  Modern biblical scholarship has contributed substantially to our knowledge and understanding of the role of the Gospels in the formation and development of Christianity. Art historical studies have also revealed the riches of the ornamented and illustrated early Gospel Book. In the light of recent research in both these fields, I should like to discuss some of the ways in which, from very early times, the visual embellishment of the Gospel Book served to emphasise the authenticity and core message of the Gospels and highlighted their role in the public worship of the church. It is also instructive to observe how the relationship between text and decoration, established in the early Gospel Book, endured throughout the Middle Ages, and how the prophetic, visionary and narrative elements in the Gospel texts were consistently reflected in the book’s illumination. In order to define the nature of the relationship between text and decoration in the early Gospel Book it will be helpful first to summarise briefly what scholarship has established about the origin and codification of the Gospels. In the infant church the preaching of the apostles—those followers of Jesus who had lived in his company and known him personally—was the key to the handing on of his message. As the apostolic generation disappeared, however, and Christianity expanded beyond the local confines of Jerusalem, the need to preserve the purity of Jesus’ teaching and to communicate it to widely dispersed communities gave rise to written records. First came collections of the words and deeds of Jesus and then the Gospels. It is generally agreed that the four canonical Gospels were written between 60 and 100 AD and that their writers drew on both oral and written material already being used in apostolic catechesis. Each account was addressed to a specific community and originally it was envisaged that individual communities would have access to one Gospel only. Hence each account encompassed the essential elements of Jesus’ life and teachings. By the year 200, the four Gospels we have today had been selected from more numerous writings for canonical recognition. An important criterion in this selection was continuity with apostolic times. Each of the Gospels was recognised as having a direct link with the witness and teaching of a particular apostle: the Gospel of St Mark with St Peter, St Luke with St Paul, and St Matthew and St John with those particular apostles. The other major criterion was that of orthodoxy. Those writings accepted as canonical had to conform to the received faith of the Christian community. Extant manuscripts and fragments of the Gospels, as well as citations by the early Fathers of the church, testify to their circulation from the second century on; but the earliest examples of illuminated Gospel Books date from the sixth century. All of these early illuminated manuscripts, whether of eastern or western origin, appear to have been associated with the liturgy of the eucharist. Moreover, the tradition of using illuminated Gospel Books in the public worship of the church continued up to the invention of printing and to some extent beyond. The chief of these sixth century Gospel Books are: the Rossano Gospels, a fragmentary copy in Greek; the Sinope Gospels, another fragment of a Greek manuscript, found in Sinope in 1899; the Rabbula Gospels in Syriac; and the Gospels of St Augustine in Latin. Only the Rabbula Gospels has a secure date, 586, recorded by its scribe, Rabbula, a monk, of the monastery of St John of Zagba in Mesopotamia, who also signed his name. The Rossano and Sinope Gospels have been dated on stylistic grounds to the middle of the sixth century, with the Rossano Gospels being thought to be the earlier of the two. The Gospels of St Augustine, also for stylistic reasons, has been dated to the end of the sixth century. These four manuscripts display the basic elements of Gospel Book decoration and illustration which were to inform both eastern and western art for the next six hundred years. The evangelist portrait and symbol are among the most enduring and significant of these elements; they thus provide an appropriate starting point for this study. Three of the manuscripts listed above contain images of the evangelists; only forty-four folios remain of the Sinope Gospels and it is, therefore, not possible to tell whether the evangelists featured in this manuscript, too. In both the Rossano Gospels and the Gospels of St Augustine, a full-page miniature of the appropriate evangelist probably prefaced each of the Gospels. St Mark alone survives in the Rossano Gospels (fig. 1), and St Luke in the Gospels of St Augustine (fig. 2). The Rossano Gospels has also an introductory frontispiece (f.5), which displays medallion busts of the four evangelists in a large wreath. In the Rabbula Gospels portraits of the evangelists appear in association with the introductory Canon Tables of Eusebius (fig. 3). All of these portraits reflect the art of late antiquity. Considerable research has focused on the precise lineage of such classical features as the dress and pose of the figures, and the settings which combine columns with some kind of overarching motif. The standing female figure, who guides St Mark in his writing in the Rossano Gospels, is also classical both in appearance and spirit (fig. 1). She is the personification of Wisdom and derives from representations of Wisdom or the Muse that inspires philosophers or poets in ancient art. These depictions of the writers of the Gospels, however, are not simply the continuation of a classical tradition celebrating authorship. As one of the most consistent features of Gospel illustration, the evangelist portrait serves to emphasise the authenticity of the Gospels and their link with apostolic tradition. It is also the vehicle for the expression of their prophetic and inspired nature, and it focuses attention on their basic message, namely the divinity of Jesus and his redemptive mission. In the West, the animal symbols, which often accompany the evangelist portraits, or are substituted for them, reinforce these aspects. About 170 AD Irenaeus identified the writers of the Gospels with the description of the four living creatures or animals that surround the throne of God in the Apocalypse:
