
No more spirited semi-secular carvings are to be seen in England than the delightful row of the "Beverly Minstrels." They stand on brackets round a column in St. Mary's Church, Beverly, and are exhibited as singing and playing on musical instruments. They were probably carved and presented by the Minstrels or Waits, themselves, or at any rate at their expense, for an angel near by holds a tablet inscribed: "This pyllor made the meynstyrls." These "waits" were quite an institution, being a kind of police to go about day and night and inspect the precincts, announcing break of day by blowing a horn, and calling the workmen together by a similar signal. The figures are of about the period of Henry VII.
The general excellence of sculpture in Germany is said to be lower than that of France; in fact, such mediæval German sculpture as is specially fine is based upon French work. Still, while this statement holdsgood in a general way, there are marked departures, and examples of extremely interesting and often original sculpture in Germany, although until the work of such great masters as Albrecht Dürer, Adam Kraft, and Viet Stoss, the wood carver, who are much later, there is not as prolific a display of the sculptor's genius as in France.
The figures on the Choir screen at Hildesheim are rather heavy, and decidedly Romanesque; but the whole effect is most delightful. Some of the heads have almost Gothic beauty. The screen is of about 1186, and the figures are made of stucco; but it is exceptionally good stucco, very different in character from the later work, which Browning has designated as "stucco twiddlings everywhere."
Much good German sculpture may be seen in Nüremberg. The Schöner Brunnen, the beautiful fountain, is a delight, in spite of the fact that one is not looking at the original, which was relegated to the museum for safe keeping long ago. The carving, too, on the Frauenkirche, and St. Sebald's, and on St. Lorenz, is as fine as anything one will find in Germany. Another exception stands out in the memory. Nothing is more exquisite than the Bride's Door, at St. Sebald's, in Nüremberg; the figures of the Wise and Foolish Virgins who guard the entrance could hardly be surpassed in the realm of realistic sculpture, retaining at the same time a just proportion of monumental feeling. They are bewitching and dainty, full of grace not often seen in German work of that period.
The figures on the outside of Bamberg Cathedral are also as fine as anything in France, and there are some striking examples at Naumburg, but often the figures in German work lack lightness and length, which are such charming elements in the French Gothic sculptures.
At Strasburg the Cathedral is generally conceded to be the most interesting and ornate of the thirteenth century work in Germany, although, as has been indicated, French influence is largely responsible. A very small deposit of this influence escaped into the Netherlands, and St. Gudule in Brussels shows some good carving in Gothic style.
A gruesome statue on St. Sebald's in Nüremberg represents the puritanical idea of "the world," by exhibiting a good-looking young woman, whose back is that of a corpse; the shroud is open, and the half decomposed body is displayed, with snakes and toads depredating upon it.
Among the early Renaissance artists in Nüremberg, was Hans Decker, who was named in the Burgher Lists of 1449. He may have had influence upon the youth of Adam Kraft, whose great pyx in St. Lorenz's is known to everyone who has visited Germany.
Adam Kraft was born in Nüremberg in the early fifteenth century and his work is a curious link between Gothic and Renaissance styles. His chief characteristic is expressed by P. J. Rée, who says: "The essence of his art is best described as a naïve realism sustained by tender and warm religious zeal." Adam Kraft carvedthe Stations of the Cross, to occupy, on the road to St. John's Cemetery in Nüremberg, the same relative distances apart as those of the actual scenes between Pilate's house and Golgotha. Easter Sepulchres were often enriched with very beautiful sculptures by the first masters. Adam Kraft carved the noble scene of the Burial of Christ in St. John's churchyard in Nüremberg.
