Reassessing the London-Berlin Cross

Liturgical Polyvalence and the Potential of Performance: Reassessing the London-Berlin Cross

Lindsay Corbett

The Department of Art History and Communication Studies, McGill University, Montréal

April 2017

A thesis submitted to McGill University in partial fulfilment of the requirements of the degree of a Master’s of Arts (Art History).

Table of Contents

1. Abstract………………………………………………………………………………….....3

2. Acknowledgements………………………………………………………………………...4

3. List of Figures…....……………………………………………………………..……….…5

4. Introduction…..………………………………………………………………………….…7

5. Beyond the Workshop: Mobile Artists and Materials…………….…………………....…10

6. Iconography: Typology and the Invention of the Cross..……………………...... …13

7. The Stavelot Triptych: Consistencies and Inconsistencies……………………………..…16

8. Beyond Iconography: Altars, Processions, and Relics………………..……………..……20

9. The Moment of Unveiling: The London-Berlin Cross and Good Friday Ritual…...…..…31

10. Conclusion………..……………………………………………………………..……...…41

11. Figures………..…………..……………………………………………………………….43

12. Bibliography……...……………………………………………………………..……..….56

Abstract

Unique amongst surviving examples of Mosan metalwork, the London-Berlin Cross is the only Mosan enameled cross that preserves both its front and back plates. Yet, without its original core, scholarship has focused exclusively on questions of workshop style or iconographic developments in the twelfth century. Based on stylistic and iconographic similarities with other Mosan objects, most scholars hypothesize that the London-Berlin Cross once functioned as a reliquary for the True Cross. Iconography alone, however, does not provide strong enough evidence of its original function. This thesis offers a more extensive consideration of the London- Berlin Cross’s liturgical role and its many potential uses. An examination into the material affordances of enamel and the artistic traditions from which it emerges, coupled with the roles of liturgical crosses in the twelfth century, reveal how objects such as the London-Berlin Cross effaced the boundaries that their modern titles often prescribe. Ultimately, this thesis demonstrates that the London-Berlin Cross was a polyvalent object that accommodated the manifold demands of the medieval liturgy.

Parmis les pièces d'art mosane ayant survécu au passage du temps, la croix Londres-Berlin est unique car c'est la seule croix émaillée dont les plaques d'avant et d'arrière sont encore existantes. Sans son corps originel, les chercheurs hésitent à examiner la croix Londres-Berlin au- delà de la citer comme exemple d'un style d'atelier d'art mosan ou du développement iconographique dans le XIIe siècle. Partageant des similarités iconographiques et étant basé stylistiquement avec d'autres objets contemporains, les chercheurs ont comme hypothèse que la croix Londres-Berlin aurait fonctionnée jadis comme un reliquaire pour la Vraie-Croix. Toutefois, cette thèse suggère un regard dans la fonction liturgique de la croix Londres-Berlin pour mieux considérer le potentiel de ses utilisations. Je considère comment les objets ont effacé les limites que leurs titres prescrivent souvent en considérant les propriétés matérielles de l'émail et les traditions artistiques dont il en émerge, associées aux rôles des croix liturgiques au XIIe siècle. Cette thèse démontre que la croix Londres-Berlin était un objet polyvalent qui accomodaient les multiples demandes de la liturgie médiévale.

Acknowledgements

For her outstanding her supervision, I would like to begin by thanking Professor Cecily Hilsdale. The completion of this thesis is owed to her guidance, patience, generosity, pedagogy, and extensive knowledge of all things medieval. Her influence and support over the past two years far exceeded my expectations, and I am most grateful to have had the opportunity to work so closely with her. At McGill University, I wish to extend thanks to several professors whose seminars were integral the shaping of this work—to Professors Angela Vanhaelen, Chriscinda Henry, Mary Hunter, and Jonathan Sterne, for their erudite advice, continuous support, and for fostering the exploration and development of many of the methodologies presented in the following thesis. Furthermore at Queen’s University, I would like to thank Professor Allison Sherman, under whose teaching I originally fell in love with the Middle Ages, on our summer excursions to Padua and Ravenna. I am also grateful towards McGill’s Department of Art History and Communication Studies, and Media@McGill, for their financial contributions towards my research. To my family at home, JoAnn Corbett, Mackenzie Corbett, Patricia Schotsch, Betty Corbett, Roy Corbett, Richard Schotsch, Shirley Schotsch, and Shelby Ludington, I am forever grateful for your unconditional love and encouragement. I also thank my family in Montréal, Kyrstin Felts, Marianne Cole, Steph Caskenette, and Maria Chatzifilalithis, for it was with your unbridled support, numerous puns, and constant friendship that made these past two years as fruitful as they were. Moreover, I would like to express my gratitude to the many other members of my cohort at McGill whose brilliance has inspired me along the way. Lastly, to Simon Laforge-Chalifour, who was my unwavering partner and rock throughout this whole process—thank you for always encouraging me to achieve my dreams.

List of Figures:

Fig. 1—London-Berlin Cross, London-side, 1160-70, copper alloy (gilded), enamel (champlevé and cloisonné), rock crystal on silver backing, lapis lazuli, garnet, amethyst, rock crystal, 37.4 cm x 25.6 cm, the British Museum, London.

Fig. 2—London-Berlin Cross, Berlin-side, 1160-70, copper alloy (gilded), enamel (champlevé and cloisonné), rock crystal on silver backing, lapis lazuli, garnet, amethyst, rock crystal, 37.5 cm x 26 cm, Kunstgewerbemuseum, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin.

Fig. 3—London-Berlin Cross, London-side featuring sixteenth-century additions, 1160-70, copper alloy (gilded), enamel (champlevé and cloisonné), rock crystal on silver backing, lapis lazuli, garnet, amethyst, rock crystal, 37.4 cm x 25.6 cm, the British Museum, London.

Fig. 4—Stavelot Triptych, ca. 1156-58, gilded copper with champlevé and cloisonné enamel, silver, émail brun, and semiprecious stones, 48.4 cm x 66 cm x 8cm, Morgan Library and Museum, New York.

Fig. 5—Stavelot Triptych, Byzantine triptych details, ca. 1156-58, gilded copper with champlevé and cloisonné enamel, silver, émail brun, and semiprecious stones, 48.4 cm x 66 cm x 8cm, Morgan Library and Museum, New York.

Fig. 6—North Lunette, detail of angels with triumphal cross, 547, mosaic, San Vitale, Ravenna.

Fig. 7—Apse Mosaic, detail of triumphal cross, fifth century, Santa Pudenziana, Rome.

Fig. 8—Lothar Cross of Otto III, ca. 985-91, Aachen, Palace Chapel Treasury.

Fig. 9—Altar Cross of Abbess Theophanu, ca. 1024-39, Borghorst, St. Nicomedes.

Fig. 10—Cross of Otto I, Duke of Bavaria and Swabia, and Mathilde, Abbess of Essen Abbey, (front), 973-82, Essen Minster Treasury.

Fig. 11—Cross of Otto I, Duke of Bavaria and Swabia, and Mathilde, Abbess of Essen Abbey, donation plaque detail, 973-82, Essen Minster Treasury.

Fig. 12—Heinrich Cross, 1000-50 (with later additions), gold filigree, silver pearls, glass cabochons, chalcedony cameo, rock crystal, amethyst, garnet, gilded silver and copper, wood oak core with iron armatures, 51.2 cm x 46.2 cm, Kunstgewerbemuseum, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin.

Fig. 13—St. Omer Cross-Foot, ca. 1150-60, from the Abbey of Saint-Bertin, Musée de l’hôtel Sandelin.

Fig. 14—Lobbes Phylactery, ca. 1160, gilded copper, émail brun, champlevé enamel, gems, rock crystal, wood, 22.5 cm x 22cm x 3cm, Private Collection, United Kingdom.

Fig. 15—London-Berlin Cross, Helena worshipping at the True Cross detail, 1160-70, copper alloy (gilded), enamel (champlevé and cloisonné), rock crystal on silver backing, lapis lazuli, garnet, amethyst, rock crystal, 37.5 cm x 26 cm, Kunstgewerbemuseum, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin.

Fig. 16: London-Berlin Cross, Jacob Blessing the Sons of Joseph detail, 1160-70, copper alloy (gilded), enamel (champlevé and cloisonné), rock crystal on silver backing, lapis lazuli, garnet, amethyst, rock crystal, 37.4 cm x 25.6 cm, the British Museum, London.

Fig. 17: London-Berlin Cross, Sacrifice of the Passover Lamb detail, 1160-70, copper alloy (gilded), enamel (champlevé and cloisonné), rock crystal on silver backing, lapis lazuli, garnet, amethyst, rock crystal, 37.4 cm x 25.6 cm, the British Museum, London.

“You who ask about the Cross: Read!” —inscription, reliquary of the Cross, Rhine or Meuse, ca. 12141

Introduction

In 2011, two long-separated medieval enamel plaques were brought together for the

Treasures of Heaven exhibition in Baltimore, Cleveland, and London (Figs. 1-2).2 The purpose of the exhibition was to examine medieval relics through the gathering of “the physical things of holy men and women, and the things associated with them.”3 The two plates were displayed during the exhibition as an example of a cross-shaped reliquary from the esteemed twelfth-century

Mosan workshops. Paired together, they are published in the exhibition’s corresponding catalogue and labeled “Reliquary Cross Front,” and “Reliquary Cross Back.”4 Despite these titles, their detailed description is more tentative in its attribution, and such tentativeness bears significant implications for how we understand the object as a whole.5 While the two enamel plaques undoubtedly once adorned a cross, it remains a matter of debate whether that original cross held a fragment of the True Cross.6 The challenges in determining the function of the original cross are noticeable in its inconsistent categorization across scholarship, where it has also been labelled as

1 This inscription appears on a reliquary of the True Cross that is now housed at the Cleveland Museum of Art, on which see Barbara Drake Boehm and Melanie Holcomb, Jerusalem 1000-1400: Every People Under Heaven (New York: Yale University Press, 2016), 57-61. 2 Martina Bagnoli et al., eds., Treasures of Heaven: Saints, Relics, and Devotion in Medieval Europe (Baltimore: The Walters Art Museum, 2010), cat. 86-87. 3 Ibid., catalogue jacket. 4 Ibid., 178. 5 The catalogue’s description of the London-Berlin Cross describes its function more tentatively than its title: “Joined, the pieces may have been intended to hold a relic of the True Cross,” see ibid. 6 It can be determined that the two plaques once belonged to a singular objects for several reasons. The first is on account of the material and technical consistency between the plaques. Secondly, the sizes of the plaques are almost identical. Their slight variation in size is the result of damage over the years, causing the loss of beading on the Berlin-side, which remains intact on the London example. Thirdly, the two surviving plaques must have once belonged to a singular wooden core based on the regular pinholes on each cross side. This core likely would have also been decorated along its sides, perhaps with repoussé gilt-copper strips or filigree plaques. Lastly, the variations of colour between the two plates achieve a harmonious balance through asymmetry, an aesthetic typical of Mosan work. For a more detailed technical analysis, see Neil Stratford and David Buckton, Catalogue of Medieval Enamels in the British Museum (London: British Museum Press, 1993), 70-71.

an altar cross and a processional cross. The two plates are therefore uniquely complete, but also problematically incomplete. While most studies of the plaques have focused on their iconography and position within the greater corpus of Mosan art, this thesis proposes to examine the possibilities of their function in an effort to capitalize on the opportunity that their wholeness offers, while also attempting to reconstruct what has been lost to time. A consideration of the various uses of the London-Berlin Cross will demonstrate that single function assessments neglect the rich multivalent demands of the medieval liturgy.

