Tag Archives: late antiquity

Review: Boethius’ Consolation of Philosophy, trans. V.E. Watts

The Consolation of PhilosophyThe Consolation of Philosophy by Boethius
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

The first time I read Boethius’ Consolation, I read the Loeb translation by S.J. Tester (this is the update of 1973, rather than the original by E.K. Rand from 1918). This time, it was the Penguin by V.E. Watts, and I found the read much more rewarding. I am not certain if this is because I was 21 or 22 the first time through and I’m 34 now, or if it’s because Watts has a much more fluid style. Either way, I appreciated Boethius’ philosophy and inquiry and arguments as well as connections to other thinkers a lot more now in 2017 than I did in 2004/5. And I believe that a readable translation certainly helps one grasp and enjoy a piece of literature, especially when the literature at hand is philosophy.

The Consolation is one of those ‘great books’ everyone knows about — and many have even read. It had a wide and powerful impact throughout the Middle Ages, including a translation commissioned by King Alfred and influence upon tellings of Orpheus in both Sir Orfeo and Chaucer. The philosophy of Boethius is also evident in Dante’s cosmology.

The historical circumstances of the book are that Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius, having held the consulship and served in the administration of Theoderic the Great (King of Italy, 492-526) was accused of treason against the Ostrogth, imprisoned in Pavia, and executed in 525. He was not the only aristocrat to suffer in Theoderic’s final years (the great king seems to have become increasingly paranoid after the accession of Emperor Justin I in 518 — see the Anonymus Valesianus II in Ammianus Marcellinus: Roman History, Volume III, Books 27-31. Excerpta Valesiana).

While rotting prison, Boethius turned his mind to philosophy to cope with the onset of despair. Parallel with his career in the Late Antique bureaucracy, Boethius had been a great promoter, translator, and interpreter of philosophy, making use of his resources and otium (leisure) as any aristocrat would. He knew Greek and translated a lot of Aristotle into Latin. The result of his philosophical inquiry in prison is this text — a conversation with the goddess Philosophy in the literary form of Menippean Satire (a genre manipulated with scathing effect by Seneca in the Apolocyntosis), which alternates between prose and verse sections of the text. What distinguishes Boethius from many philosophers of the classical period, and which he holds to a degree in common with St Augustine, is his willingness to insert explicit allusions to Homer, Euripides, Virgil, and Lucan as philosophical exempla, besides the implicit allusions to the likes of Juvenal.

Philosophy appears to him in his prison cell in Book 1 and inquires as to why he is so downcast. What follows is a discussion of fortune, providence, fate, freewill, eternity, and more. In many ways, it could be described as ‘Aristotle baptised’, but Boethius brings in Plato and Neoplatonism much along the way, following the ideal of Late Antique philosophers that there is no contradiction between Plato and Aristotle. Here we get the famous description of the fickle Wheel of Fortune (sans Pat Sajak), but while that may be Boethius’ most famous portion of the text today, it may not be the most important.

We are reminded that what all mean seek above all else is happiness (see Aristotle, The Nicomachean Ethics). But the only being who can be said to truly possess absolute happiness, free from fickle fortune, is God. So anyone who possesses God, must possess true happiness. God is ultimately good, as well. Ergo, evil men may appear to prosper, but ultimately they do not; their wickedness will catch up with them. The goal, then, is to seek the summum bonum, to seek God, and find an eternal sort happiness that can endure to storms of fortune.

There is a lot more that this slim volume goes into, and I won’t chase it all now. It would be too much. I commend Boethius to you; the Consolation will not take long to read. Thus, I will draw the reader’s attention to but one final piece of discussion from this piece of philosophical discourse.

Book 5 is where Boethius deals with freewill and divine foreknowledge. Philosophy’s argument produces a classic, Christian definition of eternity. Here we see Boethius actually turning away from the Greek philosophers who dominate this discourse and picking up St Augustine and other Christian theologians. Rather than being the Hellenic view of eternity as perpetual time, Boethius defines eternity as God’s existence beyond time and his simultaneous of all time. In his own words, the eternal God is:

‘that which embraces and possesses simultaneously the whole fullness of everlasting life, which lacks nothing of the future and has lost nothing of the past, that is what may properly be said to be eternal. Of necessity it will always be present to itself, controlling itself, and have present the infinity of fleeting time.’ (Book 5.6, p. 164)

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Languages of Late Antiquity

A job was recently posted advertising a ‘Professional Specialist in Languages of Late Antiquity.‘ Being a Latinist and Late Roman Historian, I took a look at it. It seems that Latin and Classical Greek are not languages of Late Antiquity:

Mastery of Syriac is a prerequisite, and facility in one or more of the other languages of late antiquity, especially Coptic, Ethiopic, Armenian, or classical Arabic, is also expected.