It is curious that the same mind and hand which conceived and carved these short stumpy figures, should have made the marvel of slim grace, the Tabernacle, or Pyx, at St. Lorenz. A figure of the artist kneeling, together with two workmen, one old and one young, supports the beautiful shrine, which rears itself in graduated stages to the tall Gothic roof, where it follows the curve of a rib, and turns over at the top exactly like some beautiful clinging plant departing from its support, and flowering into an exquisitely proportioned spiral. It suggests a gigantic crozier. Before it was known what a slender metal core followed this wonderful growth, on the inside, there was a tradition that Kraft had discovered "a wonderful method for softening and moulding hard stones." The charming relief by Kraft on the Weighing Office exhibits quite another side of his genius; here three men are engaged in weighing a bale of goods in a pair of scales: a charming arrangement of proportion naturally grows out of this theme, which may have been a survival in the mind of the artist of his memory of the numerous tympana with the Judgmentof Michael weighing souls. The design is most attractive, and the decorative feeling is enhanced by two coats of arms and a little Gothic tracery running across the top. When Adam Kraft died in 1508, the art of sculpture practically ceased in Nüremberg.
CARVING IN WOOD AND IVORY
If the Germans were somewhat less original than the French, English, and Italians in their stone carving, they made up for this deficiency by a very remarkable skill in wood carving. Being later, in period, this art was usually characterized by more naturalism than that of sculpture in stone.
In Germany the art of sculpture in wood is said to have been in full favour as early as the thirteenth century. There are two excellent wooden monuments, one at Laach erected to Count Palatine Henry III., who died in 1095, and another to Count Henry III. of Sayne, in 1246. The carving shows signs of the transition to Gothic forms. Large wooden crucifixes were carved in Germany in the eleventh and twelfth centuries. Byzantine feeling is usual in these figures, which are frequently larger than life.
Mediæval wood carving developed chiefly along the line of altar pieces and of grotesque adornments of choir stalls. Among the most interesting of these are the "miserere" seats, of which we shall speak at more length.
The general methods of wood carving resemble somewhatthose of stone carving; that is to say, flat relief, round relief, and entirely disengaged figures occur in both, while in both the drill is used as a starting point in many forms of design. As with the other arts, this of carving in wood emanated from the monastery.
The monk Tutilo, of St. Gall, was very gifted. The old chronicle tells us that "he was eloquent, with a fine voice, skilful in carving, and a painter. A musician, like his companions, but in all kinds of wind and stringedinstruments... he excelled everybody. In building and in his other arts he was eminent." Tutilo was a monk of the ninth century.
A celebrated wood carving of the thirteenth century, on a large scale, is the door of the Church of St. Sabina in Rome. It is divided into many small panels, finely carved. These little reliefs are crowded with figures, very spirited in action.
Painted and carved shields and hatchments were popular. The Italian artists made these with great refinement. Sometimes stucco was employed instead of genuine carving, and occasionally the work was embossed on leather. They were painted in heraldic colours, and gold, and nothing could be more decorative. Even Giotto produced certain works of this description, as well as a carved crucifix.
Altar pieces were first carved and painted, the backgrounds being gilded. By degrees stucco for the figures came in to replace the wood: after that, they were gradually modelled in lower relief, until finally they became painted pictures with slightly raised portions, and the average Florentine altar piece resulted. With the advance in painting, and the ability to portray the round, the necessity for carved details diminished.
Orders from a great distance were sometimes sent to the Florentine Masters of Wood,—the choir stalls in Cambridge, in King's College Chapel, were executed by them, in spite of the fact that Torregiano alluded to them as "beasts of English."
An early French wood carver was Girard d'Orleans, who, in 1379, carved for Charles V. "ung tableau de boys de quatre pieces." Ruskin considers the choir stalls in Amiens the best worth seeing in France; he speaks of the "carpenter's work" with admiration, for no nails are used, nor is the strength of glue relied upon; every bit is true "joinery," mortised, and held by the skill and conscientiousness of its construction. Of later work in wood it is a magnificent example. The master joiner, Arnold Boulin, undertook the construction of the stalls in 1508. He engaged Anton Avernier, an image maker, to carve the statuettes and figures which occur in the course of the work. Another joiner, Alexander Hust, is reported as working as well, and in 1511, both he and Boulin travelled to Rouen, to study the stalls in the cathedral there. Two Franciscan monks, "expert and renowned in working in wood," came from Abbeville to give judgment and approval, their expenses being paid for this purpose.
