On and in medieval churches there are a number of different types of inscription, among which are building inscriptions. These include patron- and foundation-inscriptions, inscriptions for the laying of the foundation stone, consecration inscriptions, which also include altar inscriptions, and inscriptions by the master of the workshop, and signatures.2 There are also building- and foundation stone-inscriptions of limited visibility, in other words: inscriptions of restricted presence. They can be positioned up high on a church building, invisible to anyone passing by, like the AVE MARIA at Worms Cathedral (Figure 22.1), near the fifth level of the south-eastern tower (Figure 22.2), which was first documented in 2009 during our thorough examination of the building.3 At the other extreme would be a foundation-stone inscription, like the one at Saint Michael in Hildesheim, discovered in 1908 during excavations (Figure 22.3).4 The inscription reads: S(ANCTVS) · BENIAMIN/S(ANCTVS) · MATHEVS · A(POSTOLVS)/B(ERNWARDVS) + EP(ISCOPVS)/M (ILLESIMO) X (DECIMO).5 It was not until the discovery of this particular foundation stone that the beginning of constructions at Saint Michael could be securely dated to the year 1010.
To explain the concept of restricted presence it is necessary to clarify the term presence. The production of presence is now, as it was in the Middle Ages, a central concept of Christian liturgy, especially during the holy sacrament where the real presence of God on earth is expressed and celebrated.6 The term production of presence was established by literary scholar Hans Ulrich Gumbrecht. Presence is meant primarily in terms of space:7 if something is present for us, it ‘is in front of us, in reach of and tangible for our bodies’.8 The production of presence can therefore be understood as an ‘act of “bringing forth” an object in space’.9 It ‘implies that the (spatial) tangibility effect coming from the communication media is subjected, in space, to movements of greater or lesser proximity, and of greater or lesser intensity’.10
One can extend this definition of presence to the concept of an object’s visibility. If it is only marginally visible, or not visible at all, we have a special case of presence; we have restricted presence. This term was first introduced by Assyriologist Markus Hilgert in the theoretical framework Text-Anthropology of the Heidelbergian Collaborative research centre 933 ‘Material Text Cultures’.11 The restriction of presence can occur in terms of space, in terms of time, or in terms of person.
During the Middle Ages patrons sought to receive intercession for their donations. The purpose of donation was also to be part of the liturgical memoria.12 The liturgical commemoration, the memoria for the living and the deceased, was written down in memorial books.13 In the monastic community the living and deceased members, their relatives, their masters, friends and benefactors were united in the memorial acts of prayer and Eucharistic sacrifice. This association of the living and the dead in a spiritual community was made visible by the libri memoriales and necrologies.14 The historical memoria is the realisation of the incidents and doings of a person, it stands for the knowledge and history of a person.15 In the Middle Ages the personality of a person did not end with the death. The deceased were still legal subjects with legal capacity and actionability.16 By mentioning the name, the presence of dead is reached and thus the memoria caused a mode of real presence of those physically absent. This applied not only to the dead, but also to individuals who were alive but physically not present.17 Mentioning their name gave them a presence even after death and they could therefore, in a way, attend the ceremony.