This description draws in turn on the visionary accounts of the Old Testament prophets Isaiah and Ezekiel. Isaiah (6:2-3) speaks of the seraphs who stand before the throne of God and cry out: "Holy, holy, holy is Yahweh Sabaoth/ His glory fills the whole earth"; while Ezekiel (1:5-12) has a vision of the Almighty in the midst of a mystical chariot to whose wheels are harnessed four animals:
In the Apocalypse, the homage of the four animals is extended not only to the "one who sits on the throne", but also to the glorified Lamb, the symbol of Christ, who through his sacrifice has won salvation for the human race. Their cries of praise are taken up by the twenty-four elders, who hold golden bowls full of incense made from the prayers of the saints, and by "ten thousand times ten thousand angels—thousands upon thousands" (Apoc. 5:12). Thence the song of praise extends to embrace all creation:
Texts such as these greatly influenced the shaping of the eucharistic liturgy, particularly in the western church; and although the Apocalypse was not accepted as canonical by the Greek church, Irenaeus’ identification of the evangelists with the four animals came to be universally acknowledged. Common also to the whole church was the celebration of the eucharist in a context of praise that embraced not only all aspects of the visible creation, but also the angels and saints in heaven. In the West, for example, the thrice "holy" acclamation of the seraphim in Isaiah, and of the animals in the Apocalypse, was fashioned into the Sanctus chant which, together with the Preface, introduces the Canon, the solemn prayer of thanksgiving for the life, death and resurrection of Christ. This theme of heavenly celebration and praise is expressed in early Christian church decoration. Apse mosaics, in Rome and Ravenna, show the Lord in majesty, attended by angels and saints, while, on the triumphal arch leading into the sanctuary, the four animals, often in the company of angels and the twenty-four elders, offer homage to the Lamb or to an image of Christ inscribed in a clipeus, the round shield-like frame of imperial portraiture. From the fifth century on, the animals in these compositions bear Gospel Books; and the triumphal arch mosaic of S. Paolo fuori le Mura, 440-461 (now much restored) is the first known example of this. The same symbolic animals accompany portraits of the evangelists in western Gospel Books from as early as the Gospels of St Augustine, where the winged bull appears in the arch above the seated Luke (fig. 2). Thus these three entities—Gospel Book, church interior, and the liturgy—express a common apocalyptic theme; together they call on the worshipper to celebrate the mysteries of Christ’s redeeming death and resurrection in the light of eternal glory, which the believer, happily, is also destined to share. It may be that early Gospel Books, now lost, also contained representations of the Lord or the Lamb in majesty. Certainly, maiestas scenes, reflecting those in early Christian sanctuaries, appear as frontispieces to the Gospels in the eighth century: and they occur often in Carolingian and Ottonian books. Herbert Kessler has argued that the literary source of the maiestas compositions in certain Carolingian Gospel Books and Bibles is St Jerome’s preface, Plures fuisse, which regularly accompanied his Latin translation of the Scriptures. This promoted the canonicity and harmony of the Gospels through an interpretation of the evangelist symbols based on Ezekiel and the Apocalypse. Jerome’s exposition, however, written in 398, is in keeping with the tradition expressed in early Christian monumental art, which, as well as presenting the eucharist in the context of a heavenly liturgy, also characterises the Gospel writers as visionary witnesses to the mystery of God Incarnate. Any influence of this preface on Carolingian art, therefore, is likely to have been confined to the stimulation of an artist or patron to fresh combinations or arrangements of themes and motifs already well known and understood. It is, nevertheless, true that there is considerable variation and elaboration of the maiestas theme during this period. Sometimes, for instance, the composition focuses on the enthroned Christ, with the evangelists featuring on separate pages—as in the Godescalc Gospels (fig. 4); at other times, it includes the evangelists and/or their symbols as in the Lothair Gospels (fig. 5). Further evidence of the association of the Gospel writers with both the earthly and heavenly dimensions of the liturgy appears, from the eighth century on, in illustrations to the Sacramentary, and later in its successor, the Missal. The Preface or the Canon