Jean Troupin, a "simple workman at the wages of three sous a day," was added to the staff of workers in 1516, and in one of the stalls he has carved his own portrait, with the inscription, "Jan Troupin, God take care of thee." In 1522 the entire work was completed, and was satisfactorily terminated on St. John's day, representing the entire labour of six or eight men for about fourteen years.
In the fifteenth century Germany led all countries in the art of wood carving. Painting was nearly alwaysallied to this art in ecclesiastical use. The sculptured forms were gilded and painted, and, in some cases, might almost be taken for figures in faience, so high was the polish. Small altars, with carved reredos and frontals, were very popular, both for church and closet. The style employed was pictorial, figures and scenes being treated with great naturalism. One of the famous makers of such altar pieces was Lucas Möser, in the earlier part of the fifteenth century. A little later came Hans Schülein, and then followed Freidrich Herlin, who carved the fine altar in Rothenburg. Jorg Syrlin of Ulm and his son of the same name cover the latter half of the century.
Bavaria was the chief province in which sculptors in wood flourished. The figures are rather stumpy sometimes, and the draperies rather heavy and lacking in delicate grace, but the works are far more numerous than those of other districts, and vary enormously in merit.
Then followed the great carvers of the early Renaissance—Adam Kraft, and Veit Stoss, contemporaries of Peter Vischer and Albrecht Dürer, whom we must consider for a little, although they hardly can be called mediæval workmen.
Veit Stoss was born in the early fifteenth century, in Nüremberg. He went to Cracow when he was about thirty years of age, and spent some years working hard. He returned to his native city, however, in 1496, and worked there for the rest of his life. A delicate specimen of his craft is the Rosenkranztafel, a wood carving inthe Germanic Museum, which exhibits medallions in relief, representing the Communion of Saints, with a wreath of roses encircling it. Around the border of this oblong composition there are small square reliefs, and a Last Judgment which is full of grim humour occupies the lower part of the space. Among the amusing incidents represented, is that of a redeemed soul, quite naked, climbing up a vine to reach heaven, in which God the Father is in the act of "receiving" Adam and Eve, shaking hands most sociably! The friends of this aspiring climber are "boosting" him from below; the most deliciously realistic proof that Stoss had no use for the theory of a winged hereafter!
Veit Stoss was a very versatile craftsman. Besides his wonderful wood carvings, for which he is chiefly noted, he was a bridge-builder, a stone-mason, a bronze caster, painter of altars, and engraver on copper! Like all such variously talented persons, he suffered somewhat from restlessness and preferred work to peace,—but his compensation lay in the varied joys of creative works. His naturalism was marked in all that he did: a naïve old chronicler remarks that he made some life-sized coloured figures of Adam and Eve, "so fashioned that one wasafraidthat they were alive!" Veit Stoss was an interesting individual. He was not especially moral in all his ways, narrowly escaping being executed for forgery; but his brilliancy as a technician was unsurpassed. He lived until 1533, when he died in Nüremberg as a very old man. One of his most delightfulachievements is the great medallion with an open background, which hangs in the centre of the Church of St. Lorenz. It shows two large and graceful figures,—Mary and the Angel Gabriel, the subject being the Annunciation. A wreath of angels and flowers surrounds the whole, with small medallions representing the seven joys of the Virgin. It is a masterly work, and was presented by Anton Tucher in 1518. Veit Stoss was the leading figure among wood carvers of the Renaissance, although Albrecht Dürer combined this with his many accomplishments, as well.
Some of the carvings in wood in the chapel of Henry VII. at Westminster, are adapted from drawings by Albrecht Dürer, and are probably the work of Germans. Two of these, Derrick van Grove and Giles van Castel, were working at St. George's, Windsor, about the same time.
The very finest example of Nüremberg carving, however, is the famous wooden Madonna, which has been ascribed to Peter Vischer the Younger, both by Herr von Bezold and by Cecil Headlam. It seems very reasonable after a study of the other works of this remarkable son of Peter Vischer, for there is no other carver of the period, in all Nüremberg, who could have executed such a flawlessly lovely figure.