Now, I have nothing against Syriac specialists, especially the likes of Sebastian Brock or my friend Crystal Lubinsky. And I even spent a few sessions with Crystal studying Coptic. Moreover, I appreciate the expanded world of Late Antiquity that takes note of the cultural, politcal, and economic influences between the Graeco-Roman Mediterranean world and its neighbours, or between Greek and Latin culture and the local cultures it co-exists alongside.

There is a non-Greek/Latin-speaking world within the Roman Empire, most notably with Coptic in Egypt and Syriac in Syria-Mesopotamia, but undoubtedly some Armenians and Arabic-speakers in the Eastern mix as well. And, of course, the world beyond the frontiers is mostly non-classical (but there is a Hellenic Asian world out there, too!).

But Greek and Latin are languages of Late Antiquity as well. The fourth century sees what Peter Brown calls a ‘second golden age’ of Latin literature, for example. And Latin remains the administrative language of the Roman Empire for a long time. The great Late Antique hymns of Romanos the Melodist were composed in Greek. And even if we go for a ‘long Late Antiquity’, John of Damascus, living under the Caliphate in Damascus in the 700s, wrote in Greek. Greek and Latin are major languages of Late Antiquity.

Furthermore, the East is not the only place one can go hunting for non-classical ‘languages of Late Antiquity’. What of Gothic, not only beyond the Roman Empire, but within? We have Gothic Bibles, lectionaries, liturgical texts. Some people think one of our purple codices, a Latin Bible with a Gothic gloss, was the property of Theoderic. Gothic is as much a language of Late Antiquity as the languages of the East. And, frankly, Ethiopic literature really gets going around the same time as Anglo-Saxon (although our earliest texts in Ge’ez are older), so … how many worms can come out of this can?

In the end, what this job actually wants is a professional specialist in Afro-Semitic and Near Eastern languages and literatures in Late Antiquity. Which is totally fine, and well worth their time. But it’s much more specific than a professional specialist in languages of Late Antiquity and admits more clearly of the diversity of the Late Antique world, from Syriac, Coptic, and Greek in the East to Gothic, Anglo-Saxon, and Latin in the West.

Discover Late Antiquity: Sixth-century religion

Our little tour through Late Antiquity reached the end of the 400s a few weeks ago — just in time for the Vice Chancellor of Queen’s University, Belfast, to declare on May 31:

Society doesn’t need a 21-year-old who is a sixth century historian.

What, we all wonder, does society need?

a 21-year-old who really understands how to analyse things, understands the tenets of leadership and contributing to society, who is a thinker and someone who has the potential to help society drive forward

That is to say — someone with the skills gained by almost any humanities degree. Like sixth-century history. I should have written this blog post the moment I read Charles West’s excellent piece on the subject at History Today, but I didn’t. Because work.

First, if you’ve missed the rest of this little journey, I’ve made a Discover Late Antiquity page, so you can go there to catch up on what you’ve been missing! As usual, I’m starting our discussion with religion, literature, etc. For a quick glimpse of sixth-century manuscripts, don’t forget my last post! Now that I’m done the preamble, let’s begin with religion.

Sixth-century Religion

Sixth-century mosaic of Christ, Santi Cosma e Damiano, Rome

Sixth-century mosaic of Christ, Santi Cosma e Damiano, Rome

The sixth-century saw the realisation in the Eastern Mediterranean and Near East of the final schism between Mono/Miaphysite Christians and the Chalcedonians. At the turn of the century, the emperor in Constantinople, Anastasius I, was sponsoring a document called the Henotikon that had appeased some of the Miaphysites, but in 518 Justin and then his nephew Justinian (r. 527-565) supported the Chalcedonian cause. Although some of Justinian’s actions tried to appease the Miaphysites, others only exacerbated the problem, with the result that Jacob Baradaeus began consecrating a parallel episcopal hierarchy in the Levant, Syria, and Asia Minor — this today is the Syrian Orthodox Church. At the same time, the forerunners of the Miaphysite Coptic Orthodox Christians were active in Egypt, harbouring folks like Severus of Antioch (one of the greatest theological minds of the age) when their Miaphysite beliefs clashed with imperial policy.