of the Mass in these books is often introduced by a maiestas. The fragment of a ninth-century Sacramentary from Metz has a particularly elaborate series of miniatures devoted to this theme; on f. 5, the evangelist symbols, equipped with Gospel Books, and four figures, who probably also represent the evangelists, join with the angels in offering praise to the enthroned Christ (fig. 6). Medieval maiestas compositions and evangelist portraits often emphasise a related aspect of the Gospels that also goes back to the early church, namely the inspired nature of these writings. By the end of the second century the Gospels, together with the other books of the New Testament, were officially regarded by the church as divinely inspired and, therefore, on a par with the Jewish Scriptures. In the course of history, the concept of divine inspiration, as it relates to the books of the Bible, has had varying emphases, but its origins go back to the descriptions of the ecstatic experience of ancient prophets or soothsayers. The early Christians believed, in keeping with Jewish tradition, that the Jewish prophets were inspired by the Holy Spirit. This coloured their approach both to the sacred writings of Judaism and to those of the New Testament. Whereas, in the sixth century Rossano Gospels, the evangelist writes his account under the guidance of a classical personification of Wisdom, in the Carolingian period the evangelist symbols perform this role, as, for example, in the Gospels of Lothair (fig. 7). Since, as we have seen, these animals link the Gospels with Old Testament prophetic writings and the apocalyptic vision of the New Jerusalem, their representation as mediators of divine Wisdom is readily intelligible. Another way in which the mediaeval artist expresses the theme of prophetic ecstasy is to show the sacred writer energised and transformed by the very nature of his task. This is the case with the highly individual portraits of the Ebbo Gospels (fig. 8): the movement which ripples through the hair and draperies of Matthew, poised to inscribe his message on the blank page, permeates also the hilly landscape in which he has set up his scriptorium; by contrast, the evangelist symbol, rather than being the activating force in this scene, tends to blend into the environs. Again, in the frontispiece (f. 3v) to the St Gauzelin Gospels, the inspired nature of the text is emphasised by the representation of the four major prophets, Isaiah, Ezekiel, Daniel and Jeremiah, as Old Testament counterparts to the evangelists. In early Celtic and Anglo-Saxon Gospel Books the animal symbols often appear independently of either author portrait or maiestas theme. By this time their basic meaning is clear and the nature of their presentation can emphasise either the distinctiveness of each Gospel (fig. 9) or the interrelationship of all four (fig. 10). The placing of evangelist portraits or symbols in the context of the Canon Tables provides a further example of the way in which text and illustration serve to reinforce one another. The Canon Tables were devised by Eusebius, bishop of Caesarea, sometime between 314 and 339, to highlight the unique character of each Gospel and, at the same time, to demonstrate the existence of an inner harmony among the four texts, a harmony which was used as proof of their exclusive canonical validity. These arguments were expounded further by St Jerome in his prefatory letter to Damasus, Novum opus, and the Canon Tables came to introduce the Gospels in the West as well as in the East. Basically, the scheme consists in the presentation of the common and distinctive subject matter of the Gospels as a series of comparative tables, each of the four texts being divided into numbered sections to facilitate this analysis. The Tables cover, in turn, the four Gospels, the three synoptic Gospels, the various combinations of two and three of the texts, and the unique passages in each. The significance of the Canon Tables in the present context lies in the fact that they were singled out for decoration, being regularly presented within an ornate system of decorative columns surmounted by arched or rectangular patterned headpieces. Furthermore, as early as the sixth century, they become the site for portraits of the evangelists, appearing in the Rabbula Gospels, two to a page, on either side of their respective Tables (fig. 3). In later Carolingian and Celtic books the evangelist symbols often feature in the decorative headpieces (fig. 11). We have seen how the evangelist portraits and symbols express the concepts of authority, orthodoxy and inspiration, and focus attention on the mystery of the divinity and humanity of Christ. Their juxtaposition with the Canon Tables, therefore, reinforces the message that Eusebius and Jerome convey by tabulation and textual commentary. Conversely, the literary preliminaries to the Gospels confirm the significance of the images. By the fourth century the Gospels had also been associated with the fons vitae, the fountain of life. The origins of this image go back to the river or font in the Garden of Eden that divides into four streams (Genesis 2:10-14). The description in Ezekiel (47:1-12) of the life-giving waters that flow from the temple echoes the passage in Genesis; and the Apocalypse links the image of the Lamb standing on Mount Zion (14:10-14) with the same living waters: "Then the angel showed me the river of life, rising from the throne of God and of the Lamb and flowing crystal-clear down the middle of the city street" (22:1). As early as the third century, the church Fathers liken the four streams of Paradise to the four Gospels or the evangelists. By the beginning of the fifth century, apse mosaics appear depicting the Lamb or the Cross set on a mount from which flow four streams of water. The titulus that accompanied the apse decoration of the basilica of St Felix of Nola, c.402, the first recorded composition of this type, makes its meaning clear:
