Opening the Doors to Heaven: Lion Head Doorknockers from the Treasury of Freckenhorst Church

Maria Gordusenko, PhD History of Art, University of Edinburgh

Figure 1. Church of St Bonifatius in Freckenhorst, Westphalia, Germany.

Photo: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/b/bf/Freckenhorst_St._Bonifatius_Stiftskirche.jpg

The Treasury of Freckenhorst Church in Westphalia (Germany) possesses two doorknockers cast in bronze. They were produced for the doors of the main portal of this Church at the end of the eleventh century (figure 1). Originally set at the church doors, the Freckenhorst doorknockers were not only handles with a merely practical function: their significance expanded far beyond. These doorknockers are made in a form of lion heads that hold ring-shaped handles in their teeth (figure 2). The handles are notable for an inscription mentioning a man by the name ‘Bernhardus.’ Its position at the doorknockers’ handles suggests that the maker wanted the faithful to notice the inscription and read it, think about their souls, pray for the said Bernhardus, and then enter the Church. This inscription resembles a pious petition[1]:

‘HAS IANVAS GENTEM CAVSA PRECIS INGREDIENTEM,’: ‘IXPC REX REGVM FACIAT CONCENDERE CAELVM BERNHARDVS ME FECIT.’

[‘May Jesus Christ the King of kings see to it (faciat) that the people who enter (literally entering) these doors to pray (for the sake of prayer) ascend to Heaven. Bernhardus made me.’] 

Figure 2. Lion Head Doorknocker, ca 1085. Treasury of Freckenhorst Church, Westphalia, Germany. Photo:  A. Legner, Der Artifex: Künstler im Mittelalter und ihre Selbstdarstellung: eine illustrierte Anthologie (Cologne: Greven, 2009), p. 226, fig. 300.

The symbolic nature of lion head doorknockers is rooted in antiquity. The continuity of this motif can be traced from the fifth century BC up to the Christian Middle Ages. Christian artists adopted, rethought and enriched the images of lions and their symbolism. Since antiquity, lion’s masks with rings in their mouths were commonly used to decorate doorknockers or handles of chests. A lion was regarded as an embodiment of strength and as a symbol of the sun. That is why the manes of lions head doorknockers were often modelled to look like flames (Vermeule 1988, p. 127).

In various contexts, references to lions occur in the Bible. The lion, as the strongest of the beasts, was referred to as a positive symbol of power and royalty (Proverbs 30:30). Images of lions decorated the throne of Solomon (1 Kings 10:18-20). When depicted with a book of Gospels, the Lion is associated with the Evangelist St Mark. Sometimes it can even be regarded as an image of Christ. In the Revelation, the Lion of Judah (as the symbol of the Jewish tribe) is used as a direct reference to Christ (Revelation 5:5).

The doorknockers from Freckenhorst, just like other examples, symbolise Christ and deliverance from sins (Mende 1983, p. 151). In this respect, rings held by lions in their teeth can also be interpreted as important elements. In pagan Germanic cultures a ring was recognised as a symbol of an oath or law; knights took or reaffirmed oaths on rings (Bley 1990, pp. 190-191). Rings at the doors of ancient temples and Christian churches were symbols of asylum. For instance, a fugitive clasping a ring at the doors of a temple or a church would have been granted protection from his chasers. Metaphorically, Christ was seen by the faithful as a refuge, as one of the Psalms says: ‘The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, My God, my rock, in whom I take refuge’ (Psalm 18:2). In this respect, a doorknocker in a form of a lion head, holding a ring in its teeth would have been associated with Christ the lawgiver and formed a strong reference to church as an asylum for the faithful.

The conception of a church as an asylum, where the faithful can shelter from sin and the devil, is reflected at Hildesheim Cathedral on its bronze doors and in the Freckenhorst doorknockers. The Bernward Doors at Hildesheim have a representation of the Hand of God, which is paralleled to a master’s hand. It appears exactly at the level of the ring of the lion head doorknocker, and is shown as if it is going to clasp it claiming for an asylum inside the church (figure 3). This may convey the maker’s message that he repulses sinful life and wishes to stay in the church and to be saved by Christ. 

Figure 3.Bernward Doors, ca 1015. Fragment with the Hand and the Ring of the Doorknocker. Hildesheim Cathedral, Germany. Photo: https://workofartists.files.wordpress.com/2011/11/bernwardstc3bcr_21.jpg

The position of Bernhardus’s inscription on the ring-shaped handles of the Freckenhorst doorknockers ensured that it followed their circular shape and allowed a parallel to be drawn between Bernhardus’s words and an oath. Being reaffirmed endlessly, like the shape of a circle, an oath would never be broken and Bernhardus’s petition will be reiterated permanently. But there is also another important aspect to Bernhradus’s doorknockers and inscription. It is related to the reception of bronze as a special material, which is able to animate images or make inscribed petitions sound and reach Christ in a sonorous form. For medieval minds, bronze was resonating, ever-changing composite material that possessed almost magical power; and some medieval treatises emphasise the significance of material qualities of bronze objects to resonate and sound (Weinryb 2016, pp. 98-99).