In order to keep track of who was to be mentioned, the names were written down in the liber memoralis or the liber vitae.18 The libri memoriales and necrologies were used in the Eucharistic liturgy and the Liturgy of the Hours of the monks.19 Daily during Eucharist the names were recited from the liber memorialis, which lay on the altar.20 In order not to forget the names of the entries sometimes they were inscribed together with the day of death on the wall of the apse or directly on the altar table in the early Middle Ages.21 Around the 11th century the libri memoriales lost their importance, because there were simply too many names on the lists to be recited during the mass.22 Thereafter they were recited only on specific days, for which purpose they used necrologies in the form of a calendar which also strengthened memory of the individual.23 These necrologies, where the deceased were recorded, were called sometimes furthermore Liber memorialis or Liber vitae throughout the Middle Ages.24 To be part of the community as a layperson, it was necessary to act as a benefactor.25 For the benefactors the concept of substitutional intercession was important: prayers by another person contributed to the salvation of the intended person.26 For a donation, therefore, the patron received a counter-donation in the form of liturgical commemoration.27 The entry in the liber memoralis recorded the commitment before God and the participants.28 Donations were made, therefore, to attain salvation. The entry into a memorial book and the reading of the name were connected with the idea of the heavenly book of life. Those who gained an entry in the memorial book hoped analogously for an entry in the heavenly book of life.29
To ensure the commemoration of specific donations, some patron inscriptions were carved in stone.30 These inscriptions were usually placed in a visible place making them present for a possible viewer. Most of them mention the patron’s name and his donation. There are also shorter versions, which mention little more than the name. An example of this is the patron inscription on the portal sculpture of a lion from the former south-portal of Worms Cathedral dating to around 1160,31 which states in Romanesque majuscule: ADELR(ICVS) · ME · EM(IT). I was bought by Adelrich (Figure 22.4). The letters have a height of about 60 to 70 mm.32 The lion is 600 mm high and was built into the western wall of the Anne-Chapel around 1300 (Figure 22.5), when a new gothic portal was built, together with other sculptures (Daniel in the lion’s den, Habakkuk, two lions) from the former Romanesque portal.33 The lion’s inscription must have been clearly visible to church visitors in its original placement as part of the portal, identifying a patron of parts of the portal or its whole decoration. Portal inscriptions provide a special kind of presence, due to their placement near the entrance. The patron’s name was seen by churchgoers as they entered, who then could commemorate him inside the church. In addition, portals were often used as important stations during processions. So, the patron’s liturgical memoria was safely ensured.
Inside Worms Cathedral there is another patron inscription. This one, however, is much less visible. It is an inscription with restricted presence. It is part of the Juliana-relief, which is placed at the foot of a pilaster in the eastern sanctuary. The relief has three inscriptions in Romanesque majuscle: one which identifies the scene (IVLIANA), the artist’s name (OTTO/ ME/FE/CIT) and the name of the patron (AD/EL/BR/AHT/MO/NE/TA/RI/VS) (Figures 22.6, 22.7).34 In some cases the phrase ME FECIT can be interpreted as a patron’s inscription. This is primarily the case if the name has an addition, which refers to the donor. Such an interpretation, however, is also possible without such an addition. ME FECIT can be translated with the causative meaning ‘he has had me made’ as well as ‘he has made me’.35 In this case, however, the additional patron inscription clearly classifies the OTTO ME FECIT as the artist inscription. Since the relief is placed in the sanctuary, it was not accessible to the laity (Figure 22.8). The relief is also facing towards where the altar must have stood. For church visitors today the relief is still not visible. The inscriptions were therefore only noticeable for a specific circle of clerics. We have here a case of restricted presence in terms of person. The inscriptions were only visible to clerics who had access to the sanctuary.
The relief is 1250 mm high and shows Saint Juliana of Nikomedia standing on the shoulder of the devil in front of her, around whose neck she has slung a rope. To her left stands an angel on a pedestal, grabbing the devil’s hair with its left hand and poking him with a lance. Parts of the relief on the right side have been damaged because of installations in a later period. According to the martyr’s legend, the virgin Juliana refused marriage with the pagan prefect of Nikomedia on account of her faith. She was betrayed by her own father, and sentenced to torture and death. In her dungeon the devil, concealed behind an angel’s appearance, tried to tempt Juliana into making a pagan sacrifice. Juliana recognised him, however, threw him to the ground and beat him with the chains she herself was held in. On the way to her own execution, she pulled the devil in the chains behind her and threw him down into a latrine. Juliana was executed in 305 in Nikomedia.36 The helping angel in the picture could be interpreted as a depiction of the moral support of the Redeemer. Why the relief of Saint Juliana was placed in the eastern sanctuary of Worms Cathedral has not yet been plausibly explained: perhaps the reason is related to the patron of the relief.