One of the noted wood carvers in Spain in the Renaissance, was Alonso Cano. He was a native of Granada and was born in 1601. His father was a carver of "retablos," and brought the boy up to follow his profession.Cano was also a painter of considerable merit, but as a sculptor in wood he was particularly successful. His first conspicuous work was a new high altar for the church of Lebrija, which came to him on account of the death of his father, who was commencing the work in 1630, when his life was suddenly cut off. Alonso made this altar so beautifully, that he was paid two hundred and fifty ducats more than he asked! Columns and cornices are arranged so as to frame four excellent statues. These carvings have been esteemed so highly that artists came to study them all the way from Flanders. The altar is coloured, like most of the Spanish retablos. Cano was a pugnacious character, always getting into scrapes, using his stiletto, and being obliged to shift his residence on short notice. It is remarkable that his erratic life did not interfere with his work, which seems to have gone calmly on in spite of domestic and civic difficulties. Among his works at various places, where his destiny took him, was a tabernacle for the Cathedral of Malaga. He had worked for some time at the designs for this tabernacle, when it was whispered to him that the Bishop of Malaga intended to get a bargain, and meant to beat him down in his charges. So, packing up his plans and drawings, and getting on his mule. Cano observed, "These drawings are either to be given away for nothing, or else they are to bring two thousand ducats." The news of his departure caused alarm among those in authority, and he was urged to bring back the designs, and receive his own price.
Cano carved a life-size crucifix for Queen Mariana, which she presented to the Convent of Monserrati at Madrid. Alonso Cano entered the Church and became canon of the Cathedral of Granada. But all his talents had no effect upon his final prosperity: he died in extreme want in 1667, the Cathedral records showing that he was the recipient of charity, five hundred reals being voted to "the canon Cano, being sick and very poor, and without means to pay the doctor." Another record mentions the purchase of "poultry and sweet-meats" also for him.
Cano made one piece of sculpture in marble, a guardian angel for the Convent at Granada, but this no longer exists. Some of his architectural drawings are preserved in the Louvre. Ford says that his St. Francesco in Toledo is "a masterpiece of cadaverous ecstatic sentiment."
The grotesques which played so large a part in church art are bewailed by St. Bernard: "What is the use," he asks, "of those absurd monstrosities displayed in the cloisters before the reading monks?... Why are unclean monkeys and savage lions, and monstrous centaurs and semi-men, and spotted tigers, and fighting soldiers, and pipe-playing hunters, represented?" Then St. Bernard inadvertently admits the charm of all these grotesques, by adding: "The variety of form is everywhere so great, that marbles are more pleasant reading than manuscripts, and the whole day is spent in looking at them instead of in meditating on the law of God."St. Bernard concludes with the universal argument: "Oh, God, if one is not ashamed of these puerilities, why does not one at least spare the expense?" A hundred years later, the clergy were censured by the Prior de Coinsi for allowing "wild cats and lions" to stand equal with the saints.
The real test of a fine grotesque—a genuine Gothic monster—is, that he shall, in spite of his monstrosity, retain a certain anatomical consistency: it must be conceivable that the animal organism could have developed along these lines. In the thirteenth century, this is always possible; but in much later times, and in the Renaissance, the grotesques simply became comic and degraded, and lacking in humour: in a later chapter this idea will be developed further.
The art of the choir stalls and miserere seats was a natural ebullition of the humourous instinct, which had so little opportunity for exploiting itself in monastic seclusion. The joke was hidden away, under the seat,out of sight of visitors, or laymen: inconspicuous, but furtively entertaining. There was no self-consciousness in its elaboration, it was often executed for pure love of fun and whittling; and for that very reason embodies all the most attractive qualities of its art. There was no covert intention to produce a genre history of contemporary life and manners, as has sometimes been claimed. These things were accidentally introduced in the work, but the carvers had no idea of ministering to this or any other educational theory. Like all light-hearted expression of personality, the miserere stalls have proved of inestimable worth to the world of art, as a record of human skill and genial mirth.