The distinct echoing sound of the Freckenhorst bronze doorknockers would literally signify Bernhardus’s name and his petition being pronounced. In other words, the text inscribed by the artist at the handles would acquire signification through sound. As a result, the person who used Bernhardus’s doorknockers and heard their sound would have recalled the maker and, supposedly, pray for him. But, most importantly, the sound of the doorknockers would be addressed directly to Christ, whom Bernhardus had mentioned in his inscription. Metaphorically, it may be equated to knocking on the doors of Paradise and asking for salvation.

The position of Bernhardus’s petition to the Saviour at doorknockers of church doors was not an accidental choice; in the medieval period church doors were assigned various symbolic meanings. A church was perceived as an asylum from sin, whereas liminal spaces, the entrance to a church and its doors, were commonly associated with the Gates of Heaven and with the Saviour (figure 4). As Christ said: ‘I am the gate. If anyone enters through Me, he will be saved’ (John 10:9). Similar to many other artists and bronze casters, Bernhardus meant his doorknockers and the inscription on them as a manifestation of his petition to Christ and believed that his work may open him the doors to life eternal (Frazer 1990, p. 273). 

Figure 4. Bernward Doors, ca1015. Fragment with the Hand and the Ring of the Doorknocker.  Hildesheim Cathedral, Germany. Photo: http://www.dom-hildesheim.de/en/content/redesigning-cathedral-interior

Works Cited

 
Bley, H. ‘'Bernhardus me fecit': die romanischen Löwenkopf-Türzieher in Freckenhorst,’ Westfalen 68 (1990): 185. 
Frazer, M. ‘Church Doors and the Gates of Paradise Reopened,’ in Le porte di bronzo dall’antichita al secolo XIII, ed. S. Salomi, 271-279, (Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia italiana, 1990), 273.  
Mende, U. (1983). Die Bronzetüren des Mittelalters, 800-1200. Munich: Hirmer.
Vermeule, C. (1988). Sculpture in Stone and Bronze: Additions to the Collections of Greek, Etruscan, and Roman Art, 1971-1988, in the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. Boston: The Museum.
Weinryb, I. (2016). The Bronze Object in the Middle Ages. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.


[1] I am grateful to Dr Patricia Brignall for her advice on the translation of this inscription.

The Curious Case of Architectural Alignment at Whithorn

Anastasia Moskvina – PhD History of Art, University of East Anglia

The monasterium at Whithorn was probably established in the late 5th- early 6th century. The first phase of the evolution of the monasterium – from c. 550 to c. 730 – was characterised by a steady development of a settlement with a double curvilinear layout. The settlement was laid out generally following Irish practice. A stone church in the centre of the monasterium was in existence in the beginning of the 6th century (See Hill 1997 for full excavation report).

Around 700, a curious straight line of features, including posts, graves, stones and slabs, appeared on the site of the cemetery to the south of the church. It may have been designed to mark a symbolic boundary between a group of shrines and a graveyard to the north and an area of unused ground to the south. This line survived the radical transformation of the site in c. 730 and was joined by a parallel row of aligned post-holes in the subsequent period (Hill 1997, pp. 110, 12, figs. 3.30, 3.31). 

Fig.1. Schematic plan of excavated cemetery at Whithorn, c. 700. Author’s drawing after Hill 1997.

The reconstruction of the monasterium, which started in c. 730, continued until the 760s or 770s. Among other alterations, a sequence of three aligned (i.e. arranged in line on the same axis) buildings - two timber oratories and a stone-founded burial enclosure – were built over the site of the shrines and the cemetery. The axes of the oratories followed the socket line of an earlier shrine. To the south of this enclosure, there appeared a range of axially-aligned timber buildings (Hill 1997, pp. 103, 176, figs. 2.9, 3.29, 4.5). Around 800, the two oratories were united into a timber church, while the enclosure was rebuilt into a burial chapel. The two retained the same axial alignment (Hill 1997, pp. 42-43, figs. 2.10, 2.13). 