The patron inscription ADELBRAHT MONETARIUS is written to the right side of the relief, with up to three letters per line. The letters have a height of 35 to 40 mm. Between the letters A and R of MONETARIUS is an H. It is cut deeper into the stone than the other letters or might have broken off. Rüdiger Fuchs of the Commissions of German Inscriptions assumes its origin to be around the same time as the rest of the relief.37 However, it looks rather that the H was carved before the inscription, because the following letters of the inscription take consideration of the H: this is the only line where the letters of the inscription do not start at the same position. The meaning of this letter H has not been deciphered yet; it might be a technical mark, formed before the sculpture was made.
Adelbraht the moneyer is assumed to be a person found in several medieval documents. In one of them from around 1106 a praepositus Adalbertus is mentioned. In 1110 we find the name Adelbraht praepositus among the majores clerici et laici in the disclaimer of the properties of the provost of Saint Paul in Worms.38 Both cases very likely refer to Adelbraht the moneyer. The relief demonstrates the ministeriales’ activity in making donations to their new cathedral church right from the start of construction. The fast progress at the beginning of the building project might only have been possible through their support. The ministeriales of the city had the necessary economic capacity as well as influential political positions.39
After the dendrochronological re-dating of the eastern part of the Cathedral in the late 1970s and the early 1980s,40 the relief was dated in the decade before 1132.41 Rüdiger Fuchs compared the relief’s inscriptions to others around that time and concluded that the ones of the Juliana relief are different. They seem simpler, or less progressive than the rest. He kept the c. 1130 dating due to the building’s construction history, even though the formal aspects of the inscription made him contemplate a much earlier origin.42 In 2009 Matthias Untermann undertook a new dating of some parts of the eastern sanctuary,43 which is supported by stylistic assessment of the architectural constructional sculpture.44 The new building of the cathedral is now seen as an initiative of Emperor Henry V, with construction beginning around the time his reign began in 1106. A consecration is also documented for 1110.45 This revised dating fits well with an earlier dating of the inscription and the documents mentioning Adelbraht.
How strong an influence must Adelbraht have had if he was allowed to place his name at such an important place? More broadly, who was allowed to place his name there in general? It can’t have been easy to get permission for such commemoration inside the sanctuary and more especially near the altar. It is not clear whether Adelbraht only donated the Juliana-relief or parts of the sanctuary as well. In any case, being allowed to place his name where he did shows his great influence. Maybe he was not the only patron, or he might have been the chief moneyer? It could be that his was not the only inscription on the walls of the sanctuary. During the baroque period the walls in the apse were smoothed and plastered for the placing of the high altar by Balthasar Neumann.46
The great influence moneyers had in Worms can be grasped if we take an event that took place somewhat later. Their community belonged to the economic and political elite of Worms and in 1165 they received, after their own request during a festive court-day, an imperial privilege from the Emperor Frederick I Barbarossa. It secured them their economic and political advantages, freed them of liabilities of common society and granted them their own jurisdiction, which in turn laid the ground for the city’s jurisdiction fifteen years later.47 Probably due to the moneyers’ advance, Worms itself received similar privileges from Barbarossa in 1184, which also acknowledged and confirmed some privileges given by former emperors in 1074 and 1114.48 Among the important privileges of the 1184 diploma were the granting of civil liberties and the lifting of the annual head-tax. Crucial parts of society were thereby given personal and economic freedom.49 The privilege was made permanent in an inscription plaque above the north portal of Worms Cathedral, which was built between 1160 and 1165 (Figure 22.9).50 It is not recorded from what material the plaque was made, but parts of its architectural frame in stone can still be seen today. The inscription itself only survived in its content, and in 1981 a bronze-image of the emperor along with the transcribed original wording of the inscription was put in its former place, after the design of sculptor Gustav Nonnenmacher.51 The moneyers’ privileges can be seen as the foundation for the advance in jurisdictional and other privileges for the city, which reached their peak in 1184.