The two Mosan enamel plaques are generally referred to as the London-Berlin Cross, deriving their name from the two museums in which they are currently on display. What is frequently understood to be the front of the Cross (Fig. 1), featuring five Old-Testament scenes, is presently exhibited at the British Museum in London, while its back (Fig. 2), depicting Helena and the Invention of the True Cross, is housed at the Kunstgewerbemuseum in Berlin.7 Dated to between 1160-70 the London-Berlin Cross is thought to originate from the goldsmith studios along the Meuse, sometimes attributed to the workshop of Godefroid de Huy.8 While its medieval provenance remains unclear, the London half of the Cross was in the Cathedral of Konstanz by the sixteenth century (Fig. 3).9 As a result, this is occasionally described as the object’s original historical context. Concerning the larger body of Mosan art, the London-Berlin Cross holds a privileged position because it is the only extant medieval enamel cross that preserves both its front

7 The assumption that the London-side of the Cross is the front side of the object is based on the observation that it is more richly decorated. However, Barbara Baert counters this notion, suggesting that more evidence of wear appears on the Berlin-side of the Cross, indicating that it would have been the cross’s front, see Barbara Baert, Heritage of Holy Wood: The Legend of the True Cross in Text and Image, trans. Lee Preedy (Leiden and Boston: Brill Academic Publisher, 2004), 107. 8 Bagnoli et al., Treasures of Heaven, 178. 9 The London-side of the Cross was remounted on a larger silver reliquary cross in the sixteenth century. Surviving the destruction of church property by the Protestants in the Diocese of Konstanz, it was likely refurbished along with other objects during the Counter Reformation. It has also been hypothesized that the Cross may originate from the Church of St. Victor in Xanten, when in the twelfth century a church dedicated to Helena was built there, see Baert, Heritage of Holy Wood, 106; Stratford, Medieval Enamels, 76.

and back plaques in excellent condition.

Mosan workshops, as far as can be inferred from the extant corpus, produced objects mostly for liturgical contexts. As such, the following investigation into the function of the

London-Berlin Cross will be examined in relation to the ecclesiastical sphere. While this does not exclude the possibility of objects destined for secular use, the prominence of ecclesiastical objects made by Mosan workshops can be tied to the rise in the cult of relics during the twelfth century, eliciting the need for luxury containers for holy matter in increased circulation, a phenomenon that may have superseded lay demand.10 While the iconography of Mosan objects appealed to a variety of patrons, Cynthia Hahn suggests that bishops would have been particularly motivated to commission enamelled objects because of their decorative and didactic potential. 11 Bishops, who were charged with the education of their congregation as well as the beautification of their church, through the patronage of enamelled objects, could achieve their goals of edification and ornamentation in a singular object.12 I argue that it is precisely this dual capability of enamel as a material that could be utilized to create intricate imagery and design, while also maintaining a gem-like effect in its colour and brilliance, that influenced the development of Mosan objects in the twelfth century, which were useful in their ability to serve the numerous demands of the medieval liturgy. As the historiography of the London-Berlin Cross makes clear, systems of categorization prove insufficient methodologies for an object that remains partial and difficult to concretely contextualize. To classify the London-Berlin Cross as a True-Cross reliquary is not wrong, but as a reliquary the object necessarily did other things—whether it was processed or

10 Stratford, Medieval Enamels, 14. 11 Bishops as patrons envisioned themselves as Solomon’s of the Temple who decorated their churches in order to achieve their goal of “edification through both building and teaching.” For instance, Ivo of Chartres justifies receiving a luxurious comb because it had symbolic and didactic meaning—representing the ordering of the soul in the way the hair can be smoothed. See Cynthia Hahn, “Production, Prestige and Patronage of Medieval Enamels,” in From Minor to Major: The Minor Arts in Medieval History, ed. Column Hourihane (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2012), 163. 12 Ibid.

raised upon the altar, or both—to accommodate the liturgical service. By offering an explanation of the traditions from which the London-Berlin Cross emerges, as well as the roles of the liturgical cross in the twelfth century, I argue that objects efface the boundaries that their modern titles often prescribe. Further examinations into a possible liturgical context for the London-Berlin Cross will demonstrate how a polyvalent object satisfied the various demands of the medieval liturgy.

Beyond the Workshop: Mobile Artists and Materials

The term “Mosan” refers to the region traversed by the Meuse River, in the northeast of

Burgundy, near Langres. The countries of the Mosan region corresponded to the ancient diocese of Liège, which by the twelfth century was a primarily Francophone region that was politically tied to the Ghibellines.13 In terms of artistic production, this territory, predominantly in the second half of the twelfth century, became associated with champlevé enamel traditions.14 “Mosan” art is thus the term given to art produced within the region at this time, which is perceived as its artistic height.15 Although there were other centers of enamel production, those along the Meuse were amongst the most renowned workshops of the Middle Ages.16 The high calibre of art produced in the Mosan region is thought to have influenced workshops in Italy, Hungary, and Poland as a result of the intense circulation of merchants and goods; indicating a large network influencing, and influenced by, Mosan art.17

Mosan art has traditionally been defined according to stylistic and technical methods of

13 On the geographical and political history of Liège and the Mosan region, see Félix Rousseau, L’art mosan: Introduction historique (Gembloux: J. Duculot, 1970). 14 Stratford, Medieval Enamels, 14. 15 While Mosan is the term adopted by most art historians, German scholars rather use the term “Rhein-Maas” when discussing this region, which is extended to include Köln—the principal commercial centre of the area, see Stratford, Medieval Enamels, 13. See also the major German exhibition on the region, Hans Erich Kubach and Albert Verbeek, Romanische Bakunst an Rhein und Maas: Katalog (Berlin: Deutscher Verlag für Kunstwiss, 1976). 16 Theophilus in the twelfth century organizes artistic centers geographically, noting that the Germans were particularly capable in their metalwork and goldsmithery, in Theophilus, On Divers Arts: The Treatise of Theophilus, trans. John G. Hawthorne and Cyril Stanley Smith (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1963), 4; also see Hahn, “Medieval Enamels,” 154. 17 Rousseau, L’art mosan, 21.

analysis, and the London-Berlin Cross, with the more celebrated Stavelot Triptych, sits at the center of attempts to establish workshop contexts. For example, H. P. Mitchell established an early grouping of Mosan objects based on style and argued that they were produced in the workshop of Godefroid de Claire (Huy).18 The tendency to treat Mosan enamel based on stylistic analysis alone has been challenged by Suzanne Collon-Gevaert, who asserts that despite formal similarities across Mosan enamel production, it was not a monolithic practise.19 Joyce Brodsky also points out that the association of Mosan enamels to Godefroid of Huy has resulted in the unlikely assignment of an enormous corpus of works to a single enigmatic figure.20 Even as scholars such as these have challenged the notion of a single Mosan workshop, the drive to establish groupings of enamel objects based on formal similitude is still the dominant method of analysis. Despite warning against Mitchell’s grouping of Mosan objects, for example, Neil

Stratford establishes his own group, even as he acknowledges that several hands must have been at work within a single workshop.21 The inconsistent grouping of the London-Berlin Cross signals potential problems with stylistic and taxonomic methods of analysis, as evidence indicates that common technical procedures and shared model books were used between separate workshops, creating consistent stylistic traits between multiple artisans and sites of production.22

The difficulty of identifying cohesive groups of Mosan objects is effectively a result of a

18 H. P. Mitchell, “Some Enamels of the School of Godefroid de Claire,” The Burlington Magazine 36, no. 204 (1920): 123-34. This group included of which he includes the London-Berlin Cross, the Stavelot Triptych, the Cross- Foot of St. Omer, the Naaman plaques, and the Henry of Blois plaques. 19 Suzanne Collon-Gevaert, Histoire des arts du métal en Belgique (Brussels: Palais des académies, 1951), 165. 20 Joseph Breck, “Notes on Some Mosan Enamels,” Metropolitan Museum Studies 1, no. 1 (1928): 81-94, attributes many of the objects in the Metropolitan Museum of Art to Godefroid de Huy. William H. Forsyth, “Around Godefroid de Claire,” The Metropolitan Museum of Art Bulletin 24, no. 10 (1966): 312-14, proposed that different hands could produce stylistically similar work in the same workshop. Joyce Brodsky, “The Stavelot Triptych: Notes on a Mosan Work,” Gesta 11, no. 1 (1972): 19, differentiates between workshop contexts rather than their artists. 21 This group consists of a second typological cross, the Stavelot Triptych, London-Berlin Cross, two phylacteries, and the Vatican book cover. See Stratford, Medieval Enamels, 74. 22 Stratford acknowledges that model books existed and argues that they must have been employed based on the similarities in pictorial programs between objects like the London-Berlin Cross and Stavelot Triptych, see ibid.

lack of historical documentation on medieval metalwork prior to the thirteenth century.23 When we consider issues of mobility, a tension arises in this method of determining context through workshop groupings. Goldsmiths likely travelled often, vacillating between independent and collaborative work.24 Gretel Chapman examines this likelihood of mobile goldsmiths, suggesting that powerful patrons could have motivated the best metalworkers in the area to work on-site at their monasteries—further indicating that multiple workshops could be brought together in one location.25 She presents a picture of workshops that travelled from patron to patron for important commissions.26 Moreover, even beyond these travelling artisans, Mosan objects themselves were prone to circulation in a period of increased mercantile dissemination.27

While traditional methods of investigation have prioritized style as a means of establishing workshop groups, more recent scholarship has increasingly turned towards technical analysis, and in the process have complicated notions of material consistency across Mosan art production. 28 In investigating the composition of Romanesque champlevé enamels by using microanalysis, Ian

Freestone determined the origins of the materials used in eight twelfth-century enamel samples.29

His conclusions reveal that the natron type of glass could not have come from any twelfth-century source, suggesting instead that the Mosan enamellers were repurposing old Roman mosaics.30

23 With the exception of Theophilus, see Theophilus, On Divers Arts; Ibid.,14. 24 Ibid., 32. 25 Gretel Chapman, “Jacob Blessing the Sons of Joseph: A Mosan Enamel in the Walters Art Gallery,” The Journal of the Walters Art Gallery 38, (1980): 54, writes that the “implications of this thesis, of course, are rather unsettling concerning our current notions about localization. A mobile workshop refuses to be local for very long.” 26 Ibid. 27 Ibid. 28 Stratford proposes that a possible direction for the future of these studies lay in employing archaeological and technological methodologies, see Stratford, Medieval Enamels, 4-26. 29 These samples include a Mosan plaque with half-length figures of St. John and St. James, two semicircular plaques from a phylactery, two Mosan concave spandrel plaques, the cover of an English drinking cup, a Limoges plaque of Christ in majesty, and a Limoges Crucifix. Ian Freestone, “Compositions and Origins of Glasses from Romanesque Champlevé Enamels,” in Medieval Enamels, ed. Stratford, 37. 30 Ibid.

