Some early medieval depictions, such as those portraying events from Christ’s life found on church walls across northern Europe, likely served as educational tools for those who couldn’t read or could only partially read. Despite Gregory’s repeated defense of images, it held little relevance for many educated individuals of the early medieval period, both within the clergy and the secular elite. This disparity between Gregory’s notion of images as substitutes for books and their actual usage led to a conflict between word and image. This conflict resulted in two opposing outcomes: a renewed insistence by early medieval art theorists on the superiority of written text over images, prompting attempts to subordinate images to words; and a new theory and practice of images seeking to detach them entirely from the domain of language. This chapter will explore both approaches.
During the eighth and ninth centuries, the Byzantine Empire witnessed a significant debate concerning the status of images. From the 720s to 787, and again in the first half of the ninth century, Byzantine emperors supported iconoclasm, the destruction of images. Scholars have not unanimously agreed on the root causes of iconoclasm, which were multifaceted and extended beyond concerns solely about image practices. However, image practices garnered considerable attention in both the Eastern and Western spheres. The debate revolved around a tendency among viewers to mistake the representation for the represented, a practice considered idolatrous by iconoclasts.
Although extreme positions like iconoclasm and its opposite, iconodulism, were primarily Byzantine phenomena in the early Middle Ages, Eastern perspectives on images sometimes provoked reactions in Western Europe. In 787, a Byzantine church council reinstated the cult of icons as an official practice. In response, Charlemagne’s court produced a detailed rebuttal known as the Libri Carolini (“Carolingian Books”; hereafter LC), which stands as the lengthiest medieval discussion of images. While the LC commends Gregory the Great’s stance against the destruction or adoration of images, they reject his argument that images could substitute for books. They cite Gregory’s letter to Serenus favorably, but notably omit the section comparing pictures to books. Despite paying homage to Gregory, the LC undermine his argument by emphasizing the distinction between the text of the Bible, deemed sanctioned by God, and images, which are not.
The LC frequently employ the term “manufactured” in its literal sense, distinguishing human-made creations from divine creations. They insist on differentiating ordinary artworks from truly sacred objects, such as saints’ relics, the cross sanctified by Christ, and Old Testament artifacts made by God’s command. The LC rhetorically questions the sanctity of materials used in creating an icon, sarcastically highlighting the supposedly impure origins of these materials. This tone, persistent throughout the LC, underscores the significance early medieval society attached to images.
The LC’s detailed exposition of image theory is unparalleled in the early Middle Ages. Its significance lies in being authored by individuals within Charlemagne’s court circle, who were responsible for notable works like the Aachen palace chapel and the Soissons Gospels. The author of the LC, Theodulf, Bishop of Orléans, was himself a patron of the arts, allowing examination of the connection between early medieval image theory and practice.
In the early ninth century, Theodulf constructed a chapel at his villa in Germigny-des-Prés, France. While much of the building has been restored, a mosaic in the eastern apse above the altar remains, depicting an unusual subject: the Ark of the Covenant. Theodulf’s choice of subject aligns with his view of images. In the LC, he explains why the Ark differs from other objects, emphasizing its divine origin compared to the works of craftsmen. The mosaic engages in the word/image debate prevalent in early medieval thought, particularly regarding the justification of images.
The Cross of Gero inside Cologne Cathedral
The Ark, though visually striking, primarily served to house a text—the tablets of the Law inscribed by God’s finger. Despite the Second Commandment’s strict prohibition of representational art, the Ark itself bore images of cherubim, created at God’s command by the craftsman Bezaleel. Theodulf depicted these cherubim, along with those in Solomon’s Temple, as evidence of divinely sanctioned images. This visual argument counters Byzantine misuse of images, highlighting certain images as legitimate. Theodulf’s skillful crafting of this visual rhetoric exemplifies his assertive intellectual stance.