The question remains: who might have been able to see the Adelbraht patron inscription? Who was supposed to read it? Its placement poses the question of its function. Why would Adelbraht put his name in a place of restricted visibility? Did he just want to mark his donation? He could have had other reasons than the purely legal function of having his name inscribed. During my research I have noticed a general tendency, especially in the eastern parts of church buildings, of name inscriptions with restricted presence to be found on the walls or other structural elements surrounding the sanctuary. These name inscriptions are not only of patrons but also of masons.52 For example, on the south-eastern tower at Worms, at the fifth floor the name HERICKE (Figures 22.10, 22.11), written upside-down, can be found,53 and in one of the window jambs of the second floor the name Georius (Figure 22.12).54But this is not only a phenomenon in Worms. On the three apses from the end of the 12th century of the collegiate church in Neuchâtel, Switzerland55 we have several inscriptions with the names of Guido (Figure 22.13) and WIEO (Figure 22.14) in altering forms, sometimes also written upside-down. The name GUIDO appears in two types with several subtypes. The WIEO sometimes also appears in the short form WI.56 Other sanctuaries provide names as well, such as PONCIVS on the inner walls of Saint-Honorat-des-Alycamps in Arles, Provence, France (Figure 22.15).57
Not only patron inscriptions but also artist inscriptions could be made for commemoration and to ask for intercessions.58 Name inscriptions, especially ones with restricted presence, can have another meaning.59 This is to be found in the Old Testament, as well as the Revelations of the New Testament, where we are told that God has an account of all living souls. One can be crossed out of this ‘Book of Life’ by committing sins.60 On judgment day this book will be opened and everyone will be judged according to his or her deeds and accomplishments.61 Whoever’s name is not found in the ’Book of Life’ will go to hell.62 In order to be able to connect the deed with a name, in this case the donation or the artwork, it was marked with the name of the artist or the patron. For the inscribing of the names there is thus also a possible eschatological reason.63
In the case of the inscription of Adelbraht Monetarius and the artist Otto, the proximity to the altar could be explained by their wish to be as close as possible to the celebration of the Eucharist. The hope of a secure place in the book of life could have been decisive for this. It can also be seen in the context of memoria. A priest would see their names during the service, think of the persons and thereby include them in his prayers. This should be seen in the context of liturgical memoriae for which sometimes special precautions were made and the names were written down in the church, for example on the wall of the apse or of the altar table.64 Just the presence of a name at the place of the Eucharist produces a connection to this.65 So it could be that the bare presence of a name was enough to ‘attend’ the ceremony without the name being mentioned during the service.66
With name inscriptions with extreme restricted presence, like the HERICKE inscription, such a concern is not conceivable. The ‘Book of Life’ interpretation seems more likely, especially when the inscription is close to the altar: the closer the name is to the altar, the less likely that it will be removed from the ‘Book of Life’. If a position inside the sanctuary was not possible, then one tried to write it outside, as near to the altar as possible, such as on the walls of the sanctuary or the nearby structural elements.
This idea can also be connected to burial practices. In the ancient world it was forbidden to bury someone inside the city walls.67 Christians kept this tradition and buried their martyrs and saints outside the city walls according to this rule. Chapels and churches were built above the tomb of a saint. The altar always stood close to the original grave.68 From an early date the desire of sepultura ad sanctos evolved, the wish to be buried close to the martyrs and saints in order to have them as intercessors on judgment day.69 When the saint’s remains were transferred into city churches and placed beneath the altar,70 the wish to be buried intra muros evolved.71 At the synod of Vaison-la-Romaine in 442 a prohibition on burial inside churches was proclaimed for the first time.72 In 563 at the synod of Braga a complete prohibition of burials inside churches was decided.73 This was confirmed subsequently several times.74 There were, nevertheless, repeated unofficial exceptions. These were first granted only to popes and bishops. After some time worthy clerics, rulers and church founders also found places of burial within the church.75 At the synod of Mainz in 813 bishops, abbots, worthy priests and faithful laymen were given the same privilege.76 Even within the church there was the wish to be buried as close as possible to a saint’s relics or the altar.77 The faithful who could not be buried in the church found burial in the cemetery around the church, still close to the honoured saint and the sacraments at the altar.78 Taking this context into account, and by assuming name inscriptions like the one of Adelbraht Monetarius show an analogous desire, the wish to have one’s name written near the altar and thereby to secure ones place in the ‘Book of Life’, can be considered as a very plausible explanation for patron inscriptions of restricted presence.