Freestone’s technical conclusion is confirmed by primary sources, such as Theophilus.31 The results of this technical study reveal “sufficient variation in enamel glass,” demonstrating that goldsmiths were using older pieces of glass sold to them by merchants, rather than the single batches of glass, as art historians had previously assumed.32 Similar conclusions were made during a PIXE (Proton-Induced X-Ray Emission) analysis of Mosan enamel conducted by L.

Martinot, G. Weber, B. Gilbert, and J. Guillaume.33 They examined five Mosan samples of four gable-reliquaries from Maestricht and compared them to previously taken examples from the

British Museum, to investigate the extent of local, imported, and repurposed materials used in enamel production.34 Their conclusions suggest that enamel components were likely imported.35

Although they had set out to determine coherent workshop groups, these technical analyses instead prove the vast circulation of workmen and materials in the twelfth century. Grouping

Mosan enamels according to style in an attempt to fix them to sites of origin remains an elusive task, and further, one that sits at odds with a much more complex and fluid set of medieval historical realities. While localizing production sites and workshops constitute the primary research questions for the Mosan corpus of enamelwork more broadly, such questions foreclosed other more fruitful avenues for contextualizing objects such as the London-Berlin Cross.

Iconography: Typology and the Invention of the Cross

Just as the London-Berlin Cross sits at the center of studies of Mosan workshop groupings, it also occupies a noteworthy position in terms of the study of Mosan iconography by virtue of its relatively complete iconographic program. Most investigations of the iconography of the London-

31 Theophilus, On Divers Arts, 59; Ibid., 44. 32 Freestone does suggest that red glass may offer the potential to differentiate regions, see ibid. 33 L. Martinot et al., “PIXE Analysis of Medieval Enamel: Preliminary Analytical Results Concerning Five Samples of Mosan Enamels for the Four Gable-Reliquaries of Maestricht,” Bulletin des Musées Royaux d’art et d’histoire 70, (1999): 199. 34 Ibid. 35 Ibid., 204.

Berlin Cross establish that the original object once held a True Cross relic, since both the Helena and typological series reference the Cross. These conclusions are often reinforced through the comparison of the London-Berlin Cross’s pictorial program to other Mosan objects with similar imagery. Such an analysis neglects the fact that unlike all other Mosan objects bearing analogous iconographies that the London-Berlin Cross features both typological imagery and the narrative of

Helena’s discovery of the True Cross, making it unique within its larger corpus.

The London half of the cross features typological scenes that connect figures, events, and things between the Old and New Testaments so that the former is seen to prefigure the latter.36

Mosan art is often credited with the development of typological iconographies in the twelfth century. While originally E. Mâle had suggested that Abbot Suger was central to the establishment of typological symbolism in the period, Marcel Laurent demonstrated that this was in reality a Mosan phenomenon.37 In Judith A. Kidd’s more recent treatment of typology, the

London-Berlin Cross exemplifies the twelfth-century resurgence of the theological tradition.38 She situates the London-Berlin Cross within the “Crucifixion group,” whose imagery functioned as a means of illuminating the Gospels without explicitly depicting them.39 More specifically, each of the Old Testament scenes is represented so as to evoke in formal terms the Cross on which Christ was crucified. The upper scene depicts Moses and Aaron flanking the bronze serpent erected upon a column in such a way that the composition mirrors Christ’s body hung from the Cross. The

36As defined by, G. W. H. Lampe and K. J. Woollcombe, Essays on Typology (London: SCM Press, 1957); see also Judith A. Kidd, Behind the Image: Understanding the Old Testament in Medieval Art (Bern: Peter Lang, 2014). 37 E. Mâle, “La part de Suger dans la creation du symbolisme du moyen âge,” Revue de l’art ancient et modern 2 (1914): 91, 161, 251; Marcel Laurent, “Godefroid de Claire et la croix de Suger a l’abbaye de Saint-Denis,” Revue Archéologique 19 (1924): 79. 38 The emergence of typological motifs in the Mosan corpus is commonly linked to intellectual stimulation; see Kidd, Behind the Image, 137. For more on the intellectual use of typology in art also see Nino Zchomelidse, “Deus-Homo- Imago: Representing the Divine in the Twelfth Century,” in Looking Beyond: Visions, Dreams and Insights in Medieval Art and History, ed. Colum Hourihane (Princeton: Index of Christian Art, 2010), 120-22. 39 The “Crucifixion group” includes depictions of Moses striking the rock, the sacrifice of Isaac, the Passover Lamb killed, and the spies with grapes from Promised Land, see Ibid., 135-36.

scene on the terminal end of the cross’s right arm represents Elijah and the Widow of Zarephath, whose sticks form the shape of the Cross. In the pendant scene on the left, the marking of the doorsteps with the blood of the Passover Lamb evokes the “tau” shape to symbolize the Cross. In the lowermost scene, Caleb and Joshua are shown returning with grapes from Canaan in anticipation of the Eucharistic wine and Christ’s sacrifice. The central scene depicts Jacob blessing the sons of Joseph, Ephraim and Manasseh, whose extended arms also form the shape of the Cross.40 While many of these images appear on other Mosan objects, the London-Berlin Cross preserves one of their most complete typological iconographic programs, further distinguished by its visual and thematic emphasis on the Cross.41

The Berlin-side features scenes subsequent to the Biblical events pictured on the London- side. The Berlin plaque depicts the Discovery of the True Cross by Helena, including scenes from the fifth-century Judas Cyriacus Legend.42 While the leftmost portion was lost in 1945, a surviving photograph records the presence of a scene of Helena interrogating Judas as to the whereabouts of the True Cross.43 Sequentially, the next scene is to the far right, in which Helena is shown subjecting Judas to trial by fire. The narrative continues in the lower most scene, which illustrates the finding of the Cross by Helena, Judas, and companions. The central scene features the miracle of the Cross, in which the relic resurrects a dead man. Lastly, the topmost scene depicts Helena worshiping at the True Cross, installed on an altar. Barbara Baert’s investigation into the literary and artistic traditions surrounding the Legend of the True Cross suggests an iconographic connection between the London-Berlin Cross and its Mosan counterparts, namely the Lobbes Phylactery and Stavelot Triptych, arguing that all of these objects once housed a True

40 For a complete iconographic analyses see Stratford Medieval Enamels, 68-69; Baert, Heritage of Holy Wood, 106- 08; Bagnoli et al., Treasures of Heaven, 178; Kidd, Behind the Image, 136-37. 41 Perhaps with the exception of the St. Omer Cross-Foot. 42 Baert, Heritage of Holy Wood, 44-45. 43 Kelly McKay Holbert, “Mosan Reliquary Triptychs and the Cult of the True Cross in the Twelfth Century,” (PhD diss., Yale University, 1995), 51; Stratford, Medieval Enamels, 70; Bagnoli et al., Treasures of Heaven, 178.

Cross relic.44 Baert extends this iconographic analysis to the liturgical context, linking it specifically to Lenten practices and the Good Friday rite.45 While her study serves as the foundation for my own, its attempt to reconstruct the London-Berlin Cross’s liturgical function relies too heavily and exclusively on its surviving iconographies. Instead, a more in-depth investigation into the London-Berlin Cross’s ritual use is required to determine the possibilities of its twelfth-century function.

The Stavelot Triptych: Consistencies and Inconsistencies

The similarities between the scenes of Helena and the Finding of the True Cross on the

London-Berlin Cross and Stavelot Triptych (Fig. 4) have led many scholars to claim that the

Cross must have also once housed a relic of the True Cross.46 Indeed, the iconography of the

London-Berlin Cross does support the assumption that it may have once functioned as a True

Cross reliquary. Reliquaries typically indicate the value of the holy fragment housed inside in material terms—by privileging gold, gems, pearls—and iconography too could affirm the relic’s presence through a dialogue between its subject and material.47 Keeping in mind that most relics were not visible in their reliquaries until the Early Gothic period, the reliquary was responsible for conveying the significance of the object it contained.48 In this sense, the discursive employment of the self-referential iconography of the cross may indeed be a significant indicator that the London-

Berlin Cross once functioned as a reliquary for a fragment of the Holy Wood. This hypothesis, however, requires elaboration.

44 Baert, Heritage of Holy Wood, 119. 45 Ibid., 121. 46 Ibid., 103-04. 47 Ibid., 66-70. See also Caroline Walker Bynum, Christian Materiality: An Essay on Religion in Late Medieval Europe (New York: Zone Books, 2011), 66. 48 Peter Lasko, “Roger of Helmarshausen, Author and Craftsman: Life, Sources of Style, and Iconography,” in Objects, Images and the Word: Art in the Service of the Liturgy, ed. Colum Hourihane (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2003), 127; Cynthia J. Hahn and Holger A. Klein, eds., Saints and Sacred Matter: The Cult of Relics in Byzantium and Beyond (Washington: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection, 2015), 1.

True Cross relics held a special status in medieval society. Frequently listed first in the inventories of tenth to twelfth-century churches, the containers of True Cross relics were amongst the most elaborate objects in the Church.49 While such relics had been circulating in the West as early as the fourth century, their status was bolstered during the seventh century when the

Byzantine Emperor established himself as the safe-keeper of the most sacred relics in

Christendom, including the True Cross.50 The relocation of many important Christological relics from the Holy Land not only reaffirmed the divinely sanctioned status of the Emperor, but also aligned secular rule with spiritual objects.51 Prior to the conquest of Constantinople in 1204, the

Byzantine Emperor maintained a singular relationship with Christendom’s most prized relics—he was uniquely responsible for their distribution, effectively limiting their circulation to erudite secular and ecclesiastical circles, where these relics were most frequently given as gifts.52 The

Western aspiration to secure relics was largely stimulated by the esteemed position they held, but also because the procession and veneration of relics was required for the performance of several liturgical rites. The True Cross relic, in particular, featured prominently in the Good Friday liturgy, the Feast of the Finding of the Cross, and the Exaltation of the Cross, although it was not exclusive to them.53

When Byzantine relics came to the West, they did so in Eastern reliquaries, which were

49 Holbert, “Reliquary Triptychs,” 213. 50 The relics that were valued as most significant included those associated with the Passion, with the Virgin, and certain Eastern Saints, see Klein, “Eastern and Western Reliquaries,” 284. In the seventh-century Emperor Heraclius, salvaged the True Cross from Jerusalem, then under Muslim control, and brought it to Constantinople. See Baert, Heritage of Holy Wood, 5-6. 51 Klein, “Eastern and Western Reliquaries,” 284; Baert, Heritage of Holy Wood, 2. 52 The pricelessness of relics made them significant diplomatic gifts because they could not be simply obtained by way of commerce. The distribution of relics was authorized by the Byzantine court and as such they were difficult to obtain by many Western rulers who desired them, see Geary, Furta Sacra: Thefts of Relics in the Central Middle Ages (New York: Princeton University Press 2005 [1978]); Patrick Geary, “Sacred Commodities: The Circulation of Medieval Relics,” in The Social Life of Things: Commodities in Cultural Perspective, ed. Arjun Appadurai (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986), 169-90; Klein, “Eastern and Western Reliquaries,” 289. 53 Many of these rites were inherited from the Byzantine Empire. For more on the development of these traditions see Holbert, “Reliquary Triptychs,” 59-348; see also Baert, Heritage of Holy Wood, 6-71.

