The Political Message of the Shrine of St. Heribert of Cologne: Church and Empire after the Investiture Contest 9781641893435

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CARMEN Visual and Material Cultures Further Information and Publications www.arc-humanities.org/our-series/arc/cvm/

THE POLITICAL MESSAGE OF THE SHRINE OF ST. HERIBERT OF COLOGNE CHURCH AND EMPIRE AFTER THE INVESTITURE CONTEST by

CAROLYN M. CARTY

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CONTENTS List of Illustrations. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vii

Preface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xi

Abbreviations. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xiv

Introduction. The Argument within its Context. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1

Chapter 1. The Twelfth-Century Shrine of Saint Heribert of Co­logne . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 The Visual and Compositional Arrangement of the Shrine. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6

The Content of the Shrine Medallions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10 The Medallions on the First Side (Peter Side) of the Shrine . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 The Medallions on the Second Side (Paul Side) of the Shrine. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16

Association with Other Twelfth-Century Rheno-Mosan Shrines. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22 The ‘twin’ Domitian and Mangold Shrines in Huy and the Maurinus Shrine in Co­logne . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23 The Servatius Shrine in Maastricht. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24 The Alban Shrine in Co­logne. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25

The Anno Shrine in Siegburg. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26 The Hadelin Shrine in Visé . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28

A Similarly Themed Outlier . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41 The Nature of Art-Historical Commentary on the Heribert Shrine

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

44

Laying out the Argument . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 46

Chapter 2. Framing the Argument . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49 The Exorcism Medallion. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49 The Reconciliation Medallion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 52 Connecting the Two Medallions. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54 The Inscriptions on the Sides of the Shrine . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 66 Reading the Inscriptions: Viewer Engagement . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 68 The Thematic Support of the Remaining Ten Medallions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 70

Chapter 3. The Motivations for the Message: A Still Open Can of Worms. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 99

Rupert of Deutz, Theo­logian, Scriptural Exegete, and Abbot of Deutz. . . . . . . . . . . . 101 The Actors in the Geo­graphical and Political Arena Surrounding the Shrine’s Creation. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 106 Frederick Barbarossa, “Lord of the World”. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 106 Frederick Barbarossa and the Church. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109

The Lateran Palace Fresco and Sutri. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 110 The Diet of Besançon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113 The Abbey of Deutz in this Political Climate . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 116 The Heribert Canonization Bull. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 118 The Diet of Würzburg. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 121

The Impact of the Archbishops of Co­logne

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 123

Rainald of Dassel. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 123 Philip of Heinsberg . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 124

Other Historical Henrys . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127 Emperor Henry IV . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127 Emperor Henry V . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 130 Henry II, King of England. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131

Power, Episcopal Election, and the Co­logne Pontifical . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 136

Chapter 4. The Sum of the Parts: Motivations, Visibility, Messaging, and Final Assessment. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 143 Motivations for and Financial Feasibility of the Shrine’s Creation. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 143 Visibility: Where, When, and by Whom. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 145 Targeted Messaging and Admonitions. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147 Final assessment: Time Travelling, or the Hazards yet Rewards of Wading through Anachronistic Waters. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 149

Appendix 1. The Heribert Shrine Medallion Inscriptions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 151 Appendix 2. The Inscriptions on the Ends and Sides of the Heribert Shrine. . . . . . . . . 153

Biblio­graphy. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 155

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Figure 1. Heribert Shrine, ca. 1175. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6 Figure 2. Diagram showing two-dimensional bird’s-eye view of the Heribert Shrine. . . 7 Figure 3. Heribert Shrine, Marian end, Mary and the Christ Child between two angels. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7 Figure 4. Heribert Shrine, Heribert end. Heribert between Charity and Humility with Christ Pantocrator above. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 Figure 5. Heribert Shrine, Paul side.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Figure 6. Heribert Shrine, Peter side, decorative roof pilasters.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

9 9

Figure 7. Heribert Shrine, Paul side, roof pilaster with victory of the virtues over the vices. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10 Figure 8. Heribert Shrine, Paul side, shortened roof pilaster with later roundel below. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 Figure 9. Heribert Shrine, Peter side, medallion, birth of Heribert; Heribert’s father and Aaron, the Jew, receive news of Heribert’s birth. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12 Figure 10. Heribert Shrine, Peter side, medallion, Heribert’s education at Worms; his disputation with the monks at Gorze. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12 Figure 11. Heribert Shrine, Peter side, medallion, Heribert’s ordination as deacon; Otto III bestows the chancellorship on Heribert. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13 Figure 12. Heribert Shrine, Peter side, medallion, Otto III invests Heribert with the regalia; the Pope grants Heribert the pallium. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14 Figure 13. Heribert Shrine, Peter side, medallion, Heribert crosses the Alps; his arrival in Cologne. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14 Figure 14. Heribert Shrine, Peter side, medallion, Heribert’s episcopal examination; his consecration. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16 Figure 15. Heribert Shrine, Paul side, medallion, Heribert’s dream in which Mary com­mands him to build the Abbey of Deutz. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17 Figure 16. Heribert Shrine, Paul side, medallion, Heribert’s vision of the tree for the abbey’s cross. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17

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List of Illustrations

Figure 17. Heribert Shrine, Paul side, medallion, Heribert brings rain to end a drought. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18 Figure 18. Heribert Shrine, Paul side, medallion, Heribert exorcises a possessed man on Palm Sunday. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19 Figure 19. Heribert Shrine, Paul side, medallion, Recon­ciliation of Heribert and Emperor Henry II. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19 Figure 20. Heribert Shrine, Paul side, medallion, Death of Heribert; his burial. . . . . . . 21 Figure 21. Hadelin Shrine, ca. 1150 with 11th-century end gables, Church of St. Martin, Visé, Belgium. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28 Figure 22. Hadelin Shrine, gable end, Christ the warrior combating evil. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 32 Figure 23. Hadelin Shrine, gable end, Christ crowning Hadelin and Remaclus. . . . . . . . 32 Figure 24. Hadelin Shrine, first side, Hadelin’s dream, 14th-century replacement. . . 33 Figure 25. Hadelin Shrine, first side, Hadelin before Remaclus at Stavelot. . . . . . . . . . . . 34 Figure 26. Hadelin Shrine, first side, meeting of Hadelin and King Pepin . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35 Figure 27. Hadelin Shrine, first side, Hadelin receiving new disciples at Celles. . . . . . . 35 Figure 28. Hadelin Shrine, second side, Miracle of the source. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36 Figure 29. Hadelin Shrine, second side, Hadelin healing a mute woman. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36 Figure 30. Hadelin Shrine, second side, Hadelin accepting Guiza’s donation after having resuscitated her. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38 Figure 31. Hadelin Shrine, second side, Hadelin’s obsequies. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38 Figure 32. Heribert Shrine, Paul side, Prophets and apostles. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 64 Figure 33. Heribert Shrine, Peter side, Isaiah and St. Peter. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 84 Figure 34. Heribert Shrine, Paul side, Prophet inscription positioned below the exorcism and reconciliation medallions. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 84 Figure 35. Heribert Shrine, Paul side, Vine-cutter relief in the right corner above the rain miracle medallion. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 91

Figure 36. Heribert Shrine, Heribert end, Heribert between Charity and Humility. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 104

In loving memory of

Tom

(1945–2020)

who shared the journey every step of the way

Heribert Shrine as displayed in the Church of St. Heribert, Cologne-Deutz (photo by the author).

PREFACE My first interest in the Heribert Shrine arose from the fact that two of its roof medallions depicted dream scenes, the focus of my doctoral research. With that focus in mind, in 1988 I went to the Church of St. Heribert in Deutz to see the Heribert Shrine, where on my arrival I unbelievably found on display just the shrine’s interior wooden box containing Heribert’s remains. From an art-historical point of view, that in no way measured up to the long-awaited experience of seeing a glorious golden bejewelled shrine with its twelve enamel medallions depicting the important events of Heribert’s life. Greatly disappointed but still in the hope of seeing the shrine, I next went to the Diocesan Museum in Co­logne, where the shrine had been sent to await examination and restoration. However, there, on meeting Martin Seidler, who was overseeing its restoration, I was told that the shrine was in pieces and thus impossible to be seen. Then in 1999 I went back to Deutz to see and photo­graph the then restored shrine, only to encounter another challenge. No longer at eye level in the centre aisle, the shrine was now enclosed in a Plexiglas box set atop high pillars, themselves on a platform, thus making the exquisitely restored shrine basically impossible to see in detail (see photo opposite). Frustrated, I found my only hope of getting a better view was, with the aid of my husband, dragging over as quietly as possible in the empty church the nearby organ bench. Camera in hand, I climbed onto the bench to view the first side of the shrine from my new vantage point. Despite the Plexiglas barrier, the shrine’s stunning gilded and enamelled surfaces and glimmering crystals and gems gleamed in the interplay of light. However, the higher-up enamel medallions positioned on the shrine’s gable roof angled away from the vertical barrier of the shrine’s enclosure. Telling the first part of the story of Heribert’s life, they were the primary focus of my investigation, and though somewhat seeable, they were definitely not going to be suitably photo­graphable from outside the box. As I stood on the bench trying to take in as much as I could of the ones on the first side of the shrine, my eyes were overcome by my ears as I heard a door open, followed by footsteps. As a man walked toward us, I feared the worse. It was the sacristan, who, on hearing my reason for a closer perspective, instead of chastising me, to my amazement graciously brought me a small ladder so I could try to take my photo­graphs. Nevertheless, even with this aid, the medallions remained too difficult to photo­graph since I still could not get above them or avoid the reflections the Plexiglas created. When I finished my futile endeavour, the affable sacristan gave us a tour of the sacristy where, in a sort of consolation, I did get to see objects at least associated with Heribert, two beautiful tenth- and twelfth-century cloths found in the inner shrine with his remains and a tenth- and early eleventhcentury walrus-tooth tau staff, one of its faces carved with an image of the crucifixion and the other with an enthroned Christ in majesty in a mandorla. Leaving the church, we profusely thanked the sacristan for his generosity, and while I knew that my photo­ graphs would be less than satisfactory, I had at least gotten to see the shrine in the “flesh,” albeit in a rather unconventional manner.

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Preface

Afterwards, with the mellowing of disappointment and the distance of hindsight, reflecting on the decision of the church to display the shrine in this manner, I came to the realization that it wasn’t simply a matter of security that the shrine in all its marvellous details was beyond the realm of the viewer. It was the contents in the wooden box within it, which I had eschewed over a decade earlier, that superseded by far for the Church and its faithful the sumptuous shrine that surrounded them. That box, its material lacking ostentation, stood metonymically for its content: the humble saint within who had devoted his life to the poor. The finished shrine was then a perfect example of a symbiotic relationship of form and function, its church-like shape and its luminous beauty recalling the Heavenly Jerusalem, appealing not just to the eye but also to the mind and the soul of today’s believers who would see in the overall picture a fitting and splendid tribute to a saint on whom they could model their lives. As a medi­evalist, I would have to content myself with holding onto the memory of having had the privilege, if only very briefly, of viewing the shrine up close and having the excellent but black-and-white photos I had purchased from the Rheinisches Bildarchiv in Co­logne later that same day. Finally, now two decades later, because of the superb colour illustrations in Martin Seidler’s book posthumously published in 2016, I, as well as others, can do vicariously what is no longer possible to do on site—examine the shrine in intimate detail, not just its outer portions but also its no longer seeable stripped-apart pieces from various angles and even their reverse. It has, in part, provided some compensation for what was missing in my earlier visits. During the several years I have been working on the Heribert Shrine, I wish to thank the many non-art historians, too numerous to mention, who have patiently listened to my thoughts and musings and also offered helpful suggestions. However, above all, I especially owe the completion of this endeavour to my husband and colleague Thomas Haug, who accompanied me throughout the journey, unstintingly offering emotional support as well as applying his astute critical acumen to every iteration the manu­script underwent. I owe my tenacity to continue with this effort to its end to Ilene Forsyth, teacher, mentor, doctoral advisor, and friend, who taught me that when one door closes, with persistence and effort another will open, often leading to new and unexpected places. I also offer gratitude to the many colleagues and conference organizers along the route who also listened, encouraged, and offered advice: in particular Elizabeth del Alamo, who asked me to select the Heribert Shrine for a conference session paper on memory and the medi­eval tomb at the yearly International Congress on Medi­eval Studies in Kalamazoo, Michigan; to Steven Schoenig, SJ, who shared with me his extensive knowledge of the pallium, the liturgical vestment linking bishops and the papacy; and to Elizabeth Sears, who, in addition to inviting me to present papers on the shrine at the symposium honouring Ilene Forsyth at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor and at the annual meeting of the Midwest Art History Society at the Detroit Institute of Arts, offered specific advice, information, and encouragement in pursuing this project to its final form. I am also greatly indebted to the peer reviewers who read the book’s manu­script and offered many new and fruitful avenues to explore. I also thank Oakland Community College for granting me a year’s sabbatical to pursue my work on the shrine as well as other areas of my research.



Preface

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With regard to the illustrations within, I wish to thank: the Archdiocese of Co­logne, in particular Dr. Martin Struck and Dr. Anna Pawlik for their efforts in my acquiring the colour illustrations of the Heribert Shrine and granting permission to use them; to Dr. Johanna Gummlich and Lena Pickartz of the Rheinisches Bildarchiv in Co­logne for granting permission to publish their black-and white photo­graphs of the Heribert Shrine; and to Eduardo Lamas Delgado of KIK-IRPA in Brussels for its permission to publish colour images of the Hadelin Shrine in Visé, Belgium. Lastly, I offer my most sincere gratitude to those at Arc Humanities Press, especially Simon Forde, director, and Tyler Cloherty, the acquisitions editor to whom my manu­script was assigned, and Ruth Kennedy, the production manager, who guided me through the final editing process, for their understanding and support and for their invaluable help, advice, and efforts in making this all finally come to fruition.

ABBREVIATIONS BAV Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana

CCCM Corpus Christianorum, Continuatio Mediaevalis MGH Monumenta Germaniae Historica

MGH SS Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Scriptores

MGH SSrG Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Scriptores rerum Germanicarum in usum scholarum separatim editi

PC Pontificale Coloniense, Co­logne, Cath. Lib., Cods. 139–140. PL Patro­logiae Cursus Completus: Series Latina

PRG Le pontifical romano-germanique du dixième siècle

Introduction

THE ARGUMENT WITHIN ITS CONTEXT When in 1122 the Concordat of Worms forged an agreement regarding the Investi­

ture Contest which had been brought to a head with the standoff between Pope Gregory VII and Emperor Henry IV at Canossa in 1077,1 as Ludger Körntgen has convincingly shown in his article “Der Investiturstreit und das Verhältnis von Religion und Politik im Frühmittelalter” (“The Investiture Controversy and the Relationship between Religion and Politics in the Early Middle Ages”), these two moments in history should not be seen as definitive and epoch-changing moments in that relationship as has been traditionally maintained in the scholarship covering the period of this historical conflict.2 This shift in point of view, supported by its fair share of polemical response to the various facets of the issue, would indicate that today’s scholars, just like their medi­eval counterparts in the aftermath of the Concordat, are still grappling with an unsettling “can of Worms.” Given its historical prominence, the scholarly literature on the Investiture Contest, both specific and contextual, is vast. While certainly the subject has not been ignored by Anglophones,3 understandably German scholars have been especially prolific; however, unfortunately, important books and articles on this subject by authors such as Gerd Althoff, Peter Classen, Horst Fuhrmann, Rudolf Schieffer, Hanna Vollrath, and Stefan Weinfurter have, for the most part, not been translated into English.4

1  This episode will be discussed in its historical context later in the text. For two eleventh-century accounts, see Frutolf of Michelsberg in Chronicles of the Investiture Contest, 114, and Lampertus Hersfeldensis, Lamperti Hersfeldensis Annales, 289–98. Sverre Bagge, Kings, Politics, and the Right Order, devotes chapters 4 and 5, pages 231–363, to an analysis of Lambert of Hersfeld’s Annales, as well as to the anonymous Vita Heinrici Quarti, a translation of which appears in Imperial Lives and Letters as The Life of Emperor Henry IV, 101–37. For Henry’s pledge at Canossa in 1077, see Gregory VII, Pope, Register, 4:12a, pp. 222–23, as well as Imperial Lives and Letters, 156; and for Henry’s letters, Imperial Lives and Letters, 138–200. For a full account of the relations between Henry IV and Gregory VII that led to Canossa and its aftermath, see Cowdrey, Pope Gregory VII, 75–271. For a brief overview of events, see Tierney, Crisis of Church and State, chap. 3: “The Struggle with Henry IV,” 53–73, which also provides relevant documents.

2  Körntgen, “Investiturstreit.” See also Körntgen, “Herrscherbild im Wandel,” where he again takes up the concept of specific moments in time as causal factors as he questions whether a shift in the icono­graphy of the ruler can be attributed to Staufer rule. (All translations are mine unless otherwise indicated.) It should also be noted that this same period in history has various nomenclatures, among them: Investiture Contest, Investiture Controversy, Investiture Conflict, and Investiture Struggle, each useful given a specific context, emphasis, or point of view. 3  See for example: Blumenthal, Investiture Controversy; Robinson, Authority and Resistance; Tierney, Crisis of Church and State; and Miller, Power and the Holy. See also Bagge, Kings, Politics, and the Right Order, as well as Folz, Concept of Empire, an early but important work translated from the French. For a very succinct overview of the major issues and events leading to the Concordat of Worms, see New Catholic Encyclopedia (1967), s.vv. “Investiture Struggle.” For a brief summation of the perspectives of each party in the controversy, see Brooke, “Thomas Becket,” 126–28. 4  For example: Althoff, “Amtsverständnis Gregors VII”; Classen, Gerhoch von Reichersberg; Fuhr­

2

Introduction

(A recent corrective is a publication in English of fifteen essays by Althoff, eight of which first appeared in German and four of which are unpublished papers.)5 Furthermore, the more recent literature, the preponderance still in German, regarding the nature and impact of these events on subsequent history has taken a new interpretive shift requiring a dialogue with and a reassessment of the earlier literature.6 Happily the overall current state of the debate is concisely and admirably discussed by Johanna Dale in the introduction to her book Inauguration and Liturgical Kingship in the Long Twelfth Century: Male and Female Accession Rituals in England, France and the Empire.7 Of course, the literature on this period of history and its impact is embedded within the larger scope of German historio­graphy where views on the nature of medi­eval rulership itself have also been reassessed, taking into account the impact of nationalistic trends and historical events. In “Rewriting the History of the Holy Roman Empire,”8 Len Scales and Joachim Whaley map out in detail these changes with respect to the medi­eval period, citing the work of Gerd Althoff, Knut Görich, John B. Freed, Bernd Schneidmüller, Timothy Reuter, Ludger Körntgen, and Johannes Fried, again noting the predominance of German scholars addressing these issues.9 Among the major points of contention in this new interpretive shift is the narrow view that these two events, Canossa and the Concordat, taken together have led to a basic “desacralization” of monarchy and concomitantly to the beginning of the modern state, a view put forth in older scholarship based on the desire for “master narratives” and the usefulness of categorizing terms. However, while such rubrics and groupings may at first seem useful, in the end they only serve to highlight that there are no simple answers to complex problems set within the confines of delimiting events or of excised periods of time. What people at a particular time period saw when they looked at images, how they acted based on the contemporary beliefs they personally held, how they responded to current events, and how they reacted to what people around them did, thought, and said, are the very things that would have influenced their perception of the world around them. Unfortunately, despite our honest efforts we cannot see them in that same way but only vicariously, that is, second-hand. Therefore, we

mann, Papst Gregor VII (a compendium of Fuhrmann’s articles from 1956 to 2003 on this subject); Schieffer, Papst Gregor VII. Kirchenreform und Investiturstreit; Weg in eine weitere Welt, ed. by Vollrath; and Weinfurter, Canossa. Die Entzauberung der Welt; as well as the work of Körntgen in n. 2 above. 5  Althoff, Rules and Rituals.

6  Among the newer perspectives related to an understanding and interpretation of the impact of the Investiture Controversy, a few relevant examples are: Suchan, Königsherrschaft im Streit; Fried, Veil of Memory; Stauferreich im Wandel; Erkens, Herrschersakralität im Mittelalter; Faszination der Papstgeschichte; Challenging the Boundaries of Medi­eval History; Fried, Canossa: Entlarvung einer Legende; Canossa: Aspekte einer Wende; Brief und Kommunikation im Wandel; and Hehl, Gregor VII. und Heinrich IV. in Canossa 1077: Paenitentia—absolutio—honor. 7  Dale, Inauguration and Liturgical Kingship, 1–25.

8  Scales and Whaley, “Rewriting the History.”

9  Scales and Whaley devote pp. 334–40 to “The Medi­eval Empire” and cite the specific relevant work of each of these authors in the notes on pp. 337–39.



The Argument within its Context

3

must be careful not to base our interpretations of their responses on comparisons to the responses of people of other times and other places, including our own, unless, of course, that is the purpose of the investigation. Gerd Althoff, for one, offers an illuminative example of this type of anachronistic analysis, an example of interest here insofar as its subject appears in two medallions of the Heribert Shrine, the focus of this study.10 In his extended discussion of Otto III’s tenth-century idea of a Renova­ tio imperii Romanorum, Althoff artfully demonstrated how the application of modern modes of interpreting the past affected the meaning of and thus Otto’s intentions for renewal and also called into question whether this long-held belief in Otto’s desire for a renovatio was even an actual plan or merely a visionary construct.11 In another instance Vedran Sulovsky has examined the concept of sacred rulership. In his article “The Concept of sacrum imperium in Historical Scholarship,”12 Sulovsky aims “to survey the extant theories on its origin and meaning and show how 20th‐century national discourse affected scholarly opinion.” To that end, he divides those examining the concept into four groups “based on how much attention they paid to the immediate context of the phrase”—those working on the diplomata of the Holy Roman Empire, on the rhetorical context of sacrum imperium, on the political context of the term, and lastly on the late medi­eval and early modern use of the concept from 1250–1806. Despite his investigation into these areas and the scholarly arguments put forth by each, Sulovsky ultimately concludes: “sacrum imperium remains an unsolved puzzle in spite of a hundred years of research.” As with many “niche” phrases, no doubt sacrum imperium will continue to remain elusive. On the other hand, we are not totally defenceless, for we can use the tools of our specific “trades,” choosing those that will give us insight and thus help us through careful analysis to envision what the specific world we are investigating may have been like for various levels of society. While not abandoning the difficult quest for answers, armed with the knowledge that no single repository of information exists, we might find limited, targeted approaches more fruitful. Even so, the study of just a single concept, a single event, or a single object has its problems, for it too can be viewed from a myriad of different angles, with reference to myriad kinds of sources (some of which not yet come to light), and studied by different disciplines with varying methodo­logical approaches, all of which will yield different points of view. While no one person can be a “jack-of-all disciplines,” the availability of one discipline’s approach and its results can shed light on and inform the ways of another discipline’s approach and thus enlarge the ways in which we view things. Even if some of these views will be dispelled over time, as noted above, in addition to sparking new conversations, their mere existence will engender new ideas providing new ways of seeing and understanding, or maybe even provoke a renovatio. 10  Otto III appears in two investiture scenes of the Heribert Shrine: making Heribert his chancellor and investing Heribert with his regalia before his episcopal consecration, scenes to be discussed later in detail. 11  Althoff, Otto III, 4–11 and 81–89.

12  Sulovsky, “Concept of sacrum imperium.” [Open access; no page numbers.]

4

Introduction

All that being said, with regard to this period of ongoing struggle, my analysis here is a targeted and limited one. It will examine only the impact it had on the creators of the Heribert Shrine, that is, how during the time of the shrine’s creation a ruler and his minions sought to use their political power for their own personal gains to the detriment of the Church and the Abbey of Deutz. Thus, while there will be a discussion of the historical causes most likely leading up to the creation of images and inscriptions on the shrine in terms of the climate in Germany that existed before and during the shrine’s creation, the historical effects with regard to Church and secular relationships beyond those times are beyond the focus and purview of this analysis. Despite the conflicts that had existed between the Church and the secular realms even before the Investiture Contest, the Concordat of Worms did not bring about a final resolution, for that relationship was then soon afterwards (and still is) being tested and responded to in specific places, in specific moments in time, in varying degrees, and with varied responses. Just such instances are worthy of examination for the light they may shed about this ongoing relationship. From that point of view, with respect to a specific place (Co­logne-Deutz) with specific actors (Barbarossa with his minions and self-seekers in conflict with the Church) at a particular time (the second half of the twelfth century), the images and inscriptions on the Heribert Shrine can be seen as just one of those responses to a complex relationship of two entities predicated on belief structures and power, yet in several ways necessarily symbiotically joined. Herein, an analysis of the shrine, seen through the lens of the tenth- and eleventh-century Saint Heribert depicted on it, will show how icono­graphy; liturgy; hagio­ graphical, historical, and theo­logical texts; and people, both secular and ecclesiastical, involved in events related to the shrine’s conception and construction, all converge to present a commentary on this ongoing struggle between Church and Empire (Regnum et Sacerdotium/politics and religion), particularly during the reign of Frederick Barbarossa. However, before this argument can be presented, it is important to introduce the shrine itself, its pictorial content and that content’s arrangement on the shrine, the shrine’s relationship to other twelfth-century reliquary shrines of its type, and the shrine’s overall place in art-historical commentary.

Chapter 1

THE TWELFTH-CENTURY SHRINE OF SAINT HERIBERT OF CO­LOGNE After the remains of their saintly founder, Archbishop Heribert of Co­logne (d.

1021), were elevated in 1147, the Abbey of Deutz commissioned a sumptuous shrine to house them (Fig. 1). The shrine was housed in the abbey church founded by Heribert, a church replaced several times over the centuries, until the abbey dissolved in 1803. Then becoming a parish church, it was charged with the care of the Heribert Shrine until 1896 when the shrine was transferred to the newly built parish church of Neu St. Heribert in Deutz on the right bank of the Rhine across from the city of Co­logne. The shrine remains in this church today.1 Unfortunately, information regarding the exact placement of the shrine in the abbey church at the time of its creation has not yet come to light, but it was probably placed in the choir, the site of Heribert’s tomb from which his relics were elevated.2 Neither is there contemporary textual information regarding the shrine’s creation, dating, or commission; most of this information has been arrived at by analogous contemporary custom or through scientific observation and analysis of the shrine itself, especially by Martin Seidler, who meticulously studied the dismantled shrine from May 1989 to October 1990, the detailed results of which were published post­humously in 2016. Based on stylistic analysis, the shrine most likely came out of a workshop with goldsmiths skilled in both Mosan and Rhenish techniques, its variations in style resulting from a subsequent change of plan in its design.3 While the shrine was begun in the early 1150s and constructed during two stages, the second phase of the shrine’s construction, which entailed the change of plan, occurred from 1166 to 1175.4 Most likely commissioned by the then current abbot of the Abbey of Deutz, the shrine in its first phase would have then been undertaken by Abbot Gerlach (1146–1159) whereas its second phase, almost two decades later, would have begun under Abbot Hartbern (1161–1169).5 Fairly large (L 153 × H 57 × W 42 cm), the Heribert Shrine is built in the 1  See Seidler, Schrein des heiligen Heribert, 15–16. Today a twentieth-century Greek Orthodox church, Alt St. Heribert occupies the site of the Abbey of Deutz. 2  See Seidler, Schrein des heiligen Heribert, 15. See also Schuster, Visuelle Kultvermittlung, 70.

3  Seidler, Schrein des heiligen Heribert, 208.

4  After his analysis Seidler (Schrein des heiligen Heribert) ultimately concluded that the parts of the shrine were made in two separate stages, beginning in the 1150s and resulting in an overall change in plan. The medallions, which he describes as “complete and excellently preserved” and whose “ordering need not be doubted” (201), belong to the second stage, the work done during the decade after 1165 (208), with the shrine completed “barely before 1175” (209). My dating of the shrine is based on Seidler’s analyses. 5  Regarding the succession of Deutz abbots at this time, see Milz, Studien, 237–39, where he discusses problems in determining the identification of Hartbern’s successor, who would have been abbot during the final years of the shrine’s creation.

6

Chapter 1

Figure 1. Heribert Shrine, ca. 1175, L 153 × H 57 × W 42 cm. Church of St. Heribert, Cologne. Erzbistum Köln/St. Heribert, Köln-Deutz. Photo: Helmut Stahl, Köln.

form of an elongated gable-roofed structure, concomitantly resembling a sarcophagus and a church.6 The sheathing of its wooden core gleams with its high-relief golden figures, its intricate filigree, and its gems, crystals, and colourful enamels, all evoking the biblical vision of the Heavenly Jerusalem (Apoc. 21:11–27), while the humble iron-banded inner shrine of similar form holds the holy relics of the saint within it. Given its exquisite external beauty, surely the shrine immediately draws the viewer’s attention before any of its spiritual messages are revealed. Having survived the vicissitudes of war and undergoing relatively judicious restorations, the Heribert Shrine is one of the best-preserved Rhineland large-scale reliquary shrines produced during the twelfth century, a time period when such shrines flourished there.

The Visual and Compositional Arrangement of the Shrine

The shrine is carefully segmented into easily discernible and interrelated areas, but the several parts cannot in reality be seen simultaneously by the viewer. However, a diagram (Fig. 2) provides a two-dimensional bird’s-eye view detailing how the images of the shrine unfold as one proceeds from one side to the next and thereby simultaneously how they can relate to each other. The appendices provide the various Latin inscriptions with English translations and their placement on the shrine. 6  Seidler, Schrein des heiligen Heribert, 11. The equivalent in inches is approximately L 60.24 × H 22.44 × W 16.53 in. While these are the measurements Seidler gives for the main structure itself, he provides additional measurements when including the extending shrine decorations as well as the ratio of specific parts to each other.



The Twelfth-Century Shrine of Saint Heribert of Co­logne

Figure 2. Diagram showing two-dimensional bird’s-eye view of the Heribert Shrine (author).

On one of the gable ends of the Heribert Shrine, in high-relief and set within a triple arcade, Mary, the original patron of the abbey, is enthroned with the Christ Child seated on her lap and flanked by two angels; a later Limousin enamel medallion has been inserted above her head (Fig. 3). An inscription, referring to Mary as the new Eve, runs along what serves as the bottom edge of the arcaded frame. On the opposite end, within a square frame, Saint Heribert, garbed in his episcopal attire and holding his crosier and a gem-studded book, is enthroned between the personified virtues of Charity and HumilFigure 3. Heribert Shrine, Marian end, Mary and the Christ Child between two angels (photo by the author).

7

8

Chapter 1

ity, which are identified by tituli above their respective heads. Above this grouping, in high relief Christ Pantocrator (almighty ruler), his right hand raised in blessing and his left hand holding a book inscribed with the words Ego sum qui sum (I am who am), emerges from a medallion circumscribed by a gemstudded frame that intersects Heribert’s mitre (Fig. 4). As with the Marian end, an inscription runs along what serves as the bottom edge of the square frame, this time referring to Heribert’s having embodied these virtues during his lifetime. On the sides of the shrine (Fig. 5), high-relief gilded figures of the twelve apostles, six on each side, nimbed and Figure 4. Heribert Shrine, Heribert end. identified by tituli, sit within upright Heribert between Charity and Humility with Christ rectangular spaces; they face either Pantocrator above (Rheinisches Bildarchiv Cologne). outward or toward their neighbour and hold books inscribed with brief passages from the Apostle’s Creed. These figures alternate with fourteen enamel Old Testament figures and prophets, seven on each side, each holding a scroll with a passage from a scriptural book attributed to or associated with him. All these figures serve literally and allusively as supports for the Church. On the two sides of the shrine inscriptions run both above and below these figures, referring to the precursory role of the prophets and the shining light shed by the apostles. Completing the ensemble, on the two sides of the sloping roof of the shrine are twelve large medallions, six per side, depicting in mostly chrono­logical order important events from the life of Heribert.7 Logically, in terms of viewing the shrine, the chrono­logical order determines what is the “first” and “second” side of the shrine; however, these sides are more frequently referred to as the “Peter side” (side one) and the “Paul side” (side two) based on the placement of these two apostles on the shrine. 7  Nearly all the events depicted in the medallions fall within the categories that Abou-el-Haj (Medi­ eval Cult of Saints, 34–55) identifies as “core scenes” in the pictorial lives of the saints, and she includes the scenes of the Heribert Shrine’s medallions in her comparative chrono­logical chart of works containing core scenes (154–55). However, she cautions that, despite the repetition of these core scenes in this genre, there “must be added for each case the historically specific images... whose content belongs to local history...[and which are] the keys to understanding individual cycles copied and illustrated at particular places at particular times” (61). It is this last aspect that forms the basis of my investigation of the images on the Heribert Shrine. See also Hahn (Portrayed on the Heart, 173), regarding the concept of core scenes and, in regard to the subgenre of bishops, the consistency of elements in their hagio­graphic narratives (131), which again relate to Heribert.



The Twelfth-Century Shrine of Saint Heribert of Co­logne

9

Figure 5. Heribert Shrine, Paul side. Erzbistum Köln/St. Heribert, Köln-Deutz. Photo: Helmut Stahl, Köln.

Figure 6. Heribert Shrine, Peter side, decorative roof pilasters. Erzbistum Köln/St. Heribert, Köln-Deutz. Photo: Helmut Stahl, Köln.

10

Chapter 1

In following the narrative in this direction, the Marian end of the shrine is thus between these two sides, thereby allowing the Heribert end to be seen as either before or after a circumambulation of the shrine. While not a statement of inferiority/superiority with regard to Heribert and Mary, this placement has a relationship to the content of the narrative images in the medallions, something which will be discussed in due course. In terms of the disposition of the medallions, which are circumscribed by inscriptions referring to their narrative content, they are centred within an almost square field formed by separating vertical pilasters. On the first side of the shrine the five separating vertical pilasters are merely decorative (Fig. 6), but on the second side four of the pilasters contain figures representing the struggle between the virtues and the vices in between the decorative elements (Fig. 7), and the fifth and central vertical pilaster has been shortened to allow the insertion of a small roundel believed to be a depiction of Co­logne Cathedral (Fig. 8), this roundel most likely added at a later date. Within these basically square fields, eleven of the twelve medallions are surrounded by four small roundels containing low-relief gold figures set within the corners of the field with the remaining space teeming with low-relief small creatures and foliate decoration. The remaining twelfth medallion, the ninth in the sequence, differs in that the upper right corner is no longer a roundel but a spandrel relief depicting a vine cutter, an anomaly to be discussed later.

The Content of the Shrine Medallions

Figure 7. Heribert Shrine, Paul side, roof pilaster with victory of the virtues over the vices. Erzbistum Köln/St. Heribert, Köln-Deutz. Photo: Helmut Stahl, Köln.

The purpose here is to provide a brief identification of the specific events from Heribert’s life that are included in the twelve shrine medallions, each of which will be discussed more fully as it relates to the various arguments later put forth in the subsequent chapters. Obviously selective in their content, the medallions give an abbreviated version of Heribert’s life starting with his birth and ending with his death. The source of the information for their content is gleaned primarily from the Vita Heriberti (1119–1120) of Rupert of Deutz, a life of Heribert which Rupert tells us in his pro­ logue Abbot Markward commissioned him to write because the mid-eleventh-century Vita Heriberti of Lambert of Deutz needed to be expanded and updated in a more elegant style.8 Happily Rupert’s vita thus provided more information about Heribert for 8  For Rupert’s vita, see Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, and for the pro­logue to his vita, 30. For



The Twelfth-Century Shrine of Saint Heribert of Co­logne

11

the makers of the shrine’s medallions, who, besides inserting their own details, also used some details from Lambert’s vita that were not in Rupert’s. The Medallions on the First Side (Peter Side) of the Shrine

Figure 8. Heribert Shrine, Paul side, shortened roof pilaster with later roundel below.Erzbistum Köln/St. Heribert, Köln-Deutz. Photo: Helmut Stahl, Köln.

In all the medallions on this side of the shrine, the narrative space is divided horizontally into two parts by a single horizontal line serving simultaneously as the ground or floor for the scene above and a ceiling or skyline for the scene below; consequently, these lines are frequently penetrated by people or content from the two scenes depicted. The band circumscribing the medallion contains the related inscriptions for each scene, each inscription contained within the semicircular part devoted to the scene. Having been separated from each other by two crosses to indicate where they begin and end, each inscription is read from left to right. Given the circular format of the medallion, the top scene has its inscription on the top while the bottom scene has its corresponding inscription on the bottom. The first medallion on the first side of the shrine (Fig. 9) depicts the events surrounding Heribert’s birth. The upper half of the medallion depicts a complex architectural structure in the centre of which, under a trilobed arch, the newborn Heribert is taken from his mother by a servant, perhaps a midwife. Under separate arches to either side of the trilobed arch sleep, on the left, Heribert’s father, identified by titulus as Count Hugo, and, on the right, a gesticulating figure, identified by titulus as Aaron the Jew. Above the group, the sun’s rays descend to the heads of the figures, pictorializing the surrounding inscription that tells this sun magnificently heralds Heribert’s birth. The lower half of the medallion continues the story as a young woman, one of several who

Lambert’s vita, see Lantbert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, 135–201. See also Müller, “Vita sancti Heriberti,” 47–58.

12

Chapter 1

Figure 9. Heribert Shrine, Peter side, medallion, birth of Heribert (top); Heribert’s father and Aaron, the Jew, receive news of Heribert’s birth (bottom) (Rheinisches Bildarchiv Cologne).

Figure 10. Heribert Shrine, Peter side, medallion, Heribert’s education at Worms (top); his disputation with the monks at Gorze (bottom) (Rheinisches Bildarchiv Cologne).



The Twelfth-Century Shrine of Saint Heribert of Co­logne

13

Figure 11. Heribert Shrine, Peter side, medallion, Heribert’s ordination as deacon (top); Otto III bestows the chancellorship on Heribert (bottom) (Rheinisches Bildarchiv Cologne).

had witnessed the astonishing birth, arrives to bring the news.9 The representation of the now awake men, their gesticulating hands outstretched, visualizes their exchange of words implied in the surrounding inscription: this marvellous birth had been foreseen, as Rupert tells us in his vita, in the contents of the divinely inspired dream each man had had while asleep. In the second medallion (Fig. 10), the upper half, as its inscription indicates, shows Heribert, now nimbed, given over by his father to the monks at Worms for his education. On the right we see Heribert obediently learning the alphabet under the watchful eye of his teacher. Below, the now tonsured Heribert (centre left) points to the open book in his hand. As the inscription informs us, filled with grace he debates and even teaches the monks at Gorze. The upper half of the third medallion (Fig. 11) depicts Heribert’s entry into holy orders, according to the inscription becoming a deacon with its life of celibacy. Under an arcade indicating the interior of the church, the officiating bishop, an altar sacra9  Figge, “Einordnung der Heiligengeschichte,” 112, identifies the woman as Heribert’s mother, most likely on the basis of the similarity of the two women’s attire. However, despite this pictorial similarity and even with the assumption that a male ecclesiastic might not find it absurd that a mother having just given birth would come rushing in to tell of it, Rupert, who extensively describes this event, specifically identifies the person as “una ex illis” (one [feminine] of them [those whom he has just described as witnessing the birth]), Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 1, p. 34.

14

Chapter 1

Figure 12. Heribert Shrine, Peter side, medallion, Otto III invests Heribert with the regalia (top); the Pope grants Heribert the pallium (bottom) (Rheinisches Bildarchiv Cologne).

Figure 13. Heribert Shrine, Peter side, medallion, Heribert crosses the Alps (top); his arrival in Cologne (bottom) (Rheinisches Bildarchiv Cologne).



The Twelfth-Century Shrine of Saint Heribert of Co­logne

15

mentally set behind him, places his hand on the head of Heribert who bends toward him. The lower half of the medallion, according to the inscription, represents Heribert’s entry into public office as chancellor to Emperor Otto III. While an attendant waits with a cloak to mantle him, Heribert, bending down in deference, stretches out his finger to receive from the enthroned emperor’s hand the ring representing the office of chancellor. Backed by a voluminous cloth undulating over and under the bar separating the upper and lower scenes, the emperor holds the imperial sceptre in his left hand while a figure at his side holds the imperial sword. In the upper half of the fourth medallion (Fig. 12), this time standing before the enthroned emperor and viewed by several non-tonsured, presumably secular witnesses, Heribert, as the inscription indicates, receives from him the regalia, the symbols of the temporal power he will have as bishop and be under the emperor’s protection. In the bottom half of this medallion, the pope stands majestically with hands upraised in an all-encompassing arch that visually intensifies his importance as well as the significance of this event. Heribert is about to receive the pallium, the ecclesiastical garment which lies on a tasselled cushion on a cloth-covered altar in front of the pope who himself wears one. The pallium is the garment that, as the inscription indicates, will grant Heribert his full episcopal powers. The fifth medallion (Fig. 13) begins with a scene not described in either vita. After his having received the pallium in Rome, Heribert is depicted with his entourage crossing the mountains and valleys as they journey on horseback toward Co­logne. The scene seems somewhat whimsical in its apparent depiction of a hunting scene with spotted dogs and an antlered deer pointed to by a fellow companion. However, the inscription points in another direction, instead focusing on Heribert, metaphorically calling him a mountain who in crossing the mountains in his passing will scatter the intervening valleys with light. The scene in the lower half of the medallion depicts the end point of that journey, Heribert’s arrival on Christmas Eve in Co­logne where, as the inscription relates, the people have come to receive their beloved bishop. Standing barefoot before the church, as his cloak is removed, Heribert raises his right hand in a gesture of blessing toward the two clerics waiting with cross and holy water. One observer sits high up straddling the gable roof of the massive, multi-towered church as, with his right hand raised in acclamation, he looks down at the scene far below. The sixth and final medallion (Fig. 14) on this side of the shrine depicts the events covering the culminating stages of Heribert’s becoming bishop of Co­logne. In the upper half, once again in an event appearing in neither vita, bishop-elect Heribert undergoes the required examination by the metropolitan bishop and attending clergy. Holding an open book, Heribert gestures toward the metropolitan in response to questions asked of him in order to determine his worthiness to hold such an important ecclesiastical office. The inscription, while referring to the nature of the event, also presages its positive outcome in highlighting Heribert’s continued care for the wretched. The lower half of the medallion, as well as its inscription, confirms that worthiness as Heribert, his hands raised in acceptance, undergoes the consecration process. As the inscription also states, the metropolitan, holding a crosier in his left hand, places his right hand on Heribert’s head and anoints him as an attendant bishop places the gospel book on

16

Chapter 1

Figure 14. Heribert Shrine, Peter side, medallion, Heribert’s episcopal examination (top); his consecration (bottom) (Rheinisches Bildarchiv Cologne).

Heribert’s neck. Another clergyman holding a book looks on, raising his left hand in a sign of affirmation. Behind the metropolitan is an altar in liturgical readiness for the culmination of the event. The Medallions on the Second Side (Paul Side) of the Shrine

Unlike the medallions on the first side, the six medallions on this side do not divide horizontally but essentially encapsulate two parts of a single thematic episode within each medallion. No longer having a horizontal dividing line eliminates compression, and thus these medallions tend to have an airier feel with more space around the figures. Furthermore, given the unity of the episodes, the inscriptions are mostly a single sentence divided into two parts by crosses; however, this time, with no horizontal line dividing the scenes, the separating crosses occur at the top and bottom of the medallion rather than at the sides. In three of the medallions the top cross is aptly positioned above the pinnacle of a church dome, while another seems to serve as a hook for a hanging lamp, and one medallion forgoes the bottom cross. The inscriptions read from left to right beginning with the top cross. These elements are seen in the first medallion on this side of the shrine or the seventh in the series (Fig. 15) that depicts the dream of Heribert in which, as the inscription says, he receives from the Mother of God the mission to build the Abbey of Deutz in the form and on the site she indicates. Mary, who on the end of the shrine has come between the two sets of medallions, appears now in a roundel in the centre of the medallion, her hand raised to send her message in the direction of the sleeping Heribert, who, with eyes closed, raises his right hand in response. To Heribert’s left, ensconced in much simpler bedding, sleeps Pilgrim, who will be Heribert’s successor as



The Twelfth-Century Shrine of Saint Heribert of Co­logne

Figure 15. Heribert Shrine, Paul side, medallion, Heribert’s dream in which Mary com­ mands him to build the Abbey of Deutz (Rheinisches Bildarchiv Cologne).

Figure 16. Heribert Shrine, Paul side, medallion, Heribert’s vision of the tree for the abbey’s cross (Rheinisches Bildarchiv Cologne).

17

archbishop after Heribert dies. All three figures are identified by tituli, Heribert for the first time identified not only by name but also by his episcopal office. Above the trilobed arch enclosing this scene, two workmen wielding the tools of their trade are in the process of constructing the abbey’s church, thus confirming Heribert’s acceptance of the mission. In the second medallion on this side of the shrine or the eighth in the series (Fig. 16) Heri­ bert’s concern for the abbey continues.

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Figure 17. Heribert Shrine, Paul side, medallion, Heribert brings rain to end a drought. Erzbistum Köln/St. Heribert, Köln-Deutz. Photo: Helmut Stahl, Köln.

The inscription relates that while eating, he has a vision of seeing Christ extended in a tree, a vision that leads to his fashioning from a tree the cross for the abbey’s church. In the medallion we see Heribert and a companion standing before a table set with vessels and a footed dish containing the food for the meal (a pig’s head?). Heribert points in the direction of a large leafy and blossoming tree that is now being felled by two workers wielding axes, the tree that will become the substance of the abbey’s cross. The third medallion or the ninth in the series (Fig. 17) depicts Heribert’s concerns for the welfare of the people under his care when a severe drought occurs in the region. As in the previous two medallions, the event is again bipartite. The greater part of the medallion’s space is devoted to the intercessory procession through Co­logne. As a dove identified as the Holy Spirit comes down from a brilliant sun, Heribert, wearing his episcopal attire and holding his crosier and book, leads the procession. Arriving at a church tower door, the group is greeted by an emerging cleric who, holding a censer and an incense boat, thurifies Heribert. Behind Heribert, several men follow along with varying degrees of involvement. In the smaller, upper right segment of the medallion, similar to that in the previous medallion, Heribert, with his hand to



Figure 18. Heribert Shrine, Paul side, medallion, Heribert exorcises a possessed man on Palm Sunday. Erzbistum Köln/St. Heribert, Köln-Deutz. Photo: Helmut Stahl, Köln.

Figure 19. Heribert Shrine, Paul side, medallion, Recon­ ciliation of Heribert and Emperor Henry II. Erzbistum Köln/ St. Heribert, KölnDeutz. Photo: Helmut Stahl, Köln.

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his head in a meditative gesture, sits with a companion this time at a table indoors. While the smaller size of this segment might belie its importance, it is, in fact, conveying the main point of the message: the meditative moment of Heribert’s intercessory prayer that will, as the inscription indicates, through the Holy Spirit send rain to end the drought. With his right hand held against his head in a pensive, even sorrowful gesture indicative of his concern, with the index finger of his left hand Heribert points to the dove, identified by titulus as the Holy Spirit, who has flown down to earth from a heavenly sun in response to Heribert’s prayers. The fourth medallion or the tenth in the series (Fig. 18) depicts the second miracle on the shrine, Heribert’s exorcising a possessed man, an event which, as the vitae report, took place during Heribert’s Palm Sunday sermon, here alluded to by the palm frond held by the woman on the left. In the medallion, within a church setting indicated by the architectural superstructure, a central column divides the pictorial space into two arched parts representing the two time frames of the event. The possessed man thus appears twice. In the first, at the far left, as a birdlike demon flees from his head, he stands still fettered among the worshipers who have complained about the disturbance he has caused during Heribert’s sermon. The second and more germane occurs at the centre of the medallion where he appears on bended knee before Heribert. Seated on an elaborate throne and attended by two acolytes, one of them holding what seems to be a piece of parchment and the other Heribert’s crosier, Heribert raises his right hand toward the man’s mouth while his left hand points in the direction of the fleeing demon. As the inscription notes, the miracle has been twofold: Heribert has not only saved the possessed man but, in the process, also deprived the demon of his prey. The fifth medallion or the eleventh in the series (Fig. 19) relates to Heribert’s reconciliation with Emperor Henry II after a long-term animosity between the two. As in the previous medallion, two distinct scenes are depicted but here in two separate places evidenced by the difference in the two men’s attire. The reconciliation and the events surrounding it, as recorded in the vitae, occur over a three-day period, but the two events depicted here occur on the same day. Nevertheless, the inscription cleverly alludes to the other two days in its reference to the nature of the anger that preceded the reconciliation and to the specific number of kisses that occurred before the final meeting depicted in the medallion. On the left, standing before an altar with a chalice and lit candle, Heribert, identified by a titulus and wearing a mitre, places his hands on the crown of the penitent emperor who, also identified by a titulus, kneels submissively before him. In the adjacent scene on the right, Heribert and Henry embrace in a final yet emotional reconciliation as the scroll in Heribert’s hand reveals Heribert’s final words: “We shall see each other no more.” Behind the emperor stands a servant who draws back and holds onto the emperor’s cloak with his right hand and holds the large imperial sword in his left. The sixth medallion or the twelfth and final one in the series (Fig. 20) fittingly depicts Heribert’s death and interment. In two scenes occurring one above the other with no visible separation between them, it almost seems as if the body could have been lowered into the awaiting sarcophagus below. In the top scene, near death or



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Figure 20. Heribert Shrine, Paul side, medallion, Death of Heribert (top); his burial (bottom). Erzbistum Köln/St. Heribert, Köln-Deutz. Photo: Helmut Stahl, Köln.

already dead, the inanimate Heribert wrapped loosely in a large cloth lies with his eyes closed. A young man with a sullen expression cradles him by the shoulder as if to raise him up to be seen by an outside observer. At the other end of the bed, based on his clothing and his untonsured head, an especially saddened layperson sits, his hand resting over his left eye in a gesture of grief. At the top of the medallion in the centre, as if attached to the cross in the inscription band, a lamp with a burning candle hangs over the death bed. In the scene below, in a funerary ceremonial moment Heribert’s body, carefully wrapped in a now precisely folded cloth, is placed in the tomb as a cleric thurifies his body and a younger cleric behind him holds a processional cross. The central figure of the three remaining figures on the right holds what seems to be a folded cloth (Heribert’s garment?); with the outstretched forefinger of his right hand he seems to be directing the viewer to look upward in the direction of paradise, where, as the inscription indicates, Heribert has gone on the basis of his merits that shine like the fire in the lamp above. While the extended coverage of episodes in the life of a saintly bishop is certainly not unusual in earlier and contemporary illuminated manu­scripts, it is important

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to see whether similar narrative cycles appear on other large-scale, twelfth-century Rheno-Mosan shrines akin to the Heribert Shrine and, if so, how their images relate to those on the Heribert Shrine and in particular whether they convey a political message.