The fons vitae appears in Carolingian Gospel illustration in the context of the Canon Tables and in certain full-page compositions that combine images of paradise and heaven with references to the sacrament of baptism. This is the case, for example, in the Godescalc Gospel Lectionary, where the fountain, surrounded by deer and birds, symbolic of Paradise, probably also refers to the Lateran baptistery. In his detailed study of the fons vitae in Gospel Book illustration, Paul Underwood traces the origins of these Carolingian compositions back to the fourth century. He further argues that, in addition to expressing the idea of Christian baptism as a dying in Christ and a spiritual re-birth in the life-giving waters of the sacrament, the presentation of these images in association with the Canon Tables and the Gospel Prefaces is intended to emphasise the authenticity, harmony and distinctiveness of the Gospels—the very aspects which Eusebius and Jerome were at pains to define. The wreath, decorated with medallions of the four evangelists, which encloses the opening inscription of the Canon Tables in the Rossano Gospels, may belong to a more ancient tradition that fulfils a similar function. A different kind of link between decoration and text is evident in Celtic-Anglo-Saxon Gospel Books. Here initials or the letters of opening words and phrases are elaborated in such a way that the ornamentation becomes a comment on the text. Thus, in the Lindisfarne Gospels, c. 698, the monogram for Christ at the beginning of the passage of St Matthew’s Gospel for the feast of Christmas strikingly expresses the mystery of the Sacred Word, announced to the world in the birth of Christ (fig. 12). Carpet pages of predominantly abstract design, but sometimes containing the shape of a cross, are also part of the introductory decorative material found in Insular Gospel books. Carl Nordenfalk believed that they were based on eastern designs for a Diatessaron, the harmony of the Gospels, which was produced by Tatian in the third century, and which enjoyed a relatively wide circulation in Syria, until the church decreed that the four Gospels should be presented as distinct entities. Opinions differ as to whether carpet pages were considered to have quasi-magical, apotropaic properties or were more simply conceived as inner covers, simulating in vellum the ornateness of metal or textile. The Gospel Book assumed within church ritual a place beside the Cross as the symbol of the saving presence of Christ. It was carried in solemn procession during the liturgy of the eucharist, and was also the object of reverence on other ceremonial occasions, such as the initiation of a special missionary undertaking, or worship at the shrine of an important saint. In both the East and the West, its outer covers came to be richly adorned with precious metals and jewels. At times a Gospel Book was even revered as a precious relic, its jewel-encrusted covers inviting comparison with finely crafted reliquaries. In this respect, it may be noted that the decorative vocabulary used in both the carpet pages and initials of these Insular books was designed originally for stone and metal work, in which context it was also associated with precious jewels and enamels. Thus, while the Insular manuscript reiterates the relationship between text, decoration and illustration, discernible in the earliest illuminated Gospel Books, it also incorporates certain elements that are quite distinctive from those inherited by the church from late antiquity. Moreover, the ornamentation of the pages of the Insular Gospel Book, and of its continental and Byzantine counterparts, invites comparison with that of mediaeval objects in other media, especially those which share a common liturgical function or religious significance such as book covers and reliquaries. It may at first seem surprising that the illumination of the early Gospel Book was concentrated in such large measure on introductory and preliminary material and that narrative events were for the most part more summarily treated. But, in these decorative programmes, the key to both the balance between decorative framework and narrative, and to the manner in which narrative elements are presented, lies in the nature of the Gospel texts themselves. As observed above, the Gospels are the result of a distilled catechesis based on apostolic tradition. Central to their message is the handing on of a communal faith in the divinity of Christ and his mission of universal redemption. From very early times, this faith was proclaimed in a liturgical context, infused with prophetic and apocalyptic overtones, which left a decisive mark on Gospel Book illumination. This liturgical context, however, was also commemorative; and by the end of the second century the practice was well established of relating the celebration of the eucharist to the church calendar in which the days and seasons of the year were dedicated to the commemoration of Christ’s life, death, resurrection