often richly decorated.54 Despite this, the artistic impact of Byzantine reliquaries on the West was relatively limited in the twelfth century, although this was beginning to shift.55 For Holger Klein the Stavelot Triptych is indicative of this transition, in its use of the Byzantine triptych style; indeed it is one of the oldest True Cross reliquaries in the West to adopt such a triptych format.56

While the precise circumstances of its commission remain unclear, most scholars maintain that

Wibald, Abbot of Stavelot (1130-58) was responsible for it.57 This attribution is largely tied to the two Byzantine reliquaries displayed in the object’s center. Allegedly, during two of Wibald’s diplomatic missions to Constantinople in the mid-twelfth century, two Byzantine reliquaries were obtained, perhaps from the Emperor Michael I Comnenus as a gift (Fig. 5).58 The Stavelot triptych combines the iconography from the Life of Constantine and the Finding of the True Cross in champlevé enamelled roundels on its two triptych wings, framing two Byzantine reliquaries enclosed in its central register, which contain a fragment of the Holy Nail and a piece of the Holy

Wood, respectively. Holbert suggests that the inclusion of the Helena and Constantine narratives on the Mosan wings of the Stavelot Triptych were informed by their existing depictions on the larger Byzantine triptych that the Stavelot Triptych was built to house.59 The dialogue between the

Mosan frame and its Byzantine reliquaries is further considered by Klein who suggests that the presence of the Byzantine reliquaries not only testifies to the authenticity of the relics acquired

54 Klein, “Eastern and Western Reliquaries,” 292. 55 Klein suggests that it is because many eastern reliquaries were relatively small and intended for personal use, see ibid., 293. 56 Baert, Heritage of Holy Wood, 4-82. 57 See Chapman, “Jacob Blessing the Sons,” 54; Holbert, “Reliquary Triptychs,” 7; Stratford, Medieval Enamels, 73; Baert, Heritage of Holy Wood, 83; Klein, “Eastern and Western Reliquaries,” 292; Hahn, “Medieval Enamels,” 152. 58 There is no documentary evidence to suggest it was Wibald who brought back these reliquaries, but he did go to Constantinople twice (1155-56 and 1157-8). It seems likely that Wibald was presented with the two reliquaries on his first visit, which he then carried to the West in 1156, thus dating the triptych between 1156-58. Holger Klein justifies the patronage of Wibald based on style, as well as the amicable relationship between Wibald and the Emperor, from whom he had received other gifts, see Klein, “Eastern and Western Reliquaries,” 293. The likelihood that Wibald was the patron of the Stavelot Triptych is further testified to by Brodsky, who demonstrates the stylistic similarities between the triptych and other objects commissioned by the Abbot at Stavelot, see Brodsky, “The Stavelot Triptych.” 59 Holbert, “Reliquary Triptychs,” 19.

from Constantinople, but also to more performative modes of veneration of the relics in their original eastern containers.60 The incorporation of the Byzantine parts into the Western reliquary, according to Klein, “play[ed] an active role in the enactment of the holy. Functioning as a means of concealing and revealing the precious relics, the Byzantine triptychs enhanced the cult value of these sacred objects by limiting and controlling their display and veneration.”61 Much like the

London-Berlin Cross, the Stavelot triptych employed similar methods of self-reference, as the reliquary worked to entice the viewer into a closer reading of the relic, as the exegesis of the iconographic narrative brought them closer to the Byzantine reliquaries, which in turn, directed the viewer towards the holy fragments contained within. But unlike the London-Berlin Cross, the

Stavelot Triptych’s iconographic program related directly to the eastern reliquaries it displayed.

This begs the following question: to what extent does the presence of the Invention of the True

Cross iconography on both the London-Berlin Cross and Stavelot Triptych reveal the possible context of the Mosan Cross’s function? This question hinges on the assumption that iconography indicates the contents of an object, but this is not necessarily always the case.

Cynthia Hahn, while discussing Limoges enamelled objects, suggests that enamel designs were meant to be general so that they could suit multiple purposes, and as such, their exterior did not always reflect what was contained within.62 Hahn’s argument stems from her earlier work in which she challenged the notion of the “speaking reliquary,” a term commonly applied to body- part reliquaries typically assumed to house the part of the body that is reflected in the shape of the reliquary.63 The assumptions made by the term “speaking reliquary” neglect that fact that in the

60 Klein, “Eastern and Western Reliquaries,” 300. 61 Ibid. 62 It seems plausible that enamelled objects were mass-produced and in order to accommodate for the production of a large quantity of objects, general iconographies were developed to suit a vast array of purposes. For more on enamel production, particularly in Limoges see Hahn, “Medieval Enamels,” 154-59. 63 For more on “Speaking Reliquaries” see Cynthia Hahn, “The Voices of the Saints: Speaking Reliquaries,” Gesta 36, no. 1 (1997): 20.

Middle Ages reliquaries often housed more than one relic.64 Furthermore, relics were also often interchangeable between reliquaries, and moreover, their shape generally corresponded to the reliquary’s liturgical rather than symbolic function.65 Hahn’s observation does not deny that the

London-Berlin Cross once functioned as a True Cross reliquary, but it does offer a cautionary tale to scholars about making assumptions based solely on iconography. Even when the London-side of the Cross was used as a reliquary in the sixteenth century at Konstanz Cathedral, it did not house a relic of the True Cross, but rather an unlabelled piece of bone inside a linen bag, as well as two pieces of stone with tituli identifying them as fragments from buildings in the Holy Land.66

Thus, while it is likely that the London-Berlin Cross contained a relic of the True Cross at some time, iconography alone does not satisfy this claim. Furthermore, even if the London-Berlin Cross was used as a reliquary, its function was not limited to this role. Rather, the key to the London-

Berlin Cross was its versatility and the way in which it intentionally lent itself to multiple roles and uses in service of the medieval liturgy. Additional investigation into the object’s liturgical function provides a more concrete foundation for this hypothesis.

Beyond Iconography: Altars, Processions, and Relics

Prior to Mosan developments in the twelfth century, crux gemmata were the dominant reliquary forms throughout the Germanic regions.67 Crux gemmata were potent and multivalent signs of Christian triumph, deriving such symbolism from their early Christian heritage as well as their display of sheer material wealth.68 During the fifth and sixth centuries, most depictions of the cross were of the crux gemmata type, such as the ones pictured in north and south lunette mosaics

64 Hahn suggests the alternative “shaped reliquary,” see ibid., 22. 65 Ibid. 66 The first reads S(an)c(t)o loco ubi Johannes/Baptista natus fuit (‘From the holy place where John the Baptist was born’) and the second reads Ubi Apostoli se ab[di]/derunt propter iuxtim/iudeorum (‘From where the Apostles his themselves on account of the proximity of the Jews’), see Stratford, Medieval Enamels, 76. 67 Holbert, “Reliquary Triptychs,” 354. 68 Herbert Kessler, Seeing Medieval Art (Peterborough, Orchard Park: Broadview Press, 2004), 69.

at San Vitale (Fig. 6).69 By the ninth century jewelled crosses were used in processions, often paraded before the Pope during ceremonial demonstrations.70 Crux gemmata were associated with the gold and jewelled covered cross installed by Constantine and Helena on Mount Golgotha to commemorate the site of Christ’s Crucifixion. 71 This legendary event was commemorated in such monuments as the fifth-century apse mosaic at Santa Pudenziana in Rome (Fig. 7). Many extant crux gemmata, such as the Lothar Cross of Otto III (ca. 985-91) (Fig. 8) or the Altar Cross of

Abbess Theophanu (ca. 1040) (Fig. 9), were associated with elite individuals72 and their use in processions denoted the prestige of their bearer.73 Apart from indicating the status of associated individuals through allusions to Early Christian history, those who carried the crux gemmata were also in a position of elevation, signified as important because they carried the symbol of Christ’s triumph, indicated by the jewels adorning the cross, which often gestured to a True Cross relic inside.74

The choice to embellish True Cross reliquaries with gems in the early Romanesque period was intended to express the quality of the relics contained through material symbolism.75 Again, because most relics were entirely hidden from view until the later Middle Ages, precious stones and materials indicated the sacrality of the object contained within. Gems presented the power of the relics housed inside the reliquary at times by signifying the medicinal properties that the

69 C. E. Pocknee, Cross and Crucifix in Christian Worship and Devotion (London: A. R. Mowbray, 1962), 40. 70 Ibid., 72. 71 Holbert, “Reliquary Triptychs,” 48-49; Kelly McKay Holbert, “Relics and Reliquaries of the True Cross,” in Art and Architecture of Late Medieval Pilgrimage in Northern Europe and the British Isles, eds. Sarah Blick and Rita Tekippe, (Leiden: Brill, 2005), 351; Baert, Heritage of Holy Wood, 44. 72 It is believed that Otto III gifted the Lothar Cross to Aachen when he opened Charlemagne’s tomb. Theophanu was Abbess of Essen and was a great patron of the eleventh century, her cross features enamels that were likely originally a part of another object, re-purposed for the commissioning of the reliquary cross. For more on the historical context of the Lothar and Theophanu Cross see Peter Lasko, Ars Sacra: 800-1200 (Baltimore: Penguin Books, 1972), 101-36. 73 Column Hourihane, The Processional Cross in Late Medieval England: The Dallye Cross (London: Society of Antiquaries of London, 2005), 2. 74 Holbert, “Reliquary Triptychs,” 351. 75 Bagnoli et al., Treasures of Heaven, 138.

stones were presumed to possess.76 Furthermore, saints themselves were likened to gems, called the “living stones” in 1 Peter 2:4-8, appropriate for the reliquaries that contained the bodily remains of holy figures.77 Rock crystal, lapis lazuli, garnet, and amethyst—gemstones frequently found on crux gemmata—decorate the London-Berlin Cross, arranged in a repetitive diagonal pattern to surround the Cross’s cloisonné lozenges.78 Stratford notes that gems and crystals ranked highly on medieval material hierarchies and by virtue of their material worth they took on a decorative role on Mosan liturgical objects.79 Rather than merely decoration, however, I suggest that the gems adorning the London-Berlin Cross worked symbolically, much like their crux gemmata counterparts.80 A key difference between the crux gemmata and the London-Berlin

Cross is the restraint that the Mosan workers employed in the addition of gems to the object. By limiting the amount of gems that adorned the cross, the goldsmiths were able to expand on the iconographic program of the object, while still maintaining much of the material symbolism of their crux gemmata precedent.

The combination of enamel, metalwork, and gems was not exclusive to the Mosan period, but was also typical of earlier Carolingian and Ottonian objects.81 An example of this is the Cross of Otto I, Duke of Bavaria and Swabia, and Mathilde, Abbess of Essen Abbey, dated to between

973-1011 (Fig. 10), which features some of the earliest Ottonian enamels in Northern Europe.82

The enamel plaque located at the cross’s base depicts Otto and Mathilde donating the cross to the

76 For more on the use of gems on reliquaries see, Cynthia Hahn, “What do Reliquaries Do for Relics?” Numen 57, no. 3/4 (2010): 290. 77 Kessler, Seeing Medieval Art, 21. 78 Stratford, Medieval Enamels, 69. 79 Stratford’s observation is based on one of the Henry of Blois plaques, depicting the bishop Henry, on which the first lines of the inscription read ARS AVRO GEMMIISQ(VE) PRIOR. PRIOR OMNIBUS AVTOR, translated to “Art comes before gold and gems, the creator before everything,” in ibid., 22. 80 For instance, rock crystal had a specific symbolic role—as described by Theophilus it was understood to be water that had hardened into ice, and after many years, eventually hardened into stone, see Theophilus, On divers arts, 168; Bynum, Christian Materiality, 44; Bagnoli et al., Treasures of Heaven, 138. 81 Hahn, “Medieval Enamels,” 154. 82 Lasko describes the cross as an altar cross, one of four Ottonian examples in the Essen Treasury. The titulus at the top is ornamented in cloisonné enamel, see Lasko, Ars Sacra, 99.