Association with Other Twelfth-Century Rheno-Mosan Shrines

The middle of the twelfth century saw the appearance of large-scale reliquary shrines, a phenomenon which Susanne Wittekind in her article “Heiligenviten und Reliquienschmuck im 12. Jahrhundert eine Studie zum Deutzer Heribertschrein” (“Saints’ Lives and Reliquary Decoration in the 12th Century: A Study of the Deutz Heribert Shrine”) sees as the result of a confluence of three developments: “the decoration of relics especially through pictures of the saint, the illustration of saints’ lives, and the theo­logical thought about the sense of relic veneration,” discussing each of these as a backdrop to the Heribert Shrine.10 This period was a time when the work of Rheno-Mosan goldsmiths literally and figuratively truly shined, these “new” shrines providing shining examples of brilliant metalwork encrusted with enamels and precious gems. As reliquary containers, they often took the shape of a rectangular box with a gable roof, simultaneously and fittingly resembling a sarcophagus or a church. Thus, given its gable form and fairly large size, the Heribert Shrine has several compositional elements in common with other relatively contemporary large-size Rheno-Mosan shrines, for example, the “twin” Domitian and Mangold Shrines in Huy, the Maurinus Shrine in Co­logne, the Servatius Shrine in Maastricht, the Alban Shrine in Co­logne, the Anno Shrine in Siegburg, and the Hadelin Shrine in Visé. However, while these shrines had commonality in form and general compositional structure, the decoration and its layout on this shape varied according to the specific wishes and intentions of the creators or donors of these shrines and, of course, on the nature of the identification of the saint within. Given this shape, the gable ends were usually devoted to a representation of the saint or saints within the shrine and to Christ and/or Mary. The sides were usually compartmentalized into linear or occasionally arched shapes whereas the layout of the roof was more varied, sometimes again with linear compartments or with lobed shapes or medallions containing either figures or narrative scenes. Sometimes the roof had nothing representational at all as in the case of the Hildesheim shrines of Bishops Godehard and Epiphanius, both having a gold “shingle”-style roof.11 Unfortunately, with the vicissitudes of time, renovation, replacements, and destruction, it is often difficult to assess what some of these shrines were actually like at the time 10  “Drei Entwicklungen bereiten diesen neuen Trend des Reliquienschmucks vor: die Auszeich­ nung der Reliquien insbesondere durch Heiligenbilder, die illustration von Heiligenviten und die theo­logische Reflexion über den Sinn der Reliquienverehrung,” Wittekind, “Heiligenviten und Reliquienschmuck,” 7.

11  For colour illustrations of these shrines, see Schuster, Visuelle Kultvermittlung, 264–69, pls. 31–38.



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of their creation, thus making comparisons not always easy. Nevertheless, several subjects, if not their exact manner of representation, can be discerned as well as the likely reason for the choice. Given that the most likely reason for a shrine’s creation is the saint within it serving as a model for emulation, the saint is thus put in the role of imitatio Christi so that viewers, like the saint, can follow in the footsteps of Christ shown through the line of Christian tradition that has preceded them, the apostles. Therefore, it is not surprising to find apostles, as well as prophets, their forebears, depicted on these shrines. In some instances, these figures are supplemented with or replaced by saints or martyrs with a specific relationship to the saint within or to the locale of the specific shrine, as, for example, on the Co­logne Maurinus Shrine in St. Pantaleon. Occasionally, scenes from the life of Christ and of the saints themselves accompany this message, as, for example, on the Co­logne Alban Shrine also in St. Pantaleon. In view of the message of imitatio Christi, the concomitant message is then focused on the end-of-time judgment when the viewer’s life will hang in the balance, highlighting the obvious necessity for present-time preparedness, a clear message of the Servatius Shrine in Maastricht with its Last Judgment imagery. However, beyond imitatio Christi, more targeted messages are not that easily attainable. Without contemporary written documentation, the wishes and motivations of a shrine’s creators or donors, beyond the desire for saintly veneration and for a pleasing artistic aesthetic, must be arrived at through a careful analysis of the images and inscriptions the shrine presents to viewers and of the events leading up to and surrounding the shrine’s creation to assess their impact if any. With the focus of this present study being the political implications put forth by the images and inscriptions of the Heribert Shrine as a reflection of the external events surrounding it, it is worthwhile to see whether such a message is or might be conveyed by the other Rheno-Mosan shrines of its time period. Going back to Susanne Wittekind’s observations about the appearance of largescale reliquary shrines during this period, it seems that, with respect to political implications, the depiction of the lives of the saints on these shrines, along with any other related images and pointed inscriptions on these shrines, offers the most fruitful area of investigation. However, there are not that many shrines that incorporate an extended series of illustrations of the vita of the saint housed within the shrine. Thus, of the seven shrines noted above as having common elements with the Heribert Shrine, not all of them have or have had narrative scenes depicting the life of the saint that the shrine encloses. Nevertheless, these shrines will be investigated as to their potential for political implications. The ‘twin’ Domitian and Mangold Shrines in Huy and the Maurinus Shrine in Co­logne

The ‘twin’ Domitian and Mangold Shrines (ca. 1172–1189) are problematic not only because they lack narrative scenes of their respective saints but also because their history over time reveals many alterations; both shrines have actually been cut down

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in size and many parts are much later additions.12 Thus, a determination of a political aspect to these shrines is not possible to assess. As to the Maurinus Shrine (ca. 1170), its remaining inscriptions tell that it did have in its now empty niches the twelve apostles, John the Baptist, and Saint Paul, seven on each of the long sides, and on each side of the sloping roof were five reliefs in quatrefoils containing depictions of martyrs and other saints. Again, lacking narrative scenes, this shrine makes a better argument for the objective of imitatio Christi.13 The Servatius Shrine in Maastricht

The Servatius Shrine in Maastricht (ca. 1160–1170), which is roughly contemporary at least with the Heribert Shrine’s first stage, has some shared elements with the Heribert Shrine as well as several differences.14 Similar to the Heribert Shrine, apostles seated on thrones line the sides of the Servatius Shrine; however, here the sides are divided into three equal squares containing two apostles, each one under half of a double arch divided by a central column. Also, as on the Heribert Shrine, one of the gable ends depicts the saint within dressed in his episcopal garb; here Servatius is flanked not by two virtues but by two angels, one carrying a cross and the other a book. On the other hand, whereas Mary is represented on the gable end of the Heribert Shrine, on the Servatius Shrine Christ is depicted between the symbols alpha and omega. He holds in his hands a globe and a book on which is inscribed in Latin the text of Apocalypse 22:12: “Behold, I come quickly; and my reward is with me, to render to every man according to his works,” clearly a Last Judgment reference for the need to be prepared, for, as Christ said, “of that day and hour no one knoweth, not the Angels of heaven, but the Father alone” (Matt. 24:36). To intensify that message, the creators of the shrine have portrayed the results on the slopes of the roof: in between trumpeting angels, the elect are clothed in the mantle of innocence, and Misericordia gives them the crown of eternal life whereas the damned, having been weighed by Veritas on the balance scale and found wanting, are defrocked of their baptismal robes and banished to the horrors that await them in hell.15 In her analysis of this judgment imagery, Rita Tekippe sees its possible association with the power of temporal judges to punish, as well as a “hint here of the struggle during this era between the bishops and the papacy, as the emergent national churches grappled over various elements of power.”16 While this is commentary on struggles 12  On these shrines see: Lemeunier, “Eventful Lives,” 99–119; Lemeunier, “Trésor,” 86–89; and Lemeunier and Dewanckel, Châsse de Saint Mengold.

13  On the Maurinus Shrine see: Schnitzler, Rheinische Schatzkammer, 34–35, no. 27; Rhin-Meuse, 279, H18, and illus. after 276; Ornamenta Ecclesiae, 2:200, 296–98, 300, 302, E79; Lasko, Ars Sacra, 234–39; and Schuster, Visuelle Kultvermittlung, 52–57.

14  On the Servatius Shrine see: Kroos, Schrein des Heiligen Servatius; Rhin-Meuse, 245–46, G8; Tekippe, “Procession, Piety, and Politics,” 49–73; Lasko, Ars Sacra, 200–202. 15  Rhin-Meuse, 245–46, G8, and Tekippe, “Procession, Piety, and Politics,” 66–67. 16  Tekippe, “Procession, Piety, and Politics,” 66.



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within the Church itself, she also makes occasional references to the role and significance of the bishop with regard to the power and authority structure between the spiritual and the secular. However, she does not analyze this in great length in terms of the images on the three shrines that are the basis of her investigation: the Servatius Shrine and the thirteenth-century Eleutherius and Remaclus Shrines. Rather she sees it as “a complex subject, which is largely beyond the scope of this study,”17 a study that focuses on “the rationale for the creation, function, and continued use of a group of three large medi­eval châsse-type reliquary shrines.”18 Of the three remaining twelfth-century Rheno-Mosan shrines to be considered, one was executed before the Heribert Shrine and two about a decade after. Each one, however, had at origin some narrative scenes from the life of the saint enshrined within and thus the potential for political implications. The Alban Shrine in Co­logne

The first of these shrines, the Alban Shrine in Co­logne (ca. 1186) is the newest of the three, about eleven years after the earliest date of completion of the Heribert Shrine.19 While a great deal of the ornamentation has disappeared, inscriptions help to identify the shrine’s program. On one of its gable ends was Christ in majesty with the four evangelists and on the other Saint Alban between Saint Germain and the Empress Theophanu, who at the request of the archbishop of Mainz had given Alban’s relics to the Benedictine abbey church of St. Pantaleon in Co­logne. On each of the long sides under the also empty arcades were six enthroned patron saints of the Co­logne church. However, in the spandrels above the columns of the arcade still remain seven doves representing the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit and half-body figures representing the Virtues. More fortunately, the four rectangular panels containing the repoussé narra�tive reliefs still remain on each side of the roof. One side contains scenes from the life of Christ: the nativity, crucifixion, resurrection, and ascension, while the other side has scenes from the life of Saint Alban: his religious instruction and baptism, his appearance before the judge, his flagellation, and his beheading. The pairing of the life of Alban with that of Christ highlights the nature of this saint’s merits, quintessentially attested to by his willingness to die to follow in the footsteps of Christ, a perfect example of imitatio Christi. Nevertheless, the appearance of Empress Theophanu indicated by inscription on the shrine, along with patron saints of the church of Co­logne, might perhaps have some political ramifications which a more intensive study of this shrine and its context might reveal.20 17  Tekippe, “Procession, Piety, and Politics,” 159–60.

18  Tekippe, “Procession, Piety, and Politics,” 1.

19  On the Alban Shrine see: Schnitzler, Rheinische Schatzkammer, 35–36, no. 28; Rhin-Meuse, 320, K2; Ornamenta Ecclesiae, 2:299, 301–3; Lasko, Ars Sacra, 239–41; Schuster, Visuelle Kultvermittlung, 41–42 and 57–61. 20  Schnitzler, Rheinische Schatzkammer, 35–36 and figs. 101–3; Rhin-Meuse, 320, K2; and Orna­ menta Ecclesiae, 2:302–3, E80, and figs. 299, 301, and 303.

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The Anno Shrine in Siegburg The second of these three Rheno-Mosan shrines which had narrative scenes is the Anno Shrine in Siegburg. Dating from around 1183, it is thus, like the Alban Shrine, about a decade after the Heribert Shrine.21 What remains of the original shrine—mostly what constitutes its architectural framework including some inscriptions—attests to the shrine’s extraordinarily beautiful, eye-catching, and finely crafted decoration. Sadly, between 1803 and 1812 all reliefs and silver repoussé figures were stripped from it. As a result, the decoration that would be of most interest here unfortunately remains only in a description and a few mid-eighteenth-century artistic renderings, particularly two oil paintings, attributed to Johann Wilhelm Fischer, in Belecke in Warstein.22 While the subject matter of the shrine’s decoration can, to a certain extent, be gleaned from these sources, the precise manner of its original artistic depiction, of course, is not attainable. Nevertheless, what can be ascertained about the figural and narrative decoration proves to be of interest. Basing her description of the shrine on the available secondary evidence that has come down to us, in particular the large paintings (85 cm high × 205 cm wide) in the museum in Belecke, Esther-Luisa Schuster devotes several pages to the shrine.23 The main gable end depicted Saint Anno, the archbishop of Co­logne and founder of the Siegburg Abbey of St. Michael, holding a model of the church he has founded and standing between two angels leading him to paradise. In the niches above him, is the half-figure of Christ with other angels. The other gable end depicted Saint Michael between the archangels Gabriel and Raphael; the abbey’s sacristan Henricus Custos is at the feet of Michael. In the niches above, Mary is flanked by Saints Seraphia and Sabina. The existing shrine framework shows that the sides of the shrine were divided by double columns into six compartments with trilobed arches. Under these arches were depicted, on one side, six saintly archbishops of Co­logne, among them Heribert, whom Schuster describes as accompanied by a small monk with upraised hands and the letters HC, a probable reference to Henricus custos, and whom Hermann Schnitzler describes as a donor.24 Under the arches on the other side appear six saints whose relics the abbey possessed. In the spandrels above the double pillars still remain threequarter figures of the apostles and Saint Paul and, at the four corners of the architectural framework, the symbols of the four evangelists. 21  On the Anno Shrine see: Schnitzler, Rheinische Schatzkammer, 44–46, no. 37, and figs. 142–151; Rhin-Meuse, 321–22, K3; Ornamenta Ecclesiae, 2:457–58, F90, and illus. 390; Lasko, Ars Sacra, 240–41; Schuster, Visuelle Kultvermittlung, 109–17.

22  See Schnitzler, Rheinische Schatzkammer, 45, regarding the description by Gelenius (Farragines XI, 515), the drawings, probably shortly before 1764, and the two oil paintings from 1764 attributed to Fischer. See Goldene Pracht, 171, for an illustration of the drawing (Paris, Bib. nat. MS lat. 9275) and of one of the two paintings made for the parish church of Belecke in Warstein, now in the Stadtmuseum Schatzkammer Propstei Belecke. See also Schuster, Visuelle Kultvermittlung, 106, 106n964. 23  Schuster, Visuelle Kultvermittlung, 109–17.

24  Schuster, Visuelle Kultvermittlung, 111, and Schnitzler, Rheinische Schatzkammer, 45.



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On the roof would have been ten narrative reliefs with scenes taken from the life of Saint Anno which progress in an order not always chrono­logical or in agreement with the written vita of Anno. According to Schnitzler, the reliefs would have been in the style of the tradition of the saints on the Hadelin Shrine, the lost Remaclus Retable of Stablo, and the Heribert Shrine.25 In her description of the roof reliefs, Schuster provides illustrations for both sides of the shrine roof reliefs, illustrations that are minimal sketches by Herbert Hüsch after the paintings attributed to Fischer.26 On the first side would have been five scenes depicting (1) Anno as the educator of Henry IV (2) Anno’s investiture and his founding of St. Maria ad Gradus near Co­logne Cathedral (3) his foundation of the Abbey of St. George in Co­logne (4) his foundation of the Abbey of St. Michael in Siegburg, and (5) the fire miracle at the consecration of the local altar. On the second side would have been the remaining five scenes depicting (1) the miraculous salvation of two innocently hanged men (2) the healing of a blind person (3) Abbot Gerhard, the patron of the shrine, along with Henricus custos (4) and finally the death and (5) burial of the saint.27 Certainly, some of these scenes might be considered standard for a shrine. Depictions of Anno’s investiture, of the miracles he performed, of his death and burial, and of his portrayal as a founder of important abbeys and churches all serve to confirm him as a saint worthy of veneration. However, not knowing exactly how faithfully the images in the painting correspond to those that were on the shrine itself, we might not have sufficient information to arrive at other specific interpretations of their content, especially with regard to the importance of Anno as a historical figure and the various roles he played. Siegburg was especially important in the reform movement; Anno was a tutor to Henry IV, the monarch who would later become embroiled with Gregory VII at Canossa, which would lead up to the Concordat of Worms; and Gregory himself also engaged in correspondence with Anno regarding Anno’s lack of communication with the papacy and with the clergy under his aegis in Co­logne, these last two to be discussed in Chapter 2. In addition, Bishop Bonizo of Sutri, purported that Anno had actually confronted Gregory for his having “dared to accept the office of Roman pontiff without the king’s command,” thus painting Anno as politically anti-Gregorian.28 In her concluding assessment of the Anno Shrine, Schuster observes: “Anno’s political action recedes in favour of his merit as a cloister founder and miracle worker. It seems to the monks of Siegburg safer and more indisputable to argue in this way.”29 This “safer” representation of Anno, of course, differs from the image of Heribert, who appears interacting with political figures on his shrine. Schuster calls the relief of 25  Schnitzler, Rheinische Schatzkammer, 45.

26  Schuster, Visuelle Kultvermittlung 112–13, figs. 30–31.

27  Schnitzler, Rheinische Schatzkammer, 45; Rhin-Meuse, 321–22, K3; Ornamenta Ecclesiae, 2:457, F90, and fig. 2:458. 28  Papal Reform of the Eleventh Century, 209. For the context, see 208–10.

29  “Annos politisches Handeln tritt zugunsten der Verdienste als Klostergründer und Wundertäter zurück. Es scheint den Mönchen Siegburgs sicherer und unstrittiger zu sein, auf diese Art und Weise zu argumentieren,” Schuster, Visuelle Kultvermittlung, 116.

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Figure 21. Hadelin Shrine, ca. 1150 with 11th-century end gables, L 150 × H 54 × W 34 cm, Church of St. Martin, Visé, Belgium (© KIK-IRPA, Brussels).

Anno’s relationship to the court as a tutor to the imperial son as “the most innocuous of the possible events”30 from a political perspective. On the other hand, ironically one might see this as the beginning of a momentous flare-up in the Church. If, as understood, the person being tutored is Henry IV, this might call into question Anno’s effect on the future emperor who would come into conflict with Gregory VII. In any event, if the Anno Shrine can be seen as apolitical, it puts into greater focus the more audacious message of the Heribert Shrine, available to those who had the ability to see and read it. Thus, despite the lack of most of the Anno Shrine’s original workmanship, perhaps a close study of the secondary evidence would yield a political message. Even though the Anno Shrine was completed a decade after the Heribert Shrine, the political climate in the German Empire during the creation of the Anno Shrine was still under the sway of Frederick Barbarossa. The Hadelin Shrine in Visé

The final Rheno-Mosan shrine to be investigated here is the Hadelin Shrine made for the Abbey of Celles-lez-Dinant but transferred to the Church of St. Martin in Visé in 1338 where it remains today (Fig. 21).31 The shrine, while fundamentally of the twelfth century, has, like other shrines, undergone later interventions necessitating restorations, repairs, and replacements for its conservation, but it also has incorporated into the twelfth-century shrine two eleventh-century end gables from a no-longer-extant shrine. Of greater import is the fact that the Hadelin Shrine is the one other Rheno-Mosan shrine with an extant twelfth-century hagio­graphic narrative cycle which basically remains in its original state with the exception of its first relief, the dream of Hadelin, remade in the fourteenth century to replicate the original. 30  “die unverfänglichste der möglichen Begebenheiten,” Schuster, Visuelle Kultvermittlung, 116.

31  On the Hadelin Shrine see: Rhin-Meuse, 242, G4, and pl. before 229; Didier and Lemeunier, “Châsse de Saint Hadelin”; Bruyère, Église Saint-Martin, 43–51; Lasko, Ars Sacra, 189–93.



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The shrine’s reliefs, dated to about 1150,32 thus precede the pictorial vita in the medallions of the Heribert Shrine. However, assessing the exact narrative nature of this cycle is not without some difficulties in view of the problems posed by the description and the illustrations (and lack thereof) of the first side of the shrine that appeared, especially in the early literature, involving the Hadelin Shrine. The researcher trying to unravel it travels a circuitous route. The problem goes back to the end of the fourteenth century, when, during a dismantling of the shrine, the second and fourth reliefs of its first side were interchanged and remained so even with the second dismantling of the shrine in 1896. It wasn’t until the next important conservation effort, begun in November 1972 and completed in October 1974, that the shrine was returned to Visé with the two reliefs in their proper original order for the first time in over five centuries. 33 Consequently, pre1974 literature on the shrine, unknowingly but erroneously, discussed and illustrated these two reliefs in their transposed order. In that transposition the scene of Remaclus blessing Hadelin was indicated as the fourth scene on the first side of the shrine; however based on Hadelin’s vita,34 that scene would have chrono­logically preceded the two scenes that were at that time before it. Furthermore, a depiction of Remaclus blessing Hadelin would more logically be aligned with the inscription with the word benedictio (blessing) that had remained above and below the then misplaced second scene that depicted Hadelin accepting new entrants to his monastery, a scene that, without close examination of the contents, would appear very similar in composition to its transposed counterpart. In addition, in the scene of Hadelin accepting new entrants, only Hadelin is identified by a titulus and no other figure in the scene could be Remaclus, whereas in the scene of Remaclus blessing Hadelin each one is clearly identified by a titulus. Further complicating matters was the fact that illustrations of the sides of the shrine were in favour of the other side depicting Hadelin’s miracles, thereby giving those wishing information on the shrine little awareness of the visual disposition of the relationship of the above two scenes. Since most of the pre-1974 literature was mainly concerned with the style of the reliefs and their attribution to the hands of different masters, probably little motivation existed to consider or at least question the order of the scenes. In this regard, of particular influence in the persistent misconception was the 1951 article by J. de Borchgrave d’Altena, “Note au sujet de la châsse de Saint Hadelin conservée à Visé,” which not only described the then narrative sequence but also provided individual illustrations that implicitly supported it; however, there was no full illustration of 32  For a discussion of the dating of the shrine, see Didier and Lemeunier, “Châsse de Saint Hadelin,” 173, 181 and 183. Bruyère, Église Saint-Martin, 45, also dates the reliefs “vers 1150.” 33  Didier and Lemeunier, “Châsse de Saint Hadelin,” 110, and for the chronicle of the shrine’s history, 103–5.

34  For Hadelin’s vita, see Meyers, “Vita sancti Hadelini,” 51–64, which provides the Latin text of the anonymous Vita sancti Hadelini as found in Acta Sanctorum, edited by Joannes Bollandus, Antwerp, 1658, AA SS, February 1, pp. 372–76, as well as a French translation of it.

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either side of the shrine.35 The same narrative description continued in the 1973 short mono­graph by Ann Chevalier, La Châsse de Saint Hadelin à Visé,36 and in the 1972 exhibition catalogue Rhin-Meuse, the latter including a full illustration but only of the other side of the shrine.37 Based on the briefly annotated but comprehensive biblio­graphy appearing in Robert Didier and Albert Lemeunier’s 1988 publication of their extensive analysis of the shrine,38 it isn’t exactly evident when the correct order of the two reliefs began to appear in post-1974 publications that mentioned or discussed the shrine, but in 1982 Marcel Durliat’s Art roman contained an illustration of the first side of the shrine with the two scenes in their proper places. Unfortunately, the illustration caption directly underneath identified the four scenes in their former misplaced order, the second scene still identified as the scene in which Hadelin receives disciples instead of the scene in which Remaclus blesses Hadelin. Ironically, even though one can read the titulus Remaclus in the second relief of Durliat’s illustration of the long side of the shrine, on the facing page immediately across from that illustration is a large illustration of just that single panel correctly identified as Remaclus blessing Hadelin! To further confuse the reader wishing more information, in the section of the book providing information regarding the works illustrated, the same wrong ordering of the scenes is repeated.39 However, those fortunate to visit St. Martin in Visé after 1987 were able not only to see the beautifully restored shrine, albeit behind a grill, but also to have the opportunity to purchase Paul Bruyère’s 1987 publication, L’Église Saint-Martin de Visé, which describes the scenes in their proper order and which included a small insert with full-colour illustrations of both sides of the shrine, its two gable ends, and captioned illustrations of each narrative scene beautifully rendered.40 Intended as a guide to visitors to the church, it was probably not readily available to non-visiting scholars. The following year, however, that was remedied by the publication of Didier and Lemeunier’s critical analysis of the dismantled shrine that occurred during its 1972–1974 restoration, a work which unfortunately finds only limited availability, particularly in American libraries.41 Published within a work celebrating the 650th anniversary of the translation of Saint Hadelin’s relics to Visé, the text, accompanied by tables, diagrams, numerous illustrations in black and white and in colour, the latter enlarged 35  Borchgrave d’Altena, “Note au sujet de la châsse de Saint Hadelin,” which in particular deals with the interventions and restorations over time. 36  Chevalier, Châsse de Saint Hadelin.

37  Rhin-Meuse, 242, G4.

38  Didier and Lemeunier, “Châsse de Saint Hadelin,” 185–89. Though shorter, their study is along the lines of what Martin Seidler did for the Heribert Shrine. 39  Durliat, Art roman, 446, fig. 537, and 447, fig. 542. See also 473, no. 537, which repeats the wrong order and gives Dominique Genet as the source of the photo­graph. 40  Bruyère, Église Saint-Martin, 42–51.

41  Of the twenty-five institutions worldwide that WorldCat cites as having a copy, six are in the United States, most of them in a library or museum not likely to lend it, and the remainder in Western Europe, with one copy in Poland.



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versions of those in the Bruyère insert, provides the most comprehensive examination of the various aspects of the shrine: its chrono­logy, its restoration history, its context, its materials, its style, and its images and inscriptions. Apparently the years between the repositioning of the reliefs and the publication of the work of these two scholars slowed the pace of the awareness of the change, for despite their publication, recent works continued to cite the earlier literature when citing the Hadelin Shrine. One might cite two possible exceptions to this lack of awareness. Peter Lasko’s 1994 second edition of his 1972 Ars Sacra does make mention of Didier and Lemeunier’s publication; however, it appears buried in a footnote about a quarrel instigating the moving of the shrine to Visé, and it does not appear in Lasko’s “Select Biblio­graphy.”42 In her 1999 dissertation on the Servatius Shrine, Rita Tekippe has included and obviously seen the book since she makes one specific reference to its authors who see the gable end with Remaclus as the “secondary front” of the Hadelin Shrine.43 Nevertheless, as to the repositioning of the two misplaced reliefs on the first side of the shrine, she makes no mention of it, but her three illustrations (side of the shrine, gable end, single relief) only further confuse the reader. Her chosen figure for the single panel is the scene of Remaclus blessing Hadelin, one of the misplaced panels, which is captioned as a detail of her illustration of the side of the shrine. While the relief is indeed a detail of the side of the shrine, it is not on the side of the shrine she has shown in her illustration!44 Thus, even if the viewer can see that is the case, it does not provide the important information about the reliefs that Didier and Lemeunier have given in their work. In any event, despite these “exceptions,” Treasures in Heaven published in 2011 cites Rhein und Maas published in 1982, and Esther-Luisa Schuster, Virtuelle Kultver­ mittlung, published in 2016, cites Ann Chevalier’s La Châsse de Saint Hadelin à Visé published in 1973 (with the date of 1974).45 Granted that these twenty-first-century works were not providing a full analysis of the Hadelin Shrine reliefs, their readers, 42  Lasko, Ars Sacra, l89 and 297n2, where he cites, among other works, the book within which the analysis of Didier and Lemeunier appears. However, he does not mention either their names or the specific page numbers on which their work appears. In his discussion of the shrine, 189–93, Lasko primarily focuses on its stylistic aspects and the various hands that created it, in particular providing an interesting analysis of the gable ends and their relationship to the present shrine. While during the course of his discussion he does not mention Didier and Lemeunier’s work, his awareness of the book in which it appeared may have informed or at least supported his conclusions. Nevertheless, with regard to the reliefs, in making reference to four scenes on the shrine (190), he puts the scene of Hadelin receiving disciples before the scene of Remaclus blessing Hadelin, that is, in the pre-1974 order. 43  Tekippe, “Procession, Piety, and Politics,” 46.

44  Tekippe, “Procession, Piety, and Politics,” 597, fig. 146, is her illustration of the second side of the Hadelin Shrine. Her fig. 148 (599), the illustration of the scene of Remaclus blessing Hadelin, is identified as a detail of her fig. 146. However, that detail does not appear in her fig. 146 since the scene of Remaclus blessing Hadelin is on the first side of the shrine, not the second side that is depicted in fig. 146. 45  Treasures in Heaven, 160n33, and Schuster, Visuelle Kultvermittlung, 211n1918.

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nevertheless, were being offered a source to pursue, neither of which could provide important new information about the shrine, especially for those interested in the shrine reliefs from a hagio­graphic narrative point of view. Given the lack of information appearing in art-historical biblio­g raphical sources regarding scholarly publications on the Hadelin Shrine since the 1988 work of Didier and Lemeunier,46 their work seems to be of paramount importance for an investigation of the shrine. The following discussion of the reliefs of the Hadelin Shrine will thus be based on their findings.

Figure 22. Hadelin Shrine, gable end, Christ the warrior combating evil (© KIK-IRPA, Brussels).

The shrine as it exists today (Fig. 21) is from various times, a combination of earlier pieces and the results of interventions and restorations. For example, the two gable ends, depicting Christ as a warrior combatting evil (Fig. 22) and Christ crowning Saint Remaclus and Saint Hadelin (Fig. 23), are earlier than the other elements of the present twelfth-century shrine and then at some point were integrated into its current design. These gable ends

Figure 23. Hadelin Shrine, gable end, Christ crowning Hadelin and Remaclus (© KIK-IRPA, Brussels).

46  WorldCat provides nothing newer than the 1988 volume and Brepols’s IMB not only doesn’t provide anything newer but also does not mention the 1988 volume.



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Figure 24. Hadelin Shrine, first side, Hadelin’s dream, 14th-century replacement (© KIK-IRPA, Brussels).

have been, it seems, the most studied of the shrine’s decoration, particularly the gable end with Christ as warrior.47 Unfortunately, if there were panels on the now undecorated roof of the shrine, they are believed to have disappeared in 1793 during the revolutionary wars, but no specific written documentation of them or of their content remains and thus if they ever existed at all.48 The eight narrative reliefs on the sides of the shrine, four per side, depict selected scenes from Hadelin’s life in the order they now appear on the restored shrine. On the first side of the shrine, the first scene (Fig. 24) begins with Hadelin’s calling to a life of service. Asleep but not yet nimbed, he sees in a dream the dove of the Holy Spirit descend upon him, the significance of which he does not know. Awaking, he asks Remaclus, his saintly mentor as indicated by his halo, to explain its meaning as a monk companion looks on. Remaclus informs him that the dove signals his divine mission, revealed to the viewer by the inscription surrounding the scene: “The dove itself indicates the merits by which that one [Hadelin] shines.”49 Both Hadelin and Remaclus are identified by tituli. 47  See the biblio­graphy in Didier and Lemeunier, “Châsse de Saint Hadelin,” 185–89. See also Marcello Angheben, “Christus Victor.” 48  Didier and Lemeunier, “Châsse de Saint Hadelin,” 107–8.

49  ipsa columba docet meritis quibus iste refulget.

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Figure 25. Hadelin Shrine, first side, Hadelin before Remaclus at Stavelot (© KIK-IRPA, Brussels).

In the second scene, (Fig. 25) taking place at the monastery of Stavelot, Remaclus gives Hadelin, his disciple, his blessing. Here the inscription, “The blessing of the holy father gives strength to those who serve him,”50 mirrors Hadelin’s deferential position as a servant, as he is shown bending over deeply from the waist, but without bending his knees, before the saintly Remaclus. Hadelin is now, along with Remaclus, nimbed, and both are identified by tituli. The third scene (Fig. 26) depicting the visit of King Pepin shows the king wearing his crown and holding his sceptre as he stands before Hadelin, who slightly bends his knees in a gesture of respect before the king. Behind Pepin are his retainers in military attire accompanied by a horse while behind Hadelin stands a monk. The king has come with a donation of land for the monastery as a source of revenue. The inscription, “Pepin performs his promise, Hadelin determines what is just,”51 indicates the relationship between the two men, both identified by tituli and the inscription itself. The final scene on this side of the shrine (Fig. 27) compositionally repeats that of the second scene: at left, three figures, one of whom bends in recognition of a hierarchical figure behind whom rises a multilevel church from which an unidentified figure emerges. In this instance the three figures on the left are new disciples who have come to join Hadelin in the monastery at Celles. The inscription “A gentler submission arises 50  vires dat famulis sancti benedictio patris. 51  paret pippinus decernit ius hadelinus.



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Figure 26. Hadelin Shrine, first side, meeting of Hadelin and King Pepin (© KIK-IRPA, Brussels)

Figure 27. Hadelin Shrine, first side, Hadelin receiving new disciples at Celles (© KIK-IRPA, Brussels).

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Figure 28. Hadelin Shrine, second side, Miracle of the source (© KIK-IRPA, Brussels).

Figure 29. Hadelin Shrine, second side, Hadelin healing a mute woman (© KIK-IRPA, Brussels).



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through the merits of virtues”52 again underlines the importance for submission as Hadelin, identified by titulus, points towards the knees of the figure bowing before him. The four scenes on the second side of the shrine evidence Hadelin’s having fulfilled his mission through the performance of miracles in which he helps those who petition him for assistance and his reward for having done so. In the first of these scenes (Fig. 28), after a messenger, whom Hadelin has sent to get water for thirsting harvesters in the fields, does not return, Hadelin himself goes to aid them. Using his staff, he has dug a hole in the ground through which water springs forth to provide life-sustaining water to save the parched harvesters. In the scene Hadelin kneels in prayer before the staff in the earth as beams of light descend on him from the heavens while a harvester opposite him, straddling the flowing source, collects water for himself and his fellow harvesters to drink. The three workers behind him, one of whom holds a sickle, seem amazed. The tied-up sheaves of their labour piled in front of them indicate that, having done their work, they are worthy recipients of Hadelin’s miracle. The inscription, “A pure spirit prays and, with no delay occurring, flowing water springs forth,”53 highlights the necessity for purity of heart in the service of God’s work if a cause-and-effect outcome is to be achieved. Clearly Hadelin has not been found wanting. The tituli on the relief identify the three chief elements of the event: S. Hadelinus, messores (the harvesters), and fons factus (the source). The second miracle (Fig. 29) occurs in the next scene when Hadelin, identified by titulus, heals a mute woman identified by titulus as muta. As she prostrates herself before him, Hadelin leaning on his staff bends down to her as, in response to his prayers, the hand of God emerges from a cloud sending down three shafts of light to announce the miracle. Three men, identified as populus, again stand amazed as one of them points in the direction of Hadelin. The inscription, “With heart he brings to an end the requests and loosens the bonds of the tongue,”54 again shows that his miraculous powers attest to his sanctity. In the following scene (Fig. 30), in his third miracle Hadelin and his disciples come to the site of a dead woman named Guiza. When Hadelin revives her, she hands him her glove as a symbol of her donation to the saint that she had not been able to make before her untimely death. The revived woman still lying on the ground extends her gloved hand toward Hadelin who reaches forward to take it with his left hand as he extends his right hand in a gesture of blessing toward Guiza. The inscription, “Now the deceased stretches out her hand that it be not worthless to you,”55 indicates not only the gift’s importance to Hadelin and the abbey but also the potent Christo­logical miracle of bringing someone back to life. Its impact is marked by the number of faithful onlookers (turma fidelitum) who observe Hadelin’s remarkable resuscitation of the dead (Guiza defuncta). 52  virtutum meritis crescit subiectio mitis. 53  mens orat munda nec fit mora prosilit unda. 54  corde preces solvit et lingue vincla resolvit. 55  iam defuncta manum tendit non sit tibi vanum.

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Figure 30. Hadelin Shrine, second side, Hadelin accepting Guiza’s donation after having resuscitated her (© KIK-IRPA, Brussels).

Figure 31. Hadelin Shrine, second side, Hadelin’s obsequies (© KIK-IRPA, Brussels).



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Fittingly, the final scene (Fig. 31) on this side of the shrine depicts Hadelin’s obsequies. Two figures deferentially lower his shrouded corpse into the awaiting sarcophagus. Behind on both sides stand many mourners as the body is incensed and sprinkled with holy water. The processional crosses held by two mourners frame the message of the event, the passing of Hadelin from death on earth to life in heaven (Transitus Sancti Hadelini) which is embodied in this scene’s inscription, “The passing of Saint Hadelin, the happy soul on high while the body goes to the depths.”56 The above overview of the Hadelin Shrine clearly shows its affinity with the Heribert Shrine, as well as with other contemporary Rheno-Mosan shrines, in terms of the overall message of imitatio Christi. However, it is intriguing that many of the scenes on the Hadelin Shrine are reminiscent of those on the Heribert Shrine, not necessarily in terms of style or identical subject matter but of similar ideas that may be beyond hagio­graphic topoi. For example, on the gable end depicting Christ crowning Hadelin and Remaclus (Fig. 23), the inscription calls them “conquerors of the world celebrated by the glory of their triumph.”57 The gable ends, which are generally dated to the eleventh century, would have been conceived during a time of conflict in the Church, the century which saw Canossa and the Concordat of Worms, and thus the image portrayed could possibly be an allusion to wearers of crowns, in this instance members of the Church, receiving their authority to rule from God. The corresponding end gable with Christ as a warrior treading on the asp and the basilisk (Fig. 22) indicates his triumph over evil, which too can have a relationship to the Heribert Shrine, which shows Heribert triumphing over evil and sin in both the exorcism and reconciliation medallions (Figs. 18 and 19). Like the first scene on the Heribert Shrine (Fig. 9), the first scene on the Hadelin Shrine (Fig. 24) starts with a dream, a dream that also presages a future vocation, and Hadelin, like Heribert, is not yet nimbed. Also, as on the Heribert shrine, light is central to the event depicted, its importance highlighted by the accompanying inscription and its significance revealed by a participant in the event, Remaclus on the Hadelin Shrine and Aaron the Jew on the Heribert Shrine. Symbolically, light indicates the importance of being able to see and thus understand the presence and nature of the divine in the proper world order. Hadelin’s miracle of the source (Fig. 28) and Heribert’s rain miracle ending a drought (Fig. 17) are similar in subject matter in that both deal with bringing water to those in need through the power of prayer and, of course, showing the saint as the agent of God who appears in both instances emerging from a cloud above, the hand of God in this scene and the dove of the Holy Spirit in Heribert’s case. However, particularly striking on the Hadelin Shrine is the number of times images of bending and bowing occur in order to show deference to a person in authority. When Hadelin appears before Remaclus (Fig. 25), his deep bend before his mentor is not merely to be in a position to receive a blessing; it shows the understanding of their 56  it felix anima sursum cum corpus ad ima. 57  victores mundi preclaros laude triumphi.

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respective positions within the hierarchy of the Church. The use of the word famulus in the inscription underscores not only “servant” but also “vassal” as an indication of a relationship within a specific world structure. When Pepin, a king, is shown before Hadelin (Fig. 26), Hadelin shows deference to the worldly ruler by slightly bending his knees before the standing king, a position that keeps their heads on the same level so as not to have Hadelin towering above the king, yet still allowing Hadelin’s halo to outsize Pepin’s crown. Nevertheless, the scene’s inscription suggests a different relationship; paret Pippin can also mean Pepin “obeys” or “is subject to” Hadelin who will determine what is jus, which, besides meaning “just” or “lawful,” as a noun can mean “lawful authority,” thereby connoting Hadelin’s superiority vis-à-vis each other. In the following scene (Fig. 27), Hadelin receives three new disciples, and, as already noted, the inscription itself speaks of submission (subjectio), which becomes objectified in the posture of the figure before Hadelin. On the second side of the shrine, similar relationships are visually evoked. In the miracle of the source (Fig. 28), the harvester bends to fill his bowl with water, but he has been positioned in direct opposition to the kneeling Hadelin as if he is bowing before him in acknowledgment of the saint’s miraculous intervention. In the scene of the healing of the mute woman (Fig. 29), she prostrates herself before Hadelin as heavenly light comes down over her, an indication that, as in the previous miracle, she has been healed through the intercession of the saint before her. Just as in the reconciliation scene on the Heribert Shrine, Henry, asking to be loosened from the bonds of sin, prostrates himself before Heribert (Fig. 19, left), so does the mute woman bend down before Hadelin, begging that her bonds be loosened (vincla resolvit). Given that the final miracle involves resuscitation (Fig. 30), Guiza lies on her back still wrapped in her shroud, her prone position obvious. Hadelin must therefore bend to reach her extended hand. However, the fact that Guiza’s donation is metonymically objectified by the glove on her hand is significant, for in signifying the relationship between a lord and a vassal or serf, the glove thereby also indicates the hierarchical relationship between Hadelin and the donor Guiza. The gift is respectfully given for all the faithful assembled there to witness it. The final scene on this side (Fig. 31) also deals with death and thus preparedness for the final surrender of the earthly body for judgment when only past good works will save, lacking the saintly intervention of the previous scene. Thus, Guiza’s good fortune functions like the scroll held by Heribert in the reconciliation medallion (Fig. 19) on the Heribert Shrine proclaiming he and Henry will see each other no more. Both shrines thus provide a moment for their viewers, whatever their station in life may be, to reflect on their readiness for judgment. If they follow the path laid out before them, their merits too will lead them to the community of saints in paradise, proclaimed not only by inscriptions but also by the heavenly image of the saint on the gable end of their respective shrines. Of course, the above descriptions and observations amount to a very cursory discussion of the Hadelin Shrine, requiring a much more in-depth investigation and many questions to ascertain if a political message was meant. For example, one might ask whether the gable ends were kept or re-used for convenience’s sake or because they



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suited a particular twelfth-century message? Didier and Lemeunier have already indicated that the image on the gable end with Christ as warrior might be read as a reference to Wazo, bishop of Liège, who held that ecclesiastical position from 1042–1048 during the time of the creation of the end gables dated to about 1046. Although Wazo during his time as bishop supported the empire in its beneficial role of protecting the faithful, he was an ardent defender of the primacy of the Church.58 This message could still have resonated in the twelfth century. Did the formation of the twelfth-century shrine occur at a time when there was a crisis in the diocese, thus making the time ripe to allude to it on the shrine? What was the state of the Abbey of Celles at that time? What was the relationship between the Church and the political arena in that area of Belgium at that time that could have warranted an emphasis on submission? While these things are certainly not within the focused scope of this book, they would be worthwhile to investigate if one wished to pursue them. Given the date of the Hadelin Shrine, it might even be possible that the ideas that seem to be present on it may have in some way provided an impetus for the creators of the Heribert Shrine, especially given the compositional borrowing from a scene on the Stavelot Retable for the Heribert Shrine’s exorcism medallion, something which will be discussed below. Despite the problems associated with the above seven shrines, it is still possible that an in-depth investigation of these shrines, especially those with narrative imagery, could yield some political aspect and thus be an avenue for further study of them. However, to my knowledge, no other extant twelfth-century Rheno-Mosan reliquary shrine has the same level of political messaging as appears on the Heribert Shrine, that is, in its narrative scenes. Thus, the excellent state of the Heribert Shrine in terms of its original fabrication makes it an ideal candidate for an investigation of the political implications of its text and images.

A Similarly Themed Outlier

Interestingly, however, a similar theme is found on a much smaller object of a totally different type and from a totally different geo­graphic area but essentially from the same time period as the Heribert Shrine medallions: a Romanesque chalice from Trzemeszno, Poland. Tracing its style back to Southern Germany, most likely to the city of Prüfening, Piotr Skubiszewski dates this chalice made for the priory there to the 1170s or 1180s.59 The twelve scenes on the chalice, taken from 1 Samuel to 2 Kings 4 [1 Kings to 4 Kings 4], are selectively chosen from a vast scope of material and thus, according to Skubiszewski, “do not form a narrative cycle in the true sense of the term.”60 However, for Skubiszewski, the unifying factor in this is the inscription on the 58  Didier and Lemeunier, “Châsse de Saint Hadelin,” 123, where they also posit that Wazo may have himself presided over the icono­graphic program of the shrine, all the more relevant for the reuse of this gable end. On Wazo and his various positions in regard to the Investiture Contest, also see Benson, Bishop-Elect, 207–9.

59  Skubiszewski, “Icono­graphy of a Romanesque Chalice,” 42. 60  Skubiszewski, “Icono­graphy of a Romanesque Chalice,” 45.

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rim of the chalice that “invites Christians to look upon certain deeds or qualities of Kings (unctio regum) and prophets (virtus mistica vatum) as exemplifying the promise of Redemption.”61 Using as evidence the chalice’s images of anointing, crowning, and transmission of power as seen in the Old Testament figures of David, Solomon, Samuel, and the prophet Elijah, and underpinning his analysis with the writings of Rupert of Deutz and Gerhoch of Reichersberg among many others, Skubiszewski arrives at the very same issues seen on the Heribert Shrine. For him, while the reliefs on the chalice do not provide a coherent narrative cycle, the distinct episodes from the Old Testament depicted on it nevertheless coalesce to provide a unified and essentially timeless message regarding the roles of and interactions between rulers and their priestly counterparts. In his discussion he provides several examples in demonstration of kingly abuse of power and its consequence and, in contrast, models of kingly and prophetic moral behaviour and its positive effect: (1) The conflict between a ruler and a priest had consequent punishment for “the sins of superbia and disobedience towards a deputy of God,” after which punishment “God exalts the humble.”62 (2) The conflict of David and Goliath “signified the struggle of Christ, or of his faithful, with Satan manifest in the enemies of His Church,” and David “did not raise his hand against the anointed.”63 (3) The prophet Elijah fulfilled “his mission in adverse conditions under impious kings, so that his life remained a precept for every priest of Christ.”64 (4) Elijah’s miracle of resuscitating the widow’s son “was regarded by most commentators as a type of the power of a priest to remit sins and to bring back the soul to eternal life,” and in his going to heaven, he “bestowed prophetic powers on his successor [Elisha], demonstrating how the apostolic succession was to be accomplished.”65 (5) As set forth in Rhabanus Maurus’s and Rupert of Deutz’s exegesis on Elisha’s miracle regarding the sunken axe-head (2 Kings 6:1–7 [4 Kings 6:1–7]), “the Christian priest [will] come to the sinner and reunite what has been disrupted by vice.”66 In the light of his assessment of the content of these images, Skubiszewski finally concludes: “The commentaries on the behaviour of kings and prophets and their mutual relationships became arguments in treatises dealing with secular power and ecclesiastical authority. These attitudes were established in the time of the great conflict between the Papacy and the Empire.”67 However, given his dating of the chalice to the last quarter of the twelfth century well beyond the Concordat of Worms, in the remainder of the article Skubiszewski reexamines the images “in the light of politi61  Skubiszewski, “Icono­graphy of a Romanesque Chalice,” 45. 62  Skubiszewski, “Icono­graphy of a Romanesque Chalice,” 47. 63  Skubiszewski, “Icono­graphy of a Romanesque Chalice,” 48. 64  Skubiszewski, “Icono­graphy of a Romanesque Chalice,” 49. 65  Skubiszewski, “Icono­graphy of a Romanesque Chalice,” 49.

66  Skubiszewski, “Icono­graphy of a Romanesque Chalice,” 50, 50n58. 67  Skubiszewski, “Icono­graphy of a Romanesque Chalice,” 51.



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cal theo­logy.”68 In conclusion he also sees similar themes in the choir frescoes of the church at Prüfening which have been dated to the third quarter of the twelfth century. There, depicted on the northeast pillar of the crossing, Saint Peter, identified by titulus and wearing the papal tiara and pallium, distributes two swords: the spiritual sword to a bishop on his right and the secular sword to a king or emperor on his left.69 The significance of the concept of the “two swords” with respect to the Investiture Contest will be discussed later in Chapter 3. While Skubiszewski observes that these scenes decorating the chalice find “no analogy in medi­eval icono­graphy,” 70 and while one with a wide knowledge of the object itself may find his argument compelling or not, his analysis of the representations in those scenes clearly transfers to the behaviour of rulers toward their ecclesiastical counterparts, whose names could replace those of the Old Testament prophets and kings referred to on the chalice. The precise points Skubiszewski has singled out above, as will be seen in the chapters that follow, have a truly uncanny relationship to the very themes of the Heribert Shrine with which the Trzemeszno chalice has no other established relationship. Thus, the Trzemeszno chalice provides evidence that even a small object (six inches high), such as a chalice that has liturgical use, can present referential commentary on contemporary political issues related to the Church. From another point of view, believing that attempts to uncover the program of this chalice with its images from the Book of Kings may be futile, Robert Benson sought a more limited approach by focusing on two of the twelve, both on the chalice’s bowl.71 After closely examining the adjoining images of David crowned by Joab (2 Kings 12:30) and David designating Solomon his successor (3 Kings 1:17–21, 1:29–30, 2:2–9), he argues they embody secular views of rulership over time.72 Step by step outlining which twelfth-century ruler most closely matches the views these images put forth, Benson argues that the chalice was most likely made for Frederick Barbarossa.73 Although he admits his evidence can be considered circumstantial, his argument has “high probability,” if not “absolute proof.” However, he acknowledges that the argument related to ruler succession is based only on these two images and that the elusive icono­graphic program of the chalice, which would have to take into account the remaining ten images, “lies beyond the horizon of the explanation attempted in this study.”74 If, on the other hand, Benson is correct in his attribution, that would bring the Trzemeszno chalice into an even closer connection to the Heribert Shrine. 68  Skubiszewski, “Icono­graphy of a Romanesque Chalice,” 52.

69  For an illustration of this scene and its relationship to the Hirsau reform movement, see Dodwell, Pictorial Arts, 305–6. The scene is also illustrated and briefly discussed by Benson, “Politics of Symmetry,” 120–22. 70  Skubiszewski, “Icono­graphy of a Romanesque Chalice,” 43.

71  Benson, “Images of Rulership.” See also the book’s frontispiece, a photo­graph which shows Benson, along with other scholars, examining the chalice in Poznań, Poland, on July 22, 1993. 72  Benson, “Images of Rulership,” 172–73.

73  Benson, “Images of Rulership,” 174–77. 74  Benson, “Images of Rulership,” 177.

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The Nature of Art-Historical Commentary on the Heribert Shrine As already seen, being one of the most noted shrines of the Mosan Rhineland, the Heribert Shrine has not escaped art-historical examination. However, the kind of attention it has received depends upon the nature of the publication, from wide-ranging to specific, and to the particular focus of its author or authors. Thus the Heribert Shrine finds its place, at least in brief discussion, in many different types of books, among them those devoted to works of art from the standpoints of chrono­logy, geo­graphy, hagio­graphy, or artistic medium, as well as in exhibition catalogues and in articles where the shrine is discussed as an example to illustrate a particular point or support a specific argument.75 However, only a limited number of works are entirely devoted to the Heribert Shrine itself, most notably the small work by Hermann Schnitzler and the recently published book by Martin Seidler. In addition to providing a comprehensive review of the previous literature on the shrine, Seidler convincingly establishes its chrono­logy, discusses the history of its making and its various restorations, gives a detailed physical description of the shrine, analyzes its style, and positions it in relation to other shrines and reliquaries both before and after its creation. However, Seidler does not consider its icono­graphy.76 On the other hand, the shrine’s twelve medallions depicting the life of Saint Heribert (ca. 970–1021) have been the subject of scholarly attention in part or as a whole. For example, individual medallions have been the subject of study in relation to a specific theme as, for example, in my articles on the shrine’s dream medallions.77 On the other hand, a few studies focusing on the shrine’s medallions themselves have appeared, mostly in articles specifically devoted to the meaning their images convey. Using the narrative structure, order, arrangement and interrelationships of the pictorial and textual elements of the shrine, Valerie Figge in a semiotic analysis carefully examines the medallions, arguing the shrine’s aim is to highlight Heribert’s role in salvation history through imitatio Christi, a topos that both she and Cynthia Hahn have shown is pervasive in narrative pictorial cycles of bishops’ lives in general.78 In a compelling article, in addition to seeing Heribert presented as a model for emula-

75  For example: Lasko, Ars Sacra; Schnitzler, Rheinische Schatzkammer; Collon-Gevaert, Lejeune, and Stiennon, Treasury of Romanesque Art; Abou-el-Haj, Medi­eval Cult of Saints; Gauthier, Émaux du moyen âge; Rhein und Maas/Rhin-Meuse; Ornamenta Ecclesiae; Treasures of Heaven; and Telesko, “Imitatio Christi,” 369–84. 76  Schnitzler, Schrein des heiligen Heribert. In his book, Schrein des heiligen Heribert, Seidler provides throughout stunning colour illustrations of the shrine, including its various parts, many of their reverse sides and its wooden core and inner shrine, only able to be seen when the shrine was dismantled for study and conservation. The book is based on Seidler’s dissertation, “Studien zum Reliquienschrein,” after which he published a consolidated version of his analysis of the shrine, “Heribertschrein—Rekonstruktionen,” 71–109. 77  Carty, “Dream as Image,” 29–41, and Carty, “Dream Images,” 227–47.