A good many of the vices of the times were portrayed on the miserere seats. The "backbiter" is frequently seen, in most unlovely form, and two persons gossiping with an "unseen witness" in the shape of an avenging friend, looking on and waiting for his opportunity to strike! Gluttons and misers are always accompanied by familiar devils, who prod and goad them into such sin as shall make them their prey at the last. Among favourite subjects on miserere seats is the "alewife." No wonder ale drinking proved so large a factor in the jokes of the fraternity, for the rate at which it was consumed, in this age when it took the place of both tea and coffee, was enormous. The inmates of St. Cross Hospital, Winchester, who were alluded to as "impotents," received daily one gallon of beer each, with two extra quarts on holidays! If this were the allowance ofpensioners, what must have been the proportion among the well-to-do? In 1558 there is a record of a dishonest beer seller who gave only a pint for a penny drink, instead of the customary quart! The subject of the alewife who had cheated her customers, being dragged to hell by demons, is often treated by the carvers with much relish, in the sacred precincts of the church choir!
At Ludlow there is a relief which shows the unlucky lady carried on the back of a demon, hanging with her head upside down, while a smiling "recording imp" is making notes in a scroll concerning her! In one of the Chester Mysteries, the Ale Wife is made to confess her own shortcomings:
"Some time I was a taverner,A gentle gossip and a tapster,Of wine and ale a trusty brewer,Which woe hath me wrought.
Of cans I kept no true measure,My cups I sold at my pleasure,Deceiving many a creature,Though my ale were nought!"
There is a curious miserere in Holderness representing a nun between two hares: she is looking out with a smile, and winking!
At Ripon the stalls show Jonah being thrown to the whale, and the same Jonah being subsequently relinquished by the sea monster. The whale is represented by a large bland smiling head, with gaping jaws, occurring in the midst of the water, and Jonah takes the usual "header" familiar in mediæval art, wherever this episode is rendered.
A popular treatment of the stall was the foliate mask; stems issuing from the mouth of the mask and developing into leaves and vines. This is an entirely foolish and unlovely design: in most cases it is quite lacking in real humour, and makes one think more of the senseless Roman grotesques and those of the Renaissance. The mediæval quaintness is missing.
At Beverly a woman is represented beating a man, while a dog is helping himself out of the soup cauldron. The misereres at Beverly date from about 1520.
Animals as musicians, too, were often introduced,—pigs playing on viols, or pipes, an ass performing on the harp, and similar eccentricities may be found in numerous places, while Reynard the Fox in all his forms abounds.
The choir stalls at Lincoln exhibit beautiful carvingand design: they date from the fourteenth century, and were given by the treasurer, John de Welburne. There are many delightful miserere seats, many of the selections in this case being from the legend of Reynard the Fox.
Abbot Islip of Westminster was a great personality, influencing his times and the place where his genius expressed itself. He was very constant and thorough in repairing and restoring at the Abbey, and under his direction much fine painting and illuminating were accomplished. The special periods of artistic activity in most of the cathedrals may be traced to the personal influence of some cultured ecclesiastic.
A very beautiful specimen of English carving is the curious oak chest at York Cathedral, on which St. George fighting the dragon is well rendered. However, the termination of the story differs from that usually associated with this legend, for the lady leads off the subdued dragon in a leash, and the very abject crawl of the creature is depicted with much humour.
Mediæval ivory carving practically commenced with the fourth century; in speaking of the tools employed, it is safe to say that they corresponded to those used by sculptors in wood. It is generally believed by authorities that there was some method by which ivory could be taken from the whole rounded surface of the tusk, and then, by soaking, or other treatment, rendered sufficiently malleable to be bent out into a large flat sheet: for some of the large mediæval ivories are much widerthan the diameter of any known possible tusk. There are recipes in the early treatises which tell how to soften the ivory that it may be more easily sculptured: in the Mappae Clavicula, in the twelfth century, directions are given for preparing a bath in which to steep ivory, in order to make it soft. In the Sloane MS. occurs another recipe for the same purpose.