Abbey of Essen, which Peter Lasko argues is comparable to images of Helena and Constantine with the True Cross, such as can be seen on the Byzantine reliquary of the Stavelot Triptych (Fig.

11).83 The combination of enamel and gems together can be attributed to their equivalent material status in the Middle Ages.84 Enamelling was indeed among the most prestigious techniques in the

Middle Ages.85 Figures such as Egbert of Trier and Abbot Begon III of Conques founded metal workshops in order to decorate their churches in luxurious enamelled objects whose “admirable form” pleased the “eye and spirit.”86 Hahn argues that motivations for the predominance of enamel use by the thirteenth century was likely financial, since the relative value of enamel to money was less than that of gems or gold.87 Rather than invest in raw material, the patron might have been motivated to invest in craftsmanship instead.88 While financial considerations and an interest in artistry were logical incentives for expanded enamel programs, I suggest another possibility: that the enlarged enamel program of the London-Berlin Cross allowed for the object to retain its traditional liturgical function and material symbolism, while also offering the possibility of an iconographic program that was intellectually stimulating so as to foster meditation and introspection.

Liturgical changes of the eleventh and twelfth centuries had a profound impact on the ritual objects used by the church. Described by H. E. J. Cowdrey as “the ecclesiastical revolution of the eleventh century,” medieval Europe saw the spread of Cluniac influence as well as the

83 Ibid., 99-101. 84 Medieval texts that compare gems and glass consistently find them to be equal and they are faceted or set in similar ways, suggesting obvious status value, see Hahn, “Medieval Enamel,” 154. 85 Ibid., 156. 86 Quoted from a contemporary of Egbert: Exiguam materian nostram magnum ac celebre ingenium vestrum nobilitabit, cum adjectione vitri, tum, composotione artificis elegantis;...destinato operi designatas mittimus species...admirabilem formam et quae mentem et oculos pascat frater efficiat frati. From ibid., who cites the quote from J. Havet, ed. Lettres de Gerbert (983-997) (Paris, 1889). 87 Hahn, “Medieval Enamels,” 158. 88 Ibid.

implementation of Gregorian reform, which called for a centralization of canonical law.89 Under the influence Cluny, Richard de Verdun (ca. 970-1046) employed monastic reforms that promoted physical piety and the sensorial dimensions of worship. 90 In tandem with these reforms, more elaborate liturgical ceremonies demanded luxurious objects, vestments, and relics, in order to convey the spiritual glory of Heaven in celebration of the Church on earth. Accordingly, liturgical objects took on a heightened significance, with relics in particular becoming a focal point of church rituals at this time. Thiofrid, abbot of Echternach (d.1110) stressed the importance of relics in the liturgy, proposing that their sensorial qualities not only provided a physical manifestation of their sacredness, but also maintained the ability to stimulate the senses during the service. 91 His observations were part of a discourse concerning the material nature of relics in the twelfth century.92 Thiofrid associated relics with Christological events, arguing that they similarly functioned as instruments of salvation.93 Consequently, he reasoned that sumptuous reliquary displays were necessary liturgical tools, capable of revealing the spirit of their contents through sensorial perception, so that they may demonstrate the nature of Christ in a perceivable way.94

Thus, to perceive the relic during the liturgical rite was to perceive the presence of Christ—to be elevated to the presence of the divine through the senses. Tied to these major liturgical changes, many Mosan artistic developments accommodated the demands of a liturgy in transition.

As with previous crux gemmata, the visual impact of Mosan objects played a key role in

89 It is difficult to pinpoint the extent to which the Mosan regions fell under the influence of specific reformers, but it seems likely that by the twelfth century, mixed-observances of these reforms were employed, see H. E. J. Cowdrey, The Cluniacs and the Gregorian Reform, (Oxford: Clarendon, 1970); Holbert, “Reliquary Triptychs,” 226. 90 Procuring the position of abbot at St. Vanne Richard implemented monastic reform to reflect the prosperity at Cluny he had been inspired by, see Geary, Furta Sacra, 45-63. 91 Eric Palazzo, “Relics, Liturgical Space, and the Theology of the Church,” in Bagnoli et al, Treasures of Heaven, 103. 92 Bagnoli et al, Treasures of Heaven, 137. 93 Ibid. 94 Thiofrid states: “Knowing that man cannot see and touch rotten flesh without being nauseated, he hid his body and his blood in the bread and wine, to which men are accustomed. Similarly he has persuaded the sons of the Church to conceal and shelter the relics of the saint’s happy flesh in gold and in the most precious of natural materials so that they will not be horrified by looking at a cruel and bloody thing,” see ibid.

the twelfth-century liturgy. Crux gemmata were used ceremonially, some such as that of Abbess

Theophanu still retain their base shape, indicating that they were used as altar crosses. Others, such as the Cross of Otto and Mathilde, were likely used as processional crosses, as can be inferred from the depiction of the donation of the object by its patrons, where it is erected upon on a tall, slim stick. Many of these also functioned as reliquaries, such as the Heinrich Cross (Fig.

12). While it is difficult to assess to what extent these roles converged, the Heinrich Cross exemplifies the multi-functional potential of crux gemmata. Allegedly, Emperor Heinrich II

(r.1014-24) presented the cross to Bishop Adalbero II (r.999-1025) for the consecration of Basel

Cathedral on October 11, 1019.95 Containing the relics of the True Cross and Holy Blood, it was used during several liturgical rites at Basel Cathedral, where it was carried in procession numerous times a year, along with Heinrich’s plenarium. One such instance was the Palm Sunday ritual. The Palm Sunday rite featured a procession to the Cathedral where the Cross and plenarium were laid out on a silk cushion atop a stone column, placed in front of the bishop’s throne.96

Following the celebrant’s example, the clergy and laity in turn prostrated themselves before the reliquary, responding to the signing chorus with “O cross hail thee, our only hope.”97 Apart from this religious ceremony, the Cross of Heinrich II was also used for political ceremonies, such as the swearing in of elected municipal councillors and the welcoming of nobility visiting the church, where it was often mounted on a processional staff for such events. It was also processed during the Good Friday liturgical rite. All this is to say that the Heinrich Cross was used not only for several distinct rituals but, because of the demands of these performances, was used in multivalent ways: it was processed before crowds, erected upon a platform, and venerated in proximity as a

95 This dating is speculative since it was not until between 1437-39 that the cross’s association with Heinrich II is referenced in the Breviary of Bishop Friedrich ze Rhin of Basel, see Timothy Husband and Julien Chapuis, The Treasury of Basel Cathedral, (New York: Yale University Press, 2001), 47. It should be noted that the cross was extensively altered in the later Middle Ages and much of what survives is not original. 96 Ibid., 14. 97 Ibid.

reliquary.

Reliquary crosses were often large and decorative and as such, they were also used for display on an altar or during liturgical processions.98 Such an instance is recorded in Mabillion’s

Ordo XI, auctore Benedicto, compiled in Rome around 1140, which describes a procession where the regional sub-deacon removed the stationary reliquary cross from the altar, so that the clergy could kiss it.99 Following this act of veneration, the cross was processed by the pontiff, demonstrating that the reliquary cross needed to be both portable and stationary.100 Beginning in the ninth century, reliquary crosses were permitted for use upon the altar, but this custom only became widely practised in the eleventh century, when relics were increasingly integrated into liturgical ceremonies.101As such, prior to the twelfth century many stationary reliquary crosses stood beside the altar, rather than on top of it, while by the later Middle Ages the reliquary cross became a more permanent feature of the altar.102 Indeed, reliquaries of the Cross were frequently treated as ornaments of the church to be carried during procession and ceremoniously placed on the high altar, whose role as an object took on multiple functions to serve the multiple needs of the liturgy.103

An object that functioned as a reliquary as well as a processional and altar cross, the

London-Berlin Cross would have behaved in a manner that satisfied these various liturgical demands. Like its predecessor, the crux gemmata, the London-Berlin Cross was not always static but also processional. Processional crosses were mobilized during the liturgy, often carried at the forefront of the procession by a cross bearer, followed by a candle-bearer, sub-deacon, deacon,

98 Hourihane, Processional Cross, 7. 99 Pocknee, Cross and Crucifix, 72. 100 Ibid. 101 It was Pope Leo IV that granted approval for the use of relics on top of the altar, see Holbert, “Reliquary Triptychs,” 215. 102 Ibid.; Hourihane, Processional Cross, 7. 103 Holbert, “Reliquary Triptychs,” 215.

celebrant, choir, clergy, and bishop if present, held up high atop a long pole over their heads.104

While some liturgical rites did invite proximity to the cross, during the act of procession, with the exception of a few clerical figures, the rest of the clergy and laity would have observed the cross from a relative distance. Even though the London-Berlin Cross is decorated with less gems than most crux gemmata, it nonetheless retained much of the visible qualities of its precedent while it was processed, namely through the employment of reflective, colourful enamel designs. However, its effect was slightly different—it was less about the accumulation of gems and more about the display of saturated brightness. The London-Berlin Cross employed an especially vibrant palette, a consequence of the merging of two or more glasses to create colour variations.105 As the viewer was distanced from the object, its intricate enamel patterns and imagery would become abstracted into colour and shape, as candlelight in the dark church interior reflected and danced across its colourful surface. The missing core of the London-Berlin Cross prevents a definitive understanding of its liturgical function, but its form—that it is in the shape of the cross—suggests its suitability and vibrancy as a processional object. Measuring 37.4 by 25.6 centimeters (London- side), the London-Berlin Cross is slightly smaller than most surviving processional crosses. This measurement, however, pertains only to the plaque and not the object itself, which may have been larger, possibly even featuring registers at the end of the cross arms, typical of both altar and processional crosses. In addition, enamelled crosses tended to be smaller than most metalwork examples, likely because they often served a dual role as reliquary.106

The London-Berlin Cross combined gems and coloured enamel to convey the sacrality of

104 Manuscript illuminations attest to this practice. “Cross bearer” refers to any person who carries the cross, whether acolyte or deacon, as Hourihane notes, this term would refer to the fact that the figure was imitating Christ, never able lower their body or bend down in genuflection. As a general rule, if the cross bore a representation of Christ, it would face the direction of the movement, but in some cases, such as papal processions, Christ would face the procession behind, see Hourihane, Processional Cross, 14. 105 Stratford, Medieval Enamels, 70. 106 Pocknee noted this while discussing Limoges crosses, but the same would hold true when considering those of the Mosan region, see Hourihane, Processional Cross, 7.

its contents during a procession, but its enamel plaques also offered sophisticated iconographies directed more towards a contemplative and proximate viewership, befitting use upon an altar.

