In 1002, Otto III died at Paterno near Civita in Italy. With no direct descendants, the succession was fraught with tensions. Duke Henry of Bavaria caught the upstream.
Today, Paterno Castle in Civita Castellano is a forgotten and overgrown ruin in a dense forest about five km south of the small Italian town of Civita Castellana. Here, the Holy Roman Emperor, Otto III, stopped on his way to Rome to once again ensure his rule of the city, from which he had been driven in the summer of 1001. And here at Paterno, he fell ill from “inner sores” and died on the 24th of January 1002, 19 years old. For some time, plans had been underway to marry Otto III to a daughter of the Byzantine Emperor. However, to the chagrin of the German elite, she “was denied him through fraud and cunning” (1) and instead given to their sworn enemy, King Vladimir of Rus in Kyiv. Now, the youngster had died without heirs, leaving a power vacuum to be filled with one of several contesting candidates, representing the primary duchies – Lotharingia, Franconia, Saxony, Swabia and Bavaria.
The despair felt by his close followers present at Paterno oozes from the pages of Thietmar of Merseburg’s Chronicle (1). Likely, Thietmar, although not personally present, would have heard the story afterwards from nobles and soldiers present at the death and afterwards taking part in the perilous journey back. At first, the leading men kept quiet about the Emperor’s untimely death while sending messengers out to gather the army to protect the corpse, the royal treasure and the crown regalia. Soon followed a perilous trek home through Italy, passing Verona and moving across the Alps during the harsh winter months to reach Polling in Bavaria. Here, the funeral procession met up with the future heir, Duke Henry of Bavaria (973–1024), who immediately took action to secure the royal crown – and we may presume, the treasury. One item, though, was missing, The Holy Lance, which Archbishop Heribert of Cologne – a particular friend of Otto III – had sent ahead for safekeeping. He supported one of the “Western” contenders, Hermann of Swabia.
Henry, however, quickly took one of Heribert’s brothers as a hostage and was accordingly able to lay his hand on this, the most valuable and indispensable part of the royal regalia in Augsburg. The Lance, into which a nail from the crucifixion had been worked, had a distinct Carolingian history. Considered either the Lance of Longinus or that of Mauritius, it held great symbolic significance.
Acquired by the Ottonians at the beginning of the 10th century, it first accompanied Henry I at the battle at Riade in AD 933. Later, the Ottonian kings kept it close, carrying the Lance up front when waging wars against their enemies.
From Augsburg, Henry moved north towards Neuburg, from where he sent the funeral procession ahead to Cologne and Aachen. At the same time, he took off for Bamberg, keeping to his homeland and power base, Bavaria, and neighbouring Saxonia.
Thietmar writes that “the majority of the nobles attending the funeral procession promised Duke Henry of Swabia their support in acquiring and securing the royal dignity, while falsely declaring that Henry of Bavaria was not “suitable” for this for a variety of reasons” (Thietmar 4:52). However, Henry had the support of his Bavarian magnates and their retinues as well as – it appears – the backing of Otto III’s closest family, his sisters. Also, significant parts of the reformers in the German Church supported his candidature.
With this backing, Henry sent one of his men to Werla (south of Harzen), where he met up with the two sisters of Otto III, Sophia and Adelheid, and abbesses at the two great Ottonian foundations, the abbeys of Quedlinburg and Gandersheim. Not only were these two women leaders of some of the largest and most prestigious religious institutions in the German realm, but they were also the heirs to the deceased Emperor’s patrimony, including – perhaps – the famous silver mines in Harzen, which were located 20 km from Werla. Apparently, they had convened the nobles to consultation after the final burial of the Emperor at Cologne and Aachen.
Here at Werla, Henry’s spokesman met up with “all the great men of the realm” (Thietmar 5:3). At this meeting a multitude of “good things” – presumably “gifts” that is bribes, offers, and support – were brought to the table leading to the seemingly unanimous support of Henry’s candidacy and confirming his right to rule with the “aid of Christ and by hereditary right”. Seemingly, all the assembled men “affirmed this with their right hands raised”, Thietmar wrote.
After these proceedings, dinner was served in the great hall at the Ottonian royal palace at Werla, which had been decorated with hangings and where a table with benches had been set, which the two sisters were supposed to head. The 35 m long hall might have seated at least a hundred persons. Likely, the seating arrangements would have been traditional, meaning that the two sisters would have been seated at the middle of the long table with their backs to the most precious of their wall hangings.