Part of Justinian’s appeasement tactics was the condemnation of the ‘Three Chapters’. The Three Chapters were the person and writings of Theodore of Mopsuestia; the letter of Ibas of Edessa to Mari the Persian; and certain writings of Theodoret of Cyrrhus. Because Ibas and Theodoret were reckoned orthodox by the Council of Chalcedon in 451, many — especially in the western Mediterranean — felt that the condemnation of the Three Chapters was a sly repudiation of Chalcedon. For why that is not necessarily the case, read this post.

The condemnation of the Three Chapters culminated in the Second Council of Constantinople of 553, now regarded as the Fifth Ecumenical Council by Eastern Orthodox, Roman Catholic, and Protestant Christians. Pope Vigilius was there, and after some tergiversations agreed to the condemnation. A schism erupted between Rome and northern Italy, called the Istrian Schism, and lasted until Pope Sergius I in the 600s.

On another side of the Chalcedonian debate were those Christians who rejected both the Miaphysite position and the Council, traditionally termed ‘Nestorian‘ in English. This group of Christians founded what is today known as The Church of the East. They flourished in the Persian Empire and beyond, possibly as far as Tibet in the 500s. Chalcedonians did not flourish in the Persian Empire because their support of a form of Christianity aligned with the Roman Empire was perceived as dangerous; many of them were taking refuge in what is now Georgia; the Georgian Orthodox Church is still part of the Eastern Orthodox Church with its own pre-Russian tradition.

Amongst the monasteries of the Judaean desert there also arose the Second Origenist Controversy, surrounding some of Origen’s teachings in On First Principles but more importantly the teachings of the fourth-century mystic Evagrius of Pontus. This controversy resulted in a condemnation of Origenism in a series of anathemas often wrongly attributed to the Council of Constantinople of 553.

In the Eastern Empire, the sixth century is also the century of spiritual leaders Barsanuphius and John (whom I love), their disciple Dorotheos of Gaza, and Simeon Stylites the Younger. St Sabas/Savvas of Judaea died this century. Romanos the Melodist, early Byzantine liturgical poet par excellence, lived in the 500s as well. We cannot forget Cosmas Indicopleustes, an Alexandrian Nestorian who wrote an amazing description of the world and his travels in Arabia and India; of greater philosophical precision is the Miaphysite Alexandrian philosopher John Philoponus.

Besides getting thoroughly embroiled in the argument over the reception of Chalcedon, the West saw what may be termed the ‘Arian Controversy 2.0’. The newly emergent kingdoms of the West were largely ruled by ‘Arian’ or ‘Semi-Arian’ rulers (today’s usage would say ‘Homoian’), and they would debate with the Nicene-Catholic populations — Theoderic the Great in Italy, the Vandals of North Africa, and the Visigoths of Spain were Homoian/Arians. Theoderic treated the Nicene-Catholics of Italy well and with respect; the Vandals made their lives a living hell in Africa, as we read in Victor of Vita’s (d. 535) History of the Vandal Persecutions. The Franks were Catholic, which sets them apart; their king Clovis I, on the eve of the century in 496, was baptised into the Catholic form of Christianity by Remigius, Bishop of Reims, under the influence of his wife Clotilda.

However, as Gregory of Tours in the History of the Franks (c. 590) makes clear, the ‘Catholic’ Franks were generally as impious and unholy as the pagans and Arians; they, too, looted churches and such and lived riotously unvirtuous lives. It’s worth keeping in mind when we begin to imagine Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages as special eras of great religious fervour.

In 586, Reccared, King of Spain converted to Catholicism. That’s a big deal.

St Benedict (480-547) is kind of a big deal, too. His Rule, written for his small community of 12 monks at Monte Cassino, would become the standard of western monasticism in the centuries to come. He drew upon the preceding tradition, like John Cassian of the 400s and the early sixth-century Rule of the Master.