and ascension, and the birth of the church at Pentecost. Gospel readings articulated the key theme for each feast, with complementary passages from the Old and New Testaments, especially from the Prophets and the Psalms, foreshadowing or commenting on this theme. The particular narrative events selected for illustration in early Gospel Books, and the nature of their presentation, reflect these liturgical emphases. It has been convincingly argued, for example, that the twelve pages of narrative illustrations preceding the text in the Rossano Gospels are based on the Lenten liturgy of the Syriac church. This is evidenced both by the particular Gospel passages selected for illustration and by the Old Testament figures in the lower half of the page whose scrolls indicate the relevant readings for the day from the Psalms and the Prophets. Some of the Gospel scenes in this manuscript also reveal specific liturgical influences. Whereas, for instance, the depiction of the Last Supper and the Washing of the Feet (f. 3) follows established Byzantine iconography, the events of Holy Thursday are also celebrated in a double-page composition (ff. 3v and 4), which shows Christ giving communion to the apostles according to the Syriac eucharistic rite (fig. 13). On f. 7v Christ himself is cast in the role of the Good Samaritan (fig. 14), reflecting a Patristic interpretation of this passage, while in the parable of the Wise and Foolish Virgins (f. 2v), he appears in the company of the Wise Virgins in a paradise signified by flowering trees and the four streams that flow from the fountain of life, imagery that, as we have seen, was well established in both the literary and visual traditions of the church and goes beyond a literal rendering of the text. Some of the miniatures in the Rossano Gospels appear to be adaptations of programmes initially designed to decorate particular shrines or churches in Jerusalem, which were associated with events in Christ’s life, and had early become places of pilgrimage. Kurt Weitzmann, for example, has suggested that the Communion of the Apostles derives from mosaics in the cupola of the church of Zion in Jerusalem, the traditional site of the Last Supper; and William Loerke has argued that the miniatures depicting the trial of Christ before Pilate (ff. 8rv) reflect wall-paintings in the Domus Pilati, the large basilica-praetorium, documented as a source of pilgrimage from the sixth century. This connection with monumental church programmes also testifies to the same authoritative shaping force evidenced in the evangelist and maiestas themes. It is abundantly clear, therefore, that this earliest example of Gospel Book illustration presents a liturgical and Patristic interpretation of select passages, rather than a literal illustration of the Gospel narrative. In the Sinope fragment, liturgical and typological allusions again are clear, with David and an appropriate prophet figure, on either side of the Gospel scene, displaying scrolls, which indicate relevant passages from the Psalms and Prophets. In the Rabbula Gospels, the margins of the Canon Tables are the site for an extensive series of small, unframed Gospel scenes, which cover the life of Christ, from the Annunciation to Zechariah up to the Crucifixion. These scenes relate to the information contained in the Canon Tables on the same page, but they do not follow any particular Gospel. In this, they emphasise the harmony, rather than the distinctiveness, of the four Gospels. Although, for the most part, the scenes are ordered chronologically, this is not always the case. On f. 4v (fig. 15), for example, the Baptism of Christ counterbalances the Nativity, while, below, the Massacre of the Innocents occupies both margins, being shown in two episodes —the command of Herod and the slaughter of the infants. The order, here, may reflect the varied beginnings of the Gospels, recorded in the Tables; but it also relates to liturgical practice. The feast of the Epiphany on January 6 celebrates the manifestation of the Godhead in Christ. In the eastern church this feast came to be associated with the Baptism of Christ whereas in the West the emphasis was on the Adoration of the Magi. Thus the appearance of the Baptism in the context of the Infancy cycle relates to its role in the celebration of the feast of the Epiphany, which takes place in the Christmas season. The Gospel scenes in the Rabbula Gospels are also linked to Old Testament foreshadowings, with images of the prophets appearing at the top of each page. In this case, the figures do not refer to specific liturgical readings, but to the scenes in the margins of the Canon Tables. King Solomon and David are presented on f. 4v, for example, as the royal ancestors of the Messiah who is manifested to the world in the events recorded in the Tables and scenes below. Although some of these marginal scenes display a certain naïve liveliness, as is the case with the movement-charged rendering of the Massacre of the Innocents, there is no consistent attempt to develop the narrative or dramatic potential of the subject matter. Rather, as André Grabar has pointed out, these pictures belong to the category of image-signs, such as appear in the catacombs and on sarcophagi in early Christian art. In this capacity they act as indicators of the contents of particular Gospel passages rather than providing a descriptive commentary. Nevertheless this indicative function extends beyond individual events and helps to emphasise