A Song about Two Henrys
At this point in history, we should be inventive and imagine the entertainment offered in the hall. In all likelihood, there would have been music, singing, and speeches. Someone may even have read appropriate texts aloud during the festive meal. And what would have been more appropriate than to sing along and read aloud from the texts Henry’s ambassador or spokesperson might have brought?
We know that Henry, around this time, was engaged in a spectacular campaign to explain and underline his dynastic affinity to the Ottonians. One upshot was his production of a second vita of his great-grandmother, Mathilda, wife of the first Ottonian, Henry I, and later reigning abbess at Quedlinburg. This vita – the Vita Mathildis reginae posterior – shamelessly blended biography, hagiography and dynastic history while being dedicated to Henry in the introductory letter as well as in the postscript. This vita was composed not so much as a hagiographic text venerating the “founding mother” of the Ottonian dynasty but rather as a “Mirror for Kings and Queens”. Also, the text was evidently produced to explain the affinity between the main line, the Luidolfings and the cadet line established in 947, when Henry’s grandfather (another Henry), after a rebellion had made peace with his older brother, Otto I, thus regaining the dukedom of Bavaria. During Henry’s childhood and youth, this story repeated when his father, nicknamed the Wrangler, rebelled against Otto II and III, ending in imprisonment for more than ten years. In itself, the story of these two Henrys of Bavaria was not destined to instil trust in the new Henry in the minds of the different German factions brokering for room to manage their own affairs.
Might we imagine, this vita was produced as a gift to the two sisters? And delivered as part of the gifts delivered by the envoy sent to Werla? Perhaps even read aloud at the meeting? At this point – even though Henry’s status as king was fluid – he would have presented himself as partially elected, hence king.
The text holds a number of rather intriguing statements, for instance, the claim that their great-grandmother had, in fact, prophesized that at some point, the descendants of her favourite son, Henry (and not Otto III), would gain the throne: “Oh worthy king Henry, continue to recall to your mind the prophecy of this worthy queen and know that you have accomplished to sit on the throne through her intercession, through her achievement. The almighty God, who has chosen you and honoured you to reach this height without [having to engage in] any violent strife, he gives you his blessing and crowns you with the crown of righteousness to rule the good and the bad [people] in a princely manner that the righteous are treated mildly, while the wayward fear the strict judgement.” ( Vita Mathilda Posterior, ch 21).
This text is usually dated to the late 1002 to 1003 as it specifically refers to Henry being King, thus after his coronation in Mainz. However, there is no reason to believe that this event was more important than the later recognition of Henry as King, such as the one which, according to Thietmar, took place at Merseburg at the end of July 2002. However, it also appears from the text that both Henry and his challengers performed and were addressed as kings during the sequence of events in 1002. King was he who was recognised as King. To be recognised as such included a carefully coordinated campaign, including a concerted effort to parade “as king”.
In connection with this, it may pay to focus on another text, a song, which may also have been produced to shore up his candidacy. The song, De Heinrico, has been preserved in a collection of poems and songs, which have survived in only one manuscript, likely a copy produced at St. Augustine’s Abbey in the middle of the 11th century.
The collection is called the Carmina Cantabrigiensia and has been identified as representing the repertoire of an itinerant singer from the Rhineland, a collection of texts intended to be used in a school or classroom or a musical manual where the text’s main role is to support the musical hints as how to perform these songs. Recently, the notion of the poems presenting “dialogues” or manuals for role-playing and performances, outlining the “moral” and “good life” was suggested.
The latter suggestion fits well with a group of poems included in the collection, which holds several poems, some of which relate to Henry II and his ancestors. Thus, two of the poems concern the death and burial of the Emperor in 1024 (no 9 and no 17), while another one (no 33) laments the death of Conrad II, the father-in-law of Cnut the Great. We know nothing about how the collection ended up in England, but we do know that Cnut was passionately engaged in organising his court as a poetic, scaldic, and musical hotspot. Lately, it has been argued that Cnut was responsible for the writing down of Beowulf.