Ahab's "ivory house which he made" must have been either covered with a very thin veneer, or else the ivory was used as inlay, which was often the case, in connection with ebony. Ezekiel alludes to this combination. Ivory and gold were used by the Greeks in their famous Chryselephantine statues, in which cases thin plates of ivory formed the face, hands, and exposed parts, the rest being overlaid with gold, This art originated with the brothers Dipœnus and Scillis, about 570 B. C., in Crete.
"In sculpturing ivory," says Theophilus, "first form a tablet of the magnitude you may wish, and superposing chalk, portray with a lead the figures according to your pleasure, and with a pointed instrument mark the lines that they may appear: then carve the grounds as deeply as you wish with different instruments, and sculp the figures or other things you please, according to your invention and skill." He tells how to make a knife handle with open work carvings, through which a gold ground is visible: and extremely handsome would such a knife be when completed, according to Theophilus' directions. He also tells how to reddenivory. "There is likewise an herb called 'rubrica,' the root of which is long, slender, and of a red colour; this being dug up is dried in the sun and is pounded in a mortar with the pestle, and so being scraped into a pot, and a lye poured over it, is then cooked. In this, when it has well boiled, the bone of the elephant or fish or stag, being placed, is made red." Mediæval chessmen were made in ivory: very likely the need for a red stain was felt chiefly for such pieces.
The celebrated Consular Diptychs date from the fourth century onwards. It was the custom for Consuls to present to senators and other officials these little folding ivory tablets, and the adornment of Diptychs was one of the chief functions of the ivory worker. Some of them were quite ambitious in size; in the British Museum is a Diptych measuring over sixteen inches by five: the tusk from which this was made must have been almost unique in size. It is a Byzantine work, and has the figure of an angel carved upon it.
Gregory the Great sent a gift of ivory to Theodolinda, Queen of the Lombards, in 600. This is decorated with three figures, and is a most interesting diptych.
The earliest diptych, however, is of the year 406, known as the Diptych of Probus, on which may be seen a bas-relief portrait of Emperor Honorius. On the Diptych of Philoxenus is a Greek verse signifying, "I, Philoxenus, being Consul, offer this present to the wise Senate." An interesting diptych, sixteen inches by six, is inscribed, "Flavius Strategius Apius, illustriousman, count of the most fervent servants, and consul in ordinary." This consul was invested in 539; the work was made in Rome, but it is the property of the Cathedral of Orviedo in Spain, where it is regarded as a priceless treasure.
Claudian, in the fourth century, alludes to diptychs, speaking of "huge tusks cut with steel into tablets and gleaming with gold, engraved with the illustrious name of the Consul, circulated among great and small, and the great wonder of the Indies, the elephant, wanders about in tuskless shame!" In Magaster, a city which according to Marco Polo, was governed by "four old men," they sold "vast quantities of elephants' teeth."
Rabanus, a follower of Alcuin, born in 776, was the author of an interesting encyclopædia, rejoicing in the comprehensive title, "On the Universe." This work is in twenty-two books, which are supposed to cover all possible subjects upon which a reader might be curious.... The seventeenth book is on "the dust and soil of the earth," under which uninviting head he includes all kinds of stones, common and precious; salt, flint, sand, lime, jet, asbestos, and the Persian moonstone, of whose brightness he claims that it "waxes and wanes with the moon." Later he devotes some space to pearls, crystals, and glass. Metals follow, and marbles andivory, though why the latter should be classed among minerals we shall never understand.
The Roman diptychs were often used as after-dinner gifts to distinguished guests. They were presented onvarious occasions. In the Epistles of Symmachus, the writer says: "To my Lord and Prince I sent a diptych edged with gold. I presented other friends also with these ivory note books."
While elephant's tusks provided ivory for the southern races, the more northern peoples used the walrus and narwhale tusks. In Germany this was often the case. The fabulous unicorn's horn, which is so often alluded to in early literature, was undoubtedly from the narwhale, although its possessor always supposed that he had secured the more remarkable horn which was said to decorate the unicorn.