78  Figge, “Einordnung der Heiligengeschichte,” 110–17, and Figge, Bild des Bischofs, and Hahn, Portrayed on the Heart. In the book, which focuses primarily on manu­scripts, Hahn (18) cites the Heribert Shrine among a small number of works “worth mentioning here that will not be otherwise considered.”



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tion, Susanne Wittekind provides a comprehensive and well-argued analysis of the medallions within the wider context of relic veneration as it allied with the depiction of saints’ lives, looking at its historical development in both manu­scripts and shrines culminating in the twelfth century. In doing so, she offers a comparison with other pictorial programs on contemporary shrines.79 In her recent book Visuelle Kultvermit­ tlung: Kölner und Hildesheimer Bishofsbilder im 12. Jahrhundert (Visual Cult Mediation: Representations of Co­logne and Hildesheim Bishops in the 12th Century), an outgrowth of her dissertation, Esther-Luisa Schuster devotes an entire section to Heribert from both a historical and visual perspective. In the process, while not an article in itself, her fairly comprehensive examination of the Heribert Shrine and its medallions becomes a major component of her investigation. However, as her book’s title suggests, the primary focus of her examination of the three Co­logne and two Hildesheim bishops included in her study is the role of the bishop and the ways in which his portrayal through his association with Christ contributes to viewer veneration and emulation. Thus, given that focus, while Schuster occasionally does comment on the Heribert Shrine’s visual content in the context of Church and secular conflict, she does not expand on that relationship in any significant way.80 However, to my knowledge, the theme of the relationship between the Church and the German Empire has not been studied in a comprehensive examination of the shrine’s medallions. Wittekind briefly touches on the subject in discussing the reconciliation medallion, seeing in it a possible admonition to the mid-twelfth-century Co­logne archbishops, particularly Rainald of Dassel, to follow Heribert’s example.81 It is this last aspect that I wish to expand on by demonstrating that the imagery on the shrine goes even beyond the Co­logne archbishops to the wider realm of the relationship between the German Empire and the Church (Regnum et Sacerdotium) and its consequent implications for the Abbey of Deutz and the various viewers of the shrine. Given the time period surrounding the medallions’ creation during the second phase of the shrine’s construction (1166–1175),82 when the political tensions between the German Empire and the Church were at a new height, it is thus reasonable to posit a connection between the images on the shrine and the events and people of that time period. Created during especially turbulent times for the Church, these twelve medallions update the tenth- and eleventh-century events depicted in the medallions by allying them with those of the twelfth century, especially in relation to the then German emperor Frederick Barbarossa, who, as will be seen, was twice excommunicated and a supporter of three antipopes, and to his minions, the Co­logne archbishops Rainald of Dassel and Philip of Heinsberg. These worldly archbishops were the very polar opposites of the Heribert written about in his vitae and of the Heribert 79  Wittekind, “Heiligenviten und Reliquienschmuck,” 7–28.

80  See Schuster, Visuelle Kultvermittlung, 79–97, for her discussion of the shrine and its medallions, and also 74–79 for her discussion of the miniatures in the twelfth-century Codex Thioderici of the Abbey of Deutz. 81  Wittekind, “Heiligenviten und Reliquienschmuck,” 20.

82  See note 4 above regarding the dating of the shrine.

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depicted on the shrine as the epitome of a bishop personified by Charity and Humility and concerned with the welfare of his flock. That connection finds its genesis in two adjacent medallions of the shrine in which two seemingly unrelated events in the life of Saint Heribert,83 the exorcism of a possessed person and Heribert’s reconciliation with Henry II, have been stylistically, thematically, and liturgically conjoined. While at first glance these two medallions seem merely to be distinct and separate episodes showing Heribert’s miraculous power and saintly virtue and serving as part of the shrine’s visual authentication of Heribert’s greatness and his worthiness for veneration, the visual linking of the possessed man and the kneeling emperor is, as will be shown, more than coincidental. In fact, it lies at the heart of the shrine’s point of view regarding the position of the Church vis-à-vis secular rule, the tenth- and eleventhcentury episodes in Heribert’s life serving as commentary on their twelfth-century ramifications.

Laying out the Argument

To arrive at the above goal, I will begin with these two medallions in order to lay the groundwork for what follows: ultimately to reach the conclusion that among its other spiritual messages the shrine also has a political message that when understood is spiritual in nature as well. To that end, Chapter 2 first more closely examines the contents of the two medallions since they form the basis for the argument. Then, to show the means by which the creators of the Heribert Shrine attempted to forge a connection between these two medallions, follows an analyis of the medallions’ textual and visual content, their liturgical and historical linkages, and their relationship to other textual and visual elements of the shrine, as well as a consideration of the possible targets of the shrine’s inscriptions. Finally, a close reading of the shrine’s remaining ten medallions will provide additional evidence that these medallions also support the message of the supremacy of the Church. While the genesis of the message lies in the exorcism and reconciliation medallions, the nine medallions that precede them serve to lay the foundation for that message and the final medallion of the shrine highlights the ultimate importance of adhering to it. Chapter 3 then turns to a discussion of the creators’ most likely impetus for conveying a political message through the shrine’s images and inscriptions. It will begin by examining the influence that Rupert of Deutz, abbot just prior to the shrine’s inception, had on its political messaging. It will consider the events in his life that helped shape his views on the relationship between the Church and secular authority, views expressed in his many exegetical works and their application to the choices he made as the author of Heribert’s vita. However, most important in arguing for a political message of the Heribert Shrine will be a discus83  On the historical Heribert, who was never an abbot of Deutz, see: Müller, Heribert, Kanzler Ottos III (1977); Müller, “Heribert von Köln” (1980), 7–20; Müller, “Heribert, Kanzler Ottos III” (1996), 16–64; and Müller, “Heribert, Kanzler Ottos III” (1998), 22–37. See also Schuster, Visuelle Kultvermittlung, 65–68, where she presents a brief summary of Heribert as a historical figure (Heribert als historische Persönlichkeit).



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sion of the historical relations between the Church and the German Empire during the years before and during the shrine’s creation, especially during the time period when the medallions were being added to the shrine. It will consider the events and the roles of those individuals before and contemporaneous with the shrine’s creation, both within and without the abbey, who would have provided that impetus. Finally, Chapter 4 will consider the various possible motivations the abbey had in creating the shrine itself; the various means by which the shrine revealed its messages and to whom; and the consequent admonitions the shrine’s images and inscriptions offered via the theme of Regnum et Sacerdotium. In conclusion, it will comment on the inherent problems related to the reading of images and texts and what the combination of evidence and visual analysis can yield.

Chapter 2

FRAMING THE ARGUMENT As Cynthia Hahn

points out, “Hagio­graphers often define their subject’s virtue by juxtaposing it against a moral opposite.”1 On the Heribert Shrine this juxtaposition is clearly borne out in the tenth and eleventh medallions which, although late in the sequence of depicted events, show Heribert’s ability to overcome evil and restore the proper world order, to put the Church and the political realm in their proper respective places. In the two seemingly disparate events depicted in these medallions, the conceivers of the shrine’s icono­graphy have encapsulated the shrine’s overall political message that will be reinforced by the medallions that precede them and by what follows and surrounds them. The juxtaposition of Heribert and Emperor Henry II through scenes of exorcism and reconciliation represents the triumph of virtue over vice and of humility and forgiveness over pride, anger, and evil intent. Thus, despite their late appearance in the sequence they will be discussed first since they form the basis for this study’s argument.

The Exorcism Medallion

The tenth medallion (Fig. 18) depicting the exorcism of a possessed man is a story related in chapter 17 of Rupert of Deutz’s Vita Heriberti. As Rupert reports, this exorcism occurred on Palm Sunday during Heribert’s sermon on this solemn feast. The possessed man, who had previously been led through several churches along the route of the Palm Sunday procession in the hope of his being freed from the devil, had found no cure. Then upon hearing Heribert’s sermon, which focused on Christ’s victory over the devil, he began to disturb the congregation with his wailing, gnashing of teeth, and shouting. “Overwhelmed with compassion,” Heribert stopped his sermon and through silent prayer and copious tears effected the exorcism, causing the devil to flee. However, restrained by members of the congregation who believed him still to be possessed, the man repeatedly begged the people to release him so that he could listen to the remainder of Heribert’s sermon. Finally, when released by the crowd, “he stood with a sane mind with the listeners hearing the rest of the sermon.”2 In the medallion the palm frond held by the woman standing with other worshipers indicates that Heribert’s sermon took place on Palm Sunday. The possessed man with flaming hair, a common icono­graphic attribute of the possessed and similar to the depiction of the demons surrounding Satan on fol. 3r of the abbey’s twelfth1  Hahn, Portrayed on the Heart, 42.

2  Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 17, pp. 59–60. On exorcism and exorcists, see Cabrol and Leclercq, “Exorcisme, Exorciste”; New Catholic Encyclopedia (1967), s.vv. “Exorcism and Exorcist”; Russell, Lucifer, 124–28; Sorensen, Possession and Exorcism; and Chave-Mahir, Exorcisme des possédés.

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century codex, wears only a cloak and is “bound by strong restraints.”3 In the medallion he is depicted twice. On the far left of the medallion, having been exorcised by Heribert’s prayers and tears, the man, still fettered, stands behind the worshipers as a humanoid bird-headed demon flees from him.4 Then, in the centre of the medallion, the artist now depicts the unfettered man not, as in the text, still standing with the crowd but kneeling before Heribert who, seated on his bishop’s throne, raises his right hand toward the possessed man’s mouth in a gesture indicating his episcopal power of demonic expulsion as well as the place of the demon’s departure.5 In turn, the possessed man gestures toward Heribert either in a request to keep listening to Heribert’s sermon or in gratitude for his release. Two clerics stand behind Heribert; one attends to his crosier as the other holds what appears to be a piece of parchment, perhaps containing the exorcism ritual.6 Above the capital of the central pillar and directly over the exorcised man, a human-faced lion with dishevelled hair, similar to that of the exorcised man below, smiles broadly, rather than using its sharp-toothed mouth to devour its prey as frequently depicted in Romanesque sculpture. In his Palm Sunday sermon, Honorius of Autun identifies the lion, a ferocious beast subjugating all people through terror, as the Antichrist, but here in the medallion, this ferocious beast, like the possessed man, has been made docile through Heribert’s prayers, the significance of which will be later discussed in regard to the exorcism ritual.7

3  On the depiction of possessed persons, see Artelt, “Besessene, Besessenheit,” and Russell, Lucifer, 129–33. For an illustration of fol. 3r of the abbey codex (Codex Thioderici), see Sinderhauf, Abtei Deutz, 287. 4  On the shape of demons, see Russell, Lucifer, 130–31.

5  On this gesture and its depiction see Hahn, Portrayed on the Heart, 159–62 and figs. 62 and 63.

6  See Chave-Mahir, Exorcisme des possédés, 67–70, regarding written formulas available for use during the exorcism ritual.

7  Honori Augustodon, “Per leonem Antichristus intelligitur,” Speculum Ecclesiae, in PL vol. 172, col. 915.   On the exorcism ritual, see: Pontifical romano-germanique (hereafter PRG), 2, CXV–CXXIV, pp. 193–225. An abbreviated version of the PRG exists in two related twelfth-century Co­logne codices, Co­logne, Cath. Lib., Cods. 139–140, referred to collectively as the Pontificale Coloniense (hereafter PC). Cyrille Vogel and Reinhard Elze, the editors of the PRG, did not use the Co­logne pontifical in establishing their version of the PRG. While information about the Co­logne codices is somewhat sketchy, they are believed to be mid-twelfth century, the very time period of the Heribert Shrine’s creation. For information on and a folio-by-folio view of Codices 139 and 140, go to: https://digital. dombibliothek-koeln.de/handschriften/. On the left, click on Titel; next click on P (on the bar at the top), and then scroll down through the alphabetically listed manu­scripts (there are several) until you get to Pontificale Coloniense for Codex 139 and then, underneath that, for Codex 140. The two are separately listed one after the other. Where the PC parallels the contents of the PRG cited below, the corresponding passages in the PC will also be given.   With regard to exorcism, while the Co­logne pontifical includes most of the PRG rituals for exorcism, it does not include the PRG’s specific rituals for exorcising possessed persons, such as PRG, 2, CXV, cited in the notes below. On the other hand, as in PRG, 1, XV:17–18, p. 17, in PC, Cod. 139, fols. 43v–44r, exorcists have the power to expel demons from a possessed person, an energuminus, and as in PRG, 2, CVII:19–20, pp. 158–59, in PC, Cod. 140, fols. 82v–83r and 84r, during the baptism ceremony of infants the unclean spirit is driven out of them through exorcism. Likewise the exorcism of possessed persons is excluded from the twelfth-century Roman pontifical; only the ordination of



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In terms of the overall composition of this medallion, in arguing for a Mosan origin for the Heribert Shrine, Suzanne Gevaert was the first to note the similarity between this medallion and a panel shown in the 1661 drawing of the now lost mid-twelfthcentury Stavelot Retable. 8 While the compositional similarities between the two scenes are undeniable, the content of the scene on the Stavelot Retable—the parents of Remaclus presenting him to Saint Eligius—bears no relationship to exorcism. Nevertheless, the similarity is intriguing. It is possible that the Stavelot scene was chosen as the model for this Heribert Shrine medallion because the Stavelot scene visually portrayed the same underlying theme as that of the exorcism and reconciliation medallions: submission to a higher authority, in all three instances submission to a saintly bishop. Indeed, one might even question why the designers of the Heribert Shrine chose exorcism as opposed to the healing or curative miracles seen on other twelfth-century shrines, a kind of miracle, for example, already seen on the Hadelin Shrine in Visé and the now lost plaques of the Anno Shrine in Siegburg. It is surely the type of miracle to which pilgrims who were seeking a saint’s assistance at a particular site would better relate. Certainly there were many such miracles to choose from as recorded in the vitae of Rupert and Lambert, the latter having devoted a separate work to them. In addition, of the illustrated shrines Barbara Abou-el-Haj cites, besides the Heribert Shrine, only the exorcist receives the similarly worded separate section with the remaining references being to the exorcism of water, oil, salt, plants, and palm fronds when they are used in specific rituals. For the ordination of the exorcist, see Pontifical romain, 1, VI, pp. 126–27, and for index entries regarding the objects, 4, pp. 222–23. All these are essentially taken from the PRG; as a comparison, see PRG, 3, pp. 177–78, for its exorcism entries. Vogel notes that the authors of the Roman pontifical did away with some rituals such as exorcism because they were “deemed unsuitable to the Roman religious temperament” (Vogel, Medi­eval Liturgy, 251). Of course the omission of the ritual for exorcising a possessed person in the Co­logne and Roman pontificals does not mean that the creators of the shrine’s medallions were unaware of the ritual for exorcising the possessed, for they would have had, if not the actual text, knowledge of the ritual delineated in the PRG since the Co­logne and Roman pontificals contain many verbatim rubrics and rituals found in the PRG.   For information on and the uses of the pontifical and other liturgical books, see Vogel, Medi­eval Liturgy, and Palazzo, Moyen Âge. See also Goddu, “Failure of Exorcism,” in which he investigates the efficacy of exorcism as it came up against skepticism and medical treatments and the way in which the concept and practice of exorcism changed as a result, noting that “the eleventh century in general shows a dramatic rise in the number of exorcisms, a rise that continues unabated to the thirteenth century when it reaches its peak” (549).   Recently Henry Parkes has questioned the methods and the conclusions Michel Andrieu reached in his work, completed by Vogel and Elze, in which a tenth-century Mainz origin was attributed to the PRG and from where it was then disseminated throughout Europe in the following century, the various resulting manu­scripts becoming the support for Andrieu’s thesis. In Parkes’s view, rather than conforming to a single paradigm, the PRG is a compilation of various and at times conflicting rituals that served as “specimens of ritual wisdom” (Parkes, Making of Liturgy, 199), creating a PRG “tradition” to which manu­scripts with individual characteristics belonged in a kind of historical dialogue with one another. For a synopsis of Parkes’s book and of his argument, see M. Cecilia Gaposchkin’s detailed review of it in Speculum 91 (2016), 547–50. 8  Gevaert, “Médaillons emaillés,” 145–48 and figs. 1–2.

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the eleventh-century Arca of San Millàn de la Cogolla depicts exorcism; among other healing miracles of the shrine’s twenty-two original narrative ivory plaques, three depict Emilian expelling demons and one depicts the saint wrestling with the devil. In any case, with the devil as the root of all sin and with illness being a manifestation of sin, exorcism not only was a perfect synecdochic miracle but also, in terms of the Heribert Shrine, served its thematic ends.9

The Reconciliation Medallion

The eleventh medallion (Fig. 19) depicting the reconciliation between Heribert and Emperor Henry II relates to events covered by Rupert in chapters 26 through 28 of his vita. However, to understand the significance of the content of this medallion, it is important to review the events that necessitated a reconciliation. Earlier, in chapter 10 of the vita, Rupert tells of the beginning of the rift between the two men, an event further amplified in the early eleventh-century chronicle of Thietmar of Merseburg (975–1018).10 After the unexpected death of Otto III in Italy in 1002, Heribert, at that time Otto’s chancellor, with the aid of Otto’s army took charge of the process of bringing Otto’s body back to Germany through enemy territory, finally finding haven at Polling, the domain of Bishop Siegfried of Augsburg. There, Henry, then duke of Bavaria, welcomed them, wept copiously over Otto’s body, and, by means of promises, attempted to garner the support of the members of the funeral cortege to make himself Otto’s successor. However, according to Thietmar, Heribert, favouring Hermann, duke of Swabia, did not approve of Henry’s bid for the throne. 11 Concerned about Henry’s legitimate right to succession since Otto had no sons, Heribert, wanting the king to be elected by an established election process, had already sent ahead the holy lance, not only a potent symbol of hereditary succession but also the preeminent symbol of imperial authority, instead of immediately handing it over to Henry with the rest of the imperial insignia.12 At first briefly detained and then forced to leave his brother, 9  Lantbert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, 202–63. Abou-el-Haj, Medi­eval Cult of Saints, 154–55. On the Arca of San Millàn de la Cogolla, see Harris, “Arca of San Millan.” On the devil as the root of all sin and with illness being a manifestation of sin, see Chave-Mahir, Exorcisme des possédés, 39–47.

10  Thietmar of Merseburg, 4:50, Ottonian Germany, 187–88. This event is discussed in Gussone, “Religion in a Crisis of Interregnum,” 124–26. For the Latin text of Thietmar’s chronicle see: Thietmar of Merseburg, Chronik. 11  Thietmar, 4:50, Ottonian Germany, 187–88.

12  Otto having died childless, Henry of Bavaria’s justification for his right to succession came from the fact that both he and Otto were descended from King Henry I (919–936), whose sons were Otto III’s and Henry II’s respective grandfathers, with Otto’s grandfather, the older of the two, having become Emperor Otto I. For an illustration of this branch of the family tree, see Kaiser Heinrich II, 14. On the role of succession in the election of German kings, see Gussone, “Religion in a Crisis of Interregnum,” 120–21, 120n9, which also provides an extensive biblio­graphy on the subject. Specifically on Henry II, see also Mayr-Harting, Ottonian Book Illumination, pt. 1, pp. 193–96.   As to the holy lance, oddly Thietmar is silent about where Heribert sent it, only saying,



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Bishop Henry of Würzburg, behind as a guarantee, Heribert left Polling to retrieve and send back the holy lance. When Henry obtained it, he then took possession of Otto’s body, which ultimately came to Co­logne during Holy Week, where Heribert received it, before it went to Aachen for burial.13 Nevertheless, even though Heribert had quickly released the holy lance to Henry, Heribert’s subsequent absence from Henry’s election gave rise, according to Rupert, to suspicion about Heribert’s loyalties, and, siding with those who denounced Heribert, Henry “persecuted him with an untiring hatred.”14 However, as Rupert says in chapter 26, what brought the matter to a head after years of rancour was Heribert’s failure to come to Henry’s aid in his siege against Count Otto at Hammerstein. Not accepting Heribert’s illness as adequate warrant for his inability to come to him, Henry, after defeating his enemy, came to Co­logne with the intent of removing Heribert from office by whatever means necessary.15 But despite this long-held animosity, as Rupert relates in chapter 27, Henry had a change of heart when on the night of his arrival an old man, whom Lambert in his vita tentatively identifies as Saint Peter,16 appeared to him in a dream warning him he would be severely judged by God if he brought harm to Heribert. The next day when Henry summoned Heribert to him, Heribert was amazed when the contrite emperor, standing up from his throne, embraced him, admitting his sins and kissing Heribert three times, binding the two of them in friendship.17 Notwithstanding this reversal of events, in chapter 28 Rupert tells us that on the following night the emperor, still disturbed about his past rancour, not finding Heribert in his room but encountering him in prayer near the Chapel of St. John, threw himself at Heribert’s feet and begged for pardon. After lifting him up and absolving him, Heribert prophesied that death would soon separate them, the announcement so saddening the emperor that he once again embraced Heribert “crying at the same time, and also caressing all his limbs, hands, eyes, and neck with fixed kisses.”18 “Archbishop Heribert had secretly sent ahead...and soon sent back the holy lance,” Thietmar of Merseburg, 4:50, Ottonian Germany, 187. Regarding speculation about this omission, see Müller “Heribert, Kanzler Ottos III” (1996), 33–38, and Müller, Heribert, Kanzler Ottos III (1977), 154-59. In addition, the lance also held religious importance since a nail from Christ’s cross was affixed to it. On the significance of the holy lance, see Adelson, “Holy Lance,” 177–92. 13  See Thietmar of Merseburg, 4:51 and 53, Ottonian Germany, 188 and 189–90. On Henry’s actions during his possession of Otto’s body and his possible motivations, see Buc, Dangers of Ritual, 83–84. 14  Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 10, p. 48.

15  Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 26, pp. 69–71.

16  Lantbert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 10, p. 180. As the rock upon which the Church was built, Peter was the ultimate symbol for the power of the Church to subjugate the imperial realm. Peter was also the patron of Co­logne Cathedral. Folio 16v of the Hillinus Codex (Co­logne, Cathedral MS 12, Co­logne, ca. 1020–1030) showing Hillinus presenting the codex to Saint Peter contains in its upper part a representation of the cathedral. For this manu­script and an illustration of this folio, see note 7 above regarding accessing manu­scripts in the Co­logne Cathedral library on line. 17  Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 27, pp. 71–72. 18  Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 28, pp. 72–74.

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Although the inscription encircling the medallion incorporates one aspect of the textual first encounter in Henry’s throne room, that is, Henry’s kissing Heribert three times (ter prebens oscula pacis), the medallion itself focuses on the following night when Henry came to Heribert, and this encounter is divided into two distinct scenes. In the left half of the medallion, Henry is shown kneeling before Heribert who, wearing his mitre and chasuble and standing presumably in the Chapel of St. John19 in front of an altar with chalice and lighted candle, places his hands on the emperor’s crown, pardoning him. Both are identified by inscription, Heribert as saint, Henry as king. In the right half of the medallion, in another part of the cathedral complex, perhaps Heribert’s room where Henry had first sought Heribert, Henry in a protective gesture pulls his mantle around the now informally attired Heribert and embraces him while an imperial guard holding a large sword looks on. From Heribert’s right hand unfolds a scroll with the inscription saying that the two will see each other no more (ampliu[s] n[on] videbim[us] facie[m] n[ostram]).

Connecting the Two Medallions Once one focuses on these two medallions (Figs. 18 and 19), it becomes apparent that Henry II is essentially the reverse image of the exorcised man and that the medallions, in their bipartite division and ecclesiastical superstructure, correspond visually and, in their visual and textual content, relate thematically. Just as the exorcised man, depicted below a column supporting the architectural superstructure, kneels in a genuflected pose indicating supplication even though Rupert’s text has him standing, so too Henry, depicted below a similarly styled column, kneels lower still with head bowed also indicating supplication but, more important, submission, even though Rupert says Henry was “stretched out on the ground before his [Heribert’s] feet.”20 The departure from the text in both instances must indicate that the shrine’s creators wished to show a deliberate pairing of the two figures to form a visual and thematic connection between them. In the same way as the exorcised man had approached Heribert on bended knee after the devil had left him, Henry now humbly kneels before Heribert after they had already reconciled the previous night. Despite Henry’s body not being completely prone as Rupert describes it, Henry’s position is, nevertheless, equivalent to it in terms of its supplicatory intent. As Geoffrey Koziol notes: “Supplication is simply the act of begging a favor or forgiveness...and usually entailed some physical gesture of subordination, ranging from a simple bowing of head or torso to a complete prostration...All that was essential was a formal language of entreaty. “21 In addition, 19  On the representation of the Chapel of St. John in the medallion, see Müller, “Heribert, Kanzler Ottos III” (1996), 50–51, and Wolff, Co­logne Cathedral, 9 and 8, fig. 5, which provides the suggested reconstruction of the ground plan that includes the chapel. For the abbey church of Deutz, see Singleton, “Köln-Deutz,” 54–58, and pl. X. 20  Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 28, p. 73.

21  Koziol, Begging Pardon and Favor, 8. The fact that Koziol at least three times (8, 10, and 65) speaks of “complete” or “full” prostration implies there can be varying positions of prostration.



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gestures create another similarity, for in both medallions Heribert gestures toward the men as if to indicate the source of the problem: the mouth of the exorcised man from which the demon had exited and from which his cries came forth and the head of Henry which had harboured his unbridled hatred of Heribert that was to be settled at all costs. Textual associations also link these two men seeking Heribert’s intervention. Like the possessed man wanting to be freed, the emperor too, Rupert tells us, let out a yell in Heribert’s presence.22 Like the possessed man who implores Heribert to be released, Henry also asks to be released from his sins. Like the possessed man who is shackled in chains, Henry asks to be loosed from the bonds of his sins, and Rupert in his vita, echoing biblical and liturgical texts, underscores Heribert’s power to do so as successor to the apostles.23 Just as Heribert unfetters the possessed man, he likewise frees Henry from the fetters of sin, loosing on earth what is loosed in heaven. Heribert thus acts as the successor to Saint Peter, who has prompted Henry to repent. Still other details confirm an association between the two medallions. When Henry arrived during the night seeking Heribert, the emperor, as Rupert tells us, found him praying; thus, Heribert would not have been wearing his liturgical vestments, the chasuble and mitre, as he does in this scene. Why then this anomaly when no liturgical service had clearly been taking place? The second scene in the medallion provides a clue. Heribert’s informal attire when subsequently Henry and Heribert embrace serves as a distinct contrast in order to confer an official, liturgical character on Henry’s “exorcism,” the defining moment when in loosing Henry of his sin Heribert is victorious over the devil, the precise subject of Heribert’s Palm Sunday sermon in the exorcism medallion episode.24 Furthermore, objects in each of the medallions can be seen in their opposite placement to highlight the importance of the Church. In the reconciliation medallion the sword held by the imperial guard is the metonymic sign of the emperor’s responsibility to protect the Church, a responsibility visually affirmed by the protective power For example, see his fig. 1, p. 64, which shows the virtue Humility curled up as opposed to lying prone. Also Jean-Claude Schmitt, Raison des gestes, 301–20, discusses various bodily positions (inclinaisons) from the twelfth century and beyond, primarily in the context of prayer. 22  Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 28, p. 73.

23  Henry asks Heribert, through the power that the Lord confers on his priests, to pardon him for everything he has committed against him. Then Rupert, quoting Matthew 18:18, Christ’s conferring on the apostles the power of binding and loosing simultaneously on earth and in heaven, follows with Heribert’s absolution of Henry (Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 28, p. 73). This is the same power stated in reference to absolution in PRG, 2, XCIX:244, p. 64, and 246, p. 65; in PC, Cod. 140, fols. 52r–v and 55v; and in Pontifical romain, 1, XXXa:21, p. 218, and 24, p. 219.

24  The Y-shaped band on the chasuble that Heribert wears in this medallion is not the pallium he wears in the other medallions for his public ecclesiastical functions but an orphrey, which resembles the pallium in its form but, unlike it, has no crosses on it. Also unlike the pallium, the orphrey is believed to be merely ornamental in nature. On the form of the orphrey for this period, see Braun, Liturgische Gewandung, 212–15, and Johnstone, High Fashion, 13 and 141. For the pallium see note 108 below.

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of the emperor’s embrace and his enveloping mantle, which both the emperor and the sword bearer securely grasp. In opposition to the sword are the chalice and the candlestick with its lighted candle, the candlestick identified with the Church and the light of its candle with Heribert in chapter 10 of Rupert’s vita.25 The crosier held by the acolyte in the exorcism medallion is also symbolically opposed to the imperial sword, all these objects serving to represent the power of the Church over imperial power. Within the exorcism medallion the crosier, indicating the ecclesiastical authority of the bishop, is opposed to the demon, thereby representing the power of the Church through its bishops to extirpate evil.26 In addition, the woman in the exorcism medallion holds a palm frond in much the same way as Henry’s servant holds his sword. Her palm frond refers to the fact that the exorcism occurred on Palm Sunday, the day when, according to the Palm Sunday liturgy, the flowers and fronds are exorcised and the olive branches and palms are blessed.27 In this medallion the palm, a symbol of victory,28 points to the exorcised man’s mouth from which the demon has just exited as the result of Heribert’s victory over the devil. In the reconciliation medallion the sword points to the word necat (kills) in the phrase corda cruenta necat venia (Forgiveness kills bloodthirsty hearts), forgiveness the means by which Heribert is victorious over the anger which divided the two men.29 In the exorcism medallion the man prominently holds directly over the head of the exorcised man what must be, given the Palm Sunday liturgy, a stylized olive branch. Both he and Heribert specifically point to the branch as Heribert raises his right hand toward the exorcised man’s mouth. As Genesis relates, the dove brings the olive branch back to Noah as the sign that God’s anger at man’s sins has been appeased and that the flood with which he has destroyed the earth and all living things on it has receded; the world has been made whole again 25  Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 10, p. 47.

26  According to Elizabeth Ann Leeper (“Exorcism in Early Christianity,” 273), in the baptismal ceremony “exorcism implanted the right regard for legitimate authority and recognition of the church’s hierarchy...Socialization of the convert included the right orientation towards the church’s authority figures, which, in an age of increasing clericalization, meant the bishop.” In view of his episcopal authority, in loosing Henry from his sin, Heribert was giving him readmittance into the Christian community because Henry now showed the “right orientation towards the church’s authority figures.” 27  PRG, 2, XCIX:168–77, pp. 42–45; PC, Cod. 140, fols. 11v–18r.

28  “Cum palmis victoriae” (PRG, 2, XCIX:177, p. 45, and PC, Cod. 140, fol. 18r).

29  While Rupert concentrates on Henry’s anger, according to the medallion’s inscription (rex du bene placat iram pontificis), it is Henry who appeases the archbishop’s anger, surprisingly making Heribert seem to violate Saint Paul’s dictum that a bishop should not be “subject to anger” (Titus 1:7). However, one finds numerous biblical references to the Lord’s righteous anger, mainly, but not exclusively, in the Old Testament. Of course, a notable demonstration of Christ’s anger is his furious reaction to the moneychangers in the temple (Matt. 21:12–13). Perhaps then the creators of the shrine saw Heribert’s anger as righteous in the face of what Rupert described as Henry’s responding to Heribert “with a great fury and irascible spirit,” hastening to Co­logne with “the burning fire of his fury,” and his having “always persecuted Heribert with an untiring hatred” (Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 26, p. 70 and chap. 10, p. 48), thereby making Heribert’s act of forgiveness even the more virtuous.



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for the just. The pontifical texts for Palm Sunday, referring to the olive branch as God’s sign of peace with Noah, ask that the blessing of the olive branches may lead to victory over the enemy through devotion and good works.30 This emphasis on the olive branch as a symbol of peace and reconciliation transfers equally to the scene in the following medallion where Henry has metaphorically extended an olive branch to Heribert in throwing himself at Heribert’s feet to be absolved from his sins and restore a peaceful relationship. Again, as signified by the use of hands, the enemy of old has been vanquished, for Heribert accepts Henry’s gesture by placing his hands on Henry’s head. In effect, Heribert’s laying hands on Henry’s head to absolve him of his anger is a brilliant pictorial reversal of Rupert’s textual assertion that Henry had come with the malicious intention of laying hands on Heribert.31 In addition, elements not specifically depicted in these two medallions can still tie them to each other through references to Rupert’s vita. In chapter 26, Rupert uses storm imagery to show Henry’s state of mind as he contemplates causing harm to Heribert: “a contrary wind stirred up great waves in the mind of the emperor,”32 and God silenced the sea thereby changing the atmosphere that later would allow Henry’s evil intentions to be “exorcised.” In fact, folio 103v of the Gospel Book of Otto III (998–1001), relating two events from Matthew 8:23–33, pairs Christ’s calming of the waves with his exorcising demons, the winds calmed and the possessed exorcised with the identical gesture: Christ’s extended arm ending in two outstretched fingers pointed at the intended target, equally confronting the winds and the demon emanating from the mouth of the possessed.33 In the exorcism medallion the configuration of Heribert’s fingers mirrors this very gesture. The baptism liturgy in the pontificals also makes the gospel pairing clear when the priest exorcises the unclean spirit by the command of Christ who walked over the sea.34 Similarly, weeping, an expression not only of sorrow and grief but also, in medi­eval times, of humility and penance, can be related to both Heribert and Henry.35 Before

30  Gen. 8:6–22. For the pontificals see: PRG, 2, XCIX:169–77, pp. 42–44; PC, Cod. 140, fols. 12r–18r; and Pontifical romain, 1, XXIX:7–13, pp. 211–12. 31  Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 27, p. 72.

32  Porro maiores fluctus illi excitabat in imperatoris animo ventus contrarius, Rupert of Deutz, Vita Heriberti, 26, p. 69.

33  The Gospel Book of Otto III is Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Clm. 4453. For an illustration of folio 103v, see Mayr-Harting, Ottonian Book Illumination, pt. 1, p. 116, fig. 72. On its imagery as connected to exorcism, see Sorensen, Possession and Exorcism, 134, in particular n. 113. Also see Schmitt, Raison des gestes, 127–31, where, in his discussion of instances of exorcism, his illustration 14, p. 129, shows Christ using the same gesture. See as well note 5 above, which cites Hahn on the nature of this gesture. It should also be noted that, just like demons who are cast out and flee during exorcism, the adversaries of Heribert who had inflamed Henry’s hatred and accompanied him to Co­logne, according to Rupert, “were immediately turned to flight” when Henry was “exorcised” of his sin (Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 27, p. 72). 34  PRG, 2, CVII:19, p. 158; PC, Cod. 140, fol. 83r.

35  For example, Thietmar writes of Otto III: “Though he outwardly assumed a cheerful expression, his inner conscience groaned under the weight of many misdeeds from which, in the silence of

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Heribert begins to exorcise the possessed man, in addition to praying, as already noted he sheds copious tears, an expression of piety in recognizing his position as an instrument of God. In his reconciliation with Heribert, after being forgiven Henry weeps when Heribert predicts his own imminent death, no doubt a cause for sorrow as the two have just reconciled. Thus, Henry’s weeping could also be construed as remorse and penance for his failure to believe that Heribert had indeed told the truth in giving illness as his reason for not coming to Henry’s aid in his siege against Count Otto at Hammerstein. Yet the medallions may contain still other allusions to weeping. In the exorcism medallion, the alignment of the figures on the left suggests the representation of the Palm Sunday procession, which would function as a reminder of Heribert’s role when Otto III’s body was brought to Co­logne in 1002 on Palm Sunday. In the Holy Week that followed, the body of Otto was carried in procession to the main Co­logne churches, starting with Saint Severin on Monday and ending at the cathedral of Saint Peter on Holy Thursday when Heribert, giving Otto final absolution, also absolved penitents who gained remission of their sins through public weeping. 36 As for Henry, at the inception of the rift between him and Heribert, when the entourage bearing the corpse of Otto III had arrived at Polling, Henry had wept to such a degree that, according to Thietmar of Merseburg, it renewed everyone’s sorrow.37 While one cannot definitively ascribe motives, Henry’s weeping, a medi­eval convention, could also be seen as feigned sincerity in an attempt to garner the support of each member of the entourage to proclaim him Otto’s successor in opposition to Heribert’s lack of support.38 night, he continually sought to cleanse himself through vigils, earnest prayers, and rivers of tears” (Thietmar of Merseburg, 4:48, Ottonian Germany, 186). See Gussone, “Religion in a Crisis of Interregnum,” 126 and nn. 33 and 34. In discussing a penitent’s sincerity, Koziol (Begging Pardon and Favor, 318) cites Rhabanus Maurus and Hincmar of Reims on the importance of tears. See also Hamilton, Practice of Penance, 110 and 139, on specific instances of the use of tears in a penitential act. With regard to tears and other forms of non-verbal communication, see Bagge, Kings, Politics, and the Right Order, 168–69.

36  See Thietmar of Merseburg, 4:53, Ottonian Germany, 189–90. Gussone (“Religion in a Crisis of Interregnum,” 128–31) describes this event and provides a map of the route the procession took.   Noting that Thietmar disapproved because the ceremony detracted from the joyful celebration of Easter, Mayr-Harting posits that given Heribert’s lack of support for Henry, Thietmar may even have been ascribing ulterior motives to Heribert for having chosen Palm Sunday, “using Otto’s body as a means of counteracting the ceremonial propaganda with which the latter [Henry] was making his succession bid” (Mayr-Harting, Ottonian Book Illumination, pt. 1, pp. 119–20). In fact, Thietmar notes: “The majority of the nobles who attended the funeral procession promised Duke Herman [Heribert’s preference] their support in acquiring and securing the royal dignity and falsely declared that Henry was not suitable for this for a variety of reasons” (Thietmar of Merseburg, 4:54, Ottonian Germany, 190). Indeed, Thietmar thought Henry was worthy of the honours owed him and devoted the rest of his chronicle, Books 5–8, to him. For a discussion of Thietmar’s motivations in supporting Henry’s succession, see Bagge, Kings, Politics, and the Right Order, 107–34. 37  Thietmar of Merseburg, 4:50, Ottonian Germany, 187.

38  Immediately following his description of Henry’s tears, Thietmar adds: “Henry urged each of them [those present with Otto’s body], individually, to choose him as their lord and king, and made many promises” (Thietmar of Merseburg, 4:50, Ottonian Germany, 187). See Koziol, Begging Pardon



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Thus, if Henry’s weeping had been false then, it would give him yet another reason now for his penitential tears. Still other connections exist between these two medallions. In several ways the use of oil links exorcism, baptism, and coronation. The liturgical text for exorcism refers to the oil used in the anointing of kings,39 and in the baptismal ceremony the exorcism is followed by the anointing with exorcised oil in the same manner as in the coronation ceremony.40 In the shrine’s reconciliation medallion, Heribert’s “laying on of hands” on Henry is like a second baptism, for Henry must be exorcised of sin before receiving grace. In the exorcism ritual the priest places his hand on the head of the possessed, commanding the devil to depart and to be replaced by the Holy Spirit.41 However, the fact that Heribert places his hands directly on Henry’s crown also alludes to Co­logne’s and thus the Church’s role in the coronation ceremony without which the emperor would not have his authority to rule. According to tradition, beginning with Otto I in 936 and continuing through the reign of Otto III, Henry’s immediate predecessor, German kings were consecrated and crowned by the archbishop of Co­logne in Aachen. Through Charlemagne, this site was connected with imperial rulership, which German kings would next acquire from the pope in Rome.42 However, in 1002 Henry became the first German king to be crowned in Mainz Cathedral by Willigis, the archbishop of Mainz, instead of in Aachen by Heribert, who as archbishop of Co­logne had jurisdiction for coronation in Aachen. Consequently, Henry’s action was considered not only and Favor, 292–94 and 316–21, regarding cynicism and hypocrisy and the meaning of ritual.

39  PRG, 2, XCIX:177, p. 45; PC, Cod. 140, fol. 17r. See Sorensen, Possession and Exorcism, 211n120, about the significance of the laying on of hands.

40  PRG, 2, CVII:27, p. 160; PC, Cod. 140, fols. 92r–v. In the imperial coronation ceremony, after the emperor has prostrated himself and before he is crowned, he is anointed with the exorcised oil (PRG, 1, LXXV [Ordo XLV]:5, pp. 263–64). While the Co­logne pontifical does not have the same condensed wording, it does, however, follow the same ceremonial order with prayers intervening. In PC, Cod. 139, the king prostrates himself (fol. 22v) and is then anointed with sanctified oil in the same manner (fol. 26r) before receiving his crown (fol. 35r). For a specific relationship between baptism and coronation, see Deshman, “Christus rex,” 386–88 and 399. 41  PRG, 2, CXV:24, p. 198.

42  For an overview of crowning in Aachen, see Krönungen: Könige in Aachen, in particular the essays of Silvinus Müller, “Königskrönungen,” vol. 1, 49–58, and Militzer, “Erzbischof von Köln,” vol. 1, 105–11, both essays with an English summary. It was, however, not until May 7, 1052, that Pope Leo IX issued a diploma officially granting to Co­logne the sole right to consecrate and crown the German kings in Aachen. See Seibert, “Köln: B. Erzbistum,” col. 1262. Regarding the context for this diploma, see Kluger, “Propter claritatem generis,” 223–25. According to Seibert, this privilege may even go back to Heribert’s successor, Archbishop Pilgrim (1021–1036), who is also depicted in the Heribert Shrine’s foundation dream. See Seibert, “Pilgrim,” 440. In any event, at the time the shrine’s medallions were being created, Co­logne’s right to crown the German king had already existed for over a century. In fact, Frederick Barbarossa himself referred to it, albeit in another context, saying: “The anointing as king we recognize as the prerogative of the archbishop of Co­ logne” (Otto of Freising, Deeds of Frederick Barbarossa, 3:xvii [xvi], p. 193). For the Latin text of this work, see Otto of Freising, Ottonis et Rahewini Gesta, for the corresponding books and chapters cited herein unless a specific citation for Latin cited in the text is deemed needed. For example, see chap. 3, n. 34 below.

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contrary to an established custom but also an affront to Heribert, perhaps in retaliation for his lack of support of Henry’s election. Thus the “crowning” on the Heribert Shrine acts symbolically to authenticate Henry’s kingship as well as to indicate the role of the Church as the instrument in conveying the authority to rule, a subject to be taken up in Chapter 3.43 Additionally, Heribert’s simultaneously exorcising Henry’s sin and bestowing on him his crown, a symbol of his authority to rule in the earthly sphere, allude to Henry’s future sanctity in the heavenly sphere. In providing absolution to Henry, Heribert was, as it were, paving the way for Henry’s future sainthood, not indicated here with either halo or rubric but officially declared by Pope Eugenius III in 1146, just one year prior to the elevation of Heribert’s holy remains.44 An illumination from a Reichenau manu­script (ca. 1000) containing the text of and commentary on the Song of Songs (Bamberg, Staatsbibliothek, MS Bibl. 22, fol. 4v) supports this representation of kingly sanctity. It depicts the procession to heaven of all those who have achieved sanctity through baptism; all have halos except the kings whose sanctity is indicated merely by their crowns.45 The liturgy of baptism incorporates exorcism as a means of purifying the soul and preparing it to receive God’s grace and, exactly as the illumination shows, salvation is achieved through the drinking of Christ’s blood shed on the cross dispensed by Eccle­ sia through the Eucharistic chalice. Since, as noted, Rupert states that Henry, in looking for Heribert, found him in prayer near the Chapel of St. John, the appearance of a chalice on the altar does not refer to a liturgical ceremony occurring in the text. Rather 43  On Henry’s coronation, see Adalbaldo, Vita Heinrici II, 685. See also Adalbaldo, Vita sancti Heinrici regis for Marcus Stumpf’s full study of the various recensions of Adalbaldo’s vita of Henry. Adalbaldo’s life also appears in a French translation; see Adalbold d’Utrecht, Vie d’Henri II, in particular, 180, no. 6. For Thietmar’s account, see Thietmar of Merseburg, 5:11 and 20, Ottonian Germany, 213 and 219. See also: Gussone, “Religion in a Crisis of Interregnum,” 132–34, and Bagge, Kings, Politics, and the Right Order, 117 and 124–25. In another context, Bagge (196) also notes that Wipo in his Gesta Chuonradi argues that unction and coronation change a man and that this transformation “obliges him to forget personal enmity.” Thus beyond the symbolic legitimization of Henry’s right to rule, Heribert’s crowning has also served as a reminder of the obligations that come with the office, in this instance Henry’s abdication of his anger and hostility toward Heribert as discussed above. It should be noted, however, that Bagge (189 and 195) does say that although the Gesta Chuonradi was not widely known during the Middle Ages, Otto of Freising was aware of it and that many of Wipo’s ideas about coronation were already implicit in the Mainz coronation ordo. For an English translation of Wipo’s Gesta Chuonradi, see: Wipo, Deeds of Conrad II, 52–100, especially 67–68, where Wipo recounts the admonitions the Archbishop of Mainz gave to Conrad at his consecration regarding his future dealings with those who had opposed him since now God’s love “has changed you today into another man.” Schuster (Visuelle Kultvermittlung, 94), following the argument put forth by Kiril Petkov, rejects the notion that Heribert in this medallion is “crowning” Henry.

44  On Henry’s canonization see Kemp, Canonization and Authority, 78–79, and Schneidmüller, “Ein­ zigartig Geliebte Stadt,” 50–51, which also has an illustration of the canonization bull, 51, fig. 20.

45  For an illustration of this folio, see Mayr-Harting, Ottonian Book Illumination, pt. 2, pl. II, and for his discussion of it, pt. 2, pp. 31–45, in particular p. 31 and accompanying n. 41 (p. 232), as well as pp. 35 and 42. See also Palazzo, Liturgie et société, 169, fig. 5, which he discusses from a liturgical and eschato­logical point of view (168–69).



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it serves as an allusion to the remission of Henry’s sin and his admittance into the community of the saints achieved through Christ’s sacrifice and the efficacy of Heribert’s power to remit sins. While there is no evidence that this Reichenau manu­script was known at Deutz, it was part of the library or treasure of Otto III, who had provided the funding for the Abbey of Deutz, and was given to Bamberg by Henry II. As to the illumination in question (fol. 4v), Henry Mayr-Harting identifies Saint Peter as the person baptizing, the person who allows entry into the heavenly realm and who, in Lambert’s Vita Heri­ berti, was the person who warned Henry II that he would be severely judged by God if he brought harm to Heribert and, consequently, would not be able to enter heaven if he persisted in his intent. Furthermore, according to Mayr-Harting the unidentified woman to whom Ecclesia hands the chalice may be Mary, who has been identified as the bride in the Song of Songs, an identification that had all but disappeared in the early Middle Ages but was revived by Rupert of Deutz whose Commentary on the Song of Songs was widely known at the time.46 Thus, it may be possible that these concepts, even if not the illustration itself, somehow resided in the consciousness of the designers of the shrine’s medallion. Another if more subtle connection between the exorcism and reconciliation medallions that indicates the supremacy of the Church is forged by the text of the exorcism ritual and by what is seemingly a minor detail in the exorcism medallion. According to the exorcism ritual in the tenth-century Romano-Germanic pontifical, in order to effect the exorcism the priest seeks the aid of Christ, to whom every creature is subject and which, hearing the name of the Lord, grows tame.47 Among the list of venomous creatures mentioned—various serpents, a toad, a scorpion, and a spider—one type of serpent (regulus) which is singled out as conquered (regulus vincitur) can also mean a young king or kinglet and thus subordinate in rank.48 The content of this prayer could thus be related to Henry’s need to subject himself to a higher authority so that he can be exorcised of his venomous anger. However, a further connection can be seen in the exorcism medallion where the smiling, human-faced beast above the capital of the pillar is aligned directly over the exorcised man. Being the only representation of something above a pillar in the architectural representations on the shrine, it must have some significance. As already noted, in his Palm Sunday sermon Honorius of Autun identified the lion, a ferocious creature subjugating all people through terror, as the Antichrist. Although the lion is not one of the creatures specifically mentioned in the exorcism ritual, through the exorcism prayer all creatures become tame through Christ. Thus the lion, as the Antichrist and also alter ego of the possessed man, has become tamed by Heribert, Christ’s representative, through his prayer during the 46  For Rupert’s Commentary on the Song of Songs, see Van Engen, Rupert of Deutz, 291–98.

47  PRG, 2, CXV: 29, p. 198.

48  Regulus, primarily translated as “young king or prince,” appears as “type of serpent,” equivalent to the Greek basilisk, in Glossary of Later Latin, 347. Niermeyer, Mediae Latinitatis Lexicon Minus, does not include the word. However, the word’s relationship to political events contemporary with the shrine’s construction will be taken up in Chapter 3, and chap. 3, n. 191 below.