Prior to the twelfth century, there appears to be no conclusive evidence for the use of altar crosses in the West. By the twelfth century, however, Pope Innocent III’s 1198 De Mysterio Altaris stipulates that the altar should feature a cross set centrally between two candlesticks with lit tapers.107 Gazing was an important aspect of liturgical piety, both in communal worship and during solitary prayer. Eric Palazzo suggests that liturgical objects worked as “vehicles of vision,” instrumental in fostering the meditative practices necessary to have visionary experiences.108

Medieval accounts of sacred visions frequently feature crosses. A twelfth-century chronicle of St.

Godric’s visions (d.1170) recalls an apparition he experienced after having chanted the psalms before a crucifix. St. Godric reports having seen the Christ featured on the Crucifix bend and bow in a liturgical gesture. Following this, he recollects that a child emerged from Christ’s mouth and proceeded towards a wooden image of the Virgin, who then continued to embrace the child for a few hours until he then returned back to the mouth of Christ.109 Another account from Adhemar, a monk who lived at the Monastery of St. Martial in Limoges, tells of him awakening in the night to look outside and see what appeared to be a cross in the sky with an image of the Lord hanging from it and weeping into a river.110 These examples of visionary experiences did not necessarily occur as a result of liturgical rituals, but rather were inspired by ritual gazing and devotion, enabled by the image of the cross and Christ. Sacramental objects were central to mediating the gaze, as they made use of the signs available to the senses as a method of merging liturgical

107 Pocknee, Cross and Crucifix, 72. 108 Eric Palazzo, “Visions and Liturgical Experience in the Early Middle Ages,” in Hourihane, Looking Beyond, 18- 20. 109 Ibid., 20. 110 Ibid., 21.

practices with meditative rituals.111 While the London-Berlin Cross is not a crucifix—in fact, no image of Christ appears anywhere on the Cross—it evoked the presence of Christ by asserting the sign of the cross, reinforced by its iconographic program. Thus, apart from its processional role, the London-Berlin Cross also offers an intellectual iconographic program suited for meditative devotion and introspective worship.

Similar iconographies to that of the London-Berlin Cross also appear on other more stationary liturgical objects, such as the St. Omer Cross-Foot (1147-52) (Fig. 13).112 Measuring

31.5 centimeters in height, the St. Omer piece is almost as tall as the London-Berlin Cross and was originally used as the base for a much larger cross.113 The St. Omer Cross-Foot is decorated with eight enamel decorations depicting typological events. Its hemispheric base depicts Moses in the desert hitting the rock, the image of the Brazen Serpent, Jacob blessing the sons of Joseph, and the sign of the Tau.114 The column features Caleb and Joshua bringing grapes from Canaan, Elijah and the Widow, Aaron making the symbol of Tau, and Isaac with the wood of sacrifice.115 Apart from including typological scenes similar to those on the London-Berlin Cross that prefigure the

Crucifixion, the St. Omer Cross-Foot also depicts the Four Evangelists sculpted onto its base, three of which hold open books with inscriptions relating to the Passion.116 The iconography of the St. Omer Cross-Foot gestures towards its objecthood in a sophisticated way, one that fostered meditation, and reflection, all geared towards the sort of exegesis associated with elevated and visionary religious experiences.

111 Ibid., 22-27. 112 While some scholars have tried to place the St. Omer Cross Foot within the Stavelot workshop group, now most accept that a different Mosan workshop was responsible for its creation, see Laurent, “La croix de Suger,” 84; Lasko, Ars Sacra, 191-92; J. Foucart, “Meuse vers 1180: Pied de Croix,” in Trésors des églises de l’arrondissement de Saint- Omer: Exposition (Saint-Omer, Musée de l’Hôtel Sandelin: 1992), 33-34; ; Stratford, Medieval Enamels, 75. 113 Foucart, “Meuse vers 1180,” 31. 114 Foucart, ibid., 33; Collon-Gevaert, Métal en Belgique, 163. 115 Foucart, ibid.; Collon-Gevaert, ibid. 116 See Foucart, ibid., 32.

The meditative and introspective potential of Mosan iconography is further elucidated by the Lobbes Phylactery, which is often related to the London-Berlin Cross and the Stavelot

Triptych.117 The Lobbes phylactery (1160), generally associated with the Benedictine abbey of

Saint-Pierre de Lobbes in Belgium, is presumed to have once held a relic, perhaps that of the True

Cross (Fig. 14).118 On its facade are four scenes of Helena and the Finding of the True Cross: the

Interrogation, the Threatening by Fire, the Invention of the Cross, and the Miracle of the Cross, surrounding a central cavity where the relic was likely contained.119 Because of the intellectually and theologically sophisticated nature of the iconographic programs found on Mosan phylacteries,

Nino Zchomelidse argues that they must have accommodated some sort of proximate viewership.120 Possibly used as reliquaries, the phylactery would have also been required to serve the traditions of relic veneration that often mandated a certain amount of performativity.121

Although textual evidence is far from conclusive, some have suggested that phylacteries may have been hung over an altar, stood atop a stand, or hung around one’s neck.122 Comparable in many respects to the London-Berlin Cross, perhaps one can infer that phylacteries too served both processional use and proximate veneration. Collectively these works suggest that Mosan enamel was effective both in its material sumptuousness and decoration, as well as the didactic purposes of its iconography. Pinpointing a singular ecclesiastical function of the object neglects the potential of its versatility within diverse liturgical rituals.

117 For the Stavelot group, see Stratford, Medieval Enamels, 74; Zchomelidse, “Representing the Divine,” 122-23. 118 Since the tenth century, the Abbey of Saint-Pierre had a Chapel of the Cross and thus likely had a relic, see Boehm and Holcomb, Jerusalem 1000-1400, cat. 25a, 57-58. 119 For more on the iconography see Baert, Heritage of Holy Wood, 98-102; Holbert, “Reliquary Triptychs,” 52. 120 Zchomelidse considers two phylacteries, the Hermitage phylactery, and a phylactery from the Benedictine abbey of Waulsort, ca. 1160, in Zchomelidse, “Representing the Divine,” 123-25. 121 Ibid., 123-27. 122 Ibid.

The Moment of Unveiling: The London-Berlin Cross and Good Friday Ritual

The overall iconography of the London-Berlin Cross parallels many Mosan counterparts that functioned as True Cross reliquaries, which, as scholars have noted, suggests this as its plausible function. Nonetheless, these similar iconographic motifs could simply have belonged to general types, produced almost en masse.123 Yet one scene on the London-Berlin Cross is unique among the extant Mosan works: the image of Helena worshipping at the True Cross, which appears in the topmost portion of the Berlin plaque. Underscoring the self-referential nature of the iconographic program, this image of Helena provides a clue to a specific liturgical context for the

London-Berlin Cross. The scene depicts Helena kneeling before the cross, which stands on an intricately decorated altar, with two drawn curtains behind her (Fig. 15). Curtains also appear in the central scene of the London-side of the cross where Jacob blesses the sons of Joseph (Fig. 16).

While depictions of Jacob Blessing the Sons of Joseph do appear on other Mosan objects, the introduction of curtains to this scene is unique to the London-Berlin Cross. The formal prominence of curtains on both sides of the Cross is significant. Curtains, and the act of veiling in particular, related to the period of Lent when the ornaments of the church were covered to indicate a period of mourning.124 During the liturgical celebration on Good Friday, the relic of the True

Cross was dramatically unveiled before a gathered crowd to signal the end of this period of lamenting, as the worshippers transitioned from mourning to the celebration of the triumph of

Christ during Easter. 125 The relationship of the London-Berlin Cross to the Good Friday ritual demonstrates how an object’s need for multivalency was essential to its performance within a liturgical context.

123 Hahn explores possibilities of the mass production of Limoges enamels, particularly those depicting images of Thomas Becket, in Hahn, “Medieval Enamels,” 159. 124 Holbert, “Reliquary Triptychs,” 217. 125 Ibid.

The True Cross was featured in the Good Friday liturgical rite as early as a generation or so after its reported discovery, when early on, the ceremony functioned to offer participants the opportunity to engage closely with the relic, differing from regular interactions with it.126 An account of the pilgrim Egeria describes the veneration of the True Cross during her visit to the

Holy Land on the morning of Good Friday in 384.127 The Good Friday ritual began with Bishop

Cyril of Jerusalem escorting a crowd from the gates of Gethsemane to Jerusalem, and then through the city and onto Golgotha. At Golgotha, Cyril took his seat before a table covered by a cloth and surmounted with a gold and silver box containing the Wood of the Cross.128 One by one, people approached the table where they would “touch the Holy Wood first with their forehead and then with their eyes, and then kiss it, but no one puts a hand to touch it.”129 So while proximity was certainly accommodated, it was also regulated. The ritual traditions from Jerusalem were inherited in Constantinople, influencing the observances performed during the last three days of the Holy Week.130 An account recorded by Abbot Adamanus of Iona in 682 of the Gallic Bishop

Arculf’s travels to Constantinople describes the rituals surrounding the True Cross at Hagia

Sophia. A wooden box containing three relics of the True Cross was removed from its usual location in the chest of the north repository of Hagia Sophia and it was placed upon the golden

126 This is an assumption based on the text by Egeria, which according the Krueger’s translations reads: “A table is placed before [the bishop] with a cloth on it, the deacons stand round, and there is brought to him a gold and silver box containing the Wood of the Cross. It is opened, and the Wood of the Cross and the Title [bearing the inscription “Jesus Christ, King of the Jews”] are taken out and placed on the table. As long as the holy Wood is on the table, the bishop sits with his hands resting on either end of it and holds it down, and the deacons round him keep watch over it. They guard it like this because what happens now is that all the people, catechumens as well as faithful, come up one by one to the table...they stoop down, touch the holy Wood first with their forehead and then with their eyes, and then kiss it, but no one puts out a hand to touch it.” The idea that it had to be guarded and the particular emphasis might suggest that people were provided with an unique opportunity to get close to the object, also the fact that it is “taken out” supports this reasoning, see Derek Krueger, “The Religion of Relics in Late Antiquity and Byzantium,” in Bagnoli et al, Treasures of Heaven, 12. 127 Ibid. 128 Holbert, “Reliquary Triptychs,” 347. 129 Ibid; Pocknee, Cross and Crucifix, 35; Baert Heritage of Holy Wood, 2. 130 Holbert, “Reliquaries of the True Cross,” 348.

altar for the last three days of the Passion Week.131 On the Thursday, the day of the Last Supper, the largest and most important relic of the Holy Wood was removed and kissed by the Emperor and his soldiers. The following day, Good Friday, women from the court and the city were then invited to kiss the relic. Afterwards, on Easter Sunday, the bishop and clergy also kissed the relic before it was returned to its chest.132 Bringing the relic out of the repository on Easter weekend invited the observer to worship the Holy Wood in manner distinct from its regular mode of veneration in the chest of the north repository. The distinctiveness of the True Cross relic veneration during Easter celebrations at Hagia Sophia is verified in accounts describing its reverence during other feasts of the seventh century. In particular, an account recorded in the

Chronicon Paschale indicates that during the Feast of the Exaltation of the Cross, the True Cross reliquary was exposed on the altar with burning candles the evening before the festivities. On the next day, it was carried in procession and elevated in all four directions while the Kyrie elesion was sung one hundred times.133 In the early Middle Ages, multiple modes of display were used while venerating relics of the True Cross, often differentiating between feast days and holiday celebrations, which resulted in viewers who worshipped the object in various ways throughout the liturgical year.