Might we imagine that his daughter, Gunhilda – married to the future Henry III – sought to please her father by sending a collection of these “royal poems” to the royal English court? Of course, another possibility is that Cnut had them written down when sojourning in the company of Conrad II, whose dirge, however, is also part of the collection, which thus, in its entirety, postdates both the death of Gunhilda and Conrad. Whichever way, the collection of poems evidently witness the poetic scene at the imperial German court in the early 11th century.
One of these songs has played a singular role in German historiography, the so-called De Heinrico (no 19). Famous for being macaronic, in so far as each verse (single metrical line) combines Latin and Old High German, the poem has engaged both philologists and historians for the last 300 years.
In the poem, an Emperor Otto meets up with a former Duke of Bavaria, Henry, and comes to an agreement and reconciliation. The poem opens with a solicitation of God’s help and then continues to exhort the King to rise in the presence of the Duke since the latter has arrived, bringing an army “fit for a king” to support Otto. Hearing this, the Emperor goes to meet the Duke with whom he joins hands while leading him into a church to pray. Following this, Otto escorts him to his council and shares everything with him except his kingly prerogatives, “which Henry did not covet” while following his advice in everything. “I have good faith, this is the truth, rightly”, the song ends.
Such reconciliations between the many Henrys and Ottos took place in the years 941, 948, 952, 985, 995 and 997, and historians debated as to which historical event the poem refers to. To make matters more complicated, two Henrys appear to be mentioned in the fourth strophe (albeit some scholars have considered this the mistake of a copyist). So, which Henry(s) are we talking about? And which Otto?
Obviously, one suggestion might be that this question was never that important if the poem was composed (or rewritten) at the fledgeling court of the new King in 1002 and intended to be part of
the PR package(s) sent to Werla and probably elsewhere in spring 1002. Singing and performing the song would have been designed to make an impression on the two parties present at this and other meets – clerics and secular lords. Each party would understand at least half the presentation – either the Latin, the Germanic or both. We may even imagine that two singers might perform the song in a kind of duet interweaving the parallel bits of verses while securing a well-informed audience in both “camps” – the clerical as well as secular milieu as to the political pretensions of Henry II. (1) As such, the main object appears to imprint on the minds that although Henry’s father, Henry the Quarrelsome at several occasions had rebelled against the ruling Saxon dynasty, he had in the end accepted to play second violin to Otto III. Famously, the gathering of Saxon nobles would have remembered the reconciliation established in 985 at Rohr after the events following the coronation of Otto III in Aachen. Here, the Quarrelsome Duke –after escaping from Ingelheim, where he had been exiled and imprisoned ten years earlier – had taken Otto III as hostage while trying to usurp the kingship for himself. At this point, our Henry would have been ten to eleven years old and would likely have joined up with his father, who was trying to regain his former position as Duke of Bavaria. During these events, 975 – 985, the two sisters of Otto III had witnessed the events under the aegis of the other leading ladies of the Ottonian family.
Conflict and Consummation
At this point in the story, however, a disruption in the proceedings at Werla took place when one of the other contenders, Ekkehard of Meissen, staged a late arrival and then commandeered the table to sit down together with Bishop Bernward of Hildesheim and Arnulf of Halberstadt. Presumably, Ekkehard lorded it at the high seat at the table, thus performing as “king”. This highhandedness apparently displeased the other guests, and Ekkehard had to scramble for the door. From Werla, he took off for Paderborn where he sought out the support of the bishop Rethar. Unfortunately, the latter was reluctant, and Ekkehard moved on to Pöhlde, where he was attacked and killed together with the former chamberlain of Otto III and some of his and Ekkehard’s other “familiares”. Obviously, the party of Ekkehard belonged to the inner circle of Otto III, who supported a group of Western contenders. Ekkehard, though, had yet another axe to grind.
Ekkehard’s powerbase, Meissen, lay in the frontier zone bordering the Polish realm led by Boleslaw Chroby, who later married one of his daughters. However, while Otto III had recognised Boleslaw as a “kinglet” at a meeting in Gniezno, history shows Henry did not. During his reign, he and Boleslaw engaged in a series of armed conflicts carrying on right up to the death of the Emperor. This was a foreseeable conflict staged by a Polish wannabe trying to invoke his ancestral and dynastic claims as the defender of the eastern marches bordering the Viking Rus’ principality. Ekkehard would have been caught between a rock and a hard place had he lived to take part in these hostilities, which played out on the Eastern frontier with Boleslaw, which occupied Henry during long periods of his reign, including the summer and autumn of 1002.