Cassiodorus (485-585) also founded a monastery after his career in the public service under King Theoderic; he wrote all about it in his Institutions of Divine and Secular Learning. His other religious writings include a commentary on the Psalms and some other exegetical pieces; he also wrote a Christian philosophical treatise ‘On the Soul.’

The philosopher-poet Boethius (480-524), besides his translations of Aristotelian works and his famous Consolation of Philosophy, wrote theological treatises ‘On the Trinity,’ ‘Against Eutyches and Nestorius,’ ‘Whether Father, Son and Holy Spirit are Substantially Predicated of the Divinity,’ and ‘On the Catholic Faith,’ amongst others.

So as not to be too much more long-winded, other important western religious figures of the century include: Caesarius of Arles, Ennodius of Pavia, Avitus of Vienne, Brigid of Kildare, Brendan the Navigator, Columba (missionary to Highland Scotland), Kentigern/Mungo (missionary to the Glasgow region), Columbanus (Irish monastic founder in France and Italy), and Pope Gregory the Great (pope, 590-604) who closes the century; I’ll save him for the 600s. None of this brings out questions of canon law and liturgy, of course, but there’s just no room!!

Discover sixth-century manuscripts

A couple of weeks ago I was browsing a wee shop that sells prints of icons, and I noticed that several were images from the Rabbula Gospels; I bought the images of the Crucifixion/Resurrection, the Ascension, and Pentecost. Here are my little prints:

IMG_7349The Rabbula Gospels is a sixth-century Syriac Gospel codex, illuminated with quite wonderful images, as you can see. I first encountered this book in Kurt Weitzmann, Late Antique and Early Christian Book Illumination.

That evening, I was reminded in conversation of the Codex Fuldensis (Codex Bonifatianus I), a Latin New Testament containing a Harmony of the Gospels, as well as the rest of the 23 books of the New Testament canon, the Epistle to the Laodiceans, and Jerome’s Prologue to the Gospels:

Thinking on these made me consider some other sixth-century manuscripts I like, pages from which I shall show here just to make you happy. The first that came to mind was the St Augustine Gospels (before 597, now in the Parker Library, Cambridge, CCC MS 286):

Folio 125r, 12 scenes from the Passion

Folio 125r, 12 scenes from the Passion

This manuscript was brought to England from Rome by St Augustine of Canterbury in 597.

Next I thought of yet another Gospel book, the Rossano Gospels. This is one of the Purple Codices of the New Testament, written in Greek majuscules. Here is an image of Christ before Pilate:

RossanoGospelsChristBeforePilate One of the more epic manuscripts of the century is the Vienna Genesis, a Greek majuscule that includes this image of the Flood:

ViennaGenesisPict3DelugeNot quite what you give your kids in Sunday School:

More gruesome, in my opinion, is the image of the Flood from the Latin Ashburnham Pentateuch (turn of 6th-7th c):

Meister_des_Ashburneham-Pentateuch_003There are, of course, many more 6th-century illuminated manuscripts on which to feast your eyes. I close now with an image of the 6th-century canon law manuscript, Collectio Corbeiensis, Paris, lat. 12097 (naturally enough):

corbeiensis random folioYou, too, can spend your days looking at illuminated manuscripts online! Most of these images came from the Wikimedia Commons, where you can find pages for The Rabbula Gospels, The St Augustine Gospels, The Rossano Gospels, The Vienna Genesis, and The Ashburnam Pentateuch. Collectio Corbeiensis can be found on the Bibliothèque nationale de France’s digital collections site, Gallica.

The Edinburgh Conference on Late Antiquity

The daffodils are out!

The daffodils are out!

This past Thursday and Friday, I was attending the Edinburgh Conference on Late Antiquity for Postgraduates and Early Career Researchers. It was an engaging time, and I applaud my colleagues and friends who put it together — Alison John, Fraser Reed, and Audrey Scardina. They received over 80 abstracts and had to whittle that number down to 40, although originally planning for 24 — this resulted in some parallel sessions. But you gotta do what you gotta do.

They chose wisely.

Indeed, when I think on the papers, I was really only bamboozled by two of the more archaeology/material culture papers, but not because the arguments and content were poor but because of the breakneck pace at which data of a sort I — as a more literary historian and philologist — don’t typically deal with was presented. Only one paper seemed more of a summary of evidence than an argument; this is a fate that befalls many when they give 20-minute papers — 20 minutes is sometimes enough to do nothing more than present all the data you have! It is an art and a skill to hone and, essentially, shrink an argument to fit the allotted time.