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exorcism ritual, and just like the exorcised man, Henry too has been tamed of his anger through the spiritual powers bestowed on Heribert during his ordination. In fact, the power of ecclesiastical authority over the temporal is made clear in both the RomanoGermanic pontifical and the twelfth-century Co­logne and Roman pontificals where the ordained exorcists are referred to as spiritual emperors (spirituales imperatores),49 thus those to whom earthly emperors must humbly submit. In that light, Henry’s bodily position creates another connection. In chapter 28 of his vita, Rupert describes Henry as supplicating Heribert “in a humble spirit and contrite heart” (in spiritu humilitatis et in animo contrito),50 the very words of the Offertory prayer in the Mass when the priest, bowing down, asks that the chalice be accepted and pleasing to the Lord.51 Henry’s bowing down and lowering his head before Heribert also alludes to the beginning of the coronation ceremony in which the king must prostrate himself before the archbishop again as a sign of humility.52 Koziol sums up what he calls “the simplest and most fundamental” message of the king’s action: “The prostrate supplication of a king before his coronation was a reminder that he was king only by the grace of God. Without that grace he was nothing. And even with that grace he remained a man whose soul must be saved—for all the insignia of his office and for all his responsibility, still Adam’s progeny.”53 In addition to being the role model of humility, Heribert serves here to eradicate in Henry the consequence of being Adam’s progeny, sin. Furthermore, Heribert’s wearing the mitre as he absolves Henry not only adds a sacramental character to his actions but also functions as another allusion to the coronation ceremony in which the bishop almost certainly would be wearing the mitre.54 Finally, in the exorcism ritual the priest in the laying on of hands invokes the name of Jesus Christ who not only redeemed man through his blood but also will come 49  PRG, 1, XV:18, p. 17, and PC, Cod. 139, fol. 44r. The same reference also appears in Pontifical romain, 1, VI:3, p. 127. 50  Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 28, p. 73.

51  See Jungmann, Mass of the Roman Rite, 2:51–52. In addition to appearing in Rupert’s Vita Heriberti, the phrase “in spiritu humilitatis et in animo contrito” also appears in his De divinis officiis, this time in the context of the solemn mass (Ruperti Tuitiensis, Liber de divinis officiis, V:15, pp. 168–69. See note 56 below for the significance of bodily position in respect to humility.

52  PRG, 1, LXXII:6, p. 247; PC, Cod. 139, fol. 22v. On the appearance of prostration in liturgical rituals, see Bouman, Sacring and Crowning, 147–49. 53  Koziol, Begging Pardon and Favor, 101.

54  The wearing of the mitre at the coronation ritual does not appear in the earlier pontificals, but it does appear in the thirteenth-century Pontifical of William of Durandus only once, where at the beginning of the ceremony the attire of the bishops, including the mitre, is listed (Pontifical romain, 3, Texte, Liber Primus:XXVI, 2, p. 436). It can also be inferred from the thirteenth-century Ordo of Reims, which says that the archbishop removes his mitre in order to give the emperor the kiss of peace. See Carré, Baiser sur la bouche, 274 and n. 12. While the mitre does appear in the PRG and the twelfth-century Roman pontificals, these sources offer no comments on when the mitre is or is not worn. Although, as Braun acknowledges, the use of the mitre during the twelfth-century is a bit murky, he posits no radical change in use in the subsequent centuries (Braun, Liturgische Gewandung, 485).



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to judge the living and the dead.55 This can be tied to the chalice on the altar in the reconciliation medallion in conjunction with the words on the scroll indicating that Heribert and Henry will see each other no more. The fact that Henry and Heribert will both die soon underscores the urgency for Henry to seek redemption for his sins before he appears before Christ, the Judge. Only then can Heribert and Henry meet again in eternity. Just as the possessed man on bended knee before Heribert had begged him for release, Henry’s kneeling becomes a gesture of supplication that can be seen as representing the medi­eval ritual of begging for pardon. When Henry asks for pardon for his sin, his bodily position, while paying homage to Heribert’s higher authority, also denotes humility. As Koziol notes, supplication “required a conscious act of deference, as the petitioner willingly and purposely assumed a humble posture.”56 The emphasis on humility not only highlights a primary virtue of Heribert, indicated by Humility flanking him on the end of the shrine, but also supports the psychomachian theme depicted in the small squares of the pilasters framing the medallions on this side of the shrine, the victory of the virtues over the vices (Fig. 7). Only after his obeisance to Heribert and with his vice conquered, can Henry, who asks to be lifted up,57 stand to embrace him. Thus, when Heribert and the emperor embrace, they replace the column supporting the ecclesiastical superstructure, thereby signifying that together the archbishop and emperor support the Church, but only after the emperor has submitted to ecclesiastical authority. Once again the shrine’s portrayal can be seen as a reference to the coronation ceremony in which the emperor receives his power to rule from the Church, and in the spirit of unity and deference the archbishop removes his mitre as he and the emperor share the kiss of peace.58 However, from another point of view, the embrace of Heribert and Henry on the shrine echoes representations of the Kiss of Judas.59 According to John 13:2, it was the devil who put into Judas’s heart the idea of betraying Christ, who himself called Judas 55  PRG, 2, CXV:28, p. 198.

56  Koziol, Begging Pardon and Favor, 62. Koziol (62–65) discusses the relationship between supplication and humility. Regarding the role of homage and request and bodily comportment in prostration, see Althoff, Otto III, 134–37. For a broader view of ritual, see Althoff’s Macht der Ritual, as well as the comprehensive reviews of it by David A. Warner in Speculum 81 (2006), 468–69, and by Stefan Thäle (online): Stefan Thäle. Review of Althoff, Gerd, Die Macht der Rituale: Symbolik und Herrschaft im Mittelalter. H-Soz-u-Kult, H-Net Reviews. April, 2004. URL: http://www.h-net.org/ reviews/showrev.php?id=18453. 57  Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 28, p. 73.

58  PRG, 1, LXXII:22, p. 257; PC, Cod. 139, fols. 35r–v; PRG, 1, LXXII:18, p. 255; PC, Cod. 139, fols. 31v–32r; PRG, 1, LXXII:26, p. 259; PC, Cod. 139, fol. 38r; Ordo of Reims, quoted in Carré, Baiser sur la bouche, 274n12.

59  For illustrations of the Kiss of Judas, see Schiller, Icono­graphy of Christian Art. While in German contexts, it appears in the Codex Egberti, 977–993, Trier, Stadtbibliothek, MS 24, fol. 79v, and in the Codex Aureus Epternacensis, ca. 1030, Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, MS 156142, fol. 110v, a fresco from about 1100 in Sant Angelo in Formis (Schiller, Icono­graphy of Christian Art, 2, fig. 174) presents an interesting comparison insofar as a sword is in the same prominent position

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Figure 32. Heribert Shrine, Paul side, Prophets and apostles. Erzbistum Köln/St. Heribert, Köln-Deutz. Photo: Helmut Stahl, Köln.

a devil (John 6:71–72). In the twelfth-century Book of Pericopes from Saint Erentrud, folio 13r depicts a devil coming out of the mouth of Judas as Christ with his two outstretched fingers, in a gesture identical to that of the exorcism illumination in the Gos­ pel Book of Otto III discussed above, points to the demon.60 The twelfth-century author Alain de Lille in his Quoniam Homines writes that the devil enters into the hearts of men when they succumb to temptation just as he did with Judas.61 In having as it were betrayed Heribert, Henry, like Judas, betrayed Christ whom Heribert in his apostolic mission represents. At the time of his betrayal, Christ gave the admonition to put up the sword, for it is the instrument of death (Matt. 26:52). In the reconciliation medallion, as already noted, the sword pointing directly to the word necat (kills) asserts that forgiveness will kill bloody hearts, the sword thus becoming the counterpart of the facing chalice containing Christ’s salvific blood, which Rupert reminds us in his De divinis officiis was drunk from the chalice on the night Christ was betrayed.62 Through

and angle as the sword in the reconciliation medallion. Of course, there is no evidence that the creators of the shrine had ever seen or had any knowledge of this representation. 60  The Book of Pericopes from Saint Erentrud is Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Clm. 15903. For an illustration of fol. 13r, see Schiller, Icono­graphy of Christian Art, 2, fig. 91, and its catalogue entry, p. 236, no. 91.

61  The text is cited in French in Chave-Mahir, Exorcisme des possédés, 56, and in Latin, 56n148. (However, the source she cites for the Latin text has the incorrect volume number, which should be volume 20 rather than 28). Unfortunately, there is no way of knowing whether this work of Alain de Lille was known at Deutz at this time. Chave-Mahir, basically following Palémon Glorieux, who edited this text, says that it was written between 1155 and 1165; others have speculated between 1170 and 1180, with one as late as 1190, this last well after the shrine’s medallions. On questions of its dating, see Nielsen, Theo­logy and Philosophy, 343n227. Nevertheless, when Alain de Lille prefaces his statement regarding Judas with “concerning which it is said” (unde dicitur), he must be referring to John 13:2. 62  Ruperti Tuitiensis, Liber de divinis officiis, V:15, p. 168; this passage appears in the same chapter



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this blood, unlike Judas who was prompted by the devil to betray Christ but who, returning the thirty pieces of silver, found no forgiveness in “repenting himself ” for having “sinned in betraying innocent blood” (Matt. 27:3–4), the penitent Henry, having been exorcised of his sin, now reconciles with Heribert, thus reversing his betrayal. Interestingly, the apostle placed under the reconciliation medallion is Simon, who appears in the gospels only three times (Matthew 10:4; Mark 3:18; and Luke 6:15), where Christ gives the apostles, among other charges, the power to cast out devils, and in the passages from Matthew and Mark, Simon is named just before Judas. On the shrine Simon faces and appears to be engaged in dialogue with the apostle Jude Thaddeus, whose inscription has been shortened ambiguously to Judas (Fig. 32), and in John 13:2 the father of Judas is named Simon. Thus, in light of these associations, it might be possible that the creators of the shrine were making an allusive reference to casting out devils, betrayal, and redemption. The Kiss of Judas would serve then as the inversion of the kiss of peace (oscula pacis) referred to in the reconciliation medallion inscription.63 On the other hand, the image of the embrace of Henry and Heribert has persuasively been related to the longstanding representation of the meeting of Peter and Paul outside the walls of Rome, an image of reconciliation in what was at times a contentious relationship between the two men.64 Its basis in apocryphal sources asserting the primacy of Peter made it a popular image in the West for over a millennium varying with the narrative context, and as Herbert Kessler notes: “Depictions of the Meeting of Peter and Paul existed in both emblematic and narrative forms. In each, reference to the other extended the visual context and permitted the representation to serve diverse functions.”65 As Paul’s coming to Peter in Rome established the primacy of Peter and thus of the Church embodied in the papacy, so Henry’s coming to Heribert establishes the primacy of Heribert, the agent of the Church. In the vita, when Peter appears to Henry telling him to seek forgiveness from Heribert, Peter serves as the agent for the Church, a role transmitted to Heribert. Peter is also the patron of Co­logne Cathedral of which Heribert is the head, and, as noted above, it was the archbishops of Co­logne who traditionally had authority to crown the king. Thus, by simultaneous icono­graphic references, the shrine’s creators would have shown that Henry’s willing acceptance of Peter’s warning averted what would have been a spiritual calamity for Henry: with his change of heart Henry inverted the damning kiss of Judas into the redemptive kiss of peace. in which Rupert used the phrase “in spiritu humilitatis et in animo contrito.” See note 50 above which provides the source and also leads to the place in the above text where this phrase has already been discussed. 63  See Carré, Baiser sur la bouche, 404–6, where he specifically discusses the Kiss of Judas.

64  Kessler, “Meeting of Peter and Paul,” 265–75 and n. 44. See also Figge, “Einordnung der Heiligen­ geschichte,” 114–15. 65  Kessler, “Meeting of Peter and Paul,” 275.

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The Inscriptions on the Sides of the Shrine Inscriptions running along the sides of the shrine above and below the apostles and prophets (Fig. 32) near the reconciliation medallion contribute varying levels of meaning to the relationship between Heribert and Henry.66 On the upper inscription, beginning under the right-hand side of the reconciliation medallion and continuing under the twelfth medallion depicting Heribert’s death, one reads: vera fides per eum longum firmatur in evum (True fealty is solemnly pledged by him long-continued into eternity). Fides can mean the fealty a vassal owes to his senior and the position of that vassal in relation to that senior; in addition to promising by a solemn pledge or oath, firmare can mean to promise to refrain from hostility; and evum can also mean in present time, that is, life on earth.67 Thus the inscription provides levels of meaning applicable to Henry in terms of his past actions of hostility requiring new subservience toward and promised fealty to Heribert, an allegiance that must continue until they are separated by death and that then will, thanks to Heribert’s forgiveness, endure throughout eternity. In fact, an invocation spoken during the exorcism ritual echoes this when the exorcist asks God to make the devil fly away from the possessed so that “vain allurements of the power of an adversary pass away...and this your vassal (famulus) have the strength to offer owed obedience to you with a heart pledged to refrain from hostility (firmato) and a pure mind.”68 In chapter 26 of his vita Rupert tells us that after his reconciliation with Heribert, Henry no longer did anything in his affairs with the empire without prayers and lamentations, because by not carrying out his vendetta against Heribert, he “stood as a successful suppliant of divine judgment.”69 Indeed, when Henry is canonized, his fealty will continue in eternity because he has subjected himself to the Church.70 66  On the shrine’s inscription panels, see Seidler, Schrein des heiligen Heribert, 170 and 180–82, where he discusses their placement in view of the decision to relocate the prophet panels during the final phase of the shrine.

67  See Niermeyer, Mediae Latinitatis Lexicon Minus, for fides, p. 424, nos. 1, 2, 3, and 4; for firmare, pp. 429–30, nos. 6, 7, and 15 (where for the last he cites a Limoges cartulary from ca. 1060); and for (a)evum, p. 384, nos. 1 and 2. Interestingly, the words firmare, firma, and fide[s] appear in succession in the coronation ritual in connection with the metropolitan bishop’s asking the people if they are willing to subject themselves to kingly authority (PRG, 1, LXXII:8, p. 249, and PC, Cod. 139, fol. 23v). 68  PRG, 2, CXV:41, p. 204. For famulus, see Niermeyer, Mediae Latinitatis Lexicon Minus, p. 409, no. 2.

69  Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 26, p. 71. Henry’s subsequent actions may also be related to exorcism. As Sorensen (Possession and Exorcism, 166–67) observes, once cleansed from possession, the soul now becomes a temple of the Holy Spirit and remains so only through “constant vigilance,” and “by restoring the victim of demonic possession from an impure condition to a profane state of well-being, exorcism would serve as a preliminary act of the invocation to the Holy Spirit, which itself elevates one from a profane condition to sanctification,” in this instance a sanctification arrived at through the agency of Heribert, provided that Henry remained vigilant.

70  Of course Rupert could not have known about Henry’s sainthood since Rupert died in 1129, seventeen years before Henry was canonized in 1146. In his discussion of Thietmar’s assessment of Henry’s method for securing the throne in 1002 by obtaining the allegiance of people in Merseburg



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In his study of the nature of vassalage, Jacques Le Goff points to two more aspects of fealty relevant to the reconciliation medallion: first, the vassal goes to the lord, and second, the ritual takes place “in a symbolic space, a ritual territory,” either the church, where the ritual is solemnized, at the altar, if possible, or in the great hall of the lord, the site of his authority.71 Clearly Henry, now the vassal, has come to Heribert, his original intention of Heribert’s submission to him reversed by the appearance of Saint Peter, and the ritual meetings take place in Heribert’s “territory,” the first in the sacred space of the chapel with its chalice and candlestick on the altar and the second still within the cathedral precincts where the pact is sealed with the kiss of peace.72 Similarly, the lower inscription can be related not only literally but also associatively to both the reconciliation and the exorcism medallions. On this inscription, placed below the apostles and prophets in the identical position as the upper inscription, the phrase hostem casurum veterem culpam vacuari (the enemy overthrown, the longstanding sin to be annihilated) offers several layers of meaning. Literally, as Heribert’s enemy, Henry is overthrown, and when he seeks forgiveness, Heribert will annihilate his sin of anger, an anger that Henry has harboured against him for a very long time. However, the words of this inscription have other meanings which can be applied through association to the content of these two medallions. Casurum can also mean to “be subject to,” to “infringe the law,” and to “fall down”; thus, when Henry subjects himself to Heribert by falling down before him because he has infringed the law of God, his longstanding sin will be annihilated and that which has been planted in his heart will be overthrown. Culpam can also mean “blame”; Henry had placed blame on Heribert, accusing him of lying rather than coming to Henry’s aid against Count Otto at Hammerstein, and that blame will now too be annihilated because Henry, through Saint Peter, has seen Heribert as innocent. Hostem can additionally mean “the devil,” the source of sin, thus referring not only to the source of Henry’s sin but also to the demon controlling the possessed man who, falling down before Heribert, is freed from sin through Heribert’s intercessory powers. 73 Lastly, veterem (longstanding) relates both to Henry and to the man Heribert exorcised, whom Rupert in chapter 17 (Thietmar of Merseburg, 5:16 and 17, Ottonian Germany, 216–17), Bagge observes: “the formal act to which Thietmar attaches the greatest importance is therefore the individual oath of fealty” (Bagge, Kings, Politics, and the Right Order,134). It would seem from the inscription below this medallion so did the creators of the Heribert Shrine.

71  Le Goff, “Symbolic Ritual of Vassalage,” 272–74. Le Goff argues for a distinction between the secular ritual of vassalage and the religious rites which seem to mirror it. However, I am not arguing here that the reconciliation medallion portrays an actual act of vassalage occurring in these scenes, but rather that the creators have provided an allusive overlay of meaning in these scenes in order to refer to the relationship between Heribert as archbishop and Henry as emperor, that is, between Church and Empire. For a comprehensive investigation of the subject of feudalism, see Reynolds, Fiefs and Vassals. 72  On the kiss of peace in feudal rituals, see Carré, Baiser sur la bouche, chap. 9, “Le baiser dans le rituel de l’hommage féodo-vassalique,” 187–215.

73  In addition to a classical Latin dictionary, for these words see: Gaffiot, Gaffiot de poche, and Niermeyer, Mediae Latinitatis Lexicon Minus.

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described as having been freed after being possessed for a long time (diu).74 In these respects, the words of the shrine’s inscriptions augment and further contextualize the content of the visual images presented in the two medallions for those with the ability to read as well as see.

Reading the Inscriptions: Viewer Engagement

Who then would be those with the ability to read and see, capable of decoding sophisticated or allusive images and inscriptions? Clearly these are not those who view an object only from their aesthetic reaction to it, ranging from amazement and delight to indifference or perhaps disgust. Yet even going beyond viewers with these initial “gut-level” responses to those who attempt to see more, it is obvious that not all viewers come with the same knowledge or propensity for untangling visual and textual information. Background, state in life, and the status within it, all play a role in shaping that ability. A lay person or a pilgrim viewing a shrine would have a different reserve of information on which to draw than would a monk, steeped in religious training, who is a reader of Scripture, a daily participant in the liturgy, and a person imbued with the life and spirit of the saint within the shrine. Ilene Forsyth, for example, in her very compelling article, “Word-Play,” discusses the monastic interest in words, unraveling the complex and formerly enigmatic inscriptions on the Moissac cloister capitals. Clearly, deciphering the various meanings of the words of the Heribert Shrine’s inscriptions and seeing their applicability to the shrine’s visual content are not comparable to the mental acuity needed to read the capitals at Moissac. However, as Forsyth argues, Benedictine monks had the ability to decipher the various meanings of words, and “inscriptions might deepen the engagement of viewers, by requiring sustained attentiveness, and ultimately enhance the thematic richness of the viewing experience,”75 something that can equally be applied to the monks of Deutz as they viewed and ruminated on the various inscriptions on their shrine. Furthermore, inscriptions on works of art are of various types serving various purposes. To that end, Clemens Bayer provides a detailed codification of the types of inscriptions, a typo­logy based on inscriptions found on Rheno-Mosan metalwork, including the Heribert Shrine.76 While his categorizing is useful, it does not address in any comprehensive way the significance that these varied types hold in terms of the relationship between their texts and the images they accompany. However, other scholars have seen the important role that inscriptions play in “reading” a work of art. Eric Favreau, while focusing on Trinitarian and Marian inscriptions, argues for the importance of inscriptions in general insofar as they provide information that enriches, confirms, and often surpasses the images they accompany; therefore they should not be neglected in analyzing a work, for the meaning of the work would not 74  Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 17, p. 60. 75  Forsyth, “Word Play,” 162.

76  Bayer, “Essai sur la disposition des inscriptions,” 1–25.



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be possible without them.77 In addition, Favreau posits that inscriptions can lead to interpretations of comparable works that lack inscriptions.78 In her analysis of Italian apse mosaics of the eleventh and twelfth centuries, Ursula Nilgen comes to the conclusion that in the wake of the Investiture Controversy, “it is the theo­logy of the ‘just’ and ‘true’ church, Roman and papal, which is propagated by a subtle play between text and image.”79 She finds “a considerable concentration of internal relations between the image and the inscription in the service of a very specific message,” a message she deems thematically “political or political-ecclesiastical.”80 In a work of larger scope, Eric Thunø investigates the inscriptions of the apse mosaics in early medi­eval Rome from the viewpoint of their relationship to the apse images they accompany. In this context he sees the crucial importance of these inscriptions in their working in concert with the visual elements of the mosaics to create a unified group that “transcends both urban space and time,” and in this transformation of their historical time of creation, “the mosaics form a continuous present...[that] “imbues the mosaics with their anachronic power.”81 While text and image, without doubt, have an intertwined relationship, the question still remains: to whom is the end result of that conjunction readily apparent? Thunø argues that “without the community of believers, the apse mosaics remain ‘incomplete’ and vice versa.”82 However, exactly who constitutes that community is not demonstrably clear. Nilgen, on the other hand, sheds some light in her explanation for the mosaics at St. Clement in Rome, which she characterizes as “a complex and thoughtful theo­logical program of which the didactic character is at once evident as much in the image as in the epi­graphy. The insistence on teaching corresponds to the new commitment of the canons regular, who had care of this parish, realizing the ideas of the reform of the Church. One can then accept without any doubt that the images and the inscriptions have been taken as the point of departure of sermons and catechesis.”83 77  Favreau, “É� pi­graphie et théo­logie,” 37. 78  Favreau, “É� pi­graphie et théo­logie,” 56.

79  “Dans les grandes décorations de mosaï�ques, après la querelle des investitures, c’est la théo­ logie de l’église ‘juste’ et ‘vraie,’ romaine et papale, qui est propagée par un jeu subtil entre texte et image,” Nilgen, “Texte et image,” 153.

80  “Depuis la fin de la querelle des investitures surgissent en premier plan dans les fondations papales majeures d’autres thèmes de tendances politique ou politico-ecclésiastique. C’est désormais la définition de la véritable É� glise, réglée selon la volonté divine, qui ressort de l’enveloppe théo­logique plus générale avec l’aide de l’image et du texte. En général en tout cas, dans les grandes décorations des XIe et XIIe siècles, on constate une concentration considérable des relations internes entre l’image et l’inscription au service d’un message bien précis,” Nilgen, “Texte et image,” 164. 81  Thunø, Apse Mosaic, 205.

82  Thunø, Apse Mosaic, 170.

83  “Nous avons donc devant nos yeux, à Saint-Clément, un programme théo­logique complexe et mûremment réflechi, dont le caractère didactique est tout à fait évident aussi bien dans l’image que dans l’épi­graphie. L’insistance sur l’enseignement correspond au nouvel engagement des chanoines

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It is not difficult to imagine that, in the Roman churches where these images writ large were able to be seen, sermons and instruction for the laity would effectively explain their meaning and significance. However, in monastery churches the overall presentation would not be that inclusive, and, with respect to shrines, most likely for the average lay person only tituli identifying recognizable names of the figures depicted would provide an understanding that went beyond their awareness of the saintly nature of the shrine’s content and of their aesthetic appreciation of the shrine’s composition. Of course, someone, probably in conjunction with the monastery’s abbot, as is most likely in the case of the Heribert Shrine, chose the Latin inscriptions for the shrine with the knowledge that they would be understood by the monastic community for which the shrine was made. Thus, these inscriptions would have intrinsic meaning that could be didactic or catechetical for the monks as well, a meaning derived either from rumination or from the abbot’s exegesis. The fact that the inscriptions would be chosen cognizant that their meaning would elude those non-versed in that language would not diminish the primary message of imitatio Christi since that didactic purpose would be apparent from the shrine’s saintly contents and the materials used to honour them. Thus, if inscriptions were meant to conjoin with and supplement images, they serve as a vehicle for expressing specific targeted messages. In that respect, without further specification or identification, “viewer” or “spectator” becomes a quite elusive term, yet one not always easily defined given the particular circumstances. Nevertheless, an actual reading for those not in the know could be arrived at through a verbal explanation from someone with the ability to translate. One relevant example of political consequence for the subject at hand concerns Frederick Barbarossa. The emperor heard from an imperial loyalist that the text of the inscription accompanying the Lateran palace fresco depicting Emperor Lothair said that the emperor as the “liegeman to the Pope, by him he is granted the crown.”84 Seen as an affront to his imperial authority, Frederick later asserted in writing that “the kingdom and the empire are ours from God alone,”85 leading to a renewed confrontation between the papacy and the empire that would play out at Sutri and Besançon, events to be discussed in the following chapter. Thus, it will be seen that, visually as well as orally, words can matter greatly.

The Thematic Support of the Remaining Ten Medallions

Despite the detailed connections shown between the exorcism and reconciliation medallions presented above, they should not be read in isolation from the shrine’s other ten medallions. As Cynthia Hahn observes, “It was...through the interaction of scenes in narrative and their cumulative effect that hagio­graphers were able to convey réguliers qui prenaient soin de cette paroisse, réalisant les idées de la réforme de l’É� glise. On peut alors accepter sans aucun doute que les images et les inscriptions ont été prises comme point de départ des sermons et de la catéchèse,” Nilgen, “Texte et image,” 161. 84  Otto of Freising, Deeds of Frederick Barbarossa, 3:x, p. 184.

85  Otto of Freising, Deeds of Frederick Barbarossa, 3:xi, p. 185.



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complex meanings.”86 In this light, an analysis of the remaining medallions will show how the narrative progression of these scenes supports the reading that the sacred as embodied in the Church supersedes the secular way of the world. With regard to the two secular imperial scenes, Otto’s bestowing the chancellorship on Heribert and his investing Heribert with the regalia, it will be shown that the Church is still emphasized as having the higher authority. In short, the medallions move in a progression toward the ultimate expression of that authority: the submission of Henry to Heribert and thus the supremacy of the Church. In following the path of this progression to its intended purpose, besides the illustration of the specific medallion under discussion, the two-dimensional bird’s-eye-view diagram of the shrine (Fig. 2) may prove useful in seeing that medallion’s relationship to other elements of the shrine. The first medallion (Fig. 9), devoted to Heribert’s birth, indicates that, although, as the son of Count Hugo, Heribert was born of aristocracy, his path lay not in secular power but in the ecclesiastical power of the Church. This is foreshadowed at Heribert’s birth when his future fame is revealed to his father by a Jew who is with Heribert’s father at the time.87 Making the Jew function almost like an Old Testament prophet foretelling the future greatness of Christ, Rupert has the Jew speak the prophetic words: “What is born to you will fill you yourself with delight and he will make his family famous with the great splendor of his renown.”88 The Jew, identified on the medallion as Aaron, appears only in Rupert’s version of the vita, but Rupert does not name him. Although the invention of the shrine’s creators, the name Aaron is not an arbitrary one. In the medi­eval period Aaron, the brother of Moses, was associated with the priesthood and was often depicted as a bishop wearing a mitre and priestly garb.89 Thus, in giving Rupert’s anonymous Jew the name Aaron, the shrine’s creators were equating the Jew’s prediction of Heribert’s future fame with its specific outcome— Heribert’s ascendency to the archbishopric of Co­logne, the culmination of the scenes on this side of the shrine. The Jew, normally portrayed as blinded by ignorance, here at Heribert’s birth sees the light. Henry is thus analogous to Aaron because he too, once blinded by his anger, could now through the agency of a dream see the light. Rupert also tells us that Henry sinned not through malice but through ignorance.90 In this respect, Heribert’s act of forgiveness not only mirrors that of Christ at his Passion 86  Hahn, Portrayed on the Heart, 18.

87  For a discussion of the Jew in this medallion functioning as a witness and a visionary, especially in view of the writings of Rupert of Deutz, see, Lipton, “Unfeigned Witness,” 49–53, and Lipton, Dark Mirror, 63–71. 88  Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 2, p. 35.

89  See Mâle, Religious Art in France, 146 and 150–51, where he ties artistic depictions of Aaron to the medi­eval liturgical drama The Play of the Prophets; for an illustration of Aaron in this attire on a Mosan or Rhenish enamel contemporary with the shrine, see: Devotion and Splendor, 32, no. 14. On the biblical investiture of Aaron and his sons, see Exod. 28:40–43 and Lev. 8:6–13. On the liturgical connection between Aaron and liturgical vestments, which are called “vestium Aaron primi pontificis,” see PRG, 1, LXXXI, pp. 292–300. See also chap. 3, n. 19. 90  Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 26, p. 71.

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when he said: “Father forgive them for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34) but also follows Christ’s admonition: “If thy brother sin against thee, reprove him: and if he do penance, forgive him” (Luke 17:3). Furthermore, if the creators of the shrine’s medallions made allusion to Henry as Paul in the reconciliation scene, just as the still blind Saul before his conversion was “breathing out threatenings and slaughter against the disciples of the Lord” (Acts 9:1), so Henry before his “conversion” was intent on bringing harm to Heribert. Like Paul, Henry can again be seen as the blind Jew who has seen the light, in this case revealed to him by Saint Peter. In fact, in chapter 27 of Rupert’s vita, in explaining why he was hostile to Heribert, Henry says, “I did not deserve to see the grace of God shining in you.”91 Like Ananias who restores the blind Saul’s eyesight by “laying his hands upon him,”92 through the same action Heribert, in absolving Henry of his past sins, opens Henry’s eyes so that he may no longer persist in the error of his ways. In the upper half of the second medallion (Fig. 10), Heribert’s father, a count, hands Heribert over to the monks of Worms, that is, to a higher authority, the Church, to which Heribert humbly submits as he learns his ABCs. Similarly, Henry has learned through the agency of Saint Peter that he too must hand himself over to Heribert in submission to a higher authority. In the lower half of the medallion, as the inscription tells us, Heribert, filled with heavenly grace, debates with and even teaches the monks of Gorze (disputat atque docet quem gratia coelica replet), thus demonstrating his ability to make sound judgments, a foreshadowing of what he would do, for example, in withholding the holy lance from Henry because Heribert wisely thought it should be rightfully bestowed.93 The scenes of the third and fourth medallions depict the respective powers of the Church and the empire in regard to the investiture process for the bishop-elect. The upper half of the third medallion (Fig. 11) depicts Heribert’s ordination into the priestly order of deacon, the continuation of the preparatory process toward his ultimate renown in the ecclesiastical realm of the Church. A connection is again forged with the reconciliation medallion not only by the chalice and candle on the altar but also by the similar gesture. As the mitre-wearing bishop confers the power of the priesthood on Heribert through the laying on of hands, so Heribert, similarly mitred in the reconciliation medallion, through the laying on of hands symbolically confers the power of imperial authority on Henry. In addition, the inscription around the ordination scene refers to Heribert’s celibacy (hic fit levita vir clarus celibe vita). While celibacy was a condition of the priestly life mandated by the First Lateran Council in 1123 and reaffirmed by the Second in 1139,94 it had also been a core issue in the Investiture Controversy, especially in Ger91  Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 27, p. 72. 92  Acts 9:17–18.

93  Schuster (Visuelle Kultvermittlung, 84) sees the disputation in the lower half of the medallion as a “condensed representation of the Apostle dialogue” (verdichtete Darstellung des Aposteldialogs) that appears on the sides of the shrine. 94  See Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils, 1, Canon 7, p. 191, and Canon 21, p. 194, for the First



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many where the bishops had resisted Pope Gregory VII’s attempts at clerical reform.95 Gregory had expressed his firm position against clerical marriage and fornication in letters, at least one of them written to Archbishop Anno of Co­logne. While a year earlier Gregory had reprimanded Anno for his lack of devotion and gratitude to the papacy and his negligence in need of “the rod of correction,”96 once again he censured Anno for his failure to fulfill his obligations regarding clerical celibacy. In his letter to Anno, dated March 29, 1075, Gregory wrote: “I urge and I warn, and I command by the authority of our common lord Peter, that with all your suffragans you gird yourself more zealously to preach and inculcate the chastity of the clergy according to the decrees of the fathers and the authority of the canons, so that the acceptable service of a white and spotless household may be offered to the bride of Christ who knows neither spot nor wrinkle.”97 To that end, Anno is asked “to assemble a council of your brothers and fellow bishops,” as many of them as is possible, in which “you will openly publish the canonical laws and the authority of the apostolic see as well as your own and your brothers.’”98 Gregory stresses that Anno must “more widely exhibit how great a virtue is chastity and how needful for ecclesiastical orders” and that he must “without delay resolutely proclaim” those guilty be forced to no longer serve.99 Although Gregory’s letter cites no specific instances of or places where the lack of celibacy has occurred, its wording is striking. The forcefulness of “warn” (moneo) and “command” (praecipio) and the word “more” combined with “zealously” (studiosius) indicate that Anno had not sufficiently responded to the problem that was occurring within his jurisdiction and what he himself needed to do to redress his laxity in not dealing with it. Interestingly, it is also within this same letter that Gregory “most earnestly admonish[es]” (enixius admonemus) Anno to take action against simony, for the holy fathers already have decreed that to gain admittance to the offices of the Church no “payment be received for the laying on of hands.”100 While we do not know the specifics with regard to the monks of Deutz or of their knowledge of Anno’s interactions with a well-known reforming pope, the promulgation of such an edict throughout the realm certainly would not have remained unnoticed. The problems with priestly celibacy and with simony were not resolved in Anno’s lifeLateran Council and Canons 6 and 7, p. 198, for the Second.

95  See Cowdrey, Pope Gregory VII, 242–49, where he discusses the nature of Gregory’s interaction with the German episcopate regarding simony and clerical unchastity, and 550–53, where he specifically references Gregory’s communication with Anno of Co­logne. For a historical discussion of celibacy also see the essays in Medi­eval Purity and Piety, pt. 3, which covers: “Gregory VII, Celibacy, and the Eleventh-Century Revolution,” as well as New Catholic Encyclopedia (1967), s.vv. “Celibacy, Canon Law of” and “Celibacy, History of.” 96  Gregory’s letter, bk. 1, no. 79, and dated April 18, 1074, appears in Gregory VII, Register, 83.

97  Gregory VII, Register, 160–61. Gregory’s letter, bk. 2, no. 67, also appears in Cowdrey, Gregory VII, Correspondence, 72–73. See PL vol. 148, cols. 417–18 for the letter in Latin. 98  Gregory VII, Register, 161. 99  Gregory VII, Register, 161.

100  Gregory VII, Register, 160–61.

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time nor even after the shrine’s completion. Four Lateran Councils, the last in 1215, were grappling with but still upholding the position of sacerdotal celibacy and still denouncing simony.101 Thus to the framers of the Heribert Shrine these issues were very au courant during the planning stages and completion of the shine’s medallions. That Heribert is identified as being ordained as a deacon (levita) reinforces his celibacy since one cannot be made a deacon without having attained the celibate state.102 It too seems significant that this scene singles out from the various parts of the ordination ceremony the very moment of the laying on of hands in terms of its connection with Anno and its persistence despite the attempts to curb it. Thus, the image of the laying on of hands has a particular message for clerical viewers of the shrine to avoid the temptation of choosing ways to subvert the proper method for attaining church offices. The medallion’s inscription becomes a reminder to clerical viewers of the shrine of their need to follow the sinless path of purity, a life devoted solely to God, a state deemed higher than the secular, even though sacramental, state of matrimony, a state also much discussed with regard to clerical celibacy.103 Having already been informed by the titulus in the first medallion that Heribert’s father was a count (HVGO COMES), the viewer of the shrine sees that Heribert has not followed the secular path of his father but the sacred path of the Church. However, of greater significance to the reconciliation medallion and thus to the respective roles of Church and empire are the three remaining scenes. The lower half of the third medallion (Fig. 11) depicts Otto III investing Heribert as his chancellor. A tonsured cleric holds the cloak that will mantle Heribert, thus placing him even in this temporal role under the protection of the Church. Likewise in the reconciliation medallion, Henry enfolds Heribert in his mantle to signify that the emperor’s duty is to protect the Church. Notwithstanding this association, more important in this investiture scene is the emphasis the creators of the shrine have placed on the very large ring in the emperor’s hand, the ring almost hovering in space as the focal point of the composition, as the fingers of Heribert and Otto touch in a gesture suggesting acceptance and agreement on both their parts. This visual prominence calls attention to the fact that this ring is the signet or seal ring with the imperial matrix allowing Heribert 101  For Lateran III, which took place in 1179, see Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils, 1, canon 11, pp. 217–18, and for Lateran IV, which took place in 1215, see canon 14, p. 242. For a brief overview of the four councils, see Duggan, “Conciliar Law 1123–1215.”

102  See Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils, 1, Lateran II, canon 6, p. 198, which states: “We also decree that those in the orders of subdeacon and above who have taken wives or concubines are to be deprived of their position and ecclesiastical benefice.”

103  While Augustine considered marriage to have a sacramental character; it wasn’t until the twelfth century at the Council of Verona in 1184 that matrimony appeared in a list along with other sacraments. Subsequently, the Council of Florence (1438–1445) cited it as the seventh sacrament, which was reaffirmed in 1563 by the Council of Trent, where its twenty-fourth session concerned the Church’s views on matrimony. See New Catholic Encyclopedia (1967), s.vv. “Matrimony, II (Sacrament of),” and John P. Beal’s brief “Historical Overview,” along with citations to more indepth discussions, in his introduction to canons 1055–1165, in New Commentary on the Code of Canon Law, 1234–40. Also see Duggan, “Conciliar Law 1123–1215,” 350–51.



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to use it in making the seals he will affix to the documents within his official purview as Otto’s chancellor.104 As the inscription indicates, this ceremony is an investiture for the chancellorship, a secular office, and thus confirms that this ring is not to be confused with the episcopal ring Heribert will receive when he is confirmed as bishop. The episcopal ring, as the pontificals tell us, the bishop-elect receives at the time of his consecration as a sign of his power to bind and loose and to minister reconciliation to sinners who repent, thereby opening to them the doors to the kingdom of heaven, the very actions that Heribert performs for Henry in the reconciliation medallion.105 Similarly, the scene in the upper half of the fourth medallion (Fig. 12) is again a secular one even though it is a part of Heribert’s becoming archbishop of Co­logne. When Otto invests Heribert with the regalia, he is bestowing on him the specific temporal rights of his episcopal position; that is, he hands over the symbols only of that temporal power. Unlike what Otto would have done at the time of Heribert’s actual investiture, here he does not bestow on Heribert the episcopal ring and crosier signifying his ecclesiastical power. Rather he hands over to Heribert what a twelfth-century bishop-elect would receive: the staff and the standard bearer’s lance, the latter a symbol of the ducal office. As Susanne Wittekind points out, the bestowal of this lance first granted to archbishop Bruno of Co­logne in 953 by Otto I was only revived in 1151 when Arnold of Wied received it for the duchy of Lorraine. The fact that Heribert anachronistically receives it “indicates a claim of the Co­logne archbishops to this high earthly office.”106 The prominence of Otto’s sceptre in this medallion might also be an allusion to investiture per sceptrum, a post-Concordat form specific to German bishops-elect before their consecration. As Robert Benson notes, “the scepter symbolized royal power and the act of concession, but did not represent the thing transferred... The investiture per sceptrum was less offensive to the reformers than investiture with ring and staff, since the scepter was not actually given to the prelate and therefore could not so readily represent the bestowal of an ecclesiastical office.”107 In the lower half of this medallion, the pope, as in both Heribert’s time and later, culminates the process by granting Heribert the pallium—a white woollen band decorated with black silk crosses and worn around the shoulders with its two vertical bands descending in front and in back—the symbol of his archiepiscopal office and a necessity for his performing his episcopal duties no matter how he had been chosen for office.108 The pope’s hieratic image, simultaneously paralleling and replacing that 104  See Amira, “Investitur des Kanzlers,” 523, who identifies the ring that Otto gives to Heribert in the Heribert Shrine medallion as a signet or seal ring because of the angular elevation the ring has at its upper end (Mit der weit hinausgestreckten Rechten reicht er dem in langem Talar vor ihm knieenden Heribert einen Ring dar, der am obern Ende durch eine kantige Erhöhung deutlich als Siegelring gekennzeichnet ist.). For an illustration of a signet ring, see Medi­eval Coins and Seals, 101, fig. 4.

105  PRG, 1, LXIII:39, p. 221, and PC, Cod. 139, fols. 18r–v.

106  “deutet sich ein Anspruch der Kölner Erzbischöfe auf diese hohe weltliche Würde an,” Wittekind, “Heiligenviten und Reliquienschmuck,” 15. 107  Benson, Bishop-Elect, 231 and 231n11.

108  Its origins obscure and its early uses varied, the pallium was in medi­eval times bestowed

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of Heribert’s father in the first medallion, is again a visual affirmation that Heribert, having chosen the path of the Church rather than having followed in his father’s footsteps, will clearly achieve the renown foretold at his birth. Curiously in this medallion the pope conferring the pallium on Heribert is wrongly identified as Ioh[ann]es Papa, a mistake that someone at some point acknowledged by scratching the titulus on the shrine, a defacement which in part is still apparent.109 Scholars have either ignored this mistake or dismissed it as an error in chrono­logy, for we know historically Sylvester II granted Heribert the pallium. Having been appointed by Otto III to succeed Pope Gregory V, who had died on February 18, 999, Sylvester became pope on April 2, 999, prior to Heribert’s having received the pallium in autumn 999,110 and remained pope until May 12, 1003. It is not known what sources the creators of the shrine relied on for their information; in chronicling the event neither vita names the pope. However, the abbey did have the codex of its sacristan Theoderic of Deutz containing a list of popes from Saint Peter onwards giving the duration (years, months, days!) each was in office but without ascribing specific dates.111 While his list is, with only a few exceptions, remarkably accurate in terms of accounting for all legitimate wearers of the papal tiara in their chrono­logical sequence, it is only after 965 that errors begin to occur more frequently, unfortunately not long before Heribert’s receiving the pallium. If the shrine’s creators lacked other documentation and relied on Theoderic’s list, they made either an educated guess or a deliberate choice. Even though Theodoric has not placed them in their correct chrono­logical order with respect to Sylvester II, he provided four Johns for them to choose from: John XIIII [XIV], John XV, John XVI, and John XVII, but he provides no further information about these popes beyond the length of their tenure.112 Passing over John XVI, an antipope whom Theoderic of Deutz nevertheless included, Esther-Luisa Schuster names “John XVII (1003),” most likely on the basis by the pope primarily on a metropolitan but also on an archbishop or bishop granting him his powers of office. In his De divinis officiis, Rupert of Deutz connects the pallium with Saint Peter and the apostles (Ruperti Tuitiensis, Liber de divinis officiis, I:27, pp. 22–23). On the pallium, see Schoenig, Bonds of Wool: The Pallium. For briefer sources, which, too, provide earlier references, see New Catholic Encyclopedia (1967), s.v. “Pallium,” and Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church, s.v. “Pallium.” See also Miller, Clothing the Clergy, 250–51, for a brief summation, as well as the various places in the book where she puts the pallium in specific contexts and discusses its importance and meaning, especially 26–28 and 60. 109  “Emaileinlage in dem (historisch falschen) Papstnamen ausgekratzt,” Seidler, Schrein des heiligen Heribert, 94. 110  Müller, “Heribert, Kanzler Ottos III” (1998), 27.

111  Theoderic of Deutz, Thioderici, 573–77.

112  Theoderic’s ordering of the popes in this time frame is: John XIIII, John XV, Gregory V, Sylvester II, John XVI, John XVII (Theoderic of Deutz, Thioderici, 577). In reality, John XVI, an antipope, came immediately before Sylvester II, not after him (Kelly, “John XV,” Oxford Dictionary of Popes, 135–36). In addition to the imprecisions in Theoderic’s codex, the confused numbering of popes named John by eleventh-century historians led to there being no pope John XX. See “John (XX),” New Encyclopaedia Britannica, 15th ed. (2002), 6:573.



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of the year of his papacy’s being close to the date of Heribert’s reception of the pallium in 999, but otherwise there is little to recommend him.113 However, offering no reason for the choice, she ultimately concludes that, given the nature of Theoderic’s codex, the name of the wrong pope could be “attributed to a calculation error.”114 On the other hand, the abbey’s Iohannes Papa could be another John who was also close in time to Heribert’s receiving the pallium, John XV (985–996). Despite his somewhat troubled time in the papacy,115 the motivation for the shrine’s creators to choose him could be that John XV issued the first ritual papal canonization. The fact that this canonization occurred at a synod in the Lateran and that it was the bishop of Augsburg who was canonized might well have embedded that event, which occurred only six years prior to Heribert’s receiving the pallium, in the German ecclesiastical memory.116 If the shrine’s icono­graphers wished to make an allusion to this pope, Iohannes Papa would not just be investing Heribert with the pallium of his episcopal office but would also be, by association, conferring upon him sainthood, thereby pictorially further legitimizing the canonization bull the abbey itself had forged, a document to be discussed in Chapter 3. With regard to the pallium, Steven Schoenig also notes: “As popes in the eleventh century sought to exercise a more centralized authority over the whole church in the interest of reform, the pallium’s role as an instrument of control grew…The meaning ascribed to it continued to evolve throughout the Middle Ages. It remained, however, unambiguously connected to the papacy…to promote the vision of a papally directed church.”117 On the shrine the image of “Pope John,” centrally placed within a defining arch and more imposing than the emperor above, supports the primacy of the papacy. The alignment and the near connection of the pope’s pallium with the one awaiting Heribert provide a visual tie between Heribert and the papacy. Nevertheless, as intriguing and plausible as a conscious choice of a Pope John might seem to highlight the position of the Church and the empire, the caveat must remain that we must keep in mind that without specific reliable evidence to support our conjectures, what we know now from the multiple documentary sources available to us unfortunately does not equate with what was known to the people to whom these historical sources relate. The four scenes in these two medallions form a unit encapsulating the proper relationship between the religious and the secular spheres. In her pairing of the prophets with respect to specific shrine medallions, Schuster singles out Zachariah, who, if his panel were moved to the central position it had before a restoration,118 would place him below these two medallions in which Heribert receives the signs of both his secu113  Kelly, “John XV,” Oxford Dictionary of Popes, 138.

114  Schuster, Visuelle Kultvermittlung, 86.

115  Kelly, “John XV,” Oxford Dictionary of Popes, 133–34.

116  Kelly, “John XV,” Oxford Dictionary of Popes, 133. 117  Schoenig, “Bonds of Wool,” 18–19.

118  “Ezechiel (mit Zacharias vertauscht),” Seidler, “Studien zum Reliquienschrein,” 9, and Seidler, Schrein des heiligen Heribert, 14.

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lar and religious powers (Fig. 6). Zachariah’s inscription, “These are two sons of oil who stand before the Lord of the whole earth” (Zach. 4:14), refers to the two oil-giving olive trees on either side of a gold candlestick (Zach. 4:11). Schuster sees Zachariah’s message as a reference to “the two supports (Unterstützer) of the Church, namely secular and spiritual power,” making Zachariah’s inclusion beneath these two medallions, in the light of the investiture struggle, “highly political (höchst politisch).” However, given the main focus of her book, here as elsewhere when citing rightly political associations, she does not elaborate on them, in this instance observing, “the position of the pope is clearly emphasized (wird die Stellung des Papstes deutlich herausgehoben).”119 In addition, a detail in the architecture of the first of these four scenes contributes to their grouping. Seidler describes the architecture in the scene of Heribert’s ordination as a deacon (Fig. 11) as the exterior of a Romanesque church: “Fully illustrated are, on the left, the multi-level choir, on the right, the westwork with a crowning fourth-tower, which breaks through the inscription.”120 The arch joining these parts of the church serves to open up as well as enclose the participants within the interior of the church. In the westwork the artist has clearly shown the panel of an open door, its decorative wrought iron hinges mirroring those found on medi­eval doors. However, this door differs from the only other opening with doors, the almost unnoticeable doors of a pedimented structure, likely the entrance to the church soon to be entered, which appears at the bottom right of the fifth medallion (Fig. 13). By contrast, in the ordination scene, the artist has specifically chosen to call attention to the door by its visual brightness and its hardware almost resembling script. The door then must have some significance. Being behind Heribert the door indicates where Heribert has come from for his clerical ordination; that is, he is leaving behind the secular sphere and entering the religious one. Although after his ordination he will go out through the still open door into the secular sphere, he will not have relinquished his position in the spiritual one, for, in the final scene of the four in these two medallions, he will return permanently to the spiritual one to receive the pallium, the liturgical vestment that supersedes anything secular the emperor can bestow. The ordering of these four scenes on the shrine may then have a bearing on the fact that the creators of the shrine chose to invert the order of the first two scenes. Both vitae put Heribert’s receiving the chancellorship before his receiving clerical orders. By having reversed these two events, the shrine’s creators have thus made an important statement: the two religious events coming first and last thus serve as bookends enclosing the secular within the spiritual, thereby showing that in the world order the powers of the empire still lie within the powers of the Church. The upper half of the fifth medallion (Fig. 13) depicts Heribert, after having received the pallium from the pope in Rome, crossing the Alps for his return to Co­logne. While this episode is not described in either vita, the medallion’s inscription calling 119  Schuster, Visuelle Kultvermittlung, 89.

120  “Vom Aussenbau der Kirche sind links die vielstufige Chorpartie, rechts der Westbau und oben das Dach mit bekrönendem Vierungsturm, der das Schriftband durchbricht, vollständig dargestellt,” Seidler, Schrein des heiligen Heribert, 93.



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Heribert “a mountain crossing the mountains who will strew the valleys with light” evokes Rupert’s repeated vita references to Heribert as a light, a candle, and a candlestick.121 This light is a foreshadowing of how Heribert the mountain with the great light of his new ecclesiastical status will penetrate and illuminate the depths of every valley below. Heribert’s crossing the mountains on horseback along with his entourage also visually becomes an allusion to Christ’s entry into Jerusalem, especially when viewed in conjunction with the scene below. However, the event portrayed in the upper half of this medallion has specific ties to events discussed earlier that would affect his relationship with Henry. Heribert’s journey across the mountains from Rome to Co­logne is a strong allusion to his later crossing the Alps to bring Otto’s body from Italy to Polling where he encountered the support-seeking Henry. And just as Heribert had sent the pallium to Co­logne before his consecration gave him the official right to wear it,122 so he later would send the holy lance to a secure location before Otto’s successor could be officially chosen. Moreover, when Henry at last released Otto’s body, Heribert received it in Co­logne on Palm Sunday, the liturgical feast day celebrating Christ’s entry into Jerusalem. Finally, there is the allusion to the contrast between Heribert’s humility and Henry’s arrogance. In his Vita Heriberti chapter recounting Heribert’s exorcising the possessed man on Palm Sunday, Rupert says that on the first Palm Sunday Christ rode into Jerusalem on an ass “undoubtedly because of his contempt for the pride of the kings of the earth” (nimirum ob contemptum superbie regum terre).123 On that same day, after entering Jerusalem, Christ cleansed the temple and healed the blind (Matt. 21:12–14), a parallel to Heribert’s cleansing Henry of his sins by healing him of his blindness in not seeing Heribert, as Henry admitted, as the saintly man that he was. Of interest also in this scene is a detail at the middle of the right edge that might be easily overlooked or dismissed as a local denizen of the mountainside. The viewer’s attention is however drawn to it by the centrally placed Heribert, whose raised hand with pointing index finger indicates he is making a point to the gesticulating figure next to him who points downward toward an apparently sleeping curled- up animal. Esther-Luisa Schuster identifies it as a Steinbock,124 which is defined zoo­logically as an ibex, of the genus capra, and astro­logically as a Capricorn, the goat. From a zoo­logical point of view, the animal depicted with its inward-curving antlers, each with three lateral projections, does not portray an ibex, whose horns have no projections, but a roebuck, a small male roe deer (Rehbock) of the genus Capreolus capreolus.125 Thus, in her very brief discussion of the animal, Schuster must be referring to its astro­logical rather than its zoo­logical representation as she relates it to what the Physio­logus tells 121  For example, for candelabrum, see Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 2, p. 35; chap. 4, p. 37; chap. 10, pp. 46–47; and chap. 20, p. 62.