In the West, Rome was directly influenced by the Good Friday ceremonies practised in

Jerusalem and Constantinople. An eighth-century account by a Frankish monk of Einsiedeln describes the Papal Good Friday service in which a barefooted crowd was led by the Pope from the Lateran to the Church of the Holy Cross of Jerusalem, accompanied by the singing of Psalm

119—Beati immaculati.134 A deacon followed the Pope carrying the reliquary cross, described as

131 Ibid. 132 Ibid. 133 Holbert, “Reliquary Triptychs,” 207; Krueger, Treasures of Heaven, 12; Baert, Heritage of Holy Wood, 5. 134 Holbert, ibid., 208.

a golden object set with gems containing a smaller cross covering the relic, which was decorated further with gold and gems and included a cavity filled with sweet-smelling balsam.135 Upon arriving to the church, the reliquary was placed on the altar by the deacon and opened by the

Pope.136 After the relic was uncovered, the Pope then prostrated himself before the altar and kissed the relic, after which the bishops, priests, and deacons followed suit. The relic was then carried out of the chancel so that the laity could kiss it, as the sub-deacon read passages from both the Old and New Testaments.137 The event was succeeded by a series of prayers and a procession, led by the Pope, back to the Lateran.138

These traditions came to inform the liturgical practices adopted in the north. By at least the thirteenth century, the Reliquary Cross of Heinrich II was used in the Good Friday ritual at Basel

Cathedral.139 During this service, the Heinrich Cross was wrapped in a golden cloth and placed upon a silk cushion on the steps of the choir. Consistent with the Roman rite, the celebrant was barefoot, but in a departure from the Papal tradition, the cleric took the Reliquary Cross upright and raised it into the air three times, perhaps alluding to Christ’s resurrection on the third day.140

During this gesture, as the Cross was raised, it was unveiled as the celebrant exclaimed, “this is the wood of the Cross.”141 After this, the adoration of the relic was initiated when the bishop kneeled and kissed the cross. The clergy then followed and once they had returned to their seats the municipal council entered the choir to repeat these actions.142 After the ceremony had ended, the Cross and Eucharist were placed in the Holy Sepulchre, located in the choir.143 Much like the

135 Ibid. 136 Ibid, 209. 137 Ibid, 208 138 Ibid. 139Husband, Basel Cathedral, 16. 140 Ibid. 141 Ibid. 142 Ibid. 143 Ibid.

Roman rite, the Good Friday ritual at Basel Cathedral was distinct from the reliquary’s regular mode of worship because it invited a proximate veneration of the relic on the part of the laity and clergy. As a central object to life and Christian worship at Basel Cathedral, the Heinrich II Cross featured during the Holy Week celebrations and also more regularly during Mass as well as political ceremonies—displayed differently according to its processional need, sometimes laid out upon a silk cushion, and in other instances erected upon a staff. In other words, the Heinrich II

Cross’s presence in the community was significant and fundamentally multivalent.144

During these Good Friday celebrations, the unveiling of the object after the period of Lent was a particularly dramatic moment of revelation. In the case of Basel, the congregation was invited to once again marvel at one of their most esteemed objects, which had otherwise been cloaked for weeks. The gesture signified to the congregation that not only was Christ present through the presence of His relics, but that they were further witnessing a Christ triumphant manifested through the unveiling the Cross, exuding these sentiments of glorification through its material splendour. During the Good Friday feast, the transition between mourning and celebration was signified through evoking Christ’s triumph, articulated most immediately through the gold, gems, and ample decoration that adorned the unveiled reliquary.145 As Zchomelidse has argued, when chains of symbolic actions are employed during the liturgy, they are done so as

“visual signs” that guide the liturgical experience.146 The selection of the True Cross reliquary for signalling this moment of transition was appropriate for several reasons, most notably because of the indication of Christ’s presence by virtue of His relics, further emphasized through the singing

144 Carle Pfaff, Kaiser Heinrich II. Sein Nachleben und sein Kult im mittelalterlichen Basel (Basel: Stuttgart, 1963), 40. 145 Ibid. 146 Nino Zchomeldise, “Descending Word and Resurrecting Christ: Moving Images in Illuminated Liturgical Scrolls of Southern Italy,” in Meaning and Motion: The Semantics of Movement in Medieval Art, Nino Zchomelidse and Giovanni Freni, eds. (Princeton: Department of Art and Archaeology with Princeton University Press), 3.

of the antiphon Ecce lignum crucis and the prostration of the clergy before the object.147 Before these associations were even fully realized, the mere material revelation of the True Cross reliquary was the participants’ most immediate sensorial impression. Since Christological relics were the most important items of the church, they were also most frequently its most opulent objects. After weeks of a solemn atmosphere in the church space, where objects were veiled and curtained-off from viewing, the choice to uncover the church’s most sumptuous object created a dramatic impact that established Christ’s triumph. The role of the True Cross reliquary during the

Good Friday celebration served as a sort of signpost indicating a temporal transition meant to prompt a shift in attitude or emotion.

Apart from the material significance of the object, the London-Berlin Cross’s iconography also bore relevance to the connotations of the Good Friday ritual. The idea of discovery constitutes the essential theme of the narrative on the Berlin-side of the Cross, which corresponds to the sense of revelation conveyed during the unveiling of the cross in the liturgy. The scene depicting Helena worshipping at the True Cross resonates with what we know about contemporary worship practices.148 In this scene, the object of Helena’s veneration appears to be an altar cross, but, significantly, it is located to the side of the altar. The situating of the cross next to the altar rather than upon it directly may reference the older Roman tradition of placing a cross beside the altar after its procession.149 By the twelfth century, the more common practice was to remove the cross from its shaft in order to process it though the audience and return it to the top of an altar. The scene of Helena worshipping at the cross may thus allude to liturgical practices in

147 Holbert, “Reliquary Triptychs,” 223. 148 It is almost certain that crosses, candles, and reliquaries were all placed on top of the altar following the procession and hymn singing. The reliquary placed upon the altar was only permissible after the ninth century when Leo IV allowed it, but this did not become widely practised until the eleventh century, see Holbert, “Reliquary Triptychs,” 215. 149 Pocknee, Crosses and Crucifixes, 72.

transition during the twelfth century.150 The self-referential nature of the image suggests a certain awareness of the multifunctional nature of the cross, which was worshipped in proximity on the altar and also at a distance during its procession.

The setting of the depiction of Helena worshiping the cross is also significant: the scene is framed by curtains sectioning off the altar space. The veils in the liturgy maintained symbolic parallels with the tabernacle and temple, described in both Testaments.151 The typological significance of veiling during Lent is highlighted by Honorius Augustodunensis, who claimed that the altar and ornaments of the church were veiled just as the Ark was from the sight of mortal viewers.152 The hanging of the curtain between the choir and nave of the church during Lent reflected the veil that once separated the Ark from the Tabernacle, as described in Exodus 26: 2.

During the Lenten period, according to the eleventh-century Customary of Hirsau by Abbot

Williams, no one but the priest and his assistant were permitted to pass through the veil or curtain.153 Such a regulation was consistent with God’s ordinance that only Moses, Aaron, and his sons, were allowed to enter through the curtain, which may also indicate why Helena, a particularly holy figure, worships at the cross alone.154 As noted above, curtains also appear in the central panel of the London-side of the Cross where Jacob blesses the sons of Joseph, marking a notable departure from traditional representations of this scene.155 The prominence of veils here too can be seen to bear the typological connotations of the Good Friday rite and twelfth-century theological discourse.

150 Ibid. 151 A key text is Exodus 26, which describes Moses constructing the tabernacle to house the Ark of the Covenant. The tabernacle is also described in 2 Chronicles 3. 152 Holbert, “Reliquary Triptychs,” 237. 153 Ibid., 237. 154 Ibid. 155 Instead of the curtain, in Mosan art pillows are typically depicted behind the bedridden Jacob. The London-Berlin Cross rather features ambiguous round shapes that are absorbed into the mass of the curtains behind them, see Chapman, “Jacob Blessing the Sons,” 42.

Rupert of Deutz (d. 1129), an influential theologian in the diocese of Liège, associated the unveiling of the relic of the True Cross during the Good Friday rite with the perceived blindness of the Jews.156 According to Deutz:

The veil, which up until now is also to cover the cross, and that is to be removed with the words: Ecce lignum crucis, this veil signifies the one under which the Lord is hidden from the Jews, whose hearts are covered, and yet who is to be revealed to us; which veil, as the Apostle says, is to be removed in Christ.157

The passage refers to the veil covering the heart of the Jews in 2 Corinthians 3:14-16, where Paul the Apostle indicates that the veil signified the ignorance of the Jews in the Old Testament, who, prior to the coming of Christ, could not experience spiritual truths.158 During the ritual this reaffirmed the exclusive ability of the Christian worshippers to “see” spiritual truth, when the

Cross was literally revealed from behind its cover. Paul the Apostle references Jacob as one of the veiled Old Testament types in Romans 9:12, where he cites the phrase “The older will serve the younger.”159 While this passage refers to the Genesis narrative of Jacob and Esau, thematically there are many parallels between the cessions of birthright to the younger son that the image of

Jacob Blessing the Sons of Joseph on the London-Berlin Cross maintains. 160 The scene of Joseph

Blessing the Sons may be interpreted typologically in two principal ways. The first draws on

Berengosus of Trier, Abbot of St Maximus, who writes in his De mysterio ligni Domini from 1125

156 Deutz was particularly influential in the Germanic regions north of the Alps, and was especially prominent in Cologne, see John H. Van Engen, Rupert of Deutz (Berkley: University of California Press, 1983), 4. 157 Holbert, “Reliquary Triptychs,” 349. 158 Ibid. 159 In this period Paul is most often cited as foundational for a break between the Jewish past and Christian present. This is most explicitly articulated in the letter to Romans where he evokes the story of Jacob and Esau, see Nina Rowe, The Jew, the Cathedral, and the Medieval City: Synagoga and Ecclesia in the Thirteenth Century (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 16-18. 160 Joseph brought his two sons, Manasseh and Ephraim, to his father, the ill and half-blind Jacob, so that he may bless them. As Jacob placed his right hand on the head of the younger son, Ephriham. Joseph attempted to correct him, as tradition dictated that the eldest receive the patriarchal blessing, to which Jacob responded that this gesture was intentional—that Ephriham was to surpass his older brother in greatness. However, in the image depicted on the London-Berlin Cross, the hands of Joseph are wrongly placed—his left hand is on Ephriham and his right on Manasseh. The error was possibly one made by workshop assistants, or the artist relying on a manuscript model that perhaps lacked inscriptions, see, Stratford, Medieval Enamels, 75; Chapman, “Jacob Blessing the Sons,” 43.

that the gesture Jacob makes in the act of blessing prefigures the cross formally.161 The emphasis on the form or shape of the cross parallels the ways in which other typologies on the London-