My only other critiques would be one paper needlessly spending over half the time on theory whose application seemed like common sense to me, and another that used different textual evidence to interpret some art than I would have, myself.

I was pleased to hear papers by two of my friends, Doctoranda Belinda Washington, and Doctorans Fraser Reed. I’d never quite got much grasp on what Fraser’s urban archaeology of Late Antique Thrace looked like before, so his paper, skilfully reduced from 40 to 20 minutes, ‘Gate Complexes as Indicators of Urban Character in Late Antique Thracia’, was most welcome. Belinda does research on imperial women of the same period I look at papal letters — also, her paper, ‘Gut Instincts: The Description of Eudoxia’s Death by Pseudo-Martyrius’, involved maggots and rotting flesh, so I was in.

Papers covered archaeology, art history, architecture, politics, literature, education, poetry, religion, epistolography, myth. The time range was as early as the late third century to as late as the seventh. Papers dealt with East (as far as Georgia) and West (as far as Gallaecia [that was my paper]), Latin and Greek and Syriac and Coptic authors, northern archaeology and Mediterranean archaeology, sarcophagi, domes, letters (as texts and as objects!).

And any conference with at least one paper on Gregory of Tours makes me happy.

I came away wanting to spend more time with Priscian, Donatus (the grammarian), the Panegyrici Latini, Ennodius of Pavia, as well as to revisit John Rufus’ Plerophoriae more deeply — and his Life of Peter the Iberian in the first place. I also met a bunch of new people, and I hope to keep these contacts open as our careers progress.

My own paper, ‘Picking Up the Pieces After the Barbarians Come to Town: The Letters of Leo the Great as Sources for the First Generation Unde Post-Roman Rule’ was well-received. I discussed Leo, Epistle 15, to Turribius of Astorga and why Turribius felt it necessary to write the pope on an essentially decided issue. Roger Collins agreed with my main argument (win!); one of my fellow early career scholars thinks there were more Priscillianists than I do.

Overall, a good conference. Glad I went.

Other patristic/late antique texts I’d like to study: monks and letters

Last night I had my first academic job interview — over Skype! It went well, and I believe that I gave them accurate and coherent answers that reflected me positively. The question is whether I am what they want for the job. I do think, though, that I stumbled a little on one question, and I’m not sure why. The question was what patristic or late antique authors I’d like to study besides Leo.

I answered that I would like to study Cyril of Alexandria and the Acts of the Council of Chalcedon, as well as autobiography, such as Augustine’s Confessions and Rutilius Namatianus.

That answer was not untrue, but I feel that I could have said the first part better, for one thing — that I am interested in studying Christological controversy from Chalcedon (451) to the Istrian Schism (553-700) in the West and the Sixth Ecumenical Council in the East (681).

But I wonder (because, even after a good interview, one can’t help but wonder these things!) if I might have done better to emphasise the breadth of my interest. I have a long-running interest in things monastic, you see. Indeed, it was the Desert Fathers that drew me into the study of Patristics; having had an interest in St Francis and St John of the Cross in undergrad, I wanted to hunt down the roots of the monastic tradition.

So, other patristic authors I would like to study are, in the West, John Cassian, The Rule of the Master, The Rule of St Benedict, the Latin transmission of the Life of St Antony, and the Rule of St Augustine. In the East, I want to study the Apophthegmata of the Desert Fathers, John Climacus, Evagrius Ponticus, Simeon the Stylite, the letters of Barsanuphius and John —

Letters. Epistolography is another area of interest. Cyprian, Ambrose, Augustine, Jerome, Symmachus, Sidonius, Ruricius in Latin, Basil and Cyril of Alexandria in Greek.

But I answered truthfully, at least! And remembered to smile, which always helps.

We’ll see what they decide.

Discovering Late Antique Rome: The Small Stuff

I thought I’d wrap up my intermittent series on the Late Antique city of Rome as visible today with a few thoughts/images of the smaller items (that is, not monuments or basilicas) on display in Rome’s museums.1

Because of their enduring character and continual use, those buildings of Late Antique Rome that are most likely to have survived the Middle Ages and Renaissance are the churches and things turned into churches, like mausolea or the Roman Curia. But the Late Antique world is not all monumental architecture and churches, by any means, just as the ‘Classical’ Roman world wasn’t all monumental architecture and temples. A great many Late Antique items of smaller stature are on display in Rome’s museums, especially if we take our starting date for the period that used elsewhere on this blog, of 235-641.