122  Lantbert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 6, p. 156, and Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 9, p. 43. 123  Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 17, p. 59.

124  Schuster, Visuelle Kultvermittlung, 87.

125  An internet search for “roe deer” provides information on and images for this type of deer, of which only the males have antlers. While roe deer mostly are tailless, they can have a small tail.

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about the caprea, the roe, which there is described as female, and thus without antlers. On the other hand, Susanne Wittekind identifies the animal as a Hirsch, a stag or hart, a male deer, an animal with antlers, which she interprets as a symbol of Christ.126 Despite the apparent difference between visual representation and literary description, in this instance image and text can be seen to merge into consonance. The text of the Physio­logus provides some insights as to why a depiction of these animals might appear in this scene. Physio­logus XXII describes the roe, a mountain animal, as one who “represents the wisdom of God who loves the prophets, that is, the high mountains” and who, as described in the Song of Songs (2:8) “comes leaping over the mountains, bounding over the hills.”127 The first quotation thus connects with the shrine’s inscription identifying Heribert as a mountain crossing the mountains and the second quotation with the medallion’s visual representation of that crossing. “The roe, however, leaps over the prophets, bounding over the hills (that is, the apostles),”128 again a quotation that puts Heribert on the path to his destination, Co­logne, where at his consecration he will become a successor to the apostles. The roe’s keen vision allows her to see “far off all who approach her, and she knows whether they come with guile or with friendship.”129 By analogy, this relates to Heribert’s perception of his relationship with Henry. The roe’s ability to perceive guile is likened to Christ who “knew that Judas was coming to betray him with a kiss” (Luke 22:48), but like Christ, Heribert would be one “who takes away the sins of the world” (John 1:29).130 In this regard, the roe seems secure in the presence of what appears to be a hunting scene with scent-seeking dogs. As Heribert engages in conversation with the gesticulating figure pointing toward the unaware animal, one of the dogs turns to look back as if waiting for a signal to begin the hunt, but the roe has no need to awaken, for having already seen from afar, she knows there is no guile in Heribert. From the above description, it is clear that the Physio­logus identifies the roe as female, yet the creators of the shrine have clearly given the roe antlers, something the female roe does not have. While medi­eval artistic representations certainly cannot be assumed to be photo­graphic, the change is curious and might be the reason why Wittekind identified the animal as a stag or a deer. On the other hand, it is possible that the creators of the shrine might have purposely wanted the attributes of both animals, for the stag described in Physio­logus XLV shares the same associations with the roe, here using the words of David in the Psalms: “The high mountains are for the stags” (Ps. 104 [103]:18) and then continuing: “He calls the apostles and prophets mountains, and stags he calls the faithful men who attain to knowledge of Christ through 126  “Denn wie Heribert hier sein weltliches Gefolge davon abhält, einen Hirsch zu jagen, so wehrt er im übertragenen Sinn der Verfolgung Christi in der Welt” (For as Heribert here prevents his secular entourage from hunting a deer, he fends off in a figurative sense the persecution of Christ in the world), Wittekind, “Heiligenviten und Reliquienschmuck,” 16. 127  Physio­logus, 33.

128  Physio­logus, 33. 129  Physio­logus, 33. 130  Physio­logus, 34.



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the apostles, prophets, and priests.”131 However, these associations are preceded by a different attribute of the stag, his being an enemy of the dragon whom he is capable of killing, just as “did our Lord kill the huge dragon, the devil. . . [who] cannot bear heavenly words.”132 The Physio­logus then describes Christ’s exorcising the possessed man in Matthew 8:28–32,133 which follows right upon Christ’s calming of the sea discussed above. Finally, citing Paul (II Thes. 2:8), the Physio­logus indicates the manner by which the devil can be slain: “the Apostle witnessed concerning the devil and said, ‘The Lord Jesus will slay him with the breath of his mouth.’”134 Clearly the reference to breath can relate to Heribert’s using his breath in his Palm Sunday sermon about the devil and in his praying to release the possessed man from the devil’s clutches. The above associations thus provide a compelling reason for merging the attributes of these animals seen within the context of the hunt in a mountainous region into a single symbolic icono­graphic image. Once again Heribert, his eyes on his spiritual goal, prevails as he puts without delay the purpose of his crossing ahead of the earthly pastimes of men. The lower half of this medallion (Fig. 13) continues the narrative with Heribert’s arrival in Co­logne in order to be consecrated as its bishop. As Rupert tells us, Heribert walked into the city barefoot, an indication of his humility that can again be seen as a foil to Henry’s arrogance in his power play to grab the imperial throne.135 The medallion’s inscription, suscipit optatum plebs pontificem sibi gratum (The people welcome the beloved bishop chosen by them) is, however, more than an adulatory recognition of Heribert’s popularity with the people of Co­logne. The word optatum, which can also mean “elected,” becomes an indication of the people’s participation in the episcopal election process, a primary issue in the Investiture Controversy.136 In addition to its relating to Heribert, the word optatum can be seen as an oblique reference to Henry insofar as an emperor should also be duly elected by the wish of the people or their representatives, not merely seize the imperial throne for himself as Henry had done. As Thietmar of Merseburg tells us, Henry’s usurpation was the very reason that Heri131  Physio­logus, 60. 132  Physio­logus, 58. 133  Physio­logus, 59. 134  Physio­logus, 59.

135  Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 9, p. 43. Going barefoot was a ritual performed for both humility and penance. See Müller, Heribert, Kanzler Ottos III (1977), 199–200, and Althoff, Otto III, 94–95.

136  While optatum can also be an adjective meaning “desired, wished for,” the use of the dative plural reflexive sibi (by themselves) indicates that optatum is more likely being used as the past participle of opto (to choose, elect, select), thus taking a dative of agent instead of an ablative.   Regarding the role of the people in the election of a bishop, see PRG, 1, LVI, pp. 194–95, and Pontifical romain, 1, pp. 11–12. The Co­logne pontifical does not contain the election process. PC, Cod. 139, fol. 1v, begins the process of the ordination of a bishop-elect, indicating that he has already been elected (Primitus eligatur) and starts after the election (Post electione[m]). While Benson notes that in the twelfth century the role of the laity in electing a bishop was gradually diminishing, he cautions “one should not exaggerate the consistency and effectiveness of the effort to deprive the laity of its right to participate actively” (Benson, Bishop-Elect, 376n3). The issue of episcopal election in relation to the Investiture Controversy and the Co­logne pontifical will be discussed later.

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bert had given for not handing over the holy lance: “He would freely give his assent to whomever the better and greater part of the entire folk inclined.”137 The medallion inscription is also a possible reference to the circumstances surrounding Heribert’s own election to the archbishopric of Co­logne. Rather than putting himself forward as a candidate, Heribert had refused to be considered for the archbishopric, only relenting when, after virulent contention to fill the position, all parties unanimously settled upon him and Otto III confirmed the agreement; in characteristic humility only then did Heribert agree to become the chosen shepherd of his people. 138 While Cynthia Hahn has noted that a bishop’s election “seems to have been rarely (if ever) pictured,”139 and while indeed in this medallion Heribert arrives after his election has occurred, the visible inscription chosen by the designers of the shrine to accompany the visual representation of this medallion’s event becomes itself an “image,” creating in the minds of those who read it an allusion to and reminder of the very process by which Heribert has come to Co­logne. Furthermore, the people’s participation in the final approval of a bishop-elect will be combined pictorially and textually in the very next medallion. The final medallion (Fig. 14) on this side of the shrine relates the events of the process of Heribert’s becoming archbishop, the creators of the shrine following the ritual described in the pontificals.140 The upper half of the medallion depicts his examination by the metropolitan bishop as to his worthiness to hold such a high episcopal office. Seated among the designated clergy, Heribert is shown responding to the metropolitan bishop’s interrogation, during which he must declare he is willing (volo) to obey and consent to all things asked with his whole heart as well as affirm his belief in the tenets of the Apostles’ Creed, the very text that appears on the open books of the seated apostles, Heribert’s forebears, on the sides of the shrine. The bishop-elect’s testimony having been validated by the clergy and the civic council, the people, responding to exhortation, also declare him worthy to be their bishop and give their assent (Dignus est).141 137  Thietmar of Merseburg, 4:50, Ottonian Germany, 188. It should be noted that Thietmar, not favourably disposed toward Heribert, preceded Heribert’s declaration with the statement that “Heribert did not then favour the duke and made no effort to conceal it” (187–88). See also Gussone, “Religion in a Crisis of Interregnum,” 127 and n. 38, where he comments on Heribert’s position and its significance in terms of kingship at this time.

138  Lantbert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chaps. 4 and 5, pp. 149–54, and Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chaps. 6 and 7, pp. 38–42. See also Müller, Heribert, Kanzler Ottos III (1977), 195–98. On Rupert’s attitude toward election and Heribert, see Van Engen, Rupert of Deutz, 225–26. 139  Hahn, Portrayed on the Heart, 135–36.

140  PRG, 1, LXII–LXIII, pp. 199–229; PC, Cod. 139, fols. 1v–20v; and Pontifical romain, vol. 1, X–XI, pp. 138–54.

141  PRG, 1, LVIII:2, p. 197; LXIII:(f)17, p. 205; LXIII:17, p. 212, and 28–29, p. 216; PC, Cod. 139, fol. 12r; and Pontifical romain, 1, X:12, p. 144. While the Pontifical romain does not contain the phrase Dignus est, Andrieu in his discussion of this fact (Pontifical romain, 1, pp. 11–12) notes that in Rome after the bishop-elect has undergone interrogation, the pope himself, acknowledging that the clergy and the people have chosen him, consecrates the bishop and exhorts him to perform his episcopal duties (PRG, 1, LXVI:1, pp. 231–32, and Pontifical romain, 1, XI:1, p. 152). It should also be noted that this instruction which the pope gives to the new bishop appears in a manu­script of



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In the medallion’s inscription, below the word levamen (consolation/solace), an obvious reference to Heribert’s concern for the poor, is a person in lay attire who points to the second half of the word, amen. His gesture might be the shrine’s creators’ way of making a pun to make a point, for if one separates the word levamen into its two parts, the first is the root of the verb levo, levare, to raise someone to a high position, and the remaining part, amen, the “so be it,” becomes an assent.142 Thus, the pointing layman depicted at Heribert’s examination becomes synecdochically the people affirming Dignus est and a further reference to the proper ecclesiastical procedure for investing a bishop, again a clear reminder that the Church, including the faithful, has the authority to elect and affirm bishops as opposed to their merely being chosen by the emperor. The depiction of Heribert’s examination also serves as an allusion to the coronation ritual when the emperor, like Heribert, must submit to an examination by the metropolitan bishop and declare his willingness (volo) to perform his requisite duties and be a faithful defender of the Church when crowned.143 As an episode that does not appear in either vita, the inclusion of Heribert’s examination supports the assertion that the shrine’s creators wanted not only to assert Heribert’s humility and his worthiness to hold the esteemed office but also to affirm the proper ecclesiastical method for attaining it. The lower half of the medallion depicts Heribert’s consecration when, according to the liturgical ritual of the pontificals, after the imposition of the gospel book and the anointing with oil, Heribert will receive the symbols of his office, the ring and crosier.144 However, in his vita Rupert mentions neither ring nor crosier, and in this medallion Heribert is not depicted actually receiving them. Instead, the scene focuses on the legitimate prerequisites for receiving the symbols of his office as a means of reinforcing the liturgical significance and power of the event and on Heribert’s right to bear them. While in the medallion the metropolitan bishop holds a crosier, either for Heribert or more likely his own, whatever the case, as a central object in the scene, it asserts itself as an important signifier of episcopal power. According to the consecration ritual, the crosier or baculum signifies the power of the bishop to bind and to loose men from their sins, but at the same time it also admonishes him to maintain righteousness without anger (sine ira) in piously chastising error, the very things Heribert does in his reconciliation with Henry as noted above.145 Besançon provenance (London, British Library, Additional MS 15222, fols. 17v–27v) which does not belong to the PRG family (PRG, 1, p. 231). However, it does appear in Ordines romani, 4, pp. 47–57, as an appendix to Ordo XXXV. 142  On levare see Niermeyer, Mediae Latinitatis Lexicon Minus, p. 599, no. 3. On word-play, see note 75 above. 143  PRG, 1, LXIII:1–14, pp. 205–9; LXXII:7, pp. 248–49; PC, Cod. 139, fols. 23r–v.

144  PRG, 1, LXIII:31–45, pp. 216–23; PC, Cod. 139, fols. 12r–20v; and Pontifical romain, 1, X:21–28, pp. 147–49. In his chapter on Heribert’s consecration (Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 9a, pp. 44–46), Rupert mentions only the gospel book and the holy oil.

145  On binding and loosing, see PC, Cod. 139, fol. 19v. Vogel and Elze (PRG, 1, LXIII:41, p. 222, n. 41:7) note that the same phrase, id est potestatem ligandi atque solvendi, appears in two manu­ scripts, G (Eichstatt, Episcopal Archives, Pontifical de Gondekar II) and J (London, British Library,

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Chapter 2 Figure 33. Heribert Shrine, Peter side, Isaiah and St. Peter. Erzbistum Köln/ St. Heribert, Köln-Deutz. Photo: Helmut Stahl, Köln.

Figure 34. Heribert Shrine, Paul side, Prophet inscription (beneath the feet of the apostles and prophets) positioned below the exorcism and reconciliation medallions. Erzbistum Köln/ St. Heribert, Köln-Deutz. Photo: Helmut Stahl, Köln.



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During the depicted ceremony a bishop places the gospel book on Heribert’s neck between his shoulders while Heribert is anointed with the holy oil, as the medallion inscription indicates (unctio sancta datur personaq[ue] digna sacratur). It is at this point in the liturgical ritual that the officiant prays that the bishop being consecrated be wise in ministering reconciliation and in using the keys to the kingdom of heaven in binding and loosing, something again that the reconciliation medallion shows Heribert has the power to be and to do.146 When the gospel book is placed on the head of the bishop-elect, Mark, 6:6–13, is read. In this text Christ gives the apostles the power over unclean spirits and commands them to take nothing but a staff as they preach to men to do penance. Mark goes on to report that, in the process, the apostles exorcised many and healed the sick by anointing with oil. This text not only relates to the powers given through the consecration ritual but also parallels Heribert’s exorcism of the possessed man and his releasing Henry from his sins through the emperor’s penitential act. The same ritual of unction, discussed above, would have been followed by the archbishops of Co­logne when they crowned the emperor.147 In the vita in his excursus on Heribert’s consecration, Rupert focuses on the significance of the consecration anointing, citing not only Isaiah 61:1: “The spirit of the Lord is upon me, because the Lord hath anointed me: he hath sent me to preach to the meek, to heal the contrite of heart,” but also Luke 4:18–19, wherein Christ in the temple reads aloud this same passage in his own fulfillment of it.148 Rupert thereby indicates that Heribert will follow in Christ’s footsteps, a fulfillment that the exorcism medallion expresses in showing Heribert in the midst of preaching and in the reconciliation medallion healing the contrite of heart. Although Rupert’s passage from Isaiah is not the one on the scroll of the prophet Isaiah positioned on this side of the shrine (Fig. 33), the shrine’s passage similarly echoes the vita’s citation regarding preaching and salvation. The words on his scroll, qua[m] speciosi pedes evang[e]lizantiv[em] pace[m], are an abbreviation of and reference to Isaiah 52:7, “How beautiful upon the mountain are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, and that preacheth peace: of him that sheweth forth God, that preacheth salvation, that saith to Sion: Thy God shall reign!” In that light, the placement of Isaiah on the shrine does not seem to be merely by chance, for it relates to the events depicted in the preceding medallion wherein Heribert has come to Co­logne over the mountains arriving there barefoot, ready to fulfill his apostolic mission of preaching and salvation in the world where God will reign. Furthermore, the connection with preaching is reinforced on the next side of the shrine by the placement of the prophet Nahum (Fig. 34), who is positioned below both Additional MS 17004). This phrase does not appear in the Roman pontifical. With regard to anger, the phrase sine ira appears in all three pontificals: PRG, 1, LXIII:41, p. 222; PC, Cod. 139, fol. 19v; and Pontifical romain, 1, X:27, p. 149. See also note 29 above, which discusses anger in regard to the reconciliation medallion inscription. 146  PRG, 1, LXIII:35, pp. 218–19; PC, Cod. 139, fols. 15r–v; and Pontifical romain, 1, X:25, p. 148.

147  Bouman (Sacring and Crowning, 129–31) believes that the coronation ritual derives from that of the consecration of a bishop. See note 42 above regarding Co­logne’s coronation rights. 148  Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 9a, p. 45.

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the exorcism medallion—an episode in which Heribert was actually preaching—and the reconciliation medallion. The verse on Nahum’s scroll, ecce sup[er] mont[es] pedes evang[e]lizantis et annuntiant[is] pace[m], is an abbreviation of Nahum 1:15: “Behold upon the mountains the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, and that preacheth peace: O Juda, keep thy festivals, and pay thy vows: for Belial shall no more pass through thee again, he is utterly cut off.” Thus, Nahum’s words not only reiterate those of Isaiah but also indicate the result of Heribert’s having exorcised Henry, for Belial, “a malevolent power, either human or demonic,”149 having been “utterly cut off” confirms Heribert’s ability to extirpate sin. Thus, the shrine’s Isaiah, correspondingly positioned below and between the fifth medallion depicting Heribert arriving over the mountains and then barefoot being greeted joyfully by his flock and the sixth medallion depicting Heribert’s rise to the episcopacy, “prophesies” the fulfillment of the mission inscribed on his scroll, a mission that will be the subject of the other side of the shrine. This mission will occur in the succeeding medallions presenting the proof that God reigns over all, including the secular sphere. The success of that mission is here confirmed by Isaiah’s index finger, which points in the direction of Saint Peter, who, positioned below the consecration scene (Fig. 33), indicates that Heribert through his consecration follows in the line of the prophets and apostles that preceded him.150 Thus, through his consecration, having reached the apogee of his earthly career with its attendant powers as the Jew Aaron had predicted at his birth, just like Aaron in the Old Testament (Exod. 28–29), Heribert receives this authority by virtue of his episcopal garb, the laying on of hands, and anointing with oil.151 Again, in order to underscore the importance of the episcopal power deriving from the Church, it is easy to see why the creators of the shrine positioned Saint Peter below this medallion. Just as the creators of the shrine had used the vehicle of the dream on the first side of the shrine to signal the auspicious beginning of Heribert’s earthly life, once again on the second side they used the dream to signal the beginning of the most significant accomplishments of Heribert’s new episcopal life, his active career as the shepherd of his church. To effect this parallel, the creators of the shrine deviated slightly from the chrono­logical order of events of the vitae; however, it is not by accident that the seventh medallion, which depicts the founding of the Abbey of Deutz on the basis of a dream (Fig. 15), appears before the medallion depicting the miracle of the rain, a miracle which in both Lambert’s and Rupert’s vitae precedes the founding of the abbey.152 149  According to Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible, 1:377, “In Nah. 1:15—H[ebrew] 2:1 the word [Belial] is used absolutely to designate a malevolent power, either human or demonic.” 150  On the shrine, the prophets are not depicted in the order of their books.

151  For Aaron in the consecration ritual, see: PRG, 1, LXIII:35, pp. 217–18; PC, Cod. 139, fol. 13v; and Pontifical romain, 1, X:23, p. 147. See also n. 89 above and chap. 3, n. 19 below regarding Aaron.

152  Arguing that the medallions on this side of the shrine lack narrative coherence and seeing their order as being somewhat arbitrary and thus interchangeable, Figge (“Einordnung der Heiligengeschichte,” 113–15) nevertheless provides some possible explanations behind the arrangement. However, her thematic connections notwithstanding, if one examines the visual content of these medallions, one can see a concerted effort to link each scene visually to the one



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Notwithstanding the parallel of a divinely sent dream beginning the events of each side of the shrine, the motivation for this deviation from the texts most likely is that once Heribert was elected and consecrated as archbishop of Co­logne, the monastic community of Deutz surely saw the abbey’s foundation as his foremost accomplishment. As founder of the abbey, Heribert followed in the footsteps of Saint Peter: as Peter was the founder of the Church, Heribert was the founder of the Abbey of Deutz. The inclusion in this scene of Pilgrim, who is not mentioned in the text and, as Heribert’s successor in office, would not have been present, must be symbolic. Pilgrim later enters the vitae when Heribert, nearing death, allays the concerns of the monastic community by telling the monks they will not be orphaned; in Lambert’s vita Heribert actually names Pilgrim (Pilgrimus) as his successor and in Rupert’s, Heribert, making a pun, prophetically describes him as someone the monks would not expect, a venerable stranger (peregrinum [pilgrim]).153 By placing Pilgrim in the foundation dream, the creators of the shrine have pictorialized the episcopal succession of the vitae, therein conjoining the birth of the abbey to its continuance after its founder’s death: the work of Heribert will be carried on by those who come after, following in the footsteps of the apostles lining the sides of the shrine. In terms of the reconciliation medallion, as Heribert’s vision of the Virgin Mary in the foundation medallion was the catalyst for building the abbey, Henry’s vision of Saint Peter became the catalyst for Henry’s seeking forgiveness, and when recounting Henry’s request for that forgiveness in chapter 28 of his vita, Rupert, citing Matt. 18:18, specifically reminds us that Heribert has the power to forgive sin.154 Thus, as a successor to Saint Peter and as a representative of the Church, Heribert has the power to bind emperors as well as loose them from their sins. Also, through the vehicle of the dream in which the command to construct the abbey comes from the Mother of God, the scene makes clear that the abbey is subject to and derives its authority from the Church, not from the emperor. Finally, since the abbey was to be built on a pagan site “where once abounded sin and the cult of demons,” the site, like Henry, needed to be exorcised.155 The appearance of Saint Paul below this medallion is that follows it. The scene of the founding of the abbey includes two workmen and the rubric epc after Heribert’s name; the following scene, the vision concerning the wood for the abbey cross, has the same two elements. The latter scene also has Heribert and a cleric before a table, an element repeated in the succeeding medallion of the miracle of the rain. That medallion has a procession that is repeated in the following exorcism medallion in which the fleeing demon occupies the position of the arriving dove in the preceding rain medallion. As already seen, the exorcism medallion has a visual connection to the following reconciliation medallion in the positions of the exorcised man and Henry II and in the ecclesiastical superstructure. Finally, the reconciliation medallion relates to the next and final medallion with the death of Heribert, conjoining them through the inscription on the scroll in the former and its fulfillment in the latter and through the embracing of Heribert in both medallions.

153  Lantbert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 12, p. 197; Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 33, p. 79. The variant spellings of these words in both vitae are given in the notes on each of these pages.

154  See note 23 above with regard to the binding and loosing of sins and also, with regard to absolution, its appearance in the pontificals. 155  Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 13, p. 54.

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a clear reminder that prior to his conversion Paul persecuted Christ just as Henry persecuted Heribert and thereby required cleansing of his sin. Concomitantly, the cornice inscription nempe rigans sacians, tenebrarum devia vitans (truly, appropriating making water flow, avoiding the erring ways of darkness) appearing below this medallion and extending below the next not only applies to the cleansing of the pagan site but also serves as another allusion to Heribert’s ability to exorcise and cleanse through the redeeming power of Christ alluded to in the next medallion. The eighth medallion (Fig. 16) of the shrine refers to Heribert’s vision concerning the cross for the new abbey. The medallion inscription tells us that while eating, Heribert has a vision of Christ stretched out on a tree providing him with the motivation for cutting it down to fashion the cross (in mensa visus extensus in arbore C[h]ristus pontifici s[an]c[t]e fit causa crucis faciende). As in the preceding medallion, the shrine’s creators have extended the event to include Heribert’s having followed the intent of the divinely-inspired vision by including two workmen who fell the flourishing tree that will eventually become the substance of the cross. In terms of connections, the cross has significant associations with exorcism. In recounting Heribert’s exorcism of the possessed man, Rupert in chapter 17 of his vita notes that Christ was able to overcome the devil “through the humility of the cross and his own passion.”156 In the pontificals the text for the blessing of a cross made from wood makes it clear that the cross, like the exorcist, drives demons away, making them flee, and is the sign of victory over sin and the power of evil.157 Christian authors too saw in the cross a powerful weapon for exorcising demons and in its apotropaic function a means for warding off evil.158 With regard to the exorcism ritual itself, before beginning the exorcism proper, the priest first prostrates himself before the cross on the altar while chanting the seven penitential psalms; then during the actual exorcism he places his hands on the head and between the shoulder blades of the possessed person, in these places making the sign of the cross three times. Then later in the ritual, again placing his hands on the possessed, he invokes the name of Christ “who has redeemed us through his blood,” a fact that Rupert in chapter 15 of his vita regarding the abbey’s cross alludes to when he reminds us that the Church was bought through Christ’s blood.159 Thus, the cross on which Christ shed his blood for mankind’s sins is the means of man’s redemption. This is borne out in the reconciliation medallion by the chalice on the altar when Henry begs Heribert to forgive his sins, a vision also having been the catalyst for Henry’s action. In the medallion depicting Heribert’s vision of 156  Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 17, p. 59.

157  PRG, 1, XL:97, p. 157, and 101, p. 159; PC, Cod. 140, fols. 2v, 120v–121r, and 123v–124v; Pontifical romain, 1, XXVI:1, p. 204.

158  Sorensen, Possession and Exorcism, 184n37. On the sign of the cross, see also Chave-Mahir, Exorcisme des possédés, 112–13.

159  PRG, 2, CXV: 2, p. 193, and CXV:24, 25, and 28, p. 198. The phrase ecclesiam Dei, quam suo sanguine adquisivit (Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 15, p. 57) is a borrowing from Acts 20:28, which admonishes bishops to remember that the Holy Spirit placed them in charge of “the Church of God which was bought with his blood.”



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the source for the abbey’s cross, it becomes striking then that the leaves falling from the two prominent arms of the living tree seem almost like salvific drops of blood.160 Based on the similarity of its square clasp with the clasp on the pluvial or cope worn by the thurifer in the rain miracle scene in the next medallion (Fig. 17), Esther-Luisa Schuster has identified the unknown piece of cloth depicted in the bottom right of the hewing of the tree medallion as a cope, but a specific one, a choir cope (Chormantel).161 The cappa, also known as the pluvial, deriving from the Latin for rain (pluvia), is a garment dating back to Roman times. As an ecclesiastical garment, the pluvial, which had a hood, was worn only outside of the church as a protection against rain. In the ninth century the cappa became a garment reserved for choir offices known as the cappa chorale.162 As part of the Palm Sunday liturgy, in the statio crucis, choir copes were spread out before the cross along with palm fronds, a ceremony described in the Co­logne pontifical as well as in the Romano-Germanic pontifical. In the description of the ceremony in both pontificals, as the participants slowly come before the crucifix, in addition to throwing down (in terram iactantes) their copes (cappas) with all reverence, the text also indicates the embodiment of that reverence: they adore the crucifix in a prostrate position (proni).163 If Schuster is correct in this identification, it would be the third allusion on the shrine to Palm Sunday, the first being Heribert’s entry into Co­logne compared to Christ’s entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday and the second being Heribert’s exorcism of the possessed man during the Palm Sunday procession. This emphasis on Palm Sunday on the shrine focuses not just on the entry aspect but also on the deferential and penitential nature of what the various liturgical rites associated with Palm Sunday entail. Here once again the cloak provides an allusion to the proper reverence that is to be shown toward God and his representatives, in this case toward Heribert, whom in the next medallion the thurifer incenses and before whom in the reconciliation medallion Henry prostrates himself. The cappa would also forge another connection to the next medallion in which the thurifer wears his pluvial in anticipation of rain. The ninth medallion (Fig. 17) regarding Heribert’s intervention during a time of severe drought depicts a miracle effected, as is the exorcism miracle, through prayer and tears. Led by Heribert, the public procession, depicted in the greater part of the medallion’s space, begins the ritual with supplicatory prayers imploring God’s help for 160  While the tree trunk itself appears in part to be red, unfortunately it is the result of missing pieces of enamel revealing the reddish substrate. “Emailfüllung im Baumstamm weitgehend ausgebrochen,” Seidler, Schrein des heiligen Heribert, 114. 161  Schuster, Visuelle Kultvermittlung, 92.

162  See chape and pluvial in Glossaire de termes techniques, 115 and 356, respectively. See also capa in Niermeyer, Mediae Latinitatis Lexicon Minus, p. 129, and cope (cappa, capa) in Miller, Clothing the Clergy, 249.

163  cum omni reverentia cappas in terram iactantes, proni adorant crucifixum, PC, Cod. 140, fol. 22v. However, Schuster, Visuelle Kultvermittlung, 92n977, in citing the PC, gives the wrong manu­script number, Cod. 139, instead of Cod. 140. See note 7 above for accessing the PC. For the ceremony also see PRG, 2, XCIX:185, p. 47.

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lifesaving rain. The public nature of the event shows not only Heribert’s concerns for the welfare of the people under his care, but also the sign of what will lead to the efficacy of prayer. As in the exorcism medallion, the participants in the procession serve as witnesses. Behind Heribert, several men follow along. One of them, pointing up to the dove that he sees bursting forth from a brilliant sun and hovering above Heribert’s head, turns to ask the tonsured cleric in front of him what is occurring. The cleric, who is directly behind Heribert, points to the bishop in a cause-and-effect response. The first two of the remaining three men at the end of the line also seem to engage in conversation, as the second man places his hand on the shoulder of the first man (who is missing the lower part of his body) to get his attention while at the same time pointing to the gesticulating figure. In contrast, the last man in the line appears to be staring off into space oblivious of the dove’s appearance, perhaps a visual allusion to Rupert’s observation in his vita chapter on this episode: “Many saw it [the dove], but not all, because clearly the form was not of this world but a heavenly grace that was granted to some to see.”164 The dove thus becomes the linking factor, the transition between its appearance as material sign in the public domain of the procession and its spiritual embodiment in the private domain of Heribert, who at his table immerses himself in meditative prayer and the shedding of copious tears to bring regenerative water to a parched earth. Through its cleansing and purifying qualities, rain becomes a metaphor for baptism which washes away sins, bringing an end to the drought of the soul, and, as already noted, baptism and exorcism are liturgically connected.165 The arriving dove in the rain medallion, identified by titulus as the Holy Spirit, is positioned as the lifegiving antidote to the departing soul-damning birdlike demon in the following exorcism medallion (Fig. 18), the departure of the demon, like the arrival of the Holy Spirit, brought about through Heribert’s prayers and tears. Furthermore, just as the rain ended the drought, Henry’s tears have washed away the barren relationship he had with Heribert. However, of particular interest is the relief above and to the right of the rain medallion: an old, bearded man wielding a sickle to cut a grapevine (Fig. 35), the only relief in the four corners surrounding each of the shrine’s medallions that does not contain a figure within a small roundel. Based on the nature of the relief ’s gold plating and the evidence from the nail holes its attachment produced in the shrine’s wooden core, Martin Seidler has concluded that this “until now controversial” (bisher umstrittenen) relief belongs to the original inventory of the shrine.166 This being the case, why would the shrine’s creators have placed this anomalous figure on the shrine? Its occurrence in the context of the rain miracle by which Heribert released Co­logne, a city made prosperous from the wine trade,167 from a horrible drought can,

164  Videbant eam multi, sed non omnes, quia videlicet species non terrena, sed celestis erat gratia, quam aliquibus videre donatum est, Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 11, p. 50.

165  See notes 26 and 34 above regarding the relationship between baptism and exorcism, as well as its expression in the pontificals. 166  Seidler, Schrein des heiligen Heribert, D.v.106.01, pp. 114 and 137.

167  Strait, Co­logne in the Twelfth Century, 14. See also: Medi­eval Sourcebook: “Grants of Privileges



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of course, be a possible reason, but more intriguing is Rupert of Deutz’s exegesis of the fourth verse of the parable of the branch and the vine (John 15:4). In his Com­ mentary on the Gospel of Saint John, Rupert uses this verse to assert the unity of the Church in the face of schismatics who sever the vine and the branch.168 Thus, in a tactic to be discussed again below, if the shrine’s creators deliberately placed the vine cutter immediately before the following exorcism and reconciliation medallions, this figure becomes a “preface” to the theme within these two medallions, thereby expressing covertly a warning to those select viewers armed with a knowledge of Scripture and of Rupert’s views who may wish to divide the true Church for their own ends, especially at a time when the Church was grappling with schismatic antipopes. The vine-cutter Figure 35. Heribert Shrine, Paul side, Vine-cutter relief in the right corner above the rain miracle relief might then be a visual reminder of medallion. Erzbistum Köln/St. Heribert, the sixth verse of Lambert of Deutz’s hymn Köln-Deutz. Photo: Helmut Stahl, Köln. De sancto Heriberto. That verse informs that Heribert “drives out from the church the hostile schisms of heresy by the word of God” (exturbat inimica ab ecclesia verbo haere­ sis schismata).169 Thus, in conjunction with the vine-cutter relief, the verse becomes a reminder, as well as an admonition, to the monks of Deutz to continue in the footsteps of their founder in preserving the unity of the Church through the power of prayer and any possible regenerative action. at London to the Hanse of Co­l ogne, 1157–1194,” URL: https://sourcebooks.fordham.edu/ source/1194hanse-koln-london.asp.

168  Ruperti Tuitiensis, Commentaria in Evangelium Sancti Johannis, XI:15, 4, pp. 650–52. See also Van Engen, Rupert of Deutz, 122, as well as Godman, Archpoet, 225. Stroll (Symbols as Power, 118–24) sees the vine in the apse mosaic in San Clemente in Rome in the context of the papal schism of 1130–1138; she traces various earlier metaphorical meanings of the vine but does not mention Rupert of Deutz. In another interpretation, Wittekind (“Heiligenviten und Reliquienschmuck,” 11) sees the figure in the relief as a wine-grower who represents the apocalyptic reaper of the harvest at judgment (Apoc. 14:14–19). This also could be seen as an admonition embedded in the words on the scroll in the reconciliation medallion.

169  Analecta Hymnica Medii Aevi 10:190, hymn 251, verse 6a. In Heribert’s case, verbo could also refer to preaching. The same hymn also appears in Lantbert von Deutz, Vita, p. 292, verse 6a, where schismata is replaced by fantasmata (delusions). In his introduction to the Vita, Vogel (pp. 36–38) gives a brief introduction to Lambert’s hymns in honour of Heribert. These hymns appear on pp. 274–93.

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In fact, the shrine itself forges that connection with the word vite in the part of the prophet inscription that appears on the socle of the shrine (Fig. 34) directly beneath the exorcism and reconciliation medallions: xpm venturum vite qui statum reparari. There the word vite is not just the genitive singular of vita (life) with its frequently omitted a, but also the complete ablative singular of vitis (vine). Thus, what in the first instance would be the prophets prophesizing that the future coming of Christ would be accompanied by “the condition of life to be repaired,” in the second instance the condition to be repaired would be affected by the vine. The starting point of Rupert’s exegesis is Christ’s statement “I am the vine,” and it is through Christ and his representatives that the kingdom of God will prevail, but when it is faced with those who would place it in peril by severing the vine, it is the duty of those following in the footsteps of Christ to restore the right order of the world. In that light, armed with their knowledge of Scripture and the writings of their renowned abbot, the vine cutter serves as a prompt to the monks of Deutz that in imitatio Christi, they, like their saintly founder, needed to remain steadfast lest the vine be separated from the branches. The final medallion (Fig. 20) of the shrine depicts Heribert’s death as he foretold it, “spoken” on the scroll in the immediately preceding reconciliation medallion (Fig. 19). The images and the inscription of this medallion here provide the ultimate confirmation that the spiritual takes precedence over the temporal. Dying in 1021, three years before Henry, Heribert would then still serve as the model of imitatio Christi for the emperor. Thus, it was incumbent upon Henry to follow on the path to salvation that Heribert had opened up to him if he wished to see Heribert in eternity. Even though by the time of the shrine’s creation Henry had already been declared a saint, as noted above, the shrine does not explicitly denote it. In fact, the scroll in the reconciliation medallion telling that they would see each other no more could be an admonition rather than a simple farewell message. By leaving Henry’s ultimate end in the balance, the shrine intimates the importance of continued vigilance against the weakness of the flesh so as to keep temptation at bay, for one’s salvation will be determined by the state of one’s soul at death when judgment will decide if it merits a heavenly reward. This message is underscored not only by the pilaster figures of the victory of the virtues over the vices framing this and the other medallions on this side of the shrine but also by the inscription surrounding this particular medallion. When Heribert is at last loosed from the flesh (carne solutus), his merits, shining out with a reddish gleam like fire (meritis rutilans velut ignis), are a testament to a life of virtue, thus securing his place in paradise (fit requie tutus paradysi). Although Heribert had loosed Henry from his sins and thereby opened up the path to his sanctity, Henry, being Adam’s progeny, as discussed above, must retain that state of grace, so that he too, when loosed from the flesh, will be prepared at judgment to have his merits positively weighed in order to achieve that goal. Simply having worn the crown of earthly power is in itself insufficient in the eyes of God and the Church to merit a crown in heaven. A figure on the shrine may allude to the fact that Henry was still in need of being vigilant, for despite the depicted reconciliation and Henry’s professed conversion, Henry was not yet trusted. According to Rupert, as Heribert lay dying some months after his reconciliation with Henry, Heribert’s brother Gezemann, whom only Rupert



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specifically names, was still very much in fear of Henry’s continued reprisal against their family. Gezemann’s fear possibly related to Henry’s having in 1014 awarded the bishopric of Verden to Wigger, the Co­logne Cathedral provost Heribert had deposed.170 Given Henry’s irascible temperament, perhaps Gezemann also feared that the emperor still harboured a latent animosity toward the family in view of an earlier troublesome episode involving Heribert’s brother, Bishop Henry of Würzburg, who had died in 1018, just three years before Heribert. Heribert’s brother had openly opposed the emperor’s transferring a part of the diocese of Würzburg to what would become the newly created diocese of Bamberg. However, when Henry II had reneged on his promise to elevate Heribert’s brother to the archbishopric, the bishop did not come to Henry’s synod of November 1, 1007, in Frankfurt to accede to the creation of the new diocese. As Thietmar of Merseburg relates: “Berengar, Bishop Henry’s chaplain, arose and declared that his lord had not come because he feared the king and that he would never have agreed to anything that in any way damaged the church committed to him by God.” In his account of the event, Thietmar also asserted: “Later, Bishop Henry was restored to the king’s favor, with the help of his brother, Heribert, and received satisfactory compensation.” Even though Heribert Müller concurs that Heribert’s brother had received many benefits for his support of Henry II in the emperor’s political endeavours, that beneficence most likely was conditioned on the efficacy of that support in advancing imperial power and control. On the other hand, when Henry II felt he was being thwarted in achieving his ends, his irascibility, as described in the vitae, showed to what ends he was willing to go for retribution. While in the vitae, Henry II’s anger was directed at Heribert for his refusal to come to the emperor’s aid at Otterstein, Heribert’s brother Gezemann, concerned about his family’s welfare, might have feared the vengeful emperor’s remembering not only the Wigger affair but also the overt anti-imperial stance their brother Henry had taken over the emperor’s establishment of the Bamberg diocese. The incident might also have heightened Henry II’s animosity since, in order to gain his goal, as Thietmar tells us, “Throughout this procedure, the king would humbly prostrate himself on the ground whenever he foresaw that a detrimental judgement was about to be read.” Although prostration was a commonplace means to arrive at a desired end and also outwardly indicated humble submission to a higher authority, it did not necessarily connote actual sincerity on the part of the supplicant, examples of which to be discussed below. Furthermore, having found himself needing to take up a position of debasement—be it trope or not—because a bishop, “one of his familiares” (as Thietmar described Henry, Bishop of Würzburg), refused to accede to his wishes, given his temperament Henry would not have erased this epi170  Residebat autem ad caput lectuli eius frater ipsius, comes nomine Iezemannus, Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 31, pp. 76–77. On the spelling of his name, see 110n133. Regarding Gezemann’s fear Rupert says, Nosti preterea, quia maiestas imperialis tuis omnibus propinquis adversa semper extitit, et dum adviveres, tunc quoque nobis propter ipsum periculosus erat status vite presentis, Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 31, p. 77, and 77n267. On Gezemann, see Müller, Heribert, Kanzler Ottos III (1977), 308n11. For the Wigger incident, see Thietmar of Merseburg, 7:31, Ottonian Germany, 329, and Müller (1977), 176–78, for a discussion of it.

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sode from his memory even though he achieved his intended goal. In fact, in all probability, bad blood still existed between the emperor and the bishop from the earlier time in 1002, when, at Polling, Henry, claiming his right to succeed Otto III, had held Heribert’s brother hostage until Heribert sent the holy lance to Henry, as described above.171 Based on Rupert’s phrase that Gezemann was ad caput lectuli, others in describing the upper half of this medallion (Fig. 20) have inferred that he is the figure embracing Heribert at the head of the bier.172 However, besides “head,” caput can also mean “extremity” or “end” with respect to inanimate things. In addition, Rupert specifically designates Gezemann as comes (count), the same word appearing on the shrine identification of Heribert’s father in the birth medallion. Given that social class, the attire of the prominent figure at the left of the bier seems more likely that of a count than does the attire of the figure at the head of the bier who appears to be garbed more simply. Furthermore, since both Rupert and Lambert also describe Gezemann’s emotional state as inconsolable, uncontrollably weeping and bitterly groaning, fearful and taking precautions,173 the figure on the left bends his head to the side, his hand over his eyes in a sign of grief or perhaps powerlessness. However, with respect to bodily position, Esther-Luisa Schuster has identified this person keeping watch at Heribert’s feet (zu Heriberts Füssen Wachenden) as possibly being Abbot Elias, who had stayed 171  For Heribert’s brother, Henry, Bishop of Würzburg, see: Joseph Lins, “Diocese of Würzburg,” The Catholic Encyclopedia, Vol. 15, New York: Robert Appleton Company, 1912, and on the New Advent Encyclopedia online entry “Diocese of Würzburg” (http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/15718a. htm), where he is identified as Bishop Henry I of Rothenburg (995–1018). See also Müller (1977), 74–77, 94, and 178–83. When Henry died in 1018, he was buried in Haug Abbey, the abbey of Augustinian canons that he had founded. For the Bamberg episode, see Thietmar of Merseburg, 6:30–32, Ottonian Germany, 257–59. For the diploma recording the event, see: MGH, Diplomata, III, Die Urkunden Heinrichs II. und Arduins, Hannover: Hahn, 1900–1903, no. 143, pp. 169–72. A translation of the diploma can be found in Hill, Medi­eval Monarchy in Action, Selected Document 27, pp. 185–88. See also Kaiser Heinrich II, 38–42, for Schneidmuller’s discussion of the episode and fig. 14 (38) which provides an illustration of part of the document which is further discussed in catalogue entry 65, p. 199. For a discussion of the implications of this episode in relation to Henry II’s rulership style, see Weinfurter, “Authority and Legitimation,” where he also sees Henry’s prostration at the Frankfurt synod as “a kingship that appears to draw its strength from a staged act of self-humiliation,” 20. See also Garrison, Ottonian Imperial Art, 116–20. 172  For example, Wittekind (“Heiligenviten und Reliquienschmuck,” 19) refers to Heribert’s being in the lap of his brother, a layman (im Schoss seines Bruders, eines Laien), but does not name the brother. Schuster (Visuelle Kultvermittlung, 95), echoing Wittekind but naming Gezemann without any social status, also places Heribert in the lap of his brother (Heribert im Schoss seines Bruders Jezemann/Gezemann). However, Figge (“Einordnung der Heiligengeschichte,” 115) refers to the person holding Heribert in his arms as only a mourner (Der in den Armen eines Trauernden ruhende Leichnam des Heiligen). 173  Inter quos germanus eius iunior et ipse comes inconsolabili mestitia torquebatur et precavens in futurum et tactus dolore cordis intrinsecus intolerabiliter affligebatur, Lantbert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 12, p. 196, and Comes nomine Iezemannus pofundas lacrimas atque amarissimos continuans gemitus, velut qui in magno pelago tempestatem circumspiciens fractoque gubernaculo naufragus periclitaretur, Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 31, p. 77.



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with the terminally ill Heribert for the two nights preceding his death (Bei diesem handelt es sich möglicherweise um den Abt Elias, der beim todkranken Heribert zwei Nächte wachte).174 Citing Rupert’s report that during those nights Elias had visions of Heribert’s soul going to heaven,175 Schuster sees Abbot Elias depicted on the shrine as dreaming (Seine Haltung mit der Hand am Kopf zeichnet ihn deutlich als Träumenden aus.).176 Despite Heribert’s closed eyes and inanimate body, he is seemingly still alive, thus making the presence of Abbot Elias a viable possibility. On the other hand, a figure with his hand to his head can also represent a person distraught or grieving, a motif that goes back to classical Greek funerary monuments and frequently in medi­ eval times is a gesture of Saint John at the crucifixion, including John in the crucifixion scene on one of the medallions on the great wheel chandelier of Frederick Barbarossa in Aachen Cathedral and dating from about 1165–1170, the time of the second phase of the Heribert Shrine construction.177 However, if we accept the figure at the end of the bier as Abbot Elias or simply another mourner, Gezemann remains the figure lifting up Heribert, and we are then left with a basically sullen figure with a downturned upper lip, looking outward like others below toward an imagined viewer. That image is not a representation of an inconsolable Gezemann, terrified for fear of Henry’s reprisal toward him and other members of his family; such an emotional state cannot be portrayed by merely showing him holding up his brother Heribert in his arms. Perhaps yet another element regarding Gezemann adds to the confusion of identifying him as a figure in this scene on the shrine. In the necro­logy of the Codex Thioderici, unlike his father Hugo who is specifically identified as a count (comes) and his brother Henry who is identified as a bishop (episcopus), Gezemann, like his two brothers, is listed only as brother (frater) despite the fact that Rupert identifies him as a count (comes). Also in the necro­logy Heribert’s family members are remembered on the anniversary of their death with plena memoria, and their names appear in the column for those who have a special alliance with the Deutz community, with the exception of Count Hugo whose name appears in the column intended for the names of the Deutz brothers.178 With respect to Gezemann’s fears about Henry, it is also interesting to note that although both Rupert and Lambert basically recount the same series of events regard174  Schuster, Visuelle Kultvermittlung, 95.

175  Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 29, p. 75. 176  Schuster, Visuelle Kultvermittlung, 95.

177  For difficulties in identifying dream scenes, see Carty, “Dreams in Early Medi­eval Art,” 11–17. Specifically for grief, see 16–17, as well as 35n14, which provides information regarding classical Greek funerary monuments. For the medallion on the Barbarossa wheel chandelier, see Schnitzler, Rheinische Schatzkammer, no. 10, pp. 18–19, and illus. 22, and for two other crucifixion images in other media, a Belgian-Rhenish ivory plaque of c. 1100 in the Aachen Cathedral treasury, no. 9, p. 18, and illus. 8, and a leaf from a Co­logne Sacramentary from the first quarter of the thirteenth century in the Schnütgen Museum in Co­logne, no. 33, pp. 41–42, and pl. VIII. 178  For their names in the necro­logy, see Sinderhauf, Abtei Deutz, 216 and 216nn217, 218; and for the necro­logy entries for each member of Heribert’s family, see: 300 for Gezemann; 317 for Count Hugo; 293 for Tietwich; 294 for Luitfrid; 318 for Reinmar; and 327 for Henry. See also Sinderhauf, Abtei Deutz, 200–202, in which she discusses this arrangement of the necro­logy.

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ing the reconciliation between Henry and Heribert, some differences do exist regarding their views of Henry. While Rupert, in writing of Henry’s falling out with Heribert over the holy lance, paints Henry as rancourous toward Heribert, he at the same time surprisingly presents Henry in a favourable light, saying that he was chosen by the princes to be king “to the advantage of the very rich dignity of the age, since he was not lightly instructed in literary studies.”179 Perhaps Rupert was already thinking ahead to chapter 27 of his vita where, after Henry’s change of heart and subsequent reconciliation with Heribert, Rupert essentially repeated this same sentiment,180 after having related at the end of chapter 26 the good effects the reconciliation had produced in Henry, who now always preceded his affairs with prayers and lamentations.181 In any event, Dinter in his comments on Rupert’s vita also considers Rupert’s positive statements surprising and cites a negative eleventh-century view of Henry.182 Lambert, on the other hand, in his vita seems somewhat distrustful of Henry’s sentiments or motivations, describing the relationship between the two men after Henry’s election and prior to their reconciliation as a period of “a long discord of feigned peace.”183 Heribert Müller sees this phrase as an indication of “mistrust and latent hostility” between the two men, given that Heribert at the outset lost his chancellorship and only became involved in imperial affairs when the “cool calculating” Henry needed him, and even though both Henry and Heribert eventually became saints, Müller believes “all nineteenth- and twentieth-century Catholic hagio­graphy cannot harmonize away this poorly concealed discord by means of a feigned, a sham-peace.”184 In his earlier work Müller devoted a whole section of his book to the falling out between the two men, borrowing Lambert’s phrase for its title: “Simulatae Pacis Longa Discordia: Heribert unter Heinrich II. (1002–1021).”185 Perhaps one can even read in Lambert’s conclusion to this episode a certain surprise at the outcome when he seems to feel the need to support the veracity of his account through third-party testimony saying: “These things when set in motion were truly believed, reported by the same one, granted that they truly were told.”186 In light of these divergent viewpoints, despite the recorded reconciliation, Henry’s professed conversion, and Rupert’s earlier praise, given Lambert’s reservations and Rupert’s subsequent inclusion of Gezemann’s fears, perhaps the creators of the shrine perceived and acted upon this ambivalence. Of course, hagio­graphers and bio­graphers, as well as icono­graphers, can be selective with history, putting their own spin on people and events in order to achieve their intended purposes. In this instance, perhaps 179  Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 10, p. 48. 180  Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 27, p. 72. 181  Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 26, p. 71.

182  Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 10, p. 48n108. 183  Lantbert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 10, p. 179. 184  Müller, “Heribert, Kanzler Ottos III” (1996), 35.

