Bringing together the nobility of ivory, the shimmering veins of green marble and the precious appearance of tortoiseshell, this work exemplifies the taste for refined devotional objects, in which the sophistication of the materials is matched by the sculptor’s virtuosity. Testifying to the widespread appeal of François Duquesnoy’s model throughout Europe, the work illustrates the enduring influence of this great exponent of the Classical ideal on the decorative arts.
François Duquesnoy (1597–1643), known as “the Fleming” on account of his Brussels origins, arrived in Rome in 1618 with the support of Archduke Albert of Austria. He developed an artistic language founded on the study of Antiquity, harmonious proportions and delicacy of modelling, which he put into practice in the monumental Saint Andrew for St Peter’s Basilica and the Saint Susanna for the church of Santa Maria di Loreto. Alongside these prestigious commissions, he also produced small-scale works in ivory, wood and terracotta, whose refinement reflects an equally exacting artistic vision. In the 1620s, Duquesnoy executed a marble Christ at the Column for Louis Hesselin (1602–1662), now lost. Giovanni Pietro Bellori mentions this commission in his Vite de’ pittori, scultori et architetti moderni: “Of approximately the same size, measuring three palms, is the marble statue of Christ, naked, with his hands held forward and bound to the column, made for Monsieur Hesselin, who was Grand Master of the Treasury of the Household of the Most Christian King” (Circa la medesima grandezza di tre palmi è la statua di Christo ignudo di marmo con le mani avanti legato alla colonna fatto per lo Signore Hesselin, che era Gran maestro dell’Erario della Camera del Re Christianissimo) [1] . A royal adviser and Master of the King’s Household Treasury, Hesselin was an important figure at the French court. He would subsequently serve as Superintendent of the King’s Pleasures and contribute to the organisation of Louis XIV’s court entertainments.
The subject of Christ’s Flagellation offered Duquesnoy an opportunity to combine spiritual intensity with an idealised vision of the human body. Following the tradition of the model created by Duquesnoy for Hesselin, the present work retains its essential features while introducing slight variations. Standing, clad in a simple loincloth and bound to the column, Christ adopts a subtly inclined pose, in which the twisting of his body is balanced by an elegant contrapposto. Anatomical accuracy, supple contours and restrained expression lend the figure a noble presence. This classicising aesthetic, characteristic of Duquesnoy, synthesises his knowledge of antique and Renaissance models and reflects in particular his admiration for Michelangelo’s Risen Christ, from which he drew inspiration for the figure’s anatomy and pose. In contrast to the dramatic tension and impetuous movement brought to their apogee by Gian Lorenzo Bernini, the Flemish sculptor favoured restraint, grace and balance. His intellectual affinity with Nicolas Poussin, whom he met in Rome in the 1620s, bears witness to their shared interest in Antiquity and its values.
Duquesnoy’s model of Christ enjoyed a remarkable afterlife. The National Gallery of Art in Washington holds an ivory Christ at the Column attributed to Duquesnoy, distinguished by the purity of its modelling and the sensitivity with which the sculptor conveys the restrained tension of Christ’s body and the expressive quality of his downcast gaze. These same characteristics are found in the plaster version at the Musée du Louvre, whose dimensions are thought to be close to those of the sculpture mentioned by Bellori. The model’s enduring popularity is also attested by the collection of François Girardon (1628–1715), First Sculptor to Louis XIV. His cabinet contained a considerable number of terracotta and bronze sculptures executed by Duquesnoy or after his models. Two versions of the Christ at the Column are specifically recorded there, one in terracotta and the other in bronze [2] . The bronze example now in the Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, executed in Paris by François Girardon or within his circle around 1690–1709, is distinguished by its more expansively draped loincloth, the contrasting treatment of the hair and beard, and the presence of the Flagellation column, all of which are also found in the present work.
The sculpture is distinguished by the fineness and purity of its ivory, whose whiteness accentuates the anatomical details of a body that seems almost to transcend suffering. The three small holes visible around the head, which were subsequently plugged, may correspond to traces of a now-lost attribute, possibly a crown of thorns, although this episode postdates the Flagellation. The figure is secured by two tenons to an ivory base decorated with a chequerboard pattern, an arrangement evocative of the spiegelpaleisjes or prospectiefkes: small perspective interiors incorporated into certain seventeenth-century Antwerp cabinets. Their mirrored walls and floors, often composed of ebony and ivory tiles, endlessly multiplied the reflections of the objects displayed within them, creating a space in which the richness of the materials was combined with optical illusion. A cabinet from Antwerp recently offered on the Belgian art market provides an example of this type. This analogy places the sculpture within a culture of collecting in which small-scale sculpture played an important role in the display of luxury and ingenuity.
Two perforations in the ivory base, spaced further apart than the marble column currently in place, also raise the possibility that a column of different dimensions originally accompanied the figure. The flared form of the column on the Rijksmuseum bronze offers a plausible point of comparison in this respect. Finally, the moulding of the base, imitating tortoiseshell, further emphasises the refinement of the sculpture, which belongs to the decorative tradition of the Low Countries, where commercial exchanges and access to exotic materials fostered a taste for composite objects.
Through the combination of Duquesnoy’s sculptural ideal and the refinement of its materials, this sculpture bears witness to the remarkable capacity of seventeenth-century models to transcend geographical and temporal boundaries. Transposed into ivory and set upon a precious mount, the sacred figure becomes both an object of contemplation and a collector’s piece, revealing a European culture in which devotion, erudition and a taste for rarity converged in a shared pursuit of beauty.
D.G.