Third-century stuff

The third century is interesting — great political crises around every corner, a great lacuna in the history of Latin literature, but Romans are still making the same stuff they were making a century before, like sarcophagi:

IMG_1660This is a sarcophagus of ca AD 270 with a bunch of togate fellows who, according to Palazzo Massimo’s display label, are involved in a consular procession. It is of larger scale than most second-century sarcophagi, but that has more to do with the wealth of the owner than the period of production. The figures here are cared in very high relief, almost as statues in the round. I love this sarcophagus because it has such great images of togas, that most Roman of garments.

Right next to that sarcophagus in the museum is this one, ca 280-90:

IMG_1664Here we see the growing trend that had already begun in some of the imperial art of the late second century of more front figures who are divided from each other in their own wee alcoves (on this, see Imperial Rome and Christian Triumph). These are the Muses, those most classical icons of world culture.

In the Baths of Diocletian, you can find a few more third-century artifacts, such as this spectacular relief commemorating a gladiator’s victories:

IMG_1739And this fantastic sarcophagus:


In the Capitoline Museums you’ll find this image of Mars, Jupiter, and Nemesis erected by the Praetorians of Gallia Belgica in AD 246:

IMG_2118And then there’s Constantine…

In the Capitoline Museums (which are not to be missed!), you can also enjoy not one but two of Constantine’s big giant heads, plus a few of his limbs:

Part of the Constantinian revolution was the emergence of Christian art in traditional places. Like sarcophagi (I like sarcophagi). Here’s one from the same room in Palazzo Massimo as the ones above:

IMG_1667Early Christian art is interesting because it can be hard to spot the stories as you know them. Except it seems, the Nativity, as in this detail from the above:

IMG_1666One interesting artistic trend of the fourth century is opus sectile mosaics. Rather than describe them, I’ll show them to you:

1st half of 4th c., Palazzo Massimo

1st half of 4th c., Palazzo Massimo

Second quarter of the fourth century, Capitoline Museums

Second quarter of the fourth century, Capitoline Museums

Opus Sectile has a very simple appearance that is quite disarming. It has its charm, though.

Fifth-century playing ground

Other things you can find in Rome’s museums include coins, such as this of Theodosius II (r. 408-450) in the Capitoline Museums:

IMG_2101 (2)Of major significance is this pair of early fifth-century statue bases:

IMG_2120 IMG_2122They were erected by Q. Fabius Memmius Symmachus (ca. 383-after 402), son of the famous Roman statesman and man of letters, Q. Aurelius Symmachus (c. 345-402). The top is dedicated to his father, the bottom to his wife’s grandfather, Virius Nicomachus Flavianus (334-394).2

I don’t wish to burden you with too much more of this sort of thing, so I will simply close with two images from the Vatican Museum of some Christian items that herald to us the start of a new era, as the Classical recedes and the Mediaeval approaches.

6th-c reliquary from Syria-Palestine, Vatican Museum

6th-c reliquary from Syria-Palestine brought to Rome by a contemporary pilgrim, Vatican Museum

6th-7th-c ivory lid, Vatican Museum

6th-7th-c ivory lid, Vatican Museum

Anyway, as you can imagine, Late Antique Rome is not as hidden as I originally thought. You just have to know what to look for and where. All sorts of Late Antique objects are in Rome’s museums, reminding us of the continuous history of the City as a centre of culture and human experience.

1. In case you missed them, my other posts on Late Antique Rome are (in order): Late Antique Rome? Where?; Mausoleo di Santa Costanza; Roman Basilicas: Hunting Late Antiquity; the Baths of Diocletian; as well as (although not of this particular series of posts) Thoughts on Rome’s Senate and Senate House in the Seventh Century 
2. The marriage of Memmius Symmachus to Nicomachus Flavianus’ graddaughter is the probable occasion of the production of a diptych of which I have seen both leaves, one in the Victoria and Albert Museum, the other in the Musée de Cluny; I only have a photo of the second, though, but it seems not to be on Flickr.