185  Müller, Heribert, Kanzler Ottos III (1977), 160–94.

186  Lantbert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 10, p. 183.



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not wanting to demonize a figure who was at that time already a saint, the designers of the medallions resorted to allusive overlay for those familiar with both versions of Heribert’s life. In any case, they were not beholden to Rupert’s literal placement of Gezemann or even to Gezemann’s inclusion; however, a figure identified as Gezemann, who most in analyzing the shrine agree is present if not agreeing on which one represents him, adds another important dimension to the scene, encapsulating in Gezemann a further reminder of the threat and dangers of unrestrained imperial power, both real and perceived. As shown in this chapter, the interrelationship of the images and inscriptions on the shrine, in conjunction with the vitae Heriberti and liturgical texts, indicates the supremacy of the Church and stresses the importance of imitatio Christi in preparation for life after death. The question remains as to why, in that respect, the focus on the political message was important at the time of the shrine’s creation. That is the focus of the following chapter.

Chapter 3

THE MOTIVATIONS FOR THE MESSAGE: A STILL OPEN CAN OF WORMS In view of the above observations, one must ask what possible motivations the con-

ceivers of the shrine’s icono­graphy had in forging the connection between the exorcism and reconciliation scenes and their relationship with the shrine’s other medallions, why there existed a renewed concern for the relationship between Church and Empire after the two parties had seemingly reached a settlement in the Concordat of Worms nearly fifty years prior. In reality, the settlement was all but definitively settled given the events and the personalities and temperament of the prime movers involved in them at the time of the shrine’s creation. When looking at the first side of the shrine, one is struck by the fact that half of the scenes are devoted to ceremonial activities in which Heribert is the honoured recipient (Figs. 11, 12, and 14). While all of them represent important events in Heribert’s life, taken together they focus attention on the respective roles of ecclesiastical and royal authority with particular emphasis on investiture, an issue of contention that had come to a head in the German Empire in 1076–1077 with the conflict between Pope Gregory VII and Emperor Henry IV leading to the famous event at Canossa. 1 The power struggle over who had the right to elect and invest bishops—Church or Empire—with the episcopal insignia of their office—ring and crosier—was seemingly resolved in 1122 by the Concordat of Worms and later reaffirmed in 1123 by the First Lateran Council, when Emperor Henry V agreed no longer to invest with ring and crosier or interfere with canonical elections and consecration. In return, in the German Empire, the election of bishops and abbots would occur in the emperor’s presence, he would choose between disputed candidates, and, through the sceptre, he could confer the temporalities of the episcopal office even before a bishop was officially consecrated.2 Since this settlement had been reached well after the investiture of Heribert, if the creators of the shrine had wished to portray Heribert’s actual investiture, Heribert would have been shown, like Saint Adalbert on the Gniezno Cathedral doors,3 receiving the ring and crosier from the emperor as would have been the custom in the year 999 when Heribert was invested. Instead, they chose to depict the scene anachronistically, reflecting the customs contemporary with the shrine itself, for, as depicted in the upper half of the fourth medallion (Fig. 12), when Heribert is to become archbishop of Co­logne, he receives from Otto III, as the inscription notes, 1  See the introduction and, for the literature on the Investiture Controversy, intro, nn. 3–9 above.

2  See Blumenthal, Investiture Controversy, 172–73.

3  For an illustration of this scene, see Abou-el-Haj, Medi­eval Cult of Saints, 322, fig. 29, bottom half, where Adalbert receives the crosier from Otto III. Abou-el-Haj (39) very briefly discusses the representations of investiture on the Heribert Shrine.

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the sacra virga symbolizing the regalia or temporalities of his office and putting him under the protection of the emperor. At the same time, he also anachronistically receives from the emperor the standard-bearer lance symbolizing the ducal office.4 It is in the bottom half of this medallion that he receives from the pope, a particularly arresting figure, the pallium, granting him the power to exercise his full archiepiscopal rights, rights that will be officially accorded at his episcopal consecration when he will receive the ring and crosier.5 However, the distinction between the respective rights of Church and Empire is even more forcefully pointed to in the previous medallion where Heribert is invested with the political office of chancellor to Otto III (Fig. 11, bottom). As previously discussed, in this meeting between the emperor and Heribert, now a cleric, our attention is clearly drawn to the central action of the scene, the hand of Otto emerging from the darkness of his canopied throne to place the imperial ring on the extended forefinger of Heribert, who kneels as his subject in deference before him. This is the political realm where Otto has the power to confer a ring, but only the signet ring with the seal of the empire, a ring therefore symbolizing secular power. The prominence of the ring in this scene is clearly meant to be in visual and emphatic juxtaposition to the conspicuously absent episcopal ring in the very next medallion (Fig. 12, top), where at the time of Heribert’s actual investiture Otto would surely have bestowed it along with the crosier.6 Why this insistence on the rights of the Church if this issue had been decided so many years earlier? To answer this question, one needs to consider Rupert’s views as well as the political climate in Germany at the time of the creation of the Heribert Shrine.

4  Benson devotes the entire second half of his book (Bishop-Elect, 203–385) to a discussion of the regalia from the eleventh century onward, including its role in the Investiture Controversy and the implications the use of the regalia had both for the Church and for rulers. For a very concise discussion, see New Catholic Encyclopedia (1967), s.v. “Regalia.” On the appearance of the ducal standard-bearer lance on the shrine, see Wittekind, “Heiligenviten und Reliquienschmuck,” 15. See also Kluger, “Friedrich Barbarossa,” 29–30. 5  On the pallium, see chap. 2, n. 108 above. On receiving the ring, see PRG, 1, LXIII:39, p. 221; PC, Cod. 139, fols. 18r–19r; and Pontifical romain, 1, X:28, p. 149; and the crosier, PRG, 1, LXIII:41, pp. 221–22; PC, Cod. 139, fols. 19r–20r; and Pontifical romain, 1, X:27, p. 149.

6  In commenting on the shrine, which she dates 1160–1170, Collon-Gevaert erroneously notes that Otto is investing Heribert with the episcopal ring rather than with the ring with the imperial seal, which makes him Otto’s chancellor, not archbishop. However, she observes that in giving Heribert on the end of the shrine “a size and importance equal to that of the apostles...anecdote has been replaced by doctrine here: the Archbishop is seen as the successor to the apostles. This new doctrine came into being just at the time when Frederick I, who had Charlemagne canonized, revived the Investiture Dispute” (Collon-Gevaert, Lejeune, and Stiennon, Treasury of Romanesque Art, 85).



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Rupert of Deutz, Theo­logian, Scriptural Exegete, and Abbot of Deutz For the designers of the twelfth-century Heribert Shrine, the immediate sources of information for creating these images were, of course, as already noted, the two lives of Heribert written by the monks Lambert of Deutz (d. 1069) and Rupert of Deutz (ca. 1075–1129) in the mid-eleventh century and 1119–1120, respectively. While Lambert is remembered for his authorship of what a later abbot considered a rather inelegant and sparse life of the abbey’s distinguished founder—a life which Rupert was later directed to embellish and update7—Rupert of Deutz achieved wide recognition for his writings, and, as a consequence, many sought his opinion on the leading issues of the time.8 The abbey’s sacristan, Theoderic of Deutz, writing in the early 1160s, the very time when the shrine was in the process of being created, not only listed in his codex works of Rupert at the abbey but also celebrated Rupert as “surpassing all masters of that time in the knowledge of Scriptures.”9 It is therefore likely that Rupert’s strong views about the role of the Church with respect to imperial aims not only would have informed his vita’s portrayal of Heribert but also would have strongly influenced the visual narration of Heribert’s life, as shall be seen. While Valerie Figge contends that we should stop looking to the vitae, especially Rupert’s, to explicate the shrine’s pictorial narrative, but rather see it in connection with the “general narrative tradition” of Heribert’s life, she doesn’t elaborate on what she sees as this general narrative tradition existing outside the vitae.10 While one can theorize about how much the twelfth-century monks of Deutz through oral tradition may still have held in their memory about Heribert and the events surrounding his life and perhaps even further elaborated on them, certainly the abbey did have the two vitae of its founder and, at minimum, the works of the recently deceased Rupert that Theoderic of Deutz listed in his codex: In Johannem, In Genesim, In libros Regum, In Apocalypsim, De divinis officiis, In prophetas minores, De processione Spiritus sancti, De victoria Verbi Dei, In Canticum Canticorum, In Regulam Benedicti, De incendio, Dis­ putatio christiani atque Iudei, and Liber metrice compositus.11 In this regard, John Van Engen attributes the dissemination of Rupert’s ideas to the many requests for Rupert’s works while Rupert was abbot at Deutz.12 Van Engen further notes that while most Deutz manu­scripts disappeared around 1500, “Enough additional evidence survives, however, to reconstruct the historical setting for his works and controversies at Deutz.”13 In any case, in arguing here for the impact of Rupert’s vita, as well as his exegetical writings and his life experiences at Deutz and elsewhere, I am not suggesting that pictorial narratives duplicate pictorially information found in texts, but 7  See also chap. 1, n. 8 above about the two vitae.

8  Van Engen, Rupert of Deutz, 261.

9  Theoderic of Deutz, Thioderici, 565.

10  “allgemeinen Erzähltradition,” Figge, “Einordnung der Heiligengeschichte,” 117n12.

11  Theoderic of Deutz, Thioderici, 565. 12  Van Engen, Rupert of Deutz, 261.

13  Van Engen, Rupert of Deutz, 221–22.

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that texts, along with relevant history and pictorial tradition, become a resource for constructing and shaping the needs of artistic intention to create a new and often not parallel narrative. Finally, with respect to Rupert’s influence on the Heribert Shrine, based on a dendrochrono­logical study of the shrine’s wood core and inner shrine, Martin Seidler posits that the initial design plans for the shrine may, in fact, even go back to Rupert himself, who had died eighteen years prior to the elevation of Heribert’s remains in 1147.14 From the standpoint of Rupert’s life experiences, it becomes clear how these experiences shaped his views and his writings about the proper world order and the attempts to subvert it. There is no question that Rupert’s sympathies lay with the Gregorian reform movement and, in particular, with its concerns regarding proper investiture. He had experienced first-hand the problems associated with a divided Church. He had, in fact, delayed his own ordination for fifteen years because his bishop had been invested by the excommunicated Henry IV, making the bishop’s sacramental acts, in Rupert’s view, of dubious validity.15 Living through these years of ecclesiastical dispute informed Rupert’s outlook. In his Carmina, an early polemical poem, Rupert blamed Henry IV for the division in the Church, portraying him as the apocalyptic dragon, as the Antichrist in conflict with Pope Gregory VII over the investiture issue.16 In his Commentary on the Apocalypse, Rupert virulently attacked the evils of simony and papal schisms that held the Church hostage, seeing them in terms of intestinal pestilence (intestina peste).17 In fact, in 1119, just about the time Rupert was called upon to write his Vita Heriberti, an investiture struggle was erupting in Liège—the diocese which included Saint Lawrence Abbey where Rupert was a monk at the time—as Alexander, the cathedral treasurer, appropriated the ring and crosier and had Emperor Henry V invest him as bishop of Liège. Only after literally violent confrontations was the rightful candidate, Frederick, the cathedral provost, installed as bishop through the intercession of Archbishop Frederick of Co­logne. But even then violent struggles and reprisals did not end, the repercussions extending even beyond Rupert’s death in 1129, when Alexander, who having on his third attempt finally become bishop in 1128, had his tenure ended in 1135 when he was found guilty of simony, equated at this time with lay investiture.18 Rupert’s concern with the longstanding problems with investiture is reflected in the fact that he had dedicated his Commentary on the Apoca­ lypse to his patron, Archbishop Frederick of Co­logne. Recorded among the works in 14  Seidler, Schrein des heiligen Heribert, 208, and for the dendrochrono­logy results, 123n76.

15  Van Engen, Rupert of Deutz, 38–42, 54–55, and 122. Rupert writes of his ordination in his Commentary on Matthew (Ruperti Tuitiensis, De gloria et honore, XII, p. 381). See too Van Engen, Rupert of Deutz, 371, for a summation of the lasting impact of Rupert’s stance, as well as xvii–xix, for a chrono­logy of Rupert’s life and works. 16  Van Engen, Rupert of Deutz, 30–35. For the Carmina, see Arduini, Non fabula sed res, as well as Barbara Newman’s comprehensive review of Arduini’s book in Speculum 64 (1989), 113–15.

17  For Rupert’s diatribe in this commentary, see Ruperti Tuitensis, In Apocalypsim, in PL vol. 169, cols. 877–78. See Van Engen, Rupert of Deutz, 277–78. 18  Van Engen, Rupert of Deutz, 222–26, and, on simony and lay investiture, 119.



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Theoderic’s codex, this commentary, with its diatribes against simony and dedicated to a local archbishop, may well have motivated the shrine’s creators to name the Jew in the shrine’s first medallion Aaron as a reference to investiture since Aaron, anointed by God, was seen as the Old Testament prototype for proper priestly investiture.19 It is clear that Rupert had no use for venal prelates seeking church offices for worldly ambition. In Book XII of De divinis officiis, he singles out those “who value the earthly more than the heavenly” and warns simoniacs that “the Lord will cast out from his Church those who buy and sell holy orders.”20 While there had to be cooperation between Church and secular authority, the function of the ruler was to protect the Church and demand compliance with its precepts, thus putting the secular realm in a subordinate position, not giving it license to elect Church ministers.21 If then, as Rupert believed, for churchmen the heavenly must supersede the earthly, it is not surprising that, despite Heribert’s being Otto III’s chancellor of both Italian and German affairs and the emperor’s friend, advisor, and confidante, Rupert virtually glossed over Heribert’s important political career, briefly mentioning it, as if in passing, in only one of his vita’s thirty-five chapters, chapter 5, where he devotes only a few lines to Heribert’s becoming Otto’s chancellor.22 For Rupert, Heribert was the model prelate who lived a life framed by the virtues of Charity and Humility (Fig. 36), a priest committed to pastoral care in the kingdom of God on earth. Thus, it cannot be merely by chance that of the twenty-five scenes of Heribert’s life depicted on the shrine,23 only one (Fig. 11, bottom) portrays Heribert 19  For Archbishop Frederick’s relationship to Rupert, see Van Engen, Rupert of Deutz, 228–29. On Rupert’s works in the Deutz library, see n. 11 above. For a discussion of the relationship between Aaron and investiture in other pictorial contexts, see Chasson, “Earliest Illustrated Tuscan Bible,” 173–76, especially 175–76, and Glass, Sculpture of Reform, 174–77 and 194n49, which provides sources regarding the use of the Old Testament in the Investiture Controversy, as well as Glass, “Revisiting the ‘Gregorian Reform,’” 210, which provides an earlier abbreviated version. For Aaron’s being anointed and receiving the mitre, see Exod. 28:40–43 and Lev. 8:6–13. Exod. 29:8–9 expresses the continuity of this “investiture”: “Thou shalt bring his sons also and shalt put on them the linen tunicks, and gird them with a girdle: To wit, Aaron and his children, and thou shalt put mitres upon them: and they shall be priests to me by a perpetual ordinance,” which 29:28 calls “a perpetual right from the children of Israel.” See also chap. 2, n. 89 above regarding Aaron. 20  Ruperti Tuitiensis, Liber de divinis officiis, XII:2, p. 397, and XII:10, p. 403. See Van Engen, Rupert of Deutz, 64–65. 21  See Van Engen, Rupert of Deutz, 269.

22  Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 5, p. 37. For a discussion of the problematic view, first put forth by Percy Ernst Schramm, that Otto was planning a renovatio imperii Romanorum that would create a universal Christian entity based on ancient Roman imperial rule, by which all, including the Church, would be subordinate to the emperor, see Althoff, Otto III, 4–11 and 81–89. 23  While all but one of the medallions on the first side of the shrine clearly divide into two scenes, those on the second side do not so clearly divide. However, when the same figure appears twice in the medallion (Figs. 10 [top], 17, 18, 19, and 20), it is apparent that two events are being portrayed. Even though in the medallions depicting the founding of the abbey (Fig. 15) and the vision concerning its cross (Fig. 16) no figure appears twice, one can still argue that two events are being portrayed: the dream and vision in each followed by its depicted fulfillment. On the other hand, if

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Figure 36. Heribert Shrine, Heribert end, Heribert between Charity and Humility (Rheinisches Bildarchiv Cologne).

in his political role. Indeed, in contrast to Heribert shown in his secular role as subservient to Emperor Otto III, the other side of the shrine illustrates Rupert’s vision of Church vis-à-vis Empire: Emperor Henry II kneeling in submission at the feet of the archbishop who stands before an altar (Fig. 19), the emperor the mirror image of the exorcised man at Heribert’s feet in the previous medallion (Fig. 18). Rupert believed that the devil was extirpated by means of Christ’s incarnation, passion, and resurrection,24 the very theme the creators of the Heribert Shrine have given us in paralleling Heribert’s life as imitatio Christi, a model which Henry, through Heribert’s intercession, must follow by continuing on the path of humility and repentance exhibited in his reconciliation with Heribert. Rupert’s views on Church and the secular realm were shared by other ecclesiastical writers of the first half of the twelfth century. Following Augustine’s model, Bishop Otto of Freising, writing a chronicle in the 1140s, saw the world comprising two cities which ultimately represented the Church and secular rule. According to him, “God desired the state to be brought low that he might exalt the Church,” which happened when the secular realm “was pierced and destroyed not only by the sword of the one chooses not to see these as separate events, then the result becomes twenty-three rather than twenty-five scenes. 24  Van Engen, Rupert of Deutz, 266.



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Church (that is, the spiritual weapon) but also by its own weapon, namely the material sword.”25 The concept of the “two swords,” an exegesis of Luke 22:38, was used by Gregorian reformers as a metaphor for these two respective powers. Rupert too referred to it in several of his works,26 but he fully explicated the passage in chapter 19 of De victoria Verbi Dei.27 It was his belief that preaching was the primary weapon of the reformers as they made use of the spiritual sword.28 It is thus not surprising that of all the miracles recounted in the vitae, of the two appearing on the shrine, one, the exorcism, shows Heribert in the context of preaching. It was, however, Bernard of Clairvaux’s influential interpretation in his De consideratione of 1153 that the material sword was to be used only on instruction from the priesthood, which led to the view that secular power derived from and was subject to the Church.29 In addition, the decretist Master Rufinus in his Summa, written between 1157 and 1159, during the early years of the Heribert Shrine’s creation, argued that the imperial office, not just the emperor himself, was subject to the Church.30 In light of this exegesis, it is then surely significant that in the medallion depicting the reconciliation between Heribert and Henry II (Fig. 19), the huge imperial sword held by Henry’s retainer takes such a prominent position, especially when the encircling inscription refers to “forgiveness killing bloodthirsty hearts.” As previously noted, the sword is opposed not only to the prominently displayed lighted candle on its candlestick, identified by Rupert in chapter 10 of his vita as Heribert and the Church, but also to the chalice, a reference to the blood of Christ that was shed for the forgiveness of man’s sins. It is also in this same chapter, which tells of the beginning of Heribert’s falling out with Henry, that Rupert refers to Cain and Abel, the quintessential betrayal of a brother through the shedding of blood. For Rupert, it was not the city, which represented Cain, but the altar, on which the candlestick and chalice stand, that was the site of salvation.31 Accordingly, 25  Otto of Freising, Two Cities, Pro­logue, bk. 7, p. 404.

26  See Van Engen, Rupert of Deutz, 290n96, where he provides citations.

27  Ruperti Tuitiensis, De victoria Verbi Dei, XII:xix, in PL 169:cols. 1477–78. For Rupert’s views on this subject, see Van Engen, Rupert of Deutz, 289–91. 28  Van Engen, Rupert of Deutz, 298.

29  Bernard of Clairvaux, De consideratione, IV, 3:7, in PL, vol. 182, cols. 776–77. For an English translation of Bernard’s interpretation, see Tierney, Crisis of Church and State, 93–94. See also Fuhrmann, Germany in the High Middle Ages, 109–10, on the implications of the doctrine of the “two swords,” which goes back to Pope Gelasius I (492–496), and Chambers, “‘When We Do Nothing Wrong,’” 410–11, where she discusses Peter the Chanter’s interpretation of the “two swords,” as well as historians’ arguments about his views. 30  For a discussion of Rufinus’s argument and the texts supporting it and of its impact on subsequent relations between Church and sovereign authority, see Benson, Bishop-Elect, 71–89.

31  Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 10, pp. 46–49. Rupert presents this argument concerning the city and the altar in chapters 10–12 of his De incendio, a work regarding the fire that on August 28, 1128, destroyed much of the castle of Deutz but left untouched the abbey church and cloister. Rupert in part used this outcome to substantiate the abbey’s claim to the entire castle site, which, he argued, was unjustly being shared with lay people and military fortifications, a case that the abbey ultimately never won. See Van Engen, Rupert of Deutz, 259–61, for Rupert’s views on the city

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both the exorcism and the reconciliation scenes, judging from the vita and the architectural superstructure in the medallions, occur within an ecclesiastical setting, the venue for salvation.

The Actors in the Geo­graphical and Political Arena Surrounding the Shrine’s Creation

Finally, one needs to consider the political climate in Germany and at Deutz itself at the time of the shrine’s creation. Nearly from the outset, the Church had been unhappy with the agreement reached at Worms in 1122, an agreement which the twelfth-century reformer Gerhoch of Reichersberg called extortion.32 Even when its privileges were upheld a year later at the First Lateran Council, an uproar ensued when the pope’s concessions were announced; the immediate concerns centred around bishops’ being elected in the presence of the emperor as well as the potential dangers resulting from the property rights granted by episcopal regalia, which would become a longstanding and divisive issue within the Church.33 Perhaps the concerns of these alarmed prelates were not totally unfounded, for Emperor Frederick Barbarossa, who came to the throne three decades later and who, according to his uncle and bio­grapher Bishop Otto of Freising, “longed to receive the crown of sole rule over the world” (anhelabat enim ad accipiendam orbis et Urbis monarchiae coronam).34

Frederick Barbarossa, “Lord of the World”

While Otto’s entry occurs early in Barbarossa’s rule, it provides some insight into Frederick’s means of achieving his ambitions. Otto’s statement appears as an insertion in his account of the siege of Tortona in 1155, during which Frederick became inpatient because it was being “prolonged beyond his desire.”35 To secure a victory, he ultimately guaranteed defeat by giving orders for using extreme measures to destroy Tortona’s only potable water, first by hurling in “rotting and putrid corpses of men versus the altar, as well as 256–60, for a chapter by chapter summary of De incendio. In addition, see Grundmann, “Brand von Deutz,” which also contains Rupert’s Latin text (441–71). While Van Engen’s discussion of the fire is indebted to Grundmann’s ground-breaking work, he disagrees with Grundmann “on several historical details and also in its general presentation and interpretation of Rupert’s argument” (Van Engen, Rupert of Deutz, 248), which Van Engen (248–60) then presents from his own point of view. On the castle of Deutz, see Gechter, “Kastell Deutz,” 373–416. 32  See Benson, Bishop-Elect, 304–13 and 377–78.

33  Benson, Bishop-Elect, 304–34. For the text of the concessions granted by both Pope Calixtus II and Henry V in the Concordat of Worms, see Tierney, Crisis of Church and State, 91–92. For a backward-looking perspective, see n. 141 below for Hehl’s argument as to why Canossa ultimately failed to lead to a satisfactory conclusion to the issues of the Investiture Controversy. 34  Otto of Freising, Deeds of Frederick Barbarossa, 2:xxi, p. 135. For the context of Otto’s use of the Latin “orbis et Urbis,” a phrase which has generated much discussion of Frederick’s actual ambitions, see Otto of Freising, Ottonis et Rahewini Gesta, 2:xxi, pp. 125–26. 35  Otto of Freising, Deeds of Frederick Barbarossa, 2:xxi, p. 135.



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and beasts.” Then, when that did not stop the inhabitants from drinking it, “burning torches, with flames of sulphur and pitch, were cast into the aforesaid spring, and thus the waters themselves were made bitter and useless for human needs.”36 Whether or not one might call this ruthless, it provides an early indication of why Barbarossa instilled fear in his enemies, something that did not escape historians’ analysis of his power. However, there is not consensus as to what Otto’s statement actually means with regard to the territorial extent of Frederick’s desire and his ultimate success at achieving it. In “Frederick Barbarossa as ‘Lord of the World,’” Robert Benson states that his essay “concentrates on the claim that the emperor is, in some sense, ‘lord of the world,’ that his office is supraregal.”37 After first contextually discussing various Latin terms, such as imperium, imperator, honor, orbis Romanus, auctoritas, advocatus, and provin­ ciae, among others, and their near-as-possible English conceptual equivalents, Benson then, citing specific examples involving Frederick, applies the terms historically to the idea of the emperor as dominus mundi, a concept beyond kingship and beyond the emperor’s territorial boundaries. He examines the origins of this concept, the audience addressed, the Roman and Germanic traditions of empire, and the ways the concept conflicted with other rulers and, in particular, with the Church. As Benson notes, Frederick in his diploma describing Charlemagne’s canonization, claimed that Charlemagne “had ruled the entire world,” a predecessor in whose footsteps he would follow,38 but it was in Frederick’s participation in the Third Crusade that “we see most clearly his claim to rule a ‘world empire.’”39 In 1190, with the schism over, when in that crusade Frederick died “in the integrity and glory of a Christian emperor, he had become something more than a hero: many saw him as a martyr.”40 Unfortunately, Frederick was not around to bask in this glory. Joseph Huffman offers an essentially opposing view of the extent and efficacy of Barbarossa’s imperial authority using many of the same historical events but interpreting them differently.41 Even though Barbarossa and especially his main supporter Rainald of Dassel, his chancellor and then Archbishop of Co­logne, asserted an imperial prerogative, Huffman demonstrates how this ideo­logy ultimately failed, mainly because the other main actors, Henry II of England and Louis VII of France, were more concerned with local matters within their kingdoms, concerns which superseded any ambition for overall external authority. Huffman argues that this is true even in Frederick’s case in his desire to bring all of Italy into his power, not because of his desire 36  Otto of Freising, Deeds of Frederick Barbarossa, 2:xxi, p. 136.

37  Benson, “Frederick Barbarossa as ‘Lord of the World,’” 294. My three pages of notes taken while hearing Benson give the Plenary Address at Kalamazoo on Friday morning, May 11, 1990, mirror the main points in this printed version. 38  Benson, “Frederick Barbarossa as ‘Lord of the World,’” 302. 39  Benson, “Frederick Barbarossa as ‘Lord of the World,’” 307. 40  Benson, “Frederick Barbarossa as ‘Lord of the World,’” 309. 41  Huffman, Social Politics, 57–89.

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for gaining “hegemony over other western rulers” but for “extending the honor imperii into Italy” by asserting Roman law.42 Local concerns again became evident in Frederick’s case when later many of the archbishops and princes of Germany no longer supported his actions. Self-interest, kingdom preservation, and kingdom rivalry were all powerful motives for decision-making, courses of action, shifting alliances, and even matchmaking. Huffman cautions that “to impute an imperialist plan of European expansion to Barbarossa and his court is to expect medi­eval political conditions to resemble modern geopolitical realities and the dictates of modern statecraft. Frederick had his hands full within his territories; to have reached further was not only beyond his intentions but also clearly beyond his means.”43 From another perspective, Anne Latowsky uses the approach of “the rhetoric of Roman universalism during the reign of Frederick I” to analyze the concept of Staufer imperial authority.44 Examining works bio­graphical (Otto of Freising, Benso of Alba), historical (Godfrey of Viterbo), epistolary (Hillin of Trier, Prester John), hagio­graphic (Vita Karoli Magni), and literary (Play of the Antichrist), among others, to support her argument, she shows how imperial propagandists and the German imperial chancery, particularly with the help of Rainald of Dassel, aided imperial supremacy through forgery, omission, and revision. Strengthened by the precedence of Roman law and heritage and fortified by the image of Charlemagne as the unifier of all Christendom and now a newly canonized saint, Frederick Barbarossa had what he saw to be an unassailable claim to imperial dominance. Latowsky sees “the most ardent Staufen claims of dominium mundi were voiced mainly in the period of the late 1150s after Frederick’s coronation and in the 1160s under Rainald of Dassel.”45 Yet even before that, under Rainald “the first decade of Frederick’s imperial reign proved to be a fruitful time in the chancery for the fabrication of documents and decrees related to the legitimation of the German inheritance of the Roman Empire.”46 However, with regard to world domination, Latowsky clarifies what she sees as Frederick’s view. Although he maintained that “his right to the imperial dignity had been supported by God and Roman law, and that his model of imperial authority presumed the inferiority of other national monarchies,...in his quest to project an image of universal empire, he never disputed the sovereignty of France, Spain, or England. His notion of universality was one of authority and protection in the Christian community, and did not involve any actual capitulation of other leaders.”47 Nevertheless, however one views the territorial extent, orbis et Urbis, of Frederick’s desire beyond the German Empire—the world, Europe, the East—through his power plays, Frederick pushed the imperial privileges granted by the Concordat of 42  Huffman, Social Politics, 65.

43  Huffman, Social Politics, 66.

44  Latowsky, Emperor of the World, 139.

45  Latowsky, Emperor of the World, 158–59. 46  Latowsky, Emperor of the World, 160. 47  Latowsky, Emperor of the World, 154.



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Worms beyond their limits. He was in effect at war with the Church that led to fragmentation rather than unification as both he and Rainald attempted to gain control over the papacy through seating antipopes favourable to the imperial agenda on the throne of Saint Peter. It is within this context that the Heribert Shrine was envisioned and created. Frederick Barbarossa and the Church

In addition to demanding more formal homage and fealty in exchange for the regalia, Frederick, through an appeal to Roman law, retained full proprietary rights to these regalia, confiscating them when he so chose. Otto of Freising records Frederick’s demand for homage from those Roman bishops who wished to hold onto “our regalia” and enumerates those bishops Frederick stripped of their regalia because they did not respond to a summons of the court “to stand watch over their prince.”48 Although Frederick did not often exercise his perceived right to appoint bishops directly, he maintained it was an imperial prerogative, and despite the long-established precedent of canon law to the contrary, he maintained he had the right to transfer a bishop to another see. In 1152 in Magdeburg, he overreached his right to decide disputed elections, a right allowing him only to give his assent and assistance to the candidate with the better case, when he rejected both candidates and forced the election of a third, Wichmann, bishop of Zeitz, investing him with the regalia and transferring him to the archbishopric of Magdeburg. Despite his contentious feuding with the Church over the matter, he later claimed the deed was a “laudable act” when Pope Anastasius IV finally granted Wichmann the pallium, making him one of the staunchest allies of imperial prerogatives.49 As Brian Tierney aptly puts it, the reform’s requirement of renouncing lay investiture “was a demand that no king of that time could have accepted. No king did accept it.”50 In fact, in light of Frederick’s views on his power to exercise control over northern Italy and its governance, Anne Duggan posits the real possibility that “it might not have been long before the nomination of popes became once more an exercise of imperial regalia, as in the days of Otto III.”51 Indeed, when the creators of the Heribert Shrine chose, as noted above, to depict the scene of Heribert’s investiture by Otto III as anachronistically occurring in the twelfth century, more than likely they were driving home a point about the limitation of the imperial regalia to the temporal sphere. 48  Otto of Freising, Deeds of Frederick Barbarossa, 4:xxxv, pp. 270–71, and 2:xii, p. 125. See Benson, Bishop-Elect, 286–87, for a discussion of Frederick and his desire to maintain control of the regalia.

49  For Frederick’s view of this event, see his letter to Otto of Freising (Deeds of Frederick Barbarossa, pp. 17–18); see also Otto’s full account of this contentious affair (2:vi–x, pp. 118–123). See Freed, Frederick Barbarossa, 71–73, and Fuhrmann, Germany in the High Middle Ages, 140–41. See also Benson, Bishop-Elect, 285–86. Ironically, Wichmann, while still loyal to Barbarossa, played a dominant role in getting him to recognize Alexander III as the rightful pope in 1177 after years of bitter contention between the emperor and the pope. See Görich, Friedrich Barbarossa, 431–38. 50  Tierney, Crisis of Church and State, 47.

51  Duggan, “Totius christianitatis caput,” 154.

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The Lateran Palace Fresco and Sutri During the pontificate of Hadrian IV (1154–1159), Frederick again was embroiled in dealings with the papacy in a series of events that would lead up to a defining moment in 1157 in Besançon, where Frederick had convened a diet assembling the princes of the realm. Beginning in 1155, the stage became set when Frederick near Rome learned from his loyal supporters of the Lateran Palace fresco depicting Emperor Lothair III with the accompanying inscription indicating the emperor was the vassal of the pope (homo fit papae). Rahewin reports that Hadrian, hearing Frederick’s objections and later receiving from him “a friendly remonstrance,” assured Frederick that the fresco “would be removed, lest so trifling a matter might afford the greatest men in the world an occasion for dispute and discord.”52 Then prior to Frederick’s coronation on June 18, 1155, when Frederick and Hadrian had met at Sutri on June 8 or 9 of that year, Frederick, probably not wanting to be seen as the pope’s “vassal” or subordinate, departed from custom and neither led the pope’s horse nor helped him properly dismount; in response, Hadrian would not give the emperor the kiss of peace. The standoff lasted two days until Frederick finally relented, having considered past precedents. However, the lack of consensus in the various contemporary accounts as to what Frederick actually did at Sutri has led historians to speculate about his motivations for the position he had either put or found himself in. Frederick himself in a letter to Otto of Freising written in 1157, two years after the event, says of Sutri: “There the lord pope, with the entire Roman Church, met us joyfully, paternally offered us holy consecration, and complained to us of the injuries which he had suffered at the hands of the Roman populace. So we reached Rome, advancing together daily, lodging together, and exchanging pleasant converse,”53 a view that presents a very amicable meeting, ending pleasantly without a hitch. Otto of Freising concurred, adding the supportive statement that Frederick deferentially received Pope Hadrian with “the honor due to his office.”54 One would guess that the unpleasant details that preceded the final resolution were omitted because a more complete account of the event would not have put Frederick in the most favourable light. On the other hand, about ten years after the event, Cardinal Boso in his life of Pope Hadrian recounted the traditionally accepted version that Frederick had refused to do the strator service and, despite his throwing himself down and kissing the pope’s feet, Hadrian refused to give him the kiss of 52  Otto of Freising, Deeds of Frederick Barbarossa, 3:x, p. 184. The fresco was not removed, and though it has since disappeared, it was still visible in the sixteenth century when Onofrio Panvinio made a sketch of it. For a description of the scenes in the fresco and of their various interpretations, see Munz, Frederick Barbarossa, 142–43n1, as well as Freed, Frederick Barbarossa, 206–7 and fig. 10, which reproduces Panvinio’s sketch. Although Otto covers other events of 1155, including Frederick’s coronation on June 18, 1155 (Otto of Freising, Deeds of Frederick Barbarossa, 2:xxxii [xxii], p. 150 ), he does not mention the fresco until 1157 when he recounts the indignation of the princes to Pope Hadrian’s letter of September 20, 1157 (3:x, pp. 183–84). He also never indicates whether Frederick himself had actually seen the fresco. 53  Otto of Freising, Deeds of Frederick Barbarossa, 19.

54  Otto of Freising, Deeds of Frederick Barbarossa, 2:xxviii, p. 142 and n. 56.



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peace, resulting in a standoff. A few decades later other accounts by Cardinal Albinus, Cencius Savelli, and Helmold of Bosau, while not disputing the event had occurred, put a slightly different spin on it, relating that Frederick performed the strator service but did so incorrectly. Helmold had also added another detail: the ensuing unsettled argument between Frederick and the pope as to whether the service was a courtesy or a legality. Whichever of these accounts is the correct version, fearing the pope might not crown him as emperor and following the advice of the German princes, Frederick relented and two days later performed the service properly.55 Nevertheless, while there is no disagreement that the episode occurred, the question remains as to Frederick’s motivations for his actions at Sutri, why Frederick had allowed himself to be put in this position. Historians have and still are grappling with this question. It is agreed that the meeting between Barbarossa and Hadrian had been planned in advance; thus, was Frederick’s action premeditated? Even if not, deliberately doing what he did as they met, Frederick would not have known Hadrian’s reaction to it. As Knut Görich asks, should Frederick have been willing to risk his imperial coronation?56 Of course, given the eventual outcome for Frederick, it becomes almost a moot question—unless, of course, from the hindsight of history one wants to plumb the mind of a ruler the ilk of Frederick Barbarossa. While Görich also notes that there is no definitive answer to that question, knowing how much Frederick wanted the imperial crown, what might have made him jeopardize that crowning? Three of Frederick’s bio­graphers weigh in. Peter Munz observes that even though Frederick “was prepared to prostrate himself before Hadrian, he did not wish to convey the impression that he considered himself Hadrian’s vassal. For that reason, and that reason alone, he refused the service.”57 It was the matter of perception that Frederick wanted to avoid. Munz also believes that given its easy resolution, “the whole embarrassing incident has been accorded far too much importance,” with the real problem lying in the “clumsiness of twelfthcentury diplomacy,” a time when “the punctilious observance of protocol was the only known way in which authorities could make public what they thought of each other.”58 Görich, on the other hand, dismisses any feudal interpretation, especially since the subject of vassalage never appeared in any pro-papal interpretations of the event, something which would have been to the Church’s advantage. Rather, he argues that Frederick’s actions and motivations were based on the concept of honor imperii, the honour that was due him, given the esteemed position that he had been rightfully accorded. Whether or not Frederick from the start had been willing to perform the 55  For a fuller discussion of these various accounts, see Freed, Frederick Barbarossa, 140–43. Munz, Frederick Barbarossa, 80–83, also provides the background for this custom, the sources for the event at Sutri, and the views of modern historians, as does Görich, Ehre Friedrich Barbarossas, 93–99, and Friedrich Barbarossa, 242–46. On the strator service, also see Scholz, “Symbolik und Zeremoniell.” 56  Görich, Ehre Friedrich Barbarossas, 99.

57  Munz, Frederick Barbarossa, 81.

58  Munz, Frederick Barbarossa, 83.

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strator service in full or in part as a matter of deference to the pope, when he did not do so and the pope audibly chastised him,59 the episode took a turn for the worse because it was no longer a voluntary action on Frederick’s part. As Görich observes, “Only from that arises the sudden, all the perceptible danger to rank, authority, status—for the honor of the Staufer: The desire for homage on the papal side would have openly humiliated him.”60 Thus Görich sees as the saving grace the fact that any perceived insult to the honor imperii would in the end be overcome by the imperial side’s agreeing to doing a proper strator service, but only insofar as it was first and foremost a tribute to Saint Peter and therefore only indirectly to his representative the current pope.61 For the same reason as does Görich, John Freed also dismisses Frederick’s action at Sutri as a refusal to be a vassal of the pope. He also sees the question of voluntary versus legal obligation as post-facto since it only came up after the strator service had gone awry and thus not a premeditated causal action. Rather, following the explanation proposed by Roman Deutinger, Freed sees Frederick’s behaviour basically as “a misunderstanding about the correct protocol for a meeting between the two highest authorities in Christendom,” a problem which Munz alluded to, as noted above, and which Görich also discusses in the light of misunderstandings and expectations in verbal and non-verbal communication.62 Although the meeting was planned, Deutinger believed it had occurred “before all the details could be worked out.”63 Thus Frederick did not have a sufficient understanding of proper protocol exhibited in his riding to meet Hadrian rather than walking the required distance. Freed is even willing to accept Helmold’s “inexplicable” argument that Frederick chose to hold the left stirrup rather than the prescribed right because, according to Freed, that is “customary when riding a horse.”64 Further complicating the situation, the papal side overreacted to Frederick’s mistakes. In sum, in Deutinger’s words, “historians have misunderstood a misunderstanding,” and Freed, looking back at the comments of Otto of Freising and of Frederick himself, cited above, notes that in the light of past and future events “perhaps Frederick and Otto did not yet grasp in 1157 the significance of the dustup at Sutri.”65 Of course, Hadrian’s supporters would have taken a very different point of view. Anne Duggan, for example, notes that at Sutri the cardinals fled fearing Frederick’s anger, thus leaving Hadrian to fend for himself. She sums up the incident by assessing its participants: 59  Görich, Friedrich Barbarossa, 242.

60  “Erst daraus entstand die plötzliche, für alle sichtbare Gefahr für Rang, Ansehen, Status—für die Ehre des Staufers: Das auf päpstlicher Seite laut gewordene Verlangen nach Ehrerweisung demütigte ihn,” Görich, Ehre Friedrich Barbarossas, 106. 61  Görich, Friedrich Barbarossa, 246.

62  Freed, Frederick Barbarossa, 143. See also Görich, Ehre Friedrich Barbarossas, 179–80. 63  Freed, Frederick Barbarossa, 144.

64  Freed, Frederick Barbarossa, 144. 65  Freed, Frederick Barbarossa, 144.



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The cardinals are revealed as pusillanimous; the emperor as cunning and slippery; and Adrian as a man of dignity and courage…It was a signal that this emperor would insist on every jot of what he considered to be his regalia. Otto of Freising, understandably, suppressed this embarrassing episode, and recorded only the last stage in what was an ominous stand-off between pope and emperor-elect. “Thither came the Roman pope, Hadrian, with his cardinals, and was received with the honour due to his office.” He was indeed, but it could not have been more grudging.66

Perhaps the only one to come out unscathed was the horse! Whatever may be the explanation for Frederick’s motivations for his actions at Sutri, it ultimately comes down to either a predetermined plan of action at some stage or a moment of impulse. In the final analysis, “motivation” becomes the key, something, of course, that is impossible to know when the key actor is silent. However, in the face of Barbarossa’s continued insistence on the removal of the Lateran fresco, it would seem that the concept of subordination, in the general, if not the feudal, sense, continued to be a thorn in his side that he wanted to be rid of—perhaps with as little pain as possible. Although the fresco did not disappear while he was still in power,67 his subsequent actions show he was not deterred from what he perceived to be his imperial rights which he asserted came to him, as he would soon declare within the context of Besançon, from God alone. No pope would stand in his way.

The Diet of Besançon

After Sutri, in the following year at Benevento in June 1156, Hadrian formally allied himself with William I of Sicily, Frederick’s enemy, making Frederick fearful of an increase in papal power that would no longer be under his control.68 But what finally opened the floodgates was the arrival in Besançon in October 1157 of two cardinals sent by Hadrian, one of whom was Roland Bandinelli, the future Pope Alexander III, soon to be embroiled in another election dispute with Frederick. The envoys presented to Frederick Hadrian’s letter, written in September of the same year, ostensibly regarding the maltreatment of the archbishop of Lund in German territory. However, in the letter Hadrian had used the word beneficia which, when it was translated into German by Frederick’s chancellor Rainald of Dassel, assumed its sense of feudal benefits the pope had bestowed upon the empire, thereby implying that Frederick, having received the imperial crown from the pope, was, like Lothair III, the pope’s vassal.69 When Rainald read the letter to the princes assembled for the diet Frederick had convened, they were incensed by this word and its implications. In the same month, Frederick responded with a letter disseminated throughout the empire in which he defended his position and predicted the ultimate end, “a schism created between the temporal and 66  Duggan, “Totius christianitatis caput,” 124–25.

67  See note 52 above regarding the fate of the fresco.

68  On this accord see Munz, Frederick Barbarossa, 98–100, and Duggan, “Totius christianitatis caput,” 117–20 and 127. 69  For the text of the letter see Otto of Freising, Deeds of Frederick Barbarossa, 3:ix, pp. 181–83.

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spiritual realms,” and unequivocally and emphatically asserted: “through election by the princes, the kingdom and the empire are ours from God alone.”70 In a countermove Hadrian sent a letter to the German archbishops and bishops urging them to convince Frederick to concede. They then replied saying that they could not “uphold or approve in any way those words [beneficium coronae], by reason of their unfortunate ambiguity of meaning, because they were hitherto unknown and unheard of,” but having followed his order, they received from Frederick a response “worthy of a Catholic prince,” which they were forwarding to him. Knowing, of course, the contents of Frederick’s letter, which once again clearly spelled out his unconditional belief in his God-given imperial rights and once more condemned the pictures and inscriptions of the Lateran Palace frescoes, the German bishops urged Hadrian to calm Frederick “with a letter more conciliatory than that former one.”71 Following their advice, Hadrian capitulated by drafting another letter, which Frederick received from Hadrian’s envoys at Augsburg in June 1158. In the letter, Hadrian blamed the situation on the misreading of his use of the word beneficium, which he explained meant a “benefit” deriving from “bonus (good) and factum (deed)” and not therefore, as had been interpreted, a “fief.’” Thus, his having placed the crown on Frederick’s head was solely “a good deed.”72 Whether Frederick believed this concession stemmed from truth or semantic weaselling, Rahewin tells us that “the emperor was mollified,” and why not? Frederick had essentially gotten his way.73 However, it was with the death of Hadrian in 1159 that Frederick would again brazenly make his move, fuelling the start of what would become a nearly twenty-year schism within the Church during the very years when the shrine was actually being created. That year Frederick installed Victor IV on the papal throne as antipope to Alexander III during a contentious election dispute, leading to Alexander’s excommu70  Otto of Freising, Deeds of Frederick Barbarossa, 3:xi, p. 185.

71  For these letters see Otto of Freising, Deeds of Frederick Barbarossa, 3:xvi (xv)–xvii (xvi), pp. 190–94. 72  For Hadrian’s letter, read and interpreted by Otto of Freising, who, as Rahewin says, “felt a peculiar grief at the controversy between the state and the Church,” see Otto of Freising, Deeds of Frederick Barbarossa, 3:xxiii, pp. 199–200.

73  Otto of Freising, Deeds of Frederick Barbarossa, 3:xxiv (xxiii), p. 200. There has been much discussion regarding the Besançon episode in terms of the intentions of the various participants and the meaning of the word beneficium. See Munz, Frederick Barbarossa, 144–45n1, which provides the views of several scholars; Freed, Frederick Barbarossa, 202–14; Godman, Archpoet, 49–53. Duggan (“Totius christianitatis caput,” 128–31), who, defending Hadrian against the pervasive but, as she argues, unwarranted negative view, sees him as conciliatory in his response to Frederick’s letter and sees the entire episode as “a crisis largely stage-managed by Rainald of Dassel, to whom fell the task of translating the papal letter into German, and by the emperor himself, looking for a pretext to hit back at Adrian for his agreement with the Sicilian king” (131). In addition to the comments in the above sources on the word beneficium, see the forty-one definitions provided in Niermeyer, Mediae Latinitatis Lexicon Minus, pp. 91–96. For a succinct overview of Hadrian’s pontificate, see: Kelly, “Hadrian IV,” Oxford Dictionary of Popes, 174–75, and Duffy, Saints and Sinners, 108–9.



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nicating the emperor in 1160 and again in 1163.74 Then after Victor’s death in 1164, Frederick, still at odds with Alexander III, successively put two of Victor’s staunchest supporters on the papal throne, first Paschal III in 1164 and then Calixtus III in 1168.75 In fact, Frederick had secretly told Gerhoch of Reichersberg that while he would willingly accept a Roman pope who did not conflict with aims of the empire, if that pope did, “he would in every way and with all the power of the empire oppose him.”76 Interpreting as sacral the ritual unction of the coronation rite, perhaps enhanced by the newly developing cult of the Three Kings at Co­logne, whose relics Rainald of Dassel had brought there from Milan in 1164,77 and associating himself with Charlemagne, whom he had had disinterred and then canonized by Rainald, his newly consecrated archbishop, in 1165,78 Frederick, following the precedent of Roman imperial law, viewed 74  Rainald of Dassel was also excommunicated in 1163; see Godman, Archpoet, 98. For a discussion of Victor’s election and the machinations and motivations behind it, see note 101 below.

75  For a brief overview of these two antipopes, see Kelly, “Paschal III” and “Callistus (III),” Oxford Dictionary of Popes, 178–80, where Calixtus has been alternatively spelled Callistus.

76  “Wolle er sich auf jede Weise und mit allen Kräften des Reiches entgegenstellen,” Classen, Gerhoch von Reichersberg, 276, where he gives verbatim Gerhoch’s report. 77  On the history of these relics and of their arrival in Co­logne, see Geary, Living with the Dead, 243–56, in which he questions whether Frederick actually used the relics in support of his imperial claims (253).

78  The canonization, taking place with great fanfare on December 29, 1165, and carried out by Rainald under the auspices of antipope Paschal III, is described in Frederick’s diploma of January 8, 1166, in which he presents Charlemagne’s merits for sainthood and his own desire for his and his family’s salvation. For this diploma, see Friderici I. Diplomata, 430–34. For an English translation see Pacaut, Frederick Barbarossa, 119–20, and Miller, Power and the Holy, 163–65.   Frederick’s motivations have been interpreted from basically two different perspectives. For the long-held political view that association with Charlemagne aided Frederick’s political self-interest and his God-given right to rule, see: Folz, Souvenir et la légende, 159–213, especially 204–13; Munz, Frederick Barbarossa, 242–44; Geary, Living with the Dead, 253; and Engels, “Karl der Grosse,” 348–56, with an English summary. Görich, “Karl der Große,” 117–55, offers an opposing view. Arguing against a political motivation, which is embedded within nineteenth-century views of the significance of Canossa and which “does not take into account the social context of canonization” (den sozialen Kontext einer Heiligsprechung nicht in den Blick nimmt, 118), Görich instead proposes the religious reasons for Barbarossa’s canonization of Charlemagne. His first is the support for the foremost beneficiaries of the canonization, the community of the Marienstift in Aachen, where Charlemagne had long been venerated. His second is the too long overlooked personal piety of the emperor, overshadowed by his political power “as if medi­eval rulers had only used religion in a secure instinct of power” (als ob sich mittelalterliche Herrscher der Religion nur im sicheren Machtinstinkt bedient hätten, 118). Defending Barbarossa’s piety, Görich provides several examples of Frederick’s contact with relics and his collecting and distributing them (138–39), as well as his participation in crusades. The revered saintly Charlemagne was the imperial hero on which Frederick was to mirror his own life in imitatio Karoli (142–49). Freed, Frederick Barbarossa, 330–34, seems to lie in between these two polar opposites. While not denying Frederick’s political motivations, after enumerating the gifts Frederick and Empress Beatrice gave to the Marienstift for their and their sons’ salvation, Freed notes: “In spite of the obvious political implications of Charlemagne’s canonization, namely, the assertion of the divine origins of imperial authority, unmediated by the papacy, it was also an act of piety” (334). However, Freed does not

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imperial edicts “like divine oracles (tamquam divina oracula)” separate from but equal to ecclesiastical ones. Frederick, like his pre-Concordat predecessors, believed that the crown and the material sword did not come from God via the papacy; they came to the emperor directly from God himself.79 This attitude had earlier been visually proclaimed on folio 11r, perhaps the most frequently illustrated folio of the early eleventh-century Sacramentary of Henry II. On this folio Henry is shown clearly receiving his authority to rule from God directly, who, seated above him, places the crown on Henry’s head while two angels descending from heaven place the holy lance and the imperial sword in Henry’s hands, a stark contrast to the submissive Henry on the Heribert Shrine (Fig. 19).80 Perhaps in the light of Frederick’s continuing interference, the great brouhaha caused by the Besançon beneficium incident of the late 1150s still resonated in the German ecclesiastical consciousness over a decade later. Frederick’s actions may have caused the creators of the Heribert Shrine to implant in the reconciliation medallion yet another allusion to the proper relationship between emperor and Church, a subtle reminder of the Lateran Palace Lothair frescoes that Frederick had so adamantly wanted effaced because he believed crowning by the Church in no way made him subservient to it. Thus, the reference on the shrine inscription to fealty, as discussed above, would relate not just to Henry II but to Frederick Barbarossa as well.81

The Abbey of Deutz in this Political Climate

How the Abbey of Deutz responded to Frederick’s antipopes is not entirely certain. While Joseph Milz in his book on the abbey’s economic conditions, property rights, and tithes states that his investigation cannot shed light on questions about its position during the Investiture Controversy or the abbey’s relationship with the individual directly address Görich’s argument, which Görich had already presented from essentially the same standpoint in his earlier bio­graphy of Frederick (Friedrich Barbarossa, 628–48). 79  Fuhrmann, Germany in the High Middle Ages, 153–54. On Frederick’s idea of his rights as emperor, also see: Kern, Kingship and Law, 65–67; Freed, Frederick Barbarossa, 208; and Munz, Frederick Barbarossa, 233–35, where he describes Frederick’s and Rainald’s outbursts at an imperial council in defending the emperor’s right to decide papal elections.