Fig.2. Schematic plan of monasterium at Whithorn, c. 700. Author’s drawing after Hill 1997. a - putative principal church; b - range of aligned oratories and a burial enclosure; c – range of aligned halls; line of aligned posts and stones shown in fig.1 runs between b and c

Notably, this period of rebuilding coincides with the beginning of Northumbrian domination in Galloway (Hill 1997, p. 18). Bede records that a Northumbrian bishopric was established at Whithorn by 731, attesting to a Northumbrian expansion into Galloway and to rising political aspirations of the Northumbrian church (HE V.23). Archaeological evidence suggests that the Northumbrians may have gained control over Whithorn even earlier - towards the end of 7th c. (Hill 1997, pp. 17, 37). Thus, alignment at Whithorn seems to follow the arrival of the Northumbrians and is not recorded before, which invites to look for the origin of this phenomenon in Northumbria.

At the royal vill of Northumbrian kings at Yeavering, where linearity was a constant and prominent feature, the most distinctive case of alignment is dated to the height of Yeavering’s development under King Edwin (616-633) and constitutes a sequence of structures, including a prehistoric barrow, halls, graves and free-standing posts (See Hope-Taylor 1977 for full excavation report). At the monasteries in Jarrow and possibly Wearmouth, pairs of churches are precisely aligned on the same axis. At Jarrow, two monastic buildings (A and B) to the south of churches also form a straight line (See Cramp 2005 for full excavation report). Similarly, at Hexham a pair of buildings are precisely aligned: the church dedicated to St. Andrew, with a crypt underneath its east end, and a small apsidal structure immediately to the east (See Cambridge & Williams 1995). Another potential, although debatable, instance of architectural alignment is found at Lindisfarne (For information, see O’Sullivan & Young 1995; for reconstruction and argument towards alignment, see Blair 1991).

All these sites, through their royal and elite patronage, seem to have been associated with power and political control. In addition, the architecture and layout of these sites could have been designed to make other symbolic statements of domination. Thus, the group at Hexham, built immediately after the pro-Roman Council of Whitby, is thought to have evoked associations with Rome, with its typically Roman crypt and Apostolic dedication (Bailey 1976; Fernie 198, p. 61; Gilbert 1974; Taylor & Taylor 1965). Wearmouth and Jarrow, in the light of earlier unsettled boundary disputes between Deira and Bernicia precisely in this area (as the disputes were ongoing even in the united Northumbria), are likely to have been making a territorial claim initiated by Kind Ecgfrith of Deiran descent (Cramp 2005, pp. 28, 350). Lindisfarne was established almost immediately after King Oswald’s victory over Cædwalla of Gwynedd and his subsequent ascension to the Northumbrian throne (HE III.1,3). Finally, the development of Yeavering should be seen in the overall context of the gradual establishment and acceptance of Anglo-Saxon lordship, observed both locally and regionally.

This means that 7th-century Northumbria was a place of ideological tensions and shifting powers. In a sense, this unsettled political and cultural climate could have made Northumbria a ground for architectural experiments, with the kings and the elite to be seen urgently searching for the means of proclaiming their authority. As a result, the visual narrative of alignment, selected to convey the message of power and domination, was widely accepted and seems to have been firmly established in Northumbria by c. 700, when it started to spread into the neighbouring regions. It is in this context that alignment at Whithorn, not observed before c. 700, should be considered. It seems that alignment at Whithorn in its essence is no different from that in other places across Northumbria: it could have been a strategy adopted to cope with anxieties over leadership and thus a predominantly political and ideological, rather than merely architectural, feature.

Works Cited:

Bailey, R.N. (1976) The Anglo-Saxon Church at Hexham. Archaeologia Aeliana. 5 (4). p. 47-68.

Bede (1969) The Ecclesiastical History of the English People, eds. Judith McClure and Roger Collins. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press.

Blair, J. (1991) The Early Churches at Lindisfarne. Archaeologia Aeliana. 5 (19). p. 47-53.

Cambridge, E. & A. Williams. (1995) Hexham Abbey: a Review of Recent Work and its Implications. Archaeologia Aeliana. 5 (23). p. 51-138.

Cramp, R. (2005) Wearmouth and Jarrow Monastic Sites. 2 vols. Swindon: English Heritage.

Fernie, E. (1983) Architecture of the Anglo-Saxons. London: BT Batsford.

Gilbert, E. (1974) Saint Wilfrid’s Church at Hexham, In: Kirby, D.P. (ed.) Saint Wilfrid at Hexham. Boston: Routledge and Kegan Paul Ltd.

Hill, P. (1997) Whithorn and St Ninian: The Excavation of a Monastic Town, 1984-1991. Stroud: Sutton Publishing Limited.

Hope-Taylor, B. (1977) Yeavering: an Anglo-British Centre of Early Northumbria. London: H.M.S.O.