the fact that the underlying structure of the Gospels is one of well-tested catechesis. Thus the scenes in the Rabbula Gospels direct attention to the dual nature of Christ by highlighting his wonderworking and healing powers in the lead-up to the Passion. There is also a discernible emphasis on his relationship with the apostles and on the mission of the church; this aspect is accentuated by the insertion of the evangelist portraits in the middle of the sequence. Within this schema, the opening scenes, which tell of the wonders surrounding Christ’s birth, form a type of prologue, designed to strengthen belief in his divine mission. Image-signs that serve to index Gospel events also appear in the Gospels of St Augustine, but in a different arrangement. A series of twelve scenes from St Luke’s Gospel fills the space between the two columns on either side of the seated evangelist on f. 129v (fig. 2). The three missing evangelist portraits were probably framed by a like series of scenes referring to their respective Gospels. On f. 125, immediately preceding the preface to St Luke’s Gospel, there is also a full-page rectangular miniature containing twelve panels that cover the early events of the Passion, from the Entry into Jerusalem up to Simon of Cyrene carrying the Cross; these are not confined to Luke’s account. It is probable that similar panels accompanied at least two of the other Gospels, and that together these scenes presented a chronological survey of the life of Christ based on a harmony of the four Gospels. This schema too, therefore, indicates a concern to stress both the individual nature of each Gospel and the interrelationship of all four texts. In the Rabbula Gospels a group of full-page miniatures follow the image-signs of the Canon Tables. Their focus of attention is the Crucifixion and its triumphant outcome: the Resurrection and Ascension of Christ and the birth of the church at Pentecost. The highly developed iconography of these paintings, and certain formal characteristics such as the mosaic-like frames, architectonic shapes and complex figure groupings, again attest the influence of monumental church decoration. These pictures, too, interpret the message of the Gospels in the context of the missionary church. The emphasis on the Ascension and Pentecost is particularly significant in this regard given that the Ascension is only briefly referred to in the Gospels, and Pentecost not at all. The miniature of the Ascension is an early example of the fully developed eastern iconography of this theme, in which narrative, visionary and doctrinal elements are intertwined (fig. 16). In the lower register, Mary and the apostles are witnesses to the ascent of Christ, who appears in an aureole of light in the heavens above. Angels attend him and two of their number offer him a victor’s crown. Personifications of the sun and moon also do him homage. Even more striking is the four-wheeled chariot beneath his feet. Replete with the wings and eyes of seraphs and the heads of the four animals described by Ezekiel, it affirms that Christ here is presented in divine splendour. The standing figure of Mary, placed directly beneath him, with arms raised in prayer and gaze steadfastly confronting the viewer, testifies to the mystery of the Incarnation and to the human as well as the divine nature of Christ. The Byzantine liturgy for this feast makes it clear that her prayerful presence in the midst of the apostles also symbolises the church as it waits in hope for the second coming of the Saviour, that church heartened by the promise of the two angels who address the group in the words reported by Luke: "Jesus who has been taken up from you into heaven, this same Jesus will come back in the same way as you have seen him go there" (Acts 1:11). It is interesting to note that Mary is early singled out for special attention in Gospel Book illustration. In the Rabbula Gospels, in addition to her central role as the embodiment of the church in the Ascension and Pentecost scenes, she bears witness to the Incarnation in a full-page introductory miniature, where she is shown holding the Christ child (f. 1v). An unusual rendering of the enthroned Virgin and Child in the Book of Kells (f. 7v) proclaims the same mystery; and in a twelfth-century Gospel Book from Constantinople, now in The National Gallery of Victoria, Mary, as Hodegetria (the Guide), holds out her son, while the scribe-illuminator presents her with his completed Gospel Book. In the later Middle Ages considerably more attention is given to dramatic and narrative elements in the portrayal of the life of Christ, whether in book illumination, or in other media. Nevertheless, the relationship between text and decoration established in the early Gospel Book persists. Through its consistent proclamation of the Gospels in the liturgy, the church maintains its orthodox stance on the human and divine natures of Christ, hammered out at the Council of Nicaea. As an expression of this orthodoxy, the historical deeds and teachings of Jesus continue to be commemorated in a liturgy which celebrates the fulfilment of salvation history, and unites the prayer of the pilgrim church with the eternal praise and worship of God offered by the angels and saints in heaven. It is this liturgical framework that provides the key to our understanding of the nature of the visual embellishment of the hand-written Gospel Book over the centuries.
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