80  The Sacramentary of Henry II, ca. 1002–1014, is Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Clm. 4456. For an illustration of fol. 11r and a discussion of it, see Kaiser Heinrich II, 17, fig. 2, and 269–70. In his discussion of Henry II’s belief that his right to rule came not merely from familial succession (paterna successio) but, more importantly, from God himself (hereditarium ius), Weinfurter (“Authority and Legitimation,” 23) calls folio 11r “a key source of Henry’s conception of rulership” (24), his article discussing the ramifications of this concept and how it specifically played out in Henry’s successful creation of the Bamberg diocese, already discussed in the text above. As the basis of much discussion, this folio of the self-representation of Henry II is readily accessible online.

81  Freed notes “Charlemagne’s elevation to the altar, in particular, was another way to assert the divine origins of imperial authority that the papacy had challenged at Besançon” (Freed, Frederick Barbarossa, 331). See Munz, Frederick Barbarossa, 187–89, where he discusses the possibility that Frederick and Rainald of Dassel were attempting “to secure the independence of the German bishops from the papacy” (188). On this assertion also see Freed, Frederick Barbarossa, 214–16.



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archbishops of Co­logne,82 he does say that it supported the antipope Victor IV, citing Victor’s confirmation in 1161 of Deutz’s rights to specific churches and tithes.83 In her book on the Codex Thioderici, the work compiled by Deutz’s twelfth-century sacristan,84 Monica Sinderhauf echoes Milz in citing Victor’s having confirmed the abbey’s privileges for certain churches and tithes, but she also adds as further evidence for Deutz’s support of Victor during the schism the fact that Theoderic of Deutz in his list of popes names Victor ahead of Alexander. 85 While the names of Victor and Alexander are indeed in this order, the codex list of popes at that entry is incomplete.86 However, earlier in the codex in his list of kings and emperors, when coming to Henry IV, that is, to the five closest in time to Theoderic of Deutz himself (d. ca.1164), with the exception of Conrad III, he now gives a brief description of their reigns. Of the four he describes, he mentions that the Church was divided during the reigns of three of them—Henry IV, Lothair II, and Frederick Barbarossa—while not mentioning the schism during the reign of Henry V, perhaps because he was more concerned with Henry’s part in the failed siege against the castle of Deutz.87 With respect to Frederick, after a reference to his “having superseded all prior princes in power” and a brief mention of his conquests in Italy, with regard to the division in the papacy Theoderic of Deutz merely says: “The Roman church was divided, with some following Victor, others Alexander.”88 Although Victor is named first, the naming seems to be an elaboration of the division rather than an indication of the abbey’s stance in the schism. Lastly, Sinderhauf points out the striking fact that Victor, who died in April 1164, is the only pope Theoderic of Deutz entered into the codex’s necro­logy.89 Could that perhaps be seen as recognition of Victor’s recent beneficence toward the abbey and the expectation that other popes might follow suit? Whatever may have been Theoderic’s motivation for this entry, given the fact that Victor was the pope of Frederick Barbarossa, it is not clear whether Deutz had a choice about which pope it could turn to for confirming its rights in German territory, especially at a time when Frederick was essentially forcing German bishops to accept Victor and when Rainald of Dassel, Frederick’s chancellor and chief collaborator, was also, from 1159 as bishop-elect, for all intents and purposes, the archbishop of Co­logne.90 In fact, although during a time of strained relations between the papacy and 82  Milz, Studien, 3.

83  Milz, Studien, 238.

84  On Theoderic of Deutz himself, see Sinderhauf, Abtei Deutz, 42–59.

85  “die Nennung des Gegenpapstes Victor vor Alexander,” Sinderhauf, Abtei Deutz, 40–41. 86  Theoderic of Deutz, Thioderici, 577.

87  For the list of kings, see Theoderic of Deutz, Thioderici, 571–72, and for the failed siege against the castle of Deutz, see Van Engen, Rupert of Deutz, 252–53. 88  Theoderic of Deutz, Thioderici, 572.

89  Sinderhauf, Abtei Deutz, 41 and 206. The necro­logy entry appears on 308.

90  While Frederick seemingly tried to remain neutral in the process, it was clear that he favoured Victor (see Freed, Frederick Barbarossa, 260–64, and note 101 below regarding Victor’s election).

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the archbishopric of Co­logne under Archbishop Arnold I, Deutz had turned to Pope Eugene III to gain a papal privilege to elect its own abbots and confirm certain other rights and claims, that privilege dated June 17, 1147, did not fully grant all that Deutz had asked for. Consequently, on May 11, 1161, under Abbot Hartbern, still concerned about the abbey’s rights and possessions, Deutz received from Victor IV a papal privilege that fully confirmed Deutz’s right to freely elect its own abbots. The depth of this concern is probably reflected in Deutz’s issuance of a second, forged document which included further claims and rights for Deutz.91

The Heribert Canonization Bull

But perhaps a very different kind of document would serve to cement even further the abbey’s position to maintain its independence as well as bolster its economic security. Despite the fact that Archbishop Pilgrim, Heribert’s successor, had already in a document of 1032 referred to Heribert as sanctus92 and that both vitae recount the miracles attributed to Heribert both before and after his death, the abbey understood that a document, connected even tangentially to the papacy, would officially testify to Heribert’s sainthood, thereby providing another avenue for attracting more pilgrims and thus more revenue. To that end, it created what is now known to be a forgery, the undated Heribert canonization bull (New York, Pierpont Morgan Library, MS 869, fol. 14r), produced in the mid-twelfth century and purported to have been granted by Gregorius episcopus servus servorum dei, whose identification has remained elusive.93 However, the supposed author has been thought to be a pope named Gregory even though the bull specifically says it was issued by a bishop, a not uncommon practice until papal canonization was legitimized in 1234, and, of course, the pope was Both Charles Mierow (Otto of Freising, Deeds of Frederick Barbarossa, Appendix, 336n6) and Marcel Pacaut (Frederick Barbarossa, 103) say Frederick used “force” to gain adherence to Victor; however, neither offers a reference for this.

91  On the history of these privileges, see Sinderhauf, Abtei Deutz, 142–44, and Milz, Studien, 152 and n. 273 (while the information in this note is on p. 152, the corresponding note number does not appear in the text above it), and 256–57. 92  Müller, Heribert, Kanzler Ottos III (1977), 314.

93  On the complicated history of the scholarship on this bull regarding its authenticity, dating, authorship, and possible motivations, see Müller, “Kanonisationsbulle,” 46–71. For a succinct summary of Müller’s final analysis, see Müller, “Heribert von Köln” (1980), 18–19; Müller, “Heribert, Kanzler Ottos III” (1996), 59–60; and Müller, “Heribert, Kanzler Ottos III” (1998), 34 and fig. 8, an illustration of the bull. The above information on Heribert’s canonization is an outgrowth of Müller’s research for his published dissertation (Müller, Heribert, Kanzler Ottos III. [1977]), in which he discussed the bull and its context (251 and 314–15). The bull also is printed in PL vol. 148, cols. 658–59, attributed to Gregory VII based on Lacomblet’s belief that the bull was a genuine document of that pope. It appears in the section devoted to Epistolae Extra Registrum Vagantes with the citation to Lacomblet’s Urkundenbuch für die Geschichte des Niederrheins, vol. 1, 145. On medi­eval forgeries see Christopher Brooke, “Approaches to Medi­eval Forgery,”100–20, and Paul Meyvaert, “Medi­eval Forgers,” 83–95. See also Berkhofer III, Forgeries and Historical Writing.



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the bishop of Rome.94 Given the time period of the forgery, the choice of an issuer named Gregory cannot be merely arbitrary. Only two popes named Gregory occupied the papal throne during the time between Heribert’s death in 1021 and the completion of the Heribert Shrine around 1175: Gregory VI (May 1045–December 1046) and Gregory VII (April 1073–May 1085). In his discussion of this bull, Heribert Müller already noted,95 the latter would be a very appropriate pope for Deutz to have chosen as the “author” of its bull given his political importance for the Church. It is true that both Gregorys had a connection to Co­logne; Gregory VI had gone into exile there in 1046 over suspicions regarding his election to the papacy and died there in 1047, and Gregory VII, before becoming pope, had spent a year in Co­logne as chaplain to Gregory VI.96 Yet more important than an association with Co­logne, in having selected Gregory VII, Deutz would, in fact, be making a political statement. Gregory VII had been an adamant reformer and defender of the supremacy of papal authority during the Investiture Controversy, especially evident in Gregory’s conflict with Henry IV (their meeting at Canossa will be discussed again later in the text in relation to images on the shrine). Thus, in the abbey’s thinking, the time would have been ripe for having Gregory, the eleventh-century champion of reform, be the “author” of its bull forged during the mid-twelfth-century, a time of renewed turmoil in the Church over investiture and imperial submission. As J. N. D. Kelly observes, Gregory VII “was forever striving, with varying degrees of success, to bind temporal rulers to the holy see by feudal ties...with the aim of centralizing authority in the church,”97 an aim that, as has been argued, seems to have been on the minds of the creators of the Heribert Shrine’s inscriptions and images at the same time as the bull was being forged. The bull then provides further evidence of how the use of forged documents, while an illegitimate means to an end, can nullify the dishonesty of the action when, as in this instance, it affirmed what was already viewed as true and would consequently have little, if any, deleterious effect on others. In addition, the issuance of the bull by a Church reformer had another positive corollary, an implicit association with the views of Gregory VII regarding the supreme position of the Church regarding ecclesiastical matters. More to the point, it is easy to see that papal documents, irrespective of their legitimacy, while useful for economic preservation could also serve as insurance to protect against the possible actions of an overreaching archbishop. At the time of the creation of the Heribert Shrine that was Rainald of Dassel (c. 1122–1167), an archbishop who had refused to follow the urgings of Ekbert of Schönau to emulate his predecessor Heribert, for Rainald, with his imperial preoccupations, scorned such advice, having “little time for the scruples of the cloister and less patience for the meddling of monks.”98 Even as his notary and Archpoet adulator knew, Rainald was a person to be 94  See New Catholic Encyclopedia (1967), s.vv. “Canonization of Saints (History and Procedure).” 95  Müller, “Kanonisationsbulle,” 66.

96  See Kelly, “Gregory VI” and “Gregory VII,” Oxford Dictionary of Popes, 144–45 and 154. 97  Kelly, Oxford Dictionary of the Popes, 155.

98  See Godman, Archpoet, 79–80.

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feared, especially when it came to fiscal matters, for he clearly was aware that even for himself “the bond between fiscality and politics was based on fear.”99 It would seem then that Rainald had put the monks of Deutz in a compromised position in maintaining their fiscal viability. How ironic it must have seemed to them when Rainald, having squandered the money of the Co­logne archdiocese, left it bankrupt on his death in 1167.100 Thus Rainald of Dassel, whose character and powerful position as archbishop of Co­logne, concomitant with his allegiance to and manipulation of Frederick Barbarossa, may well have played a large part in Deutz’s motivations to seek aid from the papacy, even from an unduly elected pope engineered to occupy the papal throne by Rainald himself. Their motivations notwithstanding, Victor was, in effect, the abbey’s pope whether or not the monks agreed with the unorthodox manner in which he had been elected.101 In any event, support for Victor was waning in Germany by 1163,102 and in view of the fact that he died on April 20, 1164, both his papacy and the references to him in Theoderic of Deutz’s codex predate the shrine’s medallions.103 Nevertheless, the turmoil surrounding Victor could not have been lost on the creators of those medallions since peace did not return to the papacy. While there is some evidence for the abbey’s stance in the years before the shrine’s medallions were made, one can only theorize about the papal stance of the abbey dur99  Godman, Archpoet, 130–31. On the Archpoet and the literary response to Stauffer politics, see Fuhrmann, Germany in the High Middle Ages, 155–57. 100  Godman, Archpoet, 13.

101  See Otto of Freising, Deeds of Frederick Barbarossa, 4:lii (xliii), p. 282, lix (xlix)–lxvi (lvi), pp. 287–302, and lxxii (lxii)–lxxxii (lxxii), pp. 307–29, for Rahewin’s lengthy description of the election process and of the events surrounding it and its aftermath, including letters from the various parties involved. Rainald of Dassel is listed twice (324 and 328) as a supporter of Victor and as one of the legates sent to countries outside Germany to get approval of the proceedings; to that end, Rainald was sent to France (328). While Rahewin in his recounting of the events purports not to take sides on the election since “the rest of our history would not be sound were we to show favor in this important part of it” (288), Munz clearly puts the events in their political context, describing Frederick’s and Rainald’s motivations for supporting Victor (Munz, Frederick Barbarossa, 205–35). See also Morris, Papal Monarchy, 192–95, and Johrendt, “Empire and the Schism,” 99–126, where Johrendt discusses Frederick’s motivations, as well as his ambivalence, regarding his actions toward and dealings with Alexander III during the years of the schism until its perceived conclusion in 1177. For a succinct account of Victor’s election and the attendant events, see Freed, Frederick Barbarossa, 257–60, and Kelly, “Victor IV,” Oxford Dictionary of Popes, 177–78.

102  See Munz, Frederick Barbarossa, 235n3, and Freed, Frederick Barbarossa, 275, as well as 267–68, where he notes the already limited support for Victor when at the Council of Pavia (February 5–11, 1160) his election as pope had finally been confirmed. 103  The history of the original manu­script of the Codex Thioderici, now lost, is complicated. See Sinderhauf, Abtei Deutz, 19–25. Based on the fact that Theoderic of Deutz neither gives an end date for the episcopacy of Rainald of Dassel or for the reign of Frederick Barbarossa nor includes the arrival of the relics of the Magi in Co­logne in July of 1164, she sees Theoderic of Deutz as having been unable to complete his codex (41). The later entries for the remainder of the twelfth century by another hand relate to cash benefits that the abbey received and other financial dealings (262–63). After Theoderic of Deutz, the codex continues the catalogue of the abbots of Deutz and provides more on Deutz’s possessions (Milz, Studien, 2).



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ing the years of the medallions’ creation, for there seems to be no similar evidence of Deutz’s position during the years after Victor’s death when the turmoil in the papacy did not abate. Even though Alexander III was gaining support in Burgundy, Italy, and even some parts of Germany (not finally achieving his rightful status until 1178), in the meantime, at the instigation of Frederick Barbarossa’s supporters two more antipopes followed Victor, Paschal III (1164­–1168) and Calixtus III (1168–1178).104 The former was elected uncanonically by Rainald of Dassel with only one or two schismatic cardinals, two German bishops, and the prefect of Rome conferring the office on Paschal.105 While Frederick was probably not directly involved in the affair, he, in any event, accepted and ratified the outcome. Although without specific evidence we do not know whom the monks of Deutz supported as their pope during this time, the Diet of Würzburg may provide some insight.

The Diet of Würzburg

At Würzburg Rainald of Dassel once again proved his position as a prime mover as he attempted to form an alliance between the emperor and the German princes by means of an oath of allegiance to support his antipope Paschal. But Rainald did not foresee the shrewdness of the princes who wanted to have a hold on Rainald when he signed the oath. He therefore found himself in a compromised position when the bishops said they would swear to it only on the condition that Rainald would agree to be consecrated archbishop of Co­logne. Even though he had been elected to the archbishopric six years earlier, this was a condition Rainald did not want to accept. Just as Rupert had postponed his ordination fearing its validity would be compromised if performed by an uncanonically consecrated bishop, so too Rainald had put off his consecration fearing he would no longer hold his see if the pope who consecrated him were later to be denounced.106 Nevertheless, outwitted and needing to further Frederick’s cause to ensure his own, Rainald finally relented, and, as Rahewin reports, on May 22, 1165, “a sworn agreement was entered upon by the emperor and the princes who were present, both secular and ecclesiastical, that Paschal should always be recognized as pope, and that upon his death no one not of his party should be elected.”107 Shortly after, even abbots had to follow suit, and while the allegiance to the emperor was not universal, the penalties for not taking or not adhering to the oath were severe. As proposed by Rainald, “Within six weeks all abbots, prelates and all vassals were to take a similar 104  See note 75 above for Paschal and Calixtus. Given that neither of these antipopes is mentioned by Milz (Studien), unlike Victor IV they most likely did not issue any documents of economic significance for the abbey. For Alexander III’s activities during these years, see Kelly, “Alexander III,” Oxford Dictionary of Popes, 176. 105  Freed, Frederick Barbarossa, 319–20, and Kelly, “Paschal III,” Oxford Dictionary of Popes, 178. See also Munz, Frederick Barbarossa, 236–37, where he discusses the legitimacy of the election as well as Rainald’s part in it and Frederick’s reaction to the whole affair. 106  Munz, Frederick Barbarossa, 241–42. See also Freed, Frederick Barbarossa, 323–24.

107  Otto of Freising, Deeds of Frederick Barbarossa, Appendix, pp. 335–36.

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oath. If they refused, they were to forfeit their property and they were to be exiled. Freemen who refused to swear were to be exiled as well as mutilated.”108 Also Rahewin reports that “Albert of Freising, after prolonged opposition, was forced to swear to obey Paschal conscientiously as long as the empire supported his party and as long as he [Albert] wished to retain his temporalities.”109 With Frederick’s having seen Rainald as a traitor for his unwillingness to take the oath, Rainald, despite all his misgivings, capitulated and was ultimately ordained on May 29, 1165, and consecrated on October 2 of the same year, just in time for him to preside over the elevation and canonization of Charlemagne on December 29.110 With Rainald as their archbishop, what choice was there for the Abbey of Deutz? As for Calixtus III, who became antipope after the death of Paschal III, he seems to have had a lesser impact than his two predecessors, mostly likely because Frederick was attempting some kind of resolution with Alexander III. Yet, while Calixtus’s adherents were not many, he was accepted as pope in areas of the Rhineland.111 In short, although some abbeys in Germany went against Frederick during the schism,112 with Rainald of Dassel and his successor Philip of Heinsberg as archbishops of Co­logne and both of them the emperor’s men, it would have been difficult at that time for the Abbey of Deutz, a proprietary abbey of the Co­logne episcopate, to rebel openly. Even though at times it is difficult to separate twenty-first-century cynicism from twelfth-century opportunism in passing judgment on what may have been Deutz’s position during the schism, one needs to keep in mind that the primary purpose of an abbey is a religious one and that continuity of the abbey was a requisite for achieving it. While actions aimed at self-preservation, such as forging documents and following imposed antipopes, are certainly not in themselves laudable and may at times even be geared toward less than saintly motivations despite monastic reform, in many instances such actions kept an institution on its feet, allowing the perpetuation of its primary mission.113 While, as Geoffrey Koziol points out, monks may have been somewhat naive in their attempts to uphold their rights by virtue of their antipodal view of the world order, 108  Munz, Frederick Barbarossa, 240–41. See also Freed, Frederick Barbarossa, 323.

109  Otto of Freising, Deeds of Frederick Barbarossa, Appendix, p. 336. In terms of German resistance to Paschal III and its consequence, see: Otto of Freising, Deeds of Frederick Barbarossa, 336n6; Pacaut, Frederick Barbarossa, 116–17; and Kelly, “Paschal III,” Oxford Dictionary of Popes, 178–79. 110  Godman, Archpoet, 98–100. On Charlemagne’s canonization see note 78 above. 111  Kelly, “Callistus (III),” Oxford Dictionary of Popes, 179.

112  See Johrendt, “Empire and the Schism,” 124–25, where he provides information on German churches in the provinces of Salzburg and Mainz, which were seeking privileges from Alexander III. However, he cautions that this is not representative of the German Empire as a whole, for “it is difficult to establish the relationship between individual churches and the antipopes. Generally, such records were not preserved, and there is evidence that some were purposely destroyed” (100). 113  On medi­eval forgeries, see n. 93 above. One could even question Hildegard of Bingen’s willingness to accept from Frederick Barbarossa in 1163 a charter protecting her abbey in perpetuity despite his having been excommunicated and having put the antipope Victor IV on the papal throne. See Hildegard of Bingen, Letters, 1, Introduction, 12.



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that is, heaven versus earth, “to monasteries and chapters, their antagonists had violated not mere temporal norms but, more important, a world order established by God. Because these ecclesiastical institutions were part of the divine order, attacks against their rights were automatically construed as attacks against God himself.”114

The Impact of the Archbishops of Co­logne Rainald of Dassel

When open opposition was not feasible to right these wrongs, images and inscriptions could serve as subtle messages of critical commentary for those astute enough to read them. As for the Heribert Shrine, while Susanne Wittekind sees in the reconciliation medallion a possible admonition to Rainald of Dassel, however much he may have needed admonishing, having died in 1167 he was more than likely dead by the time the shrine’s medallions would have been put in place.115 Nevertheless, the memory of the events a few years earlier in which he had played a part would still be clear in the abbey’s mind, and given the kind of man and archbishop Rainald was, surely his attributes could not have been lost on his contemporaries. In addition to what already has been noted about him, Horst Fuhrmann, calling him “the most fanatical member of the circle” of Barbarossa’s clerical supporters, describes him as a man who “prevented compromise”; Paul Strait observes that Rainald of Dassel was “the most striking example of an archbishop who was nearly always absent from Co­logne”; Peter Munz sees him as a self-serving manipulator of Frederick Barbarossa, obsessed with antipapalism, “a bishop serving Christ not through the exercise of charisma in the cure of souls, but through the splendour of military allegiance,” and other than his “ostentatious transfer of the relics of the Three Wise Men to Co­logne, there are very few instances of Rainald’s interest in his see”; and Anne Duggan sees him as a provocateur who orchestrated the Besançon incident, at which, in Peter Godman’s view, he was a translator and intermediary who “exploited his pivotal position in order to guarantee a dialogue of the deaf.”116 As to Rainald’s acclaimed accomplishment of bringing the relics of the Three Kings to Co­logne in 1164, Patrick Geary questions not only the validity of 114  Koziol, Begging Pardon and Favor, 195.

115  Wittekind, “Heiligenviten und Reliquienschmuck,” 20. Rainald died during Frederick’s fourth Italian campaign on August 14, 1167, not, as long believed, from malaria but from dysentery. Görich (Friedrich Barbarossa, 417–19) provides a descriptive account.

116  Fuhrmann, Germany in the High Middle Ages,154; Strait, Co­logne in the Twelfth Century, 40; Munz, “Frederick Barbarossa and the ‘Holy Empire,’” 30, and Munz, Frederick Barbarossa, 239n3; Duggan, “Totius christianitatis caput,” 131; and Godman, Archpoet, 53. For a fuller discussion of Rainald’s character, see Kluger, “Friedrich Barbarossa,” 26–40. (At first glance a reader familiar with English slang seeing in Kluger’s title Rainald identified as Barbarossa’s Ratgeber [advisor or giver of advice] might perceive in its first part a sort of translation faux ami, ironically providing an unintentional further yet suitable description of Rainald’s character!) While not exonerating Rainald, Freed points out that Frederick ultimately “bears the responsibility for the disastrous consequences of Rainald’s policies…To blame Rainald is to deny Frederick’s own agency” (Freed, Frederick Barbarossa, 199).

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the relics themselves but also the authenticity of the legend surrounding them, ultimately concluding that Rainald of Dassel had invented the legend in order to “bolster the autonomous authority of the emperor relative to the pope.”117 Lisa Victoria Ciresi posits that Rainald, who was a prime motivator in the canonization of Charlemagne, may have orchestrated both of these events “to revive and reinforce the legitimacy of temporal and sacerdotal lordship for the emperor.”118 A manipulative and powerful man feared and mistrusted in his own time, Rainald was more concerned with affairs of the empire than with those of the Church and thus was in stark contrast to the Heribert portrayed both in Rupert’s vita and on the Deutz shrine, for Rainald was, as Munz paints him, “not a pastor of souls.”119 Even though Heribert certainly involved himself in political affairs while he was chancellor to Otto III, that role, as already noted, was downplayed by both his bio­graphers and the creators of the shrine. In any event, Wittekind’s observations that Heribert was being held up as a mirror to the archbishops of Co­logne who needed to follow his example still holds and can equally be applied to Rainald’s successor, Philip of Heinsberg, archbishop from 1167 to 1191, whose episcopacy thus lasted well beyond the shrine’s completion.120 Philip of Heinsberg

While certainly not of the ilk of Rainald of Dassel, Philip, who, like Rainald, was Frederick’s chancellor before becoming archbishop, gets a somewhat mixed review, from judicious and very generous to the very un-Heribertlike bishop “who was completely involved in politics and war, concerned more for the glory which counts before the world than for that which counts before God; thus the Churches of God had in him no protection.”121 He has also been described as “an early representative of the new type of ecclesiastical prince with a strong interest in building up his own territorial state.”122 Indeed, in her correspondence with Philip, Hildegard of Bingen constantly had to remind him that his spiritual obligations had to take precedence over his service to the emperor, to which he acknowledged to her that “given over as we are to carnal lusts, we all too readily ignore spiritual matters, neither seeing nor hearing them,” and “we are so perturbed by the whirlwinds and storms of secular matters that, at times, we can scarcely lift the eyes of our mind to heaven.”123 These depictions are

117  Geary, Living with the Dead, 256.

118  Ciresi, “Liturgical Study,” 220n3. Raising many questions about the miasmic nature of the events, Freed notes: “Rome never officially sanctioned the cult of the Holy Three Kings…Perhaps the popes did not want to confirm the actions of a schismatic, or, just maybe, the curia knew the truth” (Freed, Frederick Barbarossa, 293–94). On these events see also the analysis and speculation of Kluger, “Friedrich Barbarossa,” 35–39. 119  Munz, Frederick Barbarossa, 239.

120  According to Kraus (“Notizen,” 48), Heinsberg’s is the first name entered in another hand in the codex list of bishops. See note 103 above on the Codex Thioderici. 121  For these wide-ranging views of Philip, see Oediger, “Philipp von Heinsberg,” 231.

122  Fuhrmann, Germany in the High Middle Ages, 170.

123  Hildegard of Bingen, Letters, 1:54, Letter 15, and 66, Letter 16.



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not totally unlike what has already been noted herein about the views of the historical Rainald of Dassel. In fact, Frederick Barbarossa himself compared Philip to Rainald, finding no one else in the entire empire capable of taking Rainald’s place.124 Like Rainald who had left the archdiocese bankrupt, Philip too appears to have been, if not financially unscrupulous, at least careless in his financial dealings and their consequences. For example, Philip’s practice of buying up land and then returning it to the owners as fiefs put the archbishops who followed him often in grave financial difficulty.125 We also get an interesting insight into his monetary dealings from the outcome of his having borrowed money for his expeditions to Italy in the service of the emperor. In one instance, when Philip could not repay the loan within the required time and with no other archbishop able to be held accountable, shortly after 1170, a time when the shrine’s medallions were being created, he defaulted on the loan, the house he had used as collateral going to the lender.126 In still other larger loans to finance an Italian expedition, again within the period of the medallions’ creation, a document of 1174 records that Philip gave the lenders the archdiocese’s proceeds from both Co­logne’s mint and the city’s tolls until these loans were repaid. Philip then made clerics and people of standing in the Co­logne diocese swear under oath to give neither homage nor obedience to his successor until that archbishop promised to liquidate the debt.127 While, as Munz notes, the revenue that bishops gained from their regalia obliged them to aid the emperor with funds for his campaigns, at times resulting in their having “to pawn church property and manors...[which] constituted a heavy financial burden on the ecclesiastical princes,”128 Philip’s manner of imperial support would seem to have trumped his ecclesiastical oversight. Knut Görich observes that while these expenditures could be considered worthwhile, they ultimately provided both political and material capital for the investor, and in the case of Philip those kinds of capital seem to have been sufficiently adequate to justify his use of ecclesiastical funds regardless of the consequences.129 As Strait notes, because in general the twelfth-century Co­logne archbishops were “deeply involved in imperial affairs, by virtue of both their position and their personal connections,” they didn’t concern themselves with the welfare of their city, resulting in what he describes as a time of “salutary neglect.”130 While, as Strait argues, their lack of concern may have been beneficial for Co­logne’s urban development since it kept archbishops from meddling in city affairs, their neglect 124  Oediger, “Philipp von Heinsberg,” 232.

125  Strait, Co­logne in the Twelfth Century, 42. For another example of Philip’s quid-pro-quo dealings, see 95n79. 126  Strait, Co­logne in the Twelfth Century, 82–83.

127  Strait, Co­logne in the Twelfth Century, 46.

128  Munz, Frederick Barbarossa, 298n4. For example, sometime around February 1176 Philip mort­gaged two manors to finance his plans to join Frederick in Italy (Freed, Frederick Barbarossa, 389). 129  Görich, Friedrich Barbarossa, 470.

130  Strait, Co­logne in the Twelfth Century, 138–39.

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was certainly not salutary for their pastoral flock, something Hildegard of Bingen in the mid-1160s pointed out in a vitriolic public sermon delivered in Co­logne, a copy of which Philip of Heinsberg was subsequently sent at his request.131 In it she accused the city’s “shepherds” of “seeking after your own transitory reputation in the world” and warns them, “you are the darkness, in which you lie as if you are already dead.”132 When Philip in a letter to Hildegard asks her to send him any “words of admonition” God may have for him, she says, “called a bright star because of your episcopal office, giving off light through the name of the high priest, you should not be hiding your light,” a much gentler response than offered in a subsequent letter in which she warns him for his salvation to “change your name, that is, from wolf to lamb, because wolves gladly seize the sheep.”133 These searing condemnations put Philip in clear contrast to Heribert, whom Rupert in his vita sees as the shepherd who cares for his sheep, not for human glory but for the glory of God’s Church, and whom he overtly connects to light. When commenting on the extraordinary light at Heribert’s birth, the visio solis in the shrine’s inscription surrounding this scene (Fig. 9), Rupert sees it as the personification of Heribert who will shine as the light of the Lord when he becomes archbishop of Co­logne, for according to Rupert the mission of the consecrated bishop is to bring Christ’s light to the world.134 On the shrine, that light, as foretold, continues after his birth, as the inscriptions and images tell us, when, as he crosses the mountains toward his consecration in Co­logne, he is “about to strew the valleys with light” (sparsurus lumine valles) (Fig. 13); when in his dream, accepting the request to found the abbey from Mary, “the glorious mother of light” (luminis inclita mat[er]), his hand reaches up to touch the flames of light that come down from her (Fig. 15); and even when his episcopal mission has been accomplished, as he lies on his deathbed a red flame shines above him, the pictorial affirmation of his “merits gleaming like fire” (meritis rutilans velut ignis) (Fig. 20). Although the shrine inscriptions do not specifically refer to Heribert’s care for his flock, clearly the two medallions depicting Heribert’s miracles attest to that concern: his bringing rain to drought-stricken Co­logne through his efficacious prayers (Fig. 17) and his saving a possessed man from a predatory demon through exorcism, thereby bringing the lost sheep back into the fold (Fig. 18). Thus, in contrast to the stewardship of the good shepherd Heribert whose light shone forth, Philip of Heinsberg’s deep involvement in personal and political affairs led him to neglect his sheep and hide his light in culpable darkness. Like his twelfth-century predecessor Rainald of Dassel, Philip of Heinsberg had little time for the spiritual welfare and concerns of an abbey. 131  Hildegard of Bingen, Letters, 1:54, Letter 15 and n. 2.

132  Hildegard of Bingen, Letters, 1:57–58, Letter 15r. The entire sermon with its variants appears on pages 54–63. 133  Hildegard of Bingen, Letters, 1:66, Letters 16 and 16r, and 69, Letter 17.

134  For the bishop as the good shepherd, see Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 7, pp. 41–42, and for the bishop and light, see Vita Heriberti, 2, p. 35, and 10, pp. 46–47. On the light motif, also see Carty, “Dream as image,” 32–36.



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However, in at least one instance during the 1170s, the period of the creation of the shrine’s medallions, Philip’s action and its consequence did have a negative economic effect on the abbey, providing some insight into his handling of disputes and his concern for litigants. In this instance, after the abbey had suffered in 1155 a reduction in its share of the tithes from the church at Bürrig, some years later it sought Philip’s assistance in attempting to gain the right to all the tithes. However, in his response, according to Joseph Milz, rather than carefully and thoughtfully addressing the issues involved, Philip, “without having weighed for any length of time the pros and cons of the claims of either the abbot of Deutz or the parish priest,” ruled against the abbey, giving the parish priest the right to all the tithes, only granting Deutz an annual measure of grain. Although difficult to assess precisely the resulting damage to the abbey’s economy since the income from the tithe is not known, Milz judges that it was not likely to have been markedly significant. Nevertheless, even though the abbey had consented to the dispute resolution, unsatisfied, it continued to challenge the outcome long after.135 In light of Philip’s character, by presenting the life of the abbey’s patron as a mirror, the shrine’s medallions could serve as an oblique criticism and a spiritual admonition not only to Frederick Barbarossa but also, if not to Rainald of Dassel himself, to his successor, Philip of Heinsberg, to remember that his position was, as Hildegard of Bingen so forcefully had urged, to serve God and the Church.136 History had already provided and continued to provide notorious examples.

Other Historical Henrys

Finally, the shrine may also be alluding to three other king Henrys, both before and contemporaneous with the medallions’ creation, who found themselves in serious conflict with the Church: the German emperors Henry IV and Henry V, and Henry II, king of England. Emperor Henry IV

As noted above, Henry IV, whom Rupert in his Carmina castigated as the Antichrist and the apocalyptic dragon, was responsible for bringing to a head the conflict between Church and Empire, ultimately leading to its presumed resolution with the Concordat of Worms (1122), nearly a century after the death of the Heribert Shrine’s Emperor Henry II in 1024. However, the story chronicled by both Lambert of Hersfeld (d. before 1085) and Frutolf of Michelsberg (d. 1103) of the penitent excommunicated Henry IV was compelling. The description of the emperor— barefoot, clothed in woollen garments, and weeping in frigid January temperatures outside the gate of the fortress of Canossa in 1077 before finally being permitted on the fourth day to beg Pope Gregory 135  Regarding the tithe and the circumstances surrounding it, see Milz, Studien, 154–55.

136  Hildegard not only advised but also severely admonished and warned Frederick Barbarossa. See Hildegard of Bingen, Letters, 3:112–14, Letters 312, 313, and 315.

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for pardon—must have impressed an image upon the minds of all papal supporters who heard of the event so pregnant with meaning along the path to that Concordat.137 While neither Lambert nor Frutolf describes Henry’s bodily position as he met with Gregory VII, the customary ritual of penance would have had him in some form of prostration before the pope. According to the Romano-Germanic pontifical, the excommunicated person must prostrate himself before the bishop when confessing his sins.138 Thus Henry at Canossa would have been in a penitential position similar to that of Henry II on the Heribert Shrine. In his book, Begging Pardon and Favor, Geoffrey Koziol discusses the many circumstances of prostration and, specifically with regard to penance, sees prostration as an act that is applicable to all, no matter what their status in life: “Throughout the early Middle Ages this was regarded as a fundamental truth, expressed by a recurring ritual, as princes who sinned underwent the penitential rites common to all Christians.”139 In addition, Koziol discusses prostration’s monastic applications, especially with regard to abbatial authority within the monastery, “an asylum penitentiae that recreated humanity’s proper relationship with God.”140 However, it is also useful to note that a penitential action may not be viewed similarly by the parties involved. For example, Ian Robinson observes that Henry IV saw his actions at Canossa differently, believing the outcome to have been positive from a political point of view, because he felt he had ceded nothing regarding his kingly powers.141 Moreover, the penitential act may even be insincere. Interestingly, regarding hypocrisy on the part of those seeking pardon and thus the consequent problems for those granting it, Koziol offers the example of the Bishop of Cambrai and his castellan, 137  For Lambert of Hersfeld, see Lampertus Hersfeldensis, Lamperti Hersfeldensis Annales, 289–98, and for Frutolf of Michelsberg, see Chronicles of the Investiture Contest, 114. See also Intro., n. 1 above regarding these authors in the context of Canossa. 138  Regarding prostration in the Romano-Germanic pontifical, see PRG, 1, XCI:3, p. 318.

139  Koziol, Begging Pardon and Favor, 102.

140  Koziol, Begging Pardon and Favor, 184, and for its context, 183–85.

141  Robinson, Henry IV of Germany, 164. See also Reuter, Medi­e val Polities and Modern Mentalities, where in his essay “Contextualising Canossa: Excommunication, Penance, Surrender, Reconciliation,” 147–66, he says that his purpose is “to sketch the events leading up to Henry IV’s journey, and then to look more closely at the meeting at Canossa itself, and at what the actions and symbols used by the participants meant to them and to their audience…These actions and symbols were not all what they seem to be at first sight,” 149. In this regard, for the ongoing debate about how to read and view the Canossa episode, see Hehl, Gregor VII. und Heinrich IV. in Canossa 1077. Paenitentia - absolutio - honor, in which he presents the various ways scholars have interpreted the events at Canossa. Rejecting the position of Johannes Fried, who prioritizes its political basis, separating it from other considerations, Hehl, on the other hand, in analyzing the language of the meagre documents as well as the contents of the chronicles recording the events, argues for its religious, liturgical, and ecclesiastical basis within the purview of canon law; unlike Fried, he maintains that the political is not separated from all this but embedded within it. The main goal was aimed at the preservation of honour for all parties involved. Canossa’s failure to achieve a lasting detente and reconciliation arose from Henry’s not living up to his end of the bargain, resulting in his being excommunicated again three years later.



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who was hypocritically seeking pardon from the bishop. By way of comparison Koziol singles out Henry IV prostrate before Gregory VII: “Nor was he the only bishop whose commitment to sacramental form was taken advantage of by another’s opportunism: Henry IV did much the same to Gregory VII at Canossa.”142 Of interest here is the fact that exactly a hundred years after Henry IV and Gregory VII had met at Canossa, a carefully staged event took place in Venice in 1177, an event which, as Stefan Weinfurter observed, “on the other hand, made the submission of Henry IV 100 years earlier in Canossa actually appear as a humble action.”143 Happening most likely just shortly after the completion of the Heribert Shrine’s medallions, Frederick Barbarossa publicly reconciled with Alexander III, as he too penitentially prostrated himself before the pope and, after his submission, similar to the conclusion of the reconciliation between Heribert and Henry II depicted on the Heribert Shrine, Barbarossa received from the pope the kiss of peace.144 Whether or not the event took place after the shrine’s completion, the circumstances leading to the reconciliation in Venice had occurred well before the shrine’s medallions were created, for Frederick had already been excommunicated by Alexander in 1160, an excommunication that he renewed in 1163.145 Setting aside the pomp and circumstance surrounding the carefully staged event, which John Freed has described as “Frederick’s Public Humiliation in Venice,” the sincerity of Frederick’s contrition is open to speculation. According to contemporary accounts, as well as the early thirteenth-century Petersberg Chronicle,146 Frederick openly did everything “by the book,” including holding the stirrup of the pope’s horse, despite his earlier demand for removal of that very scene from the Lateran frescoes, as discussed above.147 Yet this same chronicle also notes that Alexander had hesitated to raise up the prostrate emperor.148 In addition, Frederick had raged against those negotiating the terms of the reconciliation because he did not want to perform an act leading to public humiliation.149 As he would learn, the aftermath of his acquiescence was a detriment to him politically, for he had relinquished much of his power not only to the pope but also ironically to his spiritual imperial princes.150 It seems that Frederick had been cornered. However, Alexander’s bio­grapher Boso, who extensively cov142  Koziol, Begging Pardon and Favor, 318.

143  “Die Unterwerfung Heinrichs IV. 100 Jahre zuvor in Canossa erscheint demgegenüber geradezu als bescheidene Aktion,” Weinfurter, “Venedig 1177,” 12.

144  For Frederick’s prostration in Venice, see Hack, Empfangszeremoniell, 542–43, as well as Freed, Frederick Barbarossa, 408–13, and Weinfurter, “Venedig 1177,” all of which describe the event. These sources also discuss its aftermath. 145  For Frederick Barbarossa’s excommunications, see Morris, Papal Monarchy, 194, and Pacaut, Frederick Barbarossa, 96–97. 146  Weinfurter, “Venedig 1177,” 12.

147  Weinfurter, “Venedig 1177,” 10–11. 148  Weinfurter, “Venedig 1177,” 13. 149  Weinfurter, “Venedig 1177,” 13. 150  Weinfurter, “Venedig 1177,” 19.

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ered the Venice episode,151 did not feel compelled, despite his pro-Alexandrian sympathies, to suppress an incident152 that indicated Frederick had not entirely lived up to his agreement, an action for which Alexander would ultimately not hold Frederick accountable. Without waiting for Alexander’s resolution regarding the disposition of the lands of the Count of Bertinoro, which Frederick wanted for the empire but which had been bequeathed to the Church, Frederick, “following the advice of evil men”153 (not named), with his army just seized the count’s fortress and its attendant property rights. Not wishing to break the hard-won peace he believed he had achieved, Alexander capitulated, hoping over time “the Lord softened the heart of the Emperor and he of his own accord restored to the church what was rightfully her own.”154 As already seen at Besançon, Frederick again had gotten a pope to accede to his demands. Despite Canossa, despite the Concordat of Worms, despite written agreements and oaths, and despite conventional bodily gestures, in the end, people’s motivations and intentions are difficult, if not impossible, to assess, especially if the perceived outcome of their actions, at least from their perspective, is not what they had envisioned or planned. Despite the details describing the professed sincerity Frederick exhibited in Venice, it did not require much to make him break his oath of allegiance to the Church by succumbing to those who supported his wishes, much in the way Emperor Henry II sought to destroy Heribert with the support of his own counselors, as seen above. Perhaps the perceived duality of perspective in regard to Frederick, given his past and then present behavior, is akin to the differing views of Henry II. Lambert of Deutz writes of the perceived mistrust of Henry II’s motivations in seeking reconciliation with Heribert, leading to Lambert’s phrase simulatae pacis longa discordia, and even though Rupert speaks of Henry II’s positive qualities, he also writes of Heribert’s brother Gezemann’s fears of the mercurial Henry II’s reprisal against his family as discussed above. Unlike Henry II, Frederick Barbarossa did not have a vision of Saint Peter to persuade him to relent. It was a peace-loving and patient pope, perhaps exhausted from the emperor’s assaults against him, that granted him a reprieve and placed the outcome in the hands of God. Despite events at Canossa and the Concordat of Worms, the shadow of Henry IV lived on. Emperor Henry V

A second Henry closer in time to the Heribert Shine was Henry V, who, as noted above, had invested a contested bishop in Rupert’s diocese of Liège, the rightful bishop ultimately being installed in 1119 through the intercession of Archbishop Frederick of Co­logne. According to John Van Engen, it was most likely Henry V whom Rupert was 151  Boso’s Life of Alexander III, 104–15, and Boso, Vita Alexander III, 437–44.

152  “We have not thought it necessary to pass over in silence,” Boso’s Life of Alexander III, 114; Illud autem silentio pretereundum non duximus, Boso, Vita Alexander III, 444. 153  “utens consilio malignantium,” Boso, Vita Alexander III, 444.

154  Boso’s Life of Alexander III, 114–15. “Dominus cor illius emolliat et sua Ecclesie iura sponte restituat” Boso, Vita Alexander III, 444.



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referring to in his Commentary on the Apocalypse, written between 1119 and 1121 while also working on his vita Heriberti. In it he lashed out against those secular powers who were investing bishops and installing popes in Rome,155 precisely the same problems that again occurred shortly before and even during the time the shrine’s medallions were being created. Like Henry IV, who, after being excommunicated, excommunicated the pope “because he had dared to excommunicate the king, his lord”156—a final straw in Church and Empire relations—so too was Henry V excommunicated in 1115, this time in Co­logne.157 Thus, for the shrine’s creators the reference to these past Henrys would reinforce the shrine’s political message, for these Henrys evidenced the same implacable positions regarding Church and secular rule as did the current emperor, Frederick Barbarossa, who, like them, in his obdurate arrogance put his earthly ambitions above his spiritual obligations—to the jeopardy of his immortal soul. As Frederick’s contemporary, Cardinal Boso, a member of the papal Curia and bio­grapher of popes Hadrian IV and Alexander III, observed: “What was especially remarkable in men’s eyes was that neither the memory of so many evils which he, from childhood up, had cruelly wrought, nor the fresh scourges which he had received at the hands of God and St. Peter, had softened the harshness and savagery of his heart or had turned him to doing good. On the contrary, his nature, inclined to evil from manhood, was, it is believed, ever more bent towards it.”158 Thus, like those before him, in the eyes of the Church, Frederick needed to reform his ways, for as Geoffrey Koziol, citing Jonas of Orléans, who, in turn, was citing Isidore, notes: “The king who forgets his essential sinfulness ‘will return, naked and wretched, to descend to infernal torments.’”159

Henry II, King of England

Lastly, in the very midst of the time when the shrine’s medallions were being created, the crisis of Church and implacable sovereignty reached a new level with the confrontational relationship between Henry II of England and Thomas Becket, leading to the ultimate calamity for an archbishop. Becket’s murder in Canterbury Cathedral on December 29, 1170, had repercussions throughout medi­eval Europe, and Co­logne was not foreign to the events that both preceded and followed it. After Henry and Becket had reached an impasse regarding the clauses of the Constitution of Clarendon (1164) in which Henry had laid out the Crown’s juridical authority with respect to the clergy 155  Van Engen, Rupert of Deutz, 277; see also n. 17 above regarding Rupert’s diatribe and n. 15 above regarding the dates of Rupert’s works. 156  Robinson, Henry IV of Germany, 149. 157  Van Engen, Rupert of Deutz, 229.

158  Boso’s Life of Alexander III, 75. The Latin text appears in Boso, Vita Alexander III, 418. Görich (Friedrich Barbarossa, 419) provides a German translation of it that is identical to that in Wilhelm von Giesebrecht, Die Zeit Kaiser Friedrichs des Rothbarts, 2 vols., Leipzig: Duncker und Humblot, 1880–1895, 1:563; however, Giesebrecht’s translation has a different introductory phrase. 159  Koziol, Begging Pardon and Favor, 100.

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and in support of which England’s bishops were to take an oath,160 Henry in 1165 embarked on a plan to have Pope Alexander III remove Becket from his position as archbishop of Canterbury. To achieve that end, Henry believed that if he could convince Frederick Barbarossa to turn his allegiance to Alexander after Victor IV died, he would be able to curry sufficient favour with Alexander to have Becket removed. Henry met with envoys of the German Empire, including Rainald of Dassel, in Normandy, following which the Germans went on to England to confer with Henry’s queen and the English council. When Rainald returned to Germany with Henry’s trusted envoys, allegedly to arrange the marriages of Henry’s two daughters, one to Barbarossa’s son and the other to the duke of Saxony, “presumably not without Henry’s connivance... delicate discussions about the relations of empire and papacy” ensued.161 However, these discussions resulted in the exact opposite of what Henry had planned, for although Frederick Barbarossa and his council were uncertain whether or not to support Alexander, Rainald of Dassel convinced them to get his papal candidate, Paschal III, elected by disingenuously but successfully arguing Henry’s support for this candidate, a support that Henry later adamantly denied.162 It is also interesting that in his diploma of January 8, 1166, covering his canonization of Charlemagne, Frederick specifically credits Henry with having had a significant role in his decision-making. In the diploma Frederick writes that he was “persuaded by the zealous petition of our dearest friend Henry, illustrious king of England” to canonize Charlemagne.163 However, there is no specific evidence as to why Henry would have been so passionate about Frederick’s cause. The rivalry between England and France with regard to the “ownership” of Charlemagne was complicated and with Germany actually possessing his body, it was in reality a three-pronged entanglement, each with specific motivations for primacy and its political as well as religious cult benefits. Add to that the support for a pope (Alexander III) or an anti-pope (Paschal III) and the water muddies. With Henry wanting to garner Alexander’s support to keep Becket and hopefully Louis at bay, thinking that Frederick had intentions of reconciling with Alexander, he had hoped to get Fredrick’s assistance. Of course, when Henry believed himself to have been double-crossed by Rainald of Dassel and even his own envoys in that attempt and the opposite materialized, he felt betrayed and presumably at odds with Frederick, who now steadfastly supported Paschal. It is perhaps that scenario that led John Freed to say with regard to Henry’s prominent and influential appearance in the diploma: “Apparently, Frederick had not yet heard that his ‘treaty of friendship’ with Henry II had been terminated.”164 160  On this conflict, see Warren, Henry II, 97–98 and 447–517.

161  Warren, Henry II, 493.

162  Warren, Henry II, 492–93.

163  sedula peticione karissimi amici nostri Heinrici illustris regis Angliae inducti, Friderici I. Diplomata, 433. I wish to thank the anonymous reviewer of my manu­script who called my attention to Henry in this diploma. 164  Freed, Frederick Barbarossa, 331.