Triptychs followed diptychs in natural sequence. These, in the Middle Ages, were usually of a devotional character, although sometimes secular subjects occur. Letters were sometimes written on ivory tablets, which were supposed to be again used in forwarding a reply. St. Augustine apologizes for writing on parchment, explaining, "My ivory tablets I sent with letters to your uncle; if you have any of my tablets, please send them in case of similar emergencies." Tablets fitted with wax linings were used also in schools, as children now use slates.
Ivory diptychs were fashionable gifts and keepsakes in the later Roman imperial days. They took the place which had been occupied in earlier days by illuminated books, such as were produced by Lala of Cyzicus, of whom mention will be made in connection with book illuminators.
After the triptychs came sets of five leaves, hinged together; sometimes these were arranged in groups offour around a central plaque. Often they were intended to be used as book covers. Occasionally the five leaves were made up of classical ivories which had been altered in such a way that they now had Christian significance. The beautiful diptych in the Bargello, representing Adam in the Earthly Paradise, may easily have been originally intended for Orpheus, especially since Eve is absent! The treatment is rather classical, and was probably adapted to its later name. Some diptychs which were used afterwards for ecclesiastical purposes, show signs of having had the Consular inscription erased, and the wax removed, while Christian sentiments were written or incised within the book itself. Parts of the service were also occasionally transcribed on diptychs. In Milan the Rites contain these passages: "The lesson ended, a scholar, vested in a surplice, takes the ivory tablets from the altar or ambo, and ascends the pulpit;" and in another place a similar allusion occurs: "When the Deacon chants the Alleluia, the key bearer for the week hands the ivory tablets to him at the exit of the choir."
Anastatius, in his Life of Pope Agatho, tells of a form of posthumous excommunication which was sometimes practised: "They took away from the diptychs... wherever it could be done, the names and figures of these patriarchs, Cyrus, Sergius, Paul, Pyrrhus, and Peter, through whom error had been brought among the orthodox."
Among ivory carvings in Carlovingian times may becited a casket with ornamental colonettes sent by Eginhard to his son. In 823, Louis le Debonaire owned a statuette, a diptych, and a coffer, while in 845 the Archbishop of Rheims placed an order for ivory book covers, for the works of St. Jerome, a Lectionary, and other works.
The largest and best known ivory carving of the middle ages is the throne of Maximian, Archbishop of Ravenna. This entire chair, with an arched back and arms, is composed of ivory in intricately carved plaques. It is considerably over three feet in height, and is a superb example of the best art of the sixth century. Photographs and reproductions of it may be seen in most works dealing with this subject. Scenes from Scripture are set all over it, divided by charming meanders of deeply cut vine motives. Some authorities consider the figures inferior to the other decorations: of course in any delineation of the human form, the archaic element is more keenly felt than when it appears in foliate forms or conventional patterns. Diptychs being often taken in considerable numbers and set into large works of ivory, has led some authorities to suppose that the Ravenna throne was made of such a collection; but this is contradicted by Passeri in 1759, who alludes to the panels in the following terms: "They might readily be taken by the ignorant for diptychs.... This they are not, for they cannot be taken from the consular diptychs which had their own ornamentation, referring to the consultate and the insignia, differing from the sculpture destined for other purposes. Hence they are obviouslymistaken who count certain tablets as diptychs which have no ascription to any consul, but represent the Muses, Bacchantes, or Gods. These seem to me to have been book covers." Probably the selected form of an upright tablet for the majority of ivory carvings is based on economic principles: the best use of the most surface from any square block of material is to cut it in thin slices. In their architecture the southern mediæval builders so treated stone, building a substructure of brick and laying a slab or veneer of the more costly material on its surface: with ivory this same principle was followed, and the shape of the tusk, being long and narrow, naturally determined the form of the resulting tablets.
The Throne of Ivan III. in Moscow and that of St. Peter in Rome are also magnificent monuments of this art. Ivory caskets were the chief manifestation of taste in that medium, during the period of transition from the eighth century until the revival of Byzantine skill in the tenth century. This form of sculpture was at its best at a time when stone sculpture was on the decline.