Berlin Cross function, such as that of the Widow of Zarephath. The second typological interpretation was the substitution of the Old Law for the New—or the replacement of Judaism with Christianity.162 This tradition is the older of the two associations and it coincides with early theological discourse concerning how the younger religion came to surpass the elder.163 In this sense, the introduction of the curtain to this specific scene and its suggestion of the moment of unveiling bears further significance: it evokes the idea of not only the triumph of Christ over sin, but also the ascension of Christianity over Judaism. This point merits elaboration as the imagery of liturgical objects more broadly served as models for the liturgy, possibly models that reflected or at times helped to direct the focus of liturgical symbolism.164

The narrative depicted on the Berlin-side of the Cross is taken from the fifth-century account of the Judas Cyriacus legend, an iconographic motif that was developed in the twelfth century by Mosan artists.165 According to this legend, the True Cross’s discovery by the Christian

Empress Helena was facilitated by Judas Cyriacus, a Jewish man, who, after he was tortured, revealed the location of the Cavalry where Helena then uncovered the relics of the Holy Wood.166

Central to this narrative is Judas’ incredulity that is rectified once he witnesses the performance of the Cross in its resurrection of a dead boy. Pointedly, Judas, the formerly blind Jew “sees” the miracle of the True Cross and by virtue of his “seeing” Christ he converts before the True Cross mounted in gold and precious gems. This idea of “seeing” Christ in the moment of unveiling was

161 Chapman, “Jacob Blessing the Sons,” 36; Stratford, Medieval Enamels, 71; Baert, Heritage of Holy Wood, 108. 162 Chapman, “Jacob Blessing the Sons,” 36; Kidd, Behind the Image, 137-41. 163 Ibid. 164 Eric Palazzo, “Art, Liturgy, and the Five Senses in the Early Middle Ages,” Viator 41, no. 1 (2010): 28. 165 The Legend of the Finding of the Cross did appeared in Western iconography as early as the eighth century, but not frequently prior to the twelfth century. For more on the development of the legend, see Baert, Heritage of Holy Wood, 44-76. 166 For a full description of the Judas Cyriacus narrative see ibid.

an important component of the Good Friday rite, and one that Rupert of Deutz emphasizes against the blindness of the Jews. The iconography of the London-Berlin Cross paralleled that of the ceremony—in a moment of spiritual revelation the clergy “saw” the True Cross much in the way

Judas had overcome his “blindness.”

The connections between liturgical symbolism and iconographic representation continue with the typological scenes on the London-side of the Cross. For instance, the scene of the

Sacrifice of the Passover Lamb, which generally refers to the Jewish Exodus from Egypt, is reinterpreted during the moment of unveiling through the lens of Christian triumph (Fig. 17).

Rather than to exemplify the flight of the Israelites, in the context of the Christian ritual the image of the slaughtered lamb symbolizes the sacrifice of Christ and His victory over sin—sentiments commemorated during Holy Week.167 Contextually, this was further emphasized when one considers that Jewish people were celebrating Passover at the time of Easter, a period in which they were banned from going out in public during the Christian festivities.168 Typologies were prevalent in the medieval liturgy and the interpretation of the Old Testament scenes on the

London-Berlin Cross was likely influenced by the sentiments of Christian triumph and ascendency expressed by the Cross’s use in the Good Friday liturgy.169 So too could the understanding of the Judas Cyriacus Legend. The gesture of the unveiling activated specific sentiments and enhanced the material significance of the object and its role within the ceremony as triumphal. While these associations could have been made outside of the ritual, the London-

Berlin Cross acted as a catalyst for them, implicated in ceremonial tradition and sensory drama.

167 Rowe, Synagoga and Ecclesia, 28. 168 Canon 68 of the Fourth Lateran Council codified the ban of Jews in public during the last days of Holy Week in 1215. It specifically addressed ornamental garb, perhaps reminding the Christians in mourning of the ostentatiousness of the Pharisees in Christ’s time, see “Twelfth Ecumenical Council: Lateran IV, 1215,” in Disciplinary Decrees of the General Council: Text, Translation and Commentary, ed. by H. J Schroeder (St. Louis: B. Herder, 1937); ibid. 169 An example of typology’s influence can be found in Hugh of St Victor’s Die Hierarchia coelestis, 1141, which is permeated with typological symbolism. This particular text exercised a great influence on the liturgy and on prominent figures such as Abbot Suger, see Baert, Heritage of Holy Wood, 110.

Conclusion

The Good Friday rite poses a plausible liturgical context for the London-Berlin Cross and supports the idea that an object’s role within the medieval ritual was manifold. During the Good

Friday ceremony, the Cross was processed, unveiled, venerated in proximity, and displayed from afar. Despite examining this one liturgical rite, I do not mean to isolate it as the sole context for the London-Berlin Cross. Indeed, if the London-Berlin Cross was a True Cross reliquary it was also used during the feasts of the Finding and Exaltation of the Cross, celebrated on May 3rd and

September 14th, respectively. Since the ninth century, these two ceremonies were complementary and the True Cross was celebrated in a similar manner during both. 170 However, the celebration of the Holy Wood during these rites was distinct from its veneration on Good Friday, as the reliquary was instead left out on an altar between two lit candles for worship. Thus, even beyond the need for a polyvalent object during the Good Friday rite was the demand for further modes of devotion during the rest of the liturgical year. For example, in Liège, where True Cross reliquaries were also used during the processions of other saint’s relics on their feasts days to add an extra- sanctified dimension to the procession.171 Moreover, at Konstanz Cathedral, where the London-

Berlin Cross was first attested, Bernold of Konstanz’s late-eleventh century Mircologus indicates that a variety of crosses were brought out over the oblation in accordance with Roman customs, which called for the five signs of the cross to touch the chalice during Mass.172

Pinpointing a singular function of the London-Berlin Cross is difficult because it likely had several. Its potential was polyvalent and necessarily so, as the twelfth-century liturgy

170 There were liturgical and theological connections between the Finding and Exaltation. By the Carolingian times the feasts were celebrated on two separate days, but prayers and readings were interchangeable between the two. For more on the history of these traditions see Baert, Heritage of Holy Wood, 6. 171 The relic of the True Cross accompanied the procession of the Shrine of Saint Lambert in Liège, in 1141. The account recalls processing to the Meuse River carrying a cross, candles, and Saint Lambert’s shrine, preceded by “a piece of the life-giving Wood of the Cross” likely contained in a reliquary, see Holbert, “Reliquary Triptychs,” 212. 172 Roger E. Reynolds, Law and Liturgy in the Latin Church: 5th-12th Centuries (Aldershot, Hampshire, Brookfield: Variorum, 1994), 114.

demanded that an object did many things for it. The tendency for scholars of Mosan art to treat the

London-Berlin Cross as a representative example of iconographic developments or workshop practice was largely a consequence of the Cross not conforming to traditional methods of art historical analysis. Placing the object within its potential liturgical context reveals what iconography alone cannot—that the function of the London-Berlin Cross was necessarily versatile. Fundamental to the liturgy was the role of a singular object that could accommodate multiple modes of viewing, while simultaneously communicating equivalent ideologies. Enamel as a material was particularly conducive to this multivalent liturgical environment. The enamelled cross functioned as a device that was captivating in its immediacy, through the brilliance of the object displayed in the liturgy, but also maintained the ability to serve heuristic modes of contemplation, through its sophisticated imagery. True Cross reliquaries were fundamental to the religious communities they served, and their centrality to Christian worship in the twelfth century demanded an object that could be used in a variety of powerful and dynamic ways.

Figures:

Fig. 1: London-Berlin Cross, (London-side), 1160-70, Copper alloy (gilded), enamel (champlevé and cloisonné), rock crystal on silver backing, lapis lazuli, garnet, amethyst, rock crystal, 37.4 cm x 25.6 cm, The British Museum, London.

Fig. 2: London-Berlin Cross, (Berlin-side), 1160-70, Copper alloy (gilded), enamel (champlevé and cloisonné), rock crystal on silver backing, lapis lazuli, garnet, amethyst, rock crystal, 37.5 cm x 26 cm, Kunstgewerbemuseum, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin.

Fig. 3: London-Berlin Cross, (London-side featuring its 16th century repurposing), 1160-70, Copper alloy (gilded), enamel (champlevé and cloisonné), rock crystal on silver backing, lapis lazuli, garnet, amethyst, rock crystal, 37.4 cm x 25.6 cm, The British Museum, London.

Fig. 4: Stavelot Triptych, ca. 1156-58, Gilded copper with champlevé and cloisonné enamel, silver, émail brun, and semiprecious stones, 48.4 cm x 66 cm x 8cm, Morgan Library and Museum, New York.

Fig. 5: Stavelot Triptych, (Byzantine triptych details), ca. 1156-58, Gilded copper with champlevé and cloisonné enamel, silver, émail brun, and semiprecious stones, 48.4 cm x 66 cm x 8cm, Morgan Library and Museum, New York.

Fig. 6: North Lunette, detail of angels with triumphal cross, 547, mosaic, San Vitale, Ravenna.

Fig. 7: Apse Mosaic, detail of triumphal cross, fifth century, Santa Pudenziana, Rome.

Fig. 8: Lothar Cross of Otto III, ca. 985-91, Aachen, Palace Chapel Treasury.

Fig. 9: Altar Cross of Abbess Theophanu, ca. 1024-39, Borghorst, St. Nicomedes.

Fig. 10: Cross of Otto I, Duke of Bavaria and Swabia, and Mathilde, Abbess of Essen Abbey, (front), 973-82, Essen Minster Treasury.

Fig. 11: Cross of Otto I, Duke of Bavaria and Swabia, and Mathilde, Abbess of Essen Abbey, (Donation Plaque detail), 973-82, Essen Minster Treasury.

Fig. 12: Heinrich Cross, 1000-50 with later additions, gold filigree, silver pearls, glass cabochons, chalcedony cameo, rock crystal, amethyst, garnet, gilded silver and copper, wood oak core with iron armatures, 51.2 cm x 46.2 cm, Kunstgewerbemuseum, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin

Fig. 13: St. Omer Cross-Foot, ca. 1150-60, from the Abbey of Saint-Bertin, Musée de l’hôtel Sandelin.

Fig. 14: Lobbes Phylactery, ca. 1160, gilded copper, émail brun, champlevé enamel, gems, rock crystal, wood, 22.5 cm x 22cm x 3cm, Private Collection, United Kingdom.

Fig. 15: London-Berlin Cross, (Helena worshipping at the True Cross, detail), 1160-70, Copper alloy (gilded), enamel (champlevé and cloisonné), rock crystal on silver backing, lapis lazuli, garnet, amethyst, rock crystal, 37.5 cm x 26 cm, Kunstgewerbemuseum, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin.

Fig. 16: London-Berlin Cross, (Jacob Blessing the Sons of Joseph, detail), 1160-70, Copper alloy (gilded), enamel (champlevé and cloisonné), rock crystal on silver backing, lapis lazuli, garnet, amethyst, rock crystal, 37.4 cm x 25.6 cm, The British Museum, London.

Fig. 17: London-Berlin Cross, Sacrifice of the Passover Lamb detail, 1160-70, Copper alloy (gilded), enamel (champlevé and cloisonné), rock crystal on silver backing, lapis lazuli, garnet, amethyst, rock crystal, 37.4 cm x 25.6 cm, The British Museum, London.

Bibliography

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