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While in the opening of his article on the canonization of Charlemagne, Knut Görich states that Henry’s involvement in the affair “has so far not been convincingly explained,”165 in ending he offers a possible reason: the crusades. Shortly before the canonization, Barbarossa and Henry had planned a joint crusade which would include Louis, but the plan never materialized. Nevertheless, the concept of crusade had not died, for in 1166 Henry raised a crusade tax. Görich proposes a possible motivation here based on Henry’s “zealous petition.” Charlemagne’s connection to the Holy Land in image, legend, and veneration in the area of the Anglo-Norman court could have been the catalyst for that request.166 On the other hand, Joseph Huffman offers a different perspective. While seeing Barbarossa as the primary beneficiary, he also notes that overall for Henry, “other than a snubbing of the Capetian claim to Carolingian heritage, would have been a general glorification of royal power and a harkening back to their predecessor’s dominant role in church affairs.” Huffman additionally posits that the reference to Henry “must have come from Rainald of Dassel [as] a further attempt to bolster royal authority in general and make use of the claimed Angevin support for Paschal in particular.”167 Whatever his motivation may have been, it is almost certain that Henry was not a witness to the actual canonization on December 29, 1165, for Frederick does not mention his name when he speaks of those present besides his immediate family: princes, clerics, and the people.168 It is not likely that Frederick would have grouped Henry with the princes since just a few lines earlier he had referred to him as the illustrious king of England. In addition, apparently no evidence of his attendance exists in already known sources. W. L. Warren, for example, does not even mention Charlemagne’s canonization in his 700-page bio­graphy of Henry nor, with lesser reason, does Anne Duggan in her bio­graphy of Thomas Becket. Warren does, however, note that “the winter months of 1165-6 were distinguished by important measures which Henry took for improving law enforcement and the revenues of the Crown,”169 this the very time period that he would have had to journey to Aachen for the ceremony. Nevertheless, despite Henry’s disavowal of his accusers’ assertion that he had supported Paschal II, when in 1166 Henry found himself on the brink of being excommunicated by Becket, in response he threatened Alexander III with England’s refusal to recognize him as pope if he did not accede to Henry’s demand for the deposition of Becket from his Canterbury see. Even when Alexander, fearing his own tenuous political and financial position, tried to formulate a plan for compromise, nothing could make Henry and Becket do so, not even the attempted peace negotiations at Montmi165  “bis heute nicht überzeugend erklärte Aussage,” Görich, “Karl der Große,” 119. 166  Görich, “Karl der Große,” 153–55.

167  Huffman, Social Polities, 85–86. For a brief discussion of the French claim, see Munz, Frederick Barbarossa, 243.

168  salutem dilectae consortis nostrae Beatricis imperatricis et filiorum nostrorum Frederici et Heinrici, cum magna frequentia principum et copiosa multitudine cleri et populi in ymnis et canticis spiritalibus cum timore et reverentia elevavimus et exaltavimus, Friderici I. Diplomata, 433. 169  Warren, Henry II, 100.

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rail in 1169 in which Germany also took part. Despite all attempts at reconciliation, Henry and Becket remained irreconcilable, leading to the ultimate conclusion: Henry’s apparent victory in being “rid of this turbulent priest.”170 Following Becket’s murder his cult spread quickly throughout Europe, including Germany, where, as Anne Duggan notes, “News of Becket’s murder and the miraculous events recorded at his tomb would have travelled fast along the well-established trade routes between London and the Rhineland.” She posits the introduction of Becket’s cult into Germany as early as 1172 or 1173 based on a German couple’s pilgrimage to Canterbury at that time. More than likely, their pilgrimage would have been preceded by earlier reports of the benefits to be reaped by visiting the martyr’s tomb.171 In Book VI of his twelfth-century Miracula Sancti Thomae Cantuariensis, William of Canterbury reports that the German monk Sefrid corroborated miracles involving Germans including himself. In the same book William recounts that a miracle restoring a dead newborn to life occurred in Bamberg, and in Book IV he tells of a dying German pilgrim cast into the sea but returned to the ship alive.172 As for Co­logne, in Book IV of his own Miracula Sancti Thomae Cantuariensis, Benedict of Peterborough, who, like William of Canterbury, was a witness to Becket’s murder, tells that a mad woman named Matilda travelled from Co­logne to Canterbury to be cured at Becket’s tomb, a miracle depicted in a thirteenth-century window of the cathedral’s Trinity Chapel,173 and an entry in a family chronicle reports that in about 1180 a Co­logne merchant and his wife went to Canterbury to pray for children, a prayer that apparently was answered.174 Thus, given the impetus needed to make such a lengthy journey to Canterbury at that time, news 170  Warren, Henry II, 494–98. On the peace talks at Montmirail also see, Duggan, Thomas Becket, 149–53. On the famous remark attributed to Henry, see Warren, Henry II, 508–9.

171  Duggan, Thomas Becket, 234. Duggan, “Becket Office,” art. XI, 178–80. On the spread of Becket’s cult in Germany, see also Slocum, Liturgies, 107–9 and 121–22. See as well Foreville, “Diffusion du culte,” 347–69. 172  Materials for the History of Thomas Becket, 1, VI:128–34, pp. 517–20, and VI:163, p. 541, and IV:50, p. 362. According to Staunton (Thomas Becket, 51), the first five books of William of Canterbury’s miracula date from June 1172 until no later than 1175 and his sixth book from 1178 or 1179. However, the recording of the miracles and the time that the miracles themselves actually occurred are not necessarily concurrent. In his introduction Staunton (1–18) provides a contextual overview of the vitae and their authors.

173  Materials for the History of Thomas Becket, 2, IV:37, pp. 208–9. For the Canterbury window, see Caviness, Early Stained Glass, 94–95 and figs. 209–11. Staunton (Thomas Becket, 50–51) dates the first three books of Benedict’s miracula to 1173 or 1174 but the fourth book, in which Matilda’s miracle appears, to no earlier than 1179, believing that Benedict’s Passio came in between. In terms of the ramifications of this dating for the medallions of the Heribert Shrine, the event and the recording of it, as stated in the previous note, are not necessarily contemporaneous. In any case, even if one would argue that the creators of the shrine did not specifically aim to include Henry II of England in their frame of reference, clearly that connection would not have been missed by those who viewed his namesake in the reconciliation medallion, a testament to the shrine’s enduring quality and the continued relevance of its images and their message to viewers; that is to say, the images on the shrine were not meant just for the time but for all time. 174  Duggan, “Becket Office,” art. XI, 179–80n59.



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of miracles at Becket’s tomb must have been very much alive in Co­logne as elsewhere in Germany before the final completion of the shrine’s medallions. The similarities between Heribert and Becket also illustrate the rocky relations between Church and sovereign rulers. Both held political positions as chancellors although Becket resigned his chancellorship when he became archbishop whereas Heribert lost his as a result of his falling out with Henry over Otto III’s successor. Nevertheless, the result for both these men meant more time to devote to the duties of their ecclesiastical positions, their allegiance to the Church thereby superseding political loyalty, a clear message of the medallions on the second side of the shrine with their focus on the pastoral role of the bishop.175 In addition, when in conflict with their political adversaries, neither would capitulate, choosing instead to suffer the consequences. Just as Heribert was the victim of Henry II’s wrath, so Becket also experienced the wrath of his adversary. As W. L. Warren notes: “Henry attributed his discomfiture to the machinations of Becket, and gave way to that malevolent fury which always consumed him when he believed himself confronted by treachery.”176 Henry’s enmity for Becket is apparent not only in his entreaty to Louis VII of France to “help me to take vengeance on my great enemy for this affront”177 when Becket, in violation of the Constitutions of Clarendon, fled England for France, but also in his vindictive seizure of the income and possessions of Becket’s friends and servants and their families.178 Both Becket and Heribert also had the jurisdiction for the coronation of kings, but both of them were snubbed, Heribert when Henry chose to be crowned by the archbishop of Mainz in 1002 and Becket when Henry had his son crowned by the archbishop of York in 1170.179 Most important, both men achieved the highest honour the Church could bestow, sainthood, not only testifying to the rewards of imitatio Christi but also leading to the economic enrichment of their respective sites through pilgrim veneration.180 Whereas Emperor Henry II through a dream needed the perceived fear of God’s judgment against him to alter his course of action against Heribert, he nevertheless did reconcile with him and thereby paved the way to his own sainthood. Henry II 175  For Becket see Warren, Henry II, 456–57, and Duggan, Thomas Becket, 26–28, where she discusses Becket’s possible motivations for resigning. For Heribert see Müller, Heribert, Kanzler Ottos III (1977), 124, and Müller, “Heribert, Kanzler Ottos III” (1998), 28. Thietmar of Merseburg (5:19, Ottonian Germany, 219 and 219n55) names Eilbert as Henry’s chancellor from 1002–1005 but does not specify in what capacity. 176  Warren, Henry II, 484.

177  Warren, Henry II, 489. 178  Warren, Henry II, 492.

179  For Co­logne’s coronation rights, see chap. 2, n. 42 above, and regarding Heribert and Emperor Henry II’s coronation, see Thietmar of Merseburg, 5:11 and 22, Ottonian Germany, 213 and 219, and Müller, Heribert, Kanzler Ottos III (1977), 162. For Canterbury’s coronation rights, see Warren, Henry II, 111, and regarding Becket and the coronation of King Henry II’s son, 111 and 496–505, and Duggan, Thomas Becket, 181–83. 180  For the canonization of Becket, see Warren, Henry II, 518, and Duggan, Thomas Becket, 213–18, who recounts the concerns and events leading up to it.

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of England, on the other hand, repented only after the fact, thus becoming another object lesson for obdurate rulers and the consequences of their actions.181 It is possible, then, that the representation of Henry II on the shrine and the association with other kings named Henry that came after him allusively serve as messages to what the monks at Deutz were unable to express openly given their position vis-à-vis imperial policy. Anne Duggan implies a similar situation with regard to a twelfth-century Stavelot manu­script (London, British Library, Additional MS 16964) that contains an office for Thomas Becket embedded between a few commentaries on and the works of John Cassian “almost hidden away in a place where only the scribe would find it,” and she posits that it and other commemorations of Becket in imperial strongholds might have been “a gesture of pro-Alexandrine sympathy” in a hostile and, as already noted, even dangerous climate.182 While Duggan does acknowledge that the scribe’s motivations for the insertion are not known,183 the manu­script provides an example of the possible avenues of covert resistance available to those unable to express their position openly.

Power, Episcopal Election, and the Co­logne Pontifical

The common element in all the preceding events has been the struggle for power and control. In chapter 17 of his Vita Heriberti, Rupert describes the subject of Heribert’s Palm Sunday sermon: “Therefore the sermon in his mouth was suitable to the time and the circumstance, namely, how the devil through seduction of the first man seized the atrium of this world just like an armed strong man.”184 At that time centuries of history had already confirmed the analogy, and more were yet to do so. Occurring in the context of Heribert’s exorcism of the possessed man, this passage may have embedded in the consciousness of the shrine’s creators the association of the devil with the unbridled power of strong men attempting to “seize the atrium” of their world, ultimately “seizing” upon the word atrium themselves, seeing in it a connection between the possessed man and the sinning emperors and their minions who, too, sought absolute power, a virtual desecration of the sacred halls (sacra atria), the halls of the Lord (atria domini), of which the monks of Deutz sang in their hymns to Heribert. While the word atrium does appear in the abbey’s hymns, it does not appear on the shrine and is 181  For Henry II of England’s repentance, see Warren, Henry II, 520 and 531, and Duggan, Thomas Becket, 219–23, where she discusses Henry’s attempts to disassociate himself from the murder and his possible ulterior motivations for doing penance. However, as was discussed above, Lambert of Deutz and Rupert of Deutz viewed Emperor Henry II’s reconciliation with Heribert somewhat differently. 182  Duggan, “Becket Office,” art. XI, 162–63 and 180–81.

183  “Whether that action reflected personal devotion or subversive intent remains unclear,” Duggan, “Becket Office,” art. XI, 182.

184  Erat ergo sermo in ore eius tempori et rei congruens, videlicet quomodo diabolus per seductionem primi hominis atrium huius mundi tamquam fortis armatus occupaverit, Rupert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, chap. 17, p. 59.



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rare in the pontificals.185 However, its appearance in the context of the bishop-elect’s ordination ritual is intriguing. A Roman ordo in both the Romano-Germanic pontifical and the twelfth-century Roman pontifical identifies it as the site (in atrio iuxta ecclesiam) where, before the actual examination and consecration of the bishop-elect occurs, the decretum, physically presented and read aloud, confirms that the candidate has been validly elected by the clergy and the people, the longstanding bone of contention between Church and Empire discussed above.186 On the other hand, the Co­logne pontifical beginning “Post electione[m]” (fol. 1v) does not contain these preliminaries regarding the election of the candidate and does not contain the decretum. Given the presumed dating of this pontifical to about the 1150s,187 a time, as already seen, of decided turmoil in the Church, one might ask if the omission of the election process from the Co­logne pontifical was deliberate. As previously discussed, in addition to his machinations in papal elections and lack of concern for his episcopal see, Rainald of Dassel, although named archbishop of Co­logne in 1159, was not ordained and consecrated until six years later and only then because he was outwitted and felt forced to do so. However, long before his consecration, his election itself had been called into question. After the Council of Pavia (February 1160) at which the antipope Victor IV was proclaimed pope, John of Salisbury, in a long letter dated June–July 1160 to his friend Master Ralph of Sarre, not only railed against the Germans as “brutal and headstrong” and “a new race of Canaanites” and against Frederick Barbarossa “who presumed to judge the Roman Church (which is subject only to the judgement of God),” but he also castigated Rainald of Dassel in particular, calling into question his election: “Reginald, the emperor’s chancellor, assumes the archbishopric of Co­logne, though it is an undoubted fact that his election was condemned by the blessed Adrian [Hadrian IV], pontiff of Rome. Nor do I see why, since he covets the bishopric, he has postponed his consecration by his friend Victor, unless it be that he fears imminent disaster.”188 According to Peter Godman, Rainald would not have been elected had it not been for Barbarossa’s mandate, a mandate Godman 185  While the word atria may be rare in pontificals, the monks of Deutz would have been familiar with it since it appears three times in Lambert’s Miracula and three times in his hymns for Heribert, two of those three in the same hymn. See Lantbert von Deutz, Vita Heriberti, 217, 249, and 259 for the Miracula and 281 and 290 for the hymns.

186  For the Romano-Germanic pontifical, see: PRG, I, LXIII, Appendix, pp. 226–29. For in atrio, see Appendix:1, p. 226, for the decretum, Appendix:3, p. 227, and regarding the manu­script that contains it, the note on p. 226. For the twelfth-century Roman pontifical, see: Pontifical romain, 1, X, pp. 138–52. For in atrio, see X:1, p. 138, and for the decretum, X:3, p. 139, as well as the note on p. 138. See too Appendix, IV, pp. 291–92, which is a condensed and incomplete version of X. For the Roman ordo, see: Ordines romani, 4, Ordo XXXVB, pp. 99–110. For in atrio, see XXXVB:1, p. 99, and for the decretum, XXXVB:3, p. 100. See also Pontifical romain, 1, pp. 11–12, where Andrieu discusses the decretum and its function in the election process. 187  For the Co­logne pontifical see chap. 2, n. 7 above.

188  John Salisbury, Letters, 1, Letter 124, pp. 206, 207, and 212. See also 208n2, regarding the use of italics.

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believes Rainald probably drafted himself.189 He was even equated with the devil when Hadrian IV in a letter to Barbarossa called Rainald “an evil man sowing tares,” a reference to the parable of the wheat and cockle (tares) in Matthew 13:24–30 where, on his disciples’ urging, Christ explains that the enemy who sowed the cockles was the devil (Matt 13:39).190 Selective in its contents, the Co­logne pontifical was written during this time of turmoil in the Church, a time when Frederick Barbarossa, a veritable “armed strong man,” and the manipulative Rainald of Dassel, who was likened to the devil and in some instances was even more powerful than Frederick himself, were trying to seize “the atrium of this world.” In writing his bio­graphy of Frederick Barbarossa, Otto of Freising noted that history should be an account of “deeds by strong men (virorum fortium),” and during the time when Frederick and Rainald were exercising their power “success at arms as a ground for imperial recognition was an idea current” in the imperial chancery. Concomitantly, in a time of power plays and one-upmanship, the concept of regulus or kinglet became a pejorative “buzzword” in the 1160s, even publicly used by Rainald himself to demean Louis VII, king of France. This was the unsettling political climate during the years of the second phase of the Heribert Shrine when the medallions were being added. Armed with the words of Heribert’s vita, written by their illustrious former abbot and staunch defender of the rights of the Church, the creators of the Heribert Shrine could surely see that Frederick Barbarossa, strong and ruthless “Lord of the World” at Tortona and Milan, and Archbishop Rainald of Dassel, “high priest of imperialism” and “sower of tares,” would have fit the content of Heribert’s Palm Sunday sermon.191 Throughout the years of schisms rupturing the vine, in the eyes of the Church and the monks of Deutz Emperor Frederick Barbarossa would have been a regulus, a subject kinglet in the atrium of Christ, King of kings and Lord of lords (Apoc. 11:14), and like all creatures, as Adam’s progeny, Frederick Barbarossa was a kinglet needing to be tamed, just as the exorcism ritual had demanded on the occasion of Heribert’s admonitory sermon. 189  Godman, Archpoet, 78.

190  Otto of Freising, Deeds of Frederick Barbarossa, 3:ix, pp. 182–83. Godman (Archpoet) titles chapter 5 of his book, which centres on Rainald of Dassel, “A Depraved Man Sowing Tares.”

191  Otto of Freising, Ottonis et Rahewini Gesta, proemium, 1, p. 9. For the chancery’s view on arms, see Godman, Archpoet, 139. For regulus, particularly how it came into prominence through the letters of the imperial chancery notary Burchard/Burkart from Co­logne, see Benson, “Frederick Barbarossa as ‘Lord of the World,’” 306–7, and Godman, Archpoet, 89–90; see as well Chapter 2 above regarding taming in the exorcism medallion, along with chap. 2, nn. 47 and 48 above, for the term and its place in the PRG version of the pontificals. For Rainald’s comments about Louis VII, see Benson, as above, 306, and for the consequences of Rainald’s use of language at the meeting with Louis VII at St-Jean-de-Losnes, see Munz, Frederick Barbarossa, 231–35, and Freed, Frederick Barbarossa, 303–10, particularly 308–9. For Frederick at Tortona, see Otto of Freising, Deeds of Frederick Barbarossa, 2:xxi, pp. 135–36, and for a comment on this episode see herein Chapter 3 above. For Milan and for the context of Rainald as “high priest of imperialism,” see Godman, Archpoet, 91–93.



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While in the eyes of others Rainald of Dassel has very few redeeming qualities, not all assessments of Frederick Barbarossa are negative. As in most cases, for his contemporaries a favourable or negative point of view depended in large part on the outcome of events, on any personal benefits received or yet to be acquired or on any losses or injuries incurred, and on which side of the contention they adhered to. On the other hand, for those historically distant, the point of view rests on the weight of evidence deemed to be credible and available at the given time. As far as possible, one tries to arrive at an unbiased positive or negative assessment by first analyzing how that evidence sheds light on Frederick’s decision-making within the context of human values, morality, and personal ambition and then deciding whether these criteria should be seen as universal or, in some way, modified based on the time, the place, or the position of the person under review. For example, while in Latin dictionaries the word fortis has many meanings, both physical and moral, in the English version of Otto of Freising’s Deeds of Frederick Bar­ barossa, Mierow chose to translate fortium as “valiant,” perhaps in keeping with Otto’s intention to glorify his nephew in his account of Fredrick’s history. Nevertheless, in the same sentence Otto wants to qualify his authorial position as a writer of history, the purpose of which is “to extol the famous deeds of valiant men...but to veil in silence the dark doings of the base,” unless by revealing them they “terrify the minds of those same mortals who committed them.” One can argue that Otto leaves much under wraps when covering the deeds of “our most victorious prince,” yet then, with only twelve words intervening, adds the ominous observation, “whatever barbarian or Greek dwells outside his bounds is overawed by the weight of his authority and trembles.”192 At what price does victory come to this “valiant man”? Tortona provides an answer. As already noted above, others in analyzing Frederick focus on specific positive attributes such as honour and piety, citing Frederick’s many donations to the Church and his canonization of Charlemagne in whose footsteps he wished to follow; thus these writers, such as Knut Görich, provide a more nuanced interpretation of Frederick’s character. From another standpoint, Robert Benson shows how the power of a single event can stir the winds of change in assessing Barbarossa the man: “When the schism finally ended, Frederick—like the frog that has been kissed by a beautiful princess—turned back into a prince and a catholic emperor. In June 1190, when he died as a crusader, in the integrity of a Christian emperor, he had become something more than a hero: many saw him as a martyr.”193 Perhaps the diversity of opinion regarding Frederick Barbarossa is best summed up by an anachronistic observation joining past (Rome), present (the twelfth-century German Empire), and future (the forever-after): “The evil that men do lives after them, The good is oft interred with their bones” (Julius Caesar, III:ii, 79). Ultimately, the side one takes regarding Frederick Barbarossa will depend on whether or not one would 192  Otto of Freising, Deeds of Frederick Barbarossa, 24–25.

193  Benson, “Frederick Barbarossa as ‘Lord of the World,’” 309.

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transpose the words “evil” and “good.” Making the choice, like in Heribert’s sermon, will be based on one’s own time and circumstance, as well as one’s knowledge and interpretation of the available historical sources. However, for the monks at Deutz, not historically distant, the assessment of Frederick Barbarossa was in the present, which demanded a response that would not provoke reprisals. In that light, the visual connection between the exorcism and reconciliation medallions thus becomes not only a historical comment on Emperor Henry II, but also a provident sermon “suitable to” Deutz’s own “time and circumstance” when other strong men, especially Frederick Barbarossa and Rainald of Dassel, had seized and, with the exception of the recently deceased Rainald, still were seizing control of “the atrium of this world.” Perhaps the stylistic comparison that both Rainer Kahsnitz and Martin Seidler see between the seal of Frederick Barbarossa and the depiction of Heribert on the end of the shrine is more than just a coincidence or only the result of a compositional decision on the part of the shrine’s creators.194 Contrary to the belief that images on seals were merely stereotypical or nonrepresentational, Johanna Dale argues that seals have some “self-representational qualities.”195 As she observes, images of the enthroned emperor, wearing his crown and holding items of his regalia, that appear on seals and bullae signify “Christomimetic kingship, which presented kings as ruling by the grace of God.”196 Thus, in equating kingship with Christ the King, the image was a “direct response to the papal attempts to assert the inferiority of kings to bishops.”197 That being the case, given Barbarossa’s assertion that he was subject to God alone, his depiction on his seal as the enthroned and crowned emperor holding the regalian sceptre and orb, is in marked opposition to the image of Heribert on the end of the shrine (Fig. 36). Between the virtues of Charity and Humility, the enthroned Heribert wears the mitre as his crown and holds the episcopal crosier and the gospel book.198 It cannot solely be by accident that on the shrine Heribert’s mitre is inextricably linked to the above roundel of Christ Pantocrator, the almighty ruler of the universe. The frame circumscribing the roundel intersects Heribert’s mitre, almost seeming to hold it in its grasp, as a visual indication of the bishop’s role in maintaining the right order 194  On the seals, see Kahsnitz, “Imagines et signa,” D12, p. 33. Seidler (Schrein des heiligen Heribert, 193) agrees with the stylistic comparison and provides an illustration of Frederick’s seal of 1154 (192, fig. 200). 195  Dale, Inauguration and Liturgical Kingship, 191–92.

196  Dale, Inauguration and Liturgical Kingship, 214. 197  Dale, Inauguration and Liturgical Kingship, 214.

198  Interestingly, as Kantorowicz (Laudes Regiae, 136) notes, Pope Leo IX (1049–1054) “first granted to bishops the privilege of wearing the mitre,” thus making Heribert’s wearing one on the shrine anachronistic, his having died in 1021. Also, since its inception, the mitre underwent various changes in form (see Braun, Liturgische Gewandung, 458–85, especially 475, fig. 234), and the form that Heribert and others in the shrine’s medallions wear did not come into use until about the middle of the twelfth century and differs from the earlier mitre Heribert wears on fol. 1v, ca. 1163, in the Codex Thioderici (Theoderic of Deutz, Thioderici). For the Codex Thioderici see note 103 above and Sinderhauf, Abtei Deutz, 284, pl. 1, for fol. 1v.



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of the world. That power is transmitted through the gospels, the book in Heribert’s hand on the same plane as the open book held by Christ, and is transferred by his crosier, the symbol of his ecclesiastical authority received at his consecration, and which here receives Christ’s imprimatur as the Pantocrator raises his hand above it in blessing (Fig. 4). These are the symbols of the Church in which the ultimate power lies, not in the orb and sceptre of this world but in the realm of the next.

Chapter 4

THE SUM OF THE PARTS: MOTIVATIONS, VISIBILITY, MESSAGING, AND FINAL ASSESSMENT The reading of the Heribert Shrine presented above is not intended to deny the validity of other readings of the shrine. Rather, it hopes to demonstrate how richly meaningful and multilayered its images can be even when aimed at different groups of viewers. As Cynthia Hahn has observed, “The aim of hagio­graphy was not to be found in any creation of the hagio­grapher, pictorial or textual, but in inducing a movement beyond words and images—in creating an effect on the soul.”1 Motivations for and Financial Feasibility of the Shrine’s Creation

As for its construction, one concedes that from the point of view of its creators the shrine was primarily a worthy receptacle of and tribute to the saint who lies within it that would serve as a vehicle of edification for those who viewed it. On the other hand, the consequences of its production could also serve other less spiritual ends. For example, the rivalry that existed among pilgrimage sites could also lead to oneupmanship in the competition for renown. Certainly the arrival of the relics of the Three Kings in Co­logne in 1164 provided an opportunity for a “pre-emptive strike” on the abbey’s part since the shrine by Nicholas of Verdun that houses their relics was not begun until the 1180s and not completed until about 1230.2 Given the view of Paul Strait that “No single act of religious devotion in the history of medi­eval Co­logne was as magnificent as this delivery of stolen relics,”3 their arrival and consequent popularity might well have stimulated the Abbey of Deutz to consider enhancing the shrine of its founder with scenes corroborating Heribert’s saintly life, a plausible inference since the creation of the Heribert Shrine’s medallions coincides with the time period after the arrival of the relics of the Magi and before the beginning of the shrine that houses them. It is also plausible, as Susanne Wittekind notes, that the shrine served as a justification and defence of the Benedictine cloister of Deutz in the face of two new rising monastic orders, especially the Cistercians, who were supported by Co­logne’s archbishop Rainald of Dassel, and the Premonstratensians. 4 In addition, shrines of gold and precious gems were a means of attracting pilgrims to a site and thus became a moneymaking proposition. It is clear, at least from Lambert’s Miracula, that soon after Heribert’s death pilgrims sought cures and favours at his tomb. Of the forty-two episodes that Lambert 1  Hahn, Portrayed on the Heart, 331. 2  Ciresi, “Liturgical Study,” 204.

3  Strait, Co­logne in the Twelfth Century, 41.

4  Wittekind, “Heiligenviten und Reliquienschmuck,” 20–21 and 23.

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recounts six are visions, and the remaining thirty-six are mostly cures of bodily maladies of the usual kind in miracle stories but also include demonic possession. As in other places, those cured left behind ex-votos, often indicative of the nature of their healing. 5 Surely a sumptuous gem-encrusted shrine would have greatly increased the numbers visiting, not only locally but, as the word spread of cures and favours granted, also more widely from regions beyond the immediate Co­logne area. In fact, Lambert had already recounted that pilgrims came to Heribert’s tomb not only from the German cities of Vilich, Remagen, Mainz, Worms, and Trier but also from the Ardennes, and in 1026 even Canute the Great, king of England, Denmark, and Norway, stopped en route during a pilgrimage to Rome.6 While certainly not able to “compete” with the future Co­logne shrine of the Magi, completed about fifty years later, with Deutz only a short distance across the Rhine, those later pilgrims to Co­l ogne Cathedral must have also made the journey to see the Heribert Shrine, thus adding more to the abbey’s coffers. Nevertheless, even with many parts of the shrine already at hand, some money would have been required to create the medallions and then bring the various parts together to complete the shrine. Although the fragile financial state of the Abbey of Deutz has been proposed as the prime motivation for the creation of the shrine,7 at the time of the shrine’s creation the abbey does not appear to have been in financial difficulty. After the earlier mishandling of the abbey’s assets by Abbot Rudolf (1130–1146), the abbey was again in a good economic state. As Joseph Milz notes, under his successors, Abbots Gerlach (1146–1159) and Hartbern (1161–1169), the abbey prospered from property rights and tithes secured through papal confirmations, and these abbots were even able to enhance it with structural renovations and with liturgical vestments and vessels.8 Milz further writes that around 1175, the very time the shrine was at or near completion, the abbey was at “a peak of economic development,”9 and, thus, would have had the financial resources needed to produce a costly shrine. Insofar as the shrine’s construction subsequently diminished the abbey’s coffers, the abbey could, as noted, look forward to replenishment from the consequent increased pilgrimage trade, further strengthening its financial condition. As Heribert Müller observes, the economic importance of the medi­eval veneration of saints cannot be overestimated, and, in that respect, he agrees with Marianne Schwarz: “the saint promoted tourism.”10 From that perspective, the forged canonization bull and the reliquary shrine worked together to ensure economic viability. 5  Lantbert, Vita Heriberti, 30–31.

6  Lantbert, Vita Heriberti, 31, and miracle 16, p. 238.

7  See, for example, Abend-David, “Architectural Representations,” 125–27.

8  Milz, Studien, 238. While Milz does not provide specifics here, see Theoderic of Deutz, Thioderici, 565–66, where Theodoric enumerates the benefits these two abbots brought to the abbey.

9  “die Abtei, die sich zu dieser Zeit auf einem Höhepunkt ihre wertschaftlichen Entwicklung befand,” Milz, Studien, 196. See also 226–27 and 237–38. 10  Müller, “Kanonisationsbulle,” 65 and 65n85 for information regarding his quotation, “der Heilige förderte den Fremdenverkehr” from Schwartz.

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Visibility: Where, When, and by Whom

Given these possible motivations for the shrine’s production, it therefore seems reasonable to assume that the Heribert Shrine, like other shrines, was at least to some extent able to be seen. However, without specific documentation it is not known exactly where in the abbey church the shrine would have been placed at that time, but, as already noted above, it was probably placed in the choir, the site of Heribert’s tomb from which his relics were elevated.11 It is also not known that if it was on public display, how much of it could be seen relative to a viewer’s proximity to it. Furthermore, it is not possible to determine exactly who the viewers of the shrine were at the time of its creation. Of course, first and foremost were the monks of the Abbey of Deutz and those visitors privileged to see the shrine in situ. The laity would have been able to see the shrine when it went out of the abbey during processions, a common practice for those reliquary shrines capable of being safely transported. However, to my knowledge, there is no documentary evidence for the Heribert Shrine’s going out in procession during the twelfth century. Renate Kroos does cite documentary evidence that the Co­logne shrines of Saints Severin, Cunibert, and Agilolphus, all former archbishops of Co­logne, were carried through the streets of the city in 1151 when, during an episcopal election, the people wished for a new archbishop worthy of the office.12 However, the source that Kroos provides mentions only the bodies of the saints (comportatis per omnes vicos urbis sanctorum confessorum corporibus, Severini, Cuniberti, et Ailulfi), making no mention of the portable containers which enclosed their remains.13 Since these three shrines now have nineteenth- and twentieth-century replacements, the exact nature of their original containers, including their dimensions, is not known. In Joseph Braun’s comprehensive book Die Reliquiare des christlichen Kultes und ihre Entwicklung, which examines the many forms that reliquaries took and their development, in the section devoted to reliquary shrines, Braun lists twenty-two surviving shrines that ranged from 1.26 to 2.20 meters in length, but he provides no specific dates for these shrines. Sixteen of these shrines also appear on another list of thirtytwo surviving shrines that he designates as “large” (“die grossen Reliquienschreine”) from the twelfth and thirteenth centuries but again without specific dates. While the three shrines that Kroos cites (Severin, Cunibert, and Agilolphus) do not appear on either of these two lists, Braun does mention the Severin Shrine in Co­logne as one of several examples of larger shrines that began to appear in the eleventh century, superseding the stone sarcophagus, which often had a highly decorated lid. Unfortunately, Braun again provides no dimensions for these eleventh-century shrines, but he does note their practicality: they could, like smaller shrines, be placed above the altar and could also be taken on procession. However, none of these eleventh-century 11  Seidler, Schrein des heiligen Heribert, 15–16.

12  Kroos, “Vom Umgang mit Reliquien,” 39; Tekippe, “Pilgrimage and Procession,”, 735, names the archbishop, Arnold of Wied, but does not name the shrines. 13  Kroos, “Vom Umgang mit Reliquien,” 48n293.

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forerunners appear on Braun’s two lists, the second of which, the thirty “grossen reliquienschreine” list, he limits to those really huge shrines of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries produced between 1150 and 1250, twenty-eight of them in the Rhineland, one, of course, being the Heribert Shrine.14 As for the Heribert Shrine, the Co­logne procession’s date of 1151 makes it very unlikely the Heribert Shrine, its first state beginning around 1150, would have been ready to participate. Apparently, the first mention of the Heribert Shrine dates to 1376. According to Monica Sinderhauf, in that year the shrine was sent to Siegburg when concerns for its safety arose as the abbey faced destruction, so that transfer was not likely to be in a public procession.15 Kroos also notes that in Co­logne in 1634 took place a great procession of reliquaries of different forms among which were those shrines, including the Heribert Shrine, that had been moved for safekeeping during wars.16 Rita Tekippe acknowledges “there are few medi­eval accounts of the experience of these shrines in situ, and fewer still of the visual impact they had as they were moved through different environments, so this is a matter for extrapolation.”17 However, while this paucity of information does not necessarily preclude the procession of large twelfth-century church-shaped shrines, for the most part Tekippe’s extrapolation is based on evidence of later material and is used within the context of time-honoured tradition, for which she supplies an extended and admirable history for such activity down to the present day.18 In doing so, she focuses on the affective character these shrines would have had on viewers and their communities in which these processions took place and elaborates on “the visceral and spiritual responses which were evoked by these reliquaries.” 19 Although we lack evidence for large-scale Rheno-Mosan shrines going out on procession during the twelfth century, if in fact they did, viewers would not have been unresponsive. Thus, in view of the spiritual and aesthetic benefits deriving from processions, it is plausible to assume that shortly after its ultimate stage of completion the Heribert Shrine went out on procession during the last quarter of the twelfth century. Certainly several able-bodied persons would have been capable of carrying a large shrine or perhaps the shrine could have been placed on a wheeled conveyance. Of course, the foremost consideration would have been the safety and security of the shrine given 14  Within Braun’s larger discussion of boxlike reliquary shrines, Reliquiare, 163–85, see 166 and 177–79 for the relevant characteristics of the shrines referred to here. 15  Sinderhauf, Abtei Deutz, 154n454.

16  Kroos, “Vom Umgang mit Reliquien,” 40.

17  Tekippe, “Pilgrimage and Procession,” 702. This quotation also appears in her earlier dissertation “Procession, Piety, and Politics,”17, where she said “no accounts” instead of “fewer still” and added “and conjecture” after “extrapolations.”

18  See Tekippe, “Procession, Piety, and Politics,” chaps. 6–8, in which she provides examples of the use of relics and reliquary shrines in processions of various types, for various reasons, over different locales and different periods of time. 19  Tekippe, “Procession, Piety, and Politics,” 20.

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the specific circumstances of its display. Nevertheless, without specific documentation the nature and time period of such a procession still remains conjectural. In any event, whatever their response, those gathered for the ceremonial procession of a large reliquary shrine would likely see the shrine only as a whole, with the small elements, like the passing medallions of the Heribert Shrine, too far away to be seen in any detail.20 And if in other circumstances ordinary visitors did have clear access to the medallions, without previous “instruction” they probably would not have understood the message regarding the relationship between Church and secular rulership. Nevertheless, in the abbey church, as they circumambulated the shrine in observing the obvious chrono­logical arrangement of Heribert’s life in the medallions, they would be making their own “procession,” and along with the overall aura created by the jewelled golden splendour of the shrine, they would have at least understood the importance of its inner contents as a spur to their spiritual life. Hence, the creators of the shrine incorporated in its visual decoration various themes that, despite their contemporary historical allusions, were still timeless.21

Targeted Messaging and Admonitions

Over one hundred years after his death the monks of Deutz could view Heribert through various filters: Lambert’s vita, Rupert’s vita, written works and unwritten abbey lore, liturgy, and events contemporary with their own lives. All these in turn served as resources for how they wanted Heribert to be seen by those who would view the shrine, whoever they might be. As a result, the events depicted represent a form of subjective history, the life of the historical Heribert subordinated to narrative intention, the images on the Heribert Shrine presenting multiple narratives aimed at multiple viewers. Indeed, the very narrative nature of the images on the shrine invites viewer participation. What is striking about the participants in the scenes of the medallions is that often, rather than interacting with the people around them, they look out, almost detaching themselves from their surroundings. Like actors addressing an audience, they seem to be enjoining viewers to see the meaning of the scenes occurring before their eyes in order to discover the applicability of that meaning to their own lives and then to emulate what has been portrayed. In that respect, the creators of the shrine gave its images the ability to transcend time and particular persons.22

20  On reliquaries and processions, see Kroos, “Vom Umgang mit Reliquien,” 25–49, especially 39, where she recounts the carrying of the shrines of Saints Severin, Cunibert, and Agilolphus through the streets of Co­logne in 1151. See also Tekippe, “Pilgrimage and Procession,” 693–751.

21  For a study of the relationship between works of art and time, see Thunø, Apse Mosaic, in which he argues for the timelessness of the images and inscriptions in the early medi­eval apse mosaics in Rome. According to Thunø, these mosaics not only “reflect and comment on the chrono­logical moment in which they were produced: they also transform and discontinue historical time...[by virtue of their] anachronic forces that would substitute human historical time with eternity, or God’s time” (206). 22  See Hahn, Portrayed on the Heart, 30–32, regarding the role of audience in hagio­graphic narrative.

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For all, no matter what their standing might be­—emperor, archbishop, monk, layman, sinner, or saint23—the narrative of Heribert’s life, told through selected events, offered the means of salvation: imitatio Christi, personified in the example of Heribert’s life of Charity and Humility, the two virtues flanking his post-death image on the shrine’s end. For the monks of the abbey, what they saw was meant to prompt them into action—not only action regarding their spiritual lives, which were to be lived in imitatio Heriberti, their saintly founder, which transferred, of course, as imitatio Christi, but also action regarding their abbey’s life, action that aimed at its preservation and its mission of service to God and to the exterior world. The monks of Deutz could see Henry’s begging for pardon as a model for their own situation when, having sinned, they begged pardon before their abbot who, like Heribert as intercessor before God, thereby helped restore the right order of the world.24 In addition, the depictions on the shrine presented yet another reminder of their founder’s allegiance to the supremacy of the Church which they in their vocation had vowed to uphold. For the archbishops of Co­logne there was the exhortation to forgo worldly ambition and to uphold their commitment to the Church, the political aims of which were concomitant with its spiritual aims, believing it was superior to the secular realm insofar as God, for whom it spoke, was above all. To be sure, there was always a delicate, if not precarious, balance between Church and secular rulers in view of their symbiotic relationship: emperors and kings needed the Church to look after their spiritual welfare, and the Church needed protection which only sovereignty could provide, but while the Church urged following Christ’s dictum to “render therefore to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s; and to God, the things that are God’s” (Matt. 22:21), it did so with the caveat that ultimately Caesar was subject to God through God’s duly appointed representatives. Conversely, for those who ruled over or acted for the interests of the secular realm there was the admonition to recognize the ultimate supremacy of the Church and, with humility, to yield to it lest they put their salvation in jeopardy, for God, who was the ultimate authority, would judge their actions upon their death. Thus when Heribert in the reconciliation medallion (Fig. 19) holds the scroll paraphrasing Acts 20:25, it becomes more than just an informational message to Emperor Henry II that death would soon separate them; it is rather a reminder and admonition to all who viewed the shrine that they needed to heed the shrine’s message to adhere to the Church and follow in the footsteps of Heribert in order to merit eternal reward at their death. Thus, with the images of Heribert living a life of charity and humility modelled in imitation of Christ, the designers of the Heribert Shrine eloquently refuted the usurpations of power, the arrogant flights of ambition alluded to in its images and inscriptions. The depictions of the victory of the virtues over the vices in the pilasters that 23  See Luscombe, “Conceptions of Hierarchy,” 1–19, where he discusses in broad fashion the impact of Denis the pseudo-Areopagite’s Celestial Hierarchy on the notion of the divisions of society into ranked orders particularly during the eleventh and twelfth centuries. 24  On the hierarchical chain of forgiveness and seeking pardon, see Koziol, Begging Pardon and Favor, 183–85.

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frame the medallions on the second side of the shrine (Figs. 7 and 19) showed that pride and ambition would lead only to defeat, and the shrine proclaimed that the sole way to salvation was through the Church by the intercession of Mary, who appears on the other end of the shrine (Fig. 3) and who, Rupert believed, embodied the Church by steadfastly wielding its spiritual sword.25 The means of arriving at the destination was following the example of Heribert, the successor to the prophets and apostles who visually formed the structural walls and piers of this church-shaped shrine (Fig.1), its very form a kind of metonymic allusion to the Church as the only way to salvation. Like Heribert, if viewers followed in the footsteps of Christ, they too would achieve eternal life and share in the glory of the saints with Christ and Mary in heaven. Irrespective of time, with each viewer began a new story of salvation, the shaping of one’s own life through emulation of Christ by walking in the footsteps of those who have shown the way. The medallions were the windows of opportunity that the artists of the Heribert Shrine gave to viewers—not just the symbolic value of words, but images that through their visual reality authenticated the text that accompanied them and gave the shrine its meaning—to see was not only to believe but also to do. Like Heribert, if viewers, whatever their station in life, followed the path of charity and humility, they too would reap their own rewards in the life to come. Thus, beyond the Heribert Shrine’s exquisite beauty, the richness and complexity of its imagery testify to the sophistication of its creators, who simultaneously could provide multiple targeted messages.

Final assessment: Time Travelling, or the Hazards yet Rewards of Wading through Anachronistic Waters

Even so, we must keep in mind that interpretation is always fraught with challenges. The veracity of and contradictions among historical textual sources; the reading of inscriptions, often incomplete or truncated in their content and sometimes taciturn about or even unforthcoming in their relationship to images; the unrecognized forgeries which, when discovered, leave us to unmask their makers’ intentions; the subjectivity, vagaries, and thus unreliability of human memory, which has the power to alter, recreate, and reinvent both objects and people; and the elusive nature of images without the textual corroboration of artistic intention: all these present their problems. In addition, we can never be absolutely certain of the meaning these texts and images are intended to convey, for we see things from our own perspective as well as 25  For Rupert’s belief that Mary wielded the spiritual sword of the Church, see Van Engen, Rupert of Deutz, 296–97. The relevant passages of Rupert’s work appear in: Ruperti Tuitiensis, Commentaria in Canticum Canticorum, III:3, 7–8, pp. 61–65, and VII:8, 6–7, pp. 162–64. See also Rupert von Deutz, Commentaria in Canticum Canticorum, vol. 1, pp. 272–85 and vol. 2, pp. 580–89, where the German translation of these passages is on facing pages. In their introduction the translators devote a section (vol. 1, pp. 55–73) to the Marian aspects of Rupert’s work. Van Engen (Rupert of Deutz, 291–98) discusses Rupert’s Marian interpretation of the Song of Songs through which Rupert envisions Mary’s relationship to the Church. Mary, of course, was the initial impetus for building the Abbey of Deutz, which was at first dedicated to her. Positioned on opposite ends of the Heribert Shrine, Heribert and Mary serve as anchors to the Church.

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carry the baggage of centuries of knowledge beyond the borders of medi­eval times. Nevertheless, as the enormous amount of continued research, often resulting in the rethinking of ideas, attests, these difficulties do not deter us from our honest quest to understand the past to the best of our abilities with the resources available to us as we learn and debate with one another. To the case at hand, even though we do not know all the works that were in the abbey library at the time of the shrine’s creation, having close communication with other Benedictine monasteries and living adjoined to perhaps the most important city in the Rhineland that served as the cultural crossroads of information between the empire and elsewhere, the monks of Deutz certainly would have been aware of the ideas and issues that were being debated concerning the world around them. Thus, it is not difficult to believe that their responses to those ideas and issues have found expression in the images and inscriptions on the Heribert Shrine. As Peter Godman reminds us, when “certainty eludes us [and] facts are few, our choice lies between the safety of silence, which protects us from criticism and spares us thought, and the delicate duty of weighing probabilities.”26 In that light, a careful visual analysis, combined with the implications of historical sources, can give us a likely insight into how artistic representations—even when reliant on texts—created their own messages for viewers who had the means of seeing and interpreting the messages portrayed. Indeed, with its multiple messages, the Heribert Shrine testifies to the inventive and resourceful protean powers of its creators to provide through Heribert’s saintly life edifying admonitions for its varied viewers, messages all ultimately in support of the Church, which, they believed, was the only path to salvation.

26  Godman, Archpoet, 9.

Appendix 1

THE HERIBERT SHRINE MEDALLION INSCRIPTIONS Side One (Peter Side) 1. BIRTH MAGNIFICE PROLIS NOTAT ORTUM VISIO SOLIS. HOC PREVIDIT ITA PATER EIUS ET ISRAHELITA.

An appearance of the sun magnificently marks the birth of the offspring. In this fashion his father and a Jew foresee this.

2. EDUCATION AND DISPUTATION

DOCTORI NATUM RADIT PATER ERUDIENDUM. DISPUTAT ATQUE DOCET QUEM GRATIA COELICA REPLET.

The father hands over the son to the teacher for instructing. He, whom heavenly grace again fills, debates and even teaches.

3. ORDINATION AS DEACON AND INVESTITURE AS CHANCELLOR HIC FIT LEVITA VIR CLARUS CELIBE VITA. CANCELLATURE REX HUNC INVESTIT HONORE.

Here the illustrious man becomes a deacon, a life of celibacy. The king clothes this one with the public office of the chancellorship.

4. RECEIVING THE REGALIA AND THE PALLIUM EX REGIS DONO DATUR HIC SACRA VIRGA PATRONO. PRESULIS INSIGNE PLENUM DAT PAPA BENIGNE

By reason of the gift of the king, here the holy staff is given to the defender. The pope benevolently gives the full insignia of the bishop.

5. CROSSING THE ALPS AND ARRIVING IN COLOGNE MONS TRANSIT MONTES SPARSURUS LUMINE VALLES: SUSCIPIT OPTATUM PLEBS PONTIFICEM SIBI GRATUM.

The mountain crosses the mountains about to strew the valleys with light. The people receive the beloved bishop wished for/selected by them.

6. EXAMINATION AND CONSECRATION AS BISHOP HIC SUBIT EXAMEN MISERIS VIR IUGE LEVAMEN. UNCTIO SANCTA DATURPERSONAQUE DIGNA SACRATUR.

Here the man, ever the consolation of those in misery, submits to examination. The holy anointing is given and the worthy person is consecrated.

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The Heribert Shrine Medallion Inscriptions

SIDE TWO (PAUL SIDE)

7. FOUNDING OF THE ABBEY OF DEUTZ VISITAT ECCE PATER TE LVMINIS INCLITA MATER TEMPLI VOTA PROBANS FORMAM SIGNANS LOCA MONTRANS

Behold, father, the glorious mother of light visits you, approving the vows, indicating the form, showing the place of the consecrated piece of ground.

8. VISION OF THE TREE FOR THE ABBEY CROSS IN MENSA VISVS EXTENSVS IN ARBORE CHRISTVS PONTIFICI SANCTE FIT CAUSA CRVCIS FACIENDE

For the bishop at the dining table, Christ seen extended in a tree solemnly becomes the motive for the making of the cross.

9. MIRACLE OF THE RAIN

VOTA PATER DVM FERT SACER HVIC SE SPIRITVS INFERT CVMQUE DEVM PLACAT RESERANS CELOS PLVVIAM DAT

While the father offers prayers, the Holy Spirit goes to him, and he appeases God who, opening up the heavens, gives rain.

10. EXORCISM OF POSSESSED PERSON

VIRIBVS ANTIQVI PRESVL RAPIENS INIMICI PREDAM SALVAVIT HANC DEMONE DVM SPOLIAVIT

Snatching it from the forces of the old adversary, the bishop saves the prey at the same time as he has plundered it from the demon.

11. RECONCILATION WITH HENRY II

CORDA CRVENTA NECAT VENIA REX DVM BENE PLACAT IRAM PONTIFICIS TER PREBENS OSCVLA PACIS

Forgiveness kills bloody hearts while the king honourably appeases the anger of the bishop three times offering kisses of peace.

12. DEATH AND BURIAL

HIC PATER INSIGNIS MERITIS RVTILANS VELVT IGNIS FIT REQVIE TVTVS PARADYSI CARNE SOLVTVS

Here the eminent father with merits shining with a reddish gleam just like fire unbound from the flesh becomes secure in the rest of paradise.

Appendix 2

THE INSCRIPTIONS ON THE ENDS AND SIDES OF THE HERIBERT SHRINE THE INSCRIPTION ON THE MARIAN END OF THE SHRINE PLENA SALUTIS AVE NOXAM QUE DILUIS EVE

Hail, full of well-being/eternal life, you who wash away the sin of Eve.

THE INSCRIPTION ON THE HERIBERT END OF THE SHRINE HAS PRESUL XPI VITE SOCIAS HABUISTI

Bishop, you had these companions of Christ’s life.

THE PROPHETS INSCRIPTION (ABOVE THE SOCLE) STARTING ON SIDE ONE (PETER SIDE) AND CONTINUING ON SIDE TWO (PAUL SIDE) PATRES LEGALES VIRTUTE VIRI SPECIALES LEGIS DOCTORES JUSTICIE MONITORES NUBE SUB OBSCURA PRECOGNOSCENDO FUTURA QUEM PREDIXERUNT XPI REGNUM MERUERUNT.

The fathers of the law, special men with authority, teachers of the law, exhorters of justice, under obscure concealment, knowing the future in advance, merited the kingdom of Christ whom they predicted. QUI PATRIARCHARUM GENEROSA STIRPE CREATUR ORDO PROPHETARUM PRESAGUS VATICINATUR XPM VENTURUM VITE QUI STATUM REPARARI HOSTEM CASURUM VETEREM CULPAM VACUARI

That is created by the noble lineage of the patriarchs, the foreseeing line of the prophets prophesy the future Christ, that the condition of life to be repaired [by the vine] the archenemy having fallen down, the fault of former times to be annihilated.

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The Inscriptions on the Ends and Sides of the Heribert Shrine

THE APOSTLES INSCRIPTION (BELOW THE CORNICE) STARTING ON SIDE ONE (PETER SIDE) AND CONTINUING ON SIDE TWO (PAUL SIDE) HIC FONTES HELY SUNT HIC PANES DUODENI HIC QUI JACOB SPECIES HIC TOT LAPIDES RADIANTES ORDINE BISSENO VIRTUTIS DOGMATE PLENO FULGET APOSTOLICUS PER FULVA METALLA SENATUS

Here are the fountains of Elim, here the twelve Eucharistic breads, here the representation of Jacob, here so many gleaming gems. In the order of twice six, rich in Christian teaching and authority the apostolic fathers shine by means of yellowish gold. NEMPE RIGANS SACIANS TENEBRARUM DEVIA VITANS ISTE SYON SOLIDAT QUAM TERNO ROBORE QUADRAT SICQUE DEI TRINI PER BIS DUO CLIMATA MUNDI VERA FIDES PER EUM LONGUM FIRMATUR IN EVUM

Truly, imbibing, appropriating, shunning the errors of darkness, this makes Sion solid which forms a harmony with triple strength. And so, across two times two regions of the world of the Triune God faith is strengthened for a long time through Him.

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