O’Sullivan, D. & R. Young. (1995) Lindisfarne: Holy Island. London: BT Batsford

Taylor, H.M. & Taylor, J. (1965-1978) Anglo-Saxon Architecture, 3 vols. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Cultural Memory and Medieval Reliquaries

Samuel Gerace – PhD Candidate History of Art

Oftentimes as academics, we are specifically called to work on interdisciplinary research projects. Perhaps it is my undergraduate work in Fine Art, or the influence of friends and colleagues in the Social Sciences, or simply the interdisciplinary nature of History of Art, but I find this type of research to be some of the most fulfilling.

In my own PhD research, I study early medieval house-shaped shrines from Britain and Ireland, and trace their connections to continental reliquaries and chrismals from the seventh to the eleventh century. To define these terms, a reliquary is a container that holds the corporeal remains of saints and or objects that they may have touched in life. The term 'chrismal' is slightly more complicated, but in the early medieval period, it was used to describe containers for chrism oil as noted in the Missale Francorum, the Eucharist in the Rule of St Columba, and relics in Gregory of Tours Lives of the Fathers (Snoke 1995). As for the term 'house-shaped shrines', arguably one of the most famous house-shaped shrines is the Monymusk reliquary, held by the National Museum of Scotland, in Edinburgh [Figure 1]. The term house-shaped derives from the form of the shrine, which appears like that of a hip-roofed house, though churches, temples, and sarcophagi have all been listed as possible alternatives (Blindheim 1984). While this may be the topic of my thesis, more generally I am drawn to engagements with Christian saints. I leave this phrase specifically vague, as while I’m trained in medieval art, I do not feel particularly precluded from researching how this topic manifests in contemporary art, (early) modern texts, or even in folklore. While I bring a certain Art Historical and even Early Medieval angle into this type of research, my real passion rests in the boundaries between the disciplines and in the records that deal with the spiritual interactions between audiences and the saints, both canonical and popular.  

 

Figure 1

 
The connection between saints and contemporary audiences is an ongoing phenomenon, and can be witnessed in both blogs and in contemporary art displays. Scholar and blogger, Elizabeth Harper, hosts a blog ‘All the Saints you Should Know’, where she writes about the relics of saints, art, and the experience of coming face-to-face with images of death. Harper engages with the narratives and art of the saints, thus extending their sphere of influence to a wider audience. The power of the saints not only rests in their ability to perform miracles, but even more so in their ability to be remembered and the continuing bonds they engender, as seen in the work of Michael Landy’s, Saint’s Alive (Boeye 2013). Responding to both the gallery’s collection and the Golden Legend, Landy produced seven kinetic sculptures that required direct audience participation to ‘come alive’ [Figure 2]. Landy’s present engagement with both long dead saints, writers, and artists offers an interesting lens through which to witness how continuing bonds is present in contemporary art practices. 

Figure 2

 
Indeed, continuing bonds theory, (more often used in the social research disciplines,) also offers a view into medieval art and my own research topic. The Monymusk shrine did not gain its fame by its shape, but by being aligned with one of the most important saints in the Celtic world, St. Columba. It is precisely in trying to tackle this issue that drew me to research on social death and continuing bonds. (Daniels 2009, Jamieson 1995, Klass, Silverman, and Nickman 2014, Unruh 1983). Using theories and discourses more commonly found in social research contexts, new insights can given to medieval art and even present engagements with it. Early medieval scholars have long talked about the saints and how their living audiences developed and interacted with them, but continuing bonds theory provides a language through which to discuss how this takes place and how it can reflect in present practices. In particular, these types of engagements help to push the boundaries of the disciplines, affording new research opportunities. 

Selected Bibliography: 

Blindheim, Martin. "A House-Shaped Irish-Scots Reliquary in Bologna, and Its Place among the Other Reliquaries." Acta Achaeologica 55 (1984): 1-53.  

Boeye, Kerry. "Michael Landy: Saints Alive: National Gallery, London May 23-November 24, 2013." West 86th 20 (2013): 250-255.  

 

Daniels, Inge. "The Social Death' of Unused Gifts Surplus and Value in Contemporary Japan." Journal of Material Culture 14 (2009): 385-408.  

Jamieson, Ross W. "Material culture and social death: African-American burial practices." Historical Archaeology 29 (1995): 39-58.  

Klass, Dennis, Phyllis R. Silverman, and Steven Nickman, eds. Continuing bonds: New Understandings of Grief. New York: Taylor & Francis, 2014.  

Snoek, Godefridus J.C. Medieval Piety from Relics to the Eucharist: A Process of Mutual Interaction.  Leiden: Brill, 1995. 

Unruh, David R. "Death and personal history: Strategies of identity preservation." Social Problems 30 (1983): 340-351.