Late spring – after the death of Ekkehard – Henry moved on to Worms with an entourage consisting of his faithful Bavarian and Eastern Frankish troops attempting to cross the river Rhine. At first, the other main contender, Duke Hermann of Swabia, succeeded in stopping him. Hence, Henry moved back to Lorsch, appearing to have given up. In a swift turnaround, though, he moved to Mainz, where he crossed the Rhine safely and reached his destination on the 6th of June. The following day, he succeeded in being crowned in the Cathedral. Albeit Trier and Cologne later contested the coronation, the Archbishop of Mainz held a de facto monopoly of the office of Archchancellor of the Empire since the mid-tenth century, and Mainz was the home of the liturgical manual for coronations of kings. Nonetheless, Thietmar tells us that the archbishop of Cologne did not share the idea of Mainz’s superior position and continued to withhold his approval while wrangling with Henry.
Following the coronation, the time finally came to deal with the leading contender, the Duke of Swabia, and organise the first royal perambulation of the realm. During this journey, the leading men accepted the fait accompli with more or less enthusiasm, leading, among other things, to the coronation of Kunigunde at Paderborn and Henry’s later reception and enthronement at Aachen. However, it also took a series of negotiations, bribes, and regular incarcerations – for instance, that of the Archbishop of Cologne – to shore up his rule. The circuit ended in Merseburg in Saxony on the 24th of July, where Henry was unanimously confirmed as King. Finally, on the 1st of October, after long and complicated consultations, peace was negotiated between the Duke of Swabia and King Henry II at Bruchsal.
Since then, a host of German scholars have debated what role the symbolic performances of royalty staged at Werla, Mainz, Aachen and Merseburg in the year 1002 as opposed to the brute force displayed in between. We may ask:
• Why would Duke Henry III of Bavaria endeavour to seek this position?
• What role did the anointment and coronation at Mainz play?
• How vital were the regalia’s securement – the crown and the Lance?
• As opposed to the actual negotiations, bribes, warfare and skirmishes?
• And deep down, why did the “magnates” even experience the need to elect a king?
These questions are not idle.
Seeking the Throne
Why would Duke Henry III of Bavaria endeavour to seek the throne? And invest so much energy therein?
To answer this question, we have to delve into the very early history of the man, trying to ascertain the way of life and worldview to which he was exposed in the early formative years.
Henry was born in 973, the same year Otto III died. Immediately, this led his father, Henry the Quarrelsome, to rebel against his cousin, the new King, Otto II. The next ten years witnessed a series of insurgencies peppered with long stretches of imprisonment. Thus, from 978 to 983, he was incarcerated first in Ingelheim and later in Utrecht, while the dukedom was transferred to another magnate. Finally, after the early death of Otto II, Henry the Quarrelsome succeeded in escaping while taking the three-year-old boy Otto III as hostage. During the next months, he was heralded as King in Merseburg, Quedlinburg, and elsewhere. Contemporaries later explained why these events did not come to fruition. Already, the young boy had been anointed, creating an unsurmountable obstacle in the eyes of the Church, which needed to back up the pretender’s claim. All came to a final settlement in 984 in Rohr, when Henry abdicated his claim to be – once again – merely the elected Duke of Bavaria.
During these formative years, his son and heir received a comprehensive education at schools at Freising and Hildesheim, where a later notice tells us his parents (or Emperor Otto II) had enrolled him to forge the boy’s clerical career. However, at eleven, he was likely present at Rohr. Hence, German historians have speculated whether the song De Henrico discussed above was, in fact, composed to memorialise precisely this event. Afterwards, though, it appears the boy was sent on to Regensburg to continue his education. Here, he encountered a religious milieu infested with pious aspirations invested in the Benedictine reform movement fostered at Gorze, aiming to reinvent the cloistered and regulated lives of an earlier time. At the centre of this reformation, we find Henry’s father remembered as “the Pious” and not “the Quarrelsome”.
When Henry the Quarrelsome died in 995, he had succeeded in creating a well-organised and autocratically governed realm out of the duchy of Bavaria, which he left to his eldest son to consolidate. Four years later, the young Henry married Kunigunde, daughter of Count Siegfried I of Luxembourg. Later historians speculated why Henry entered into this match, as he might have chosen to ally himself with one of the ducal or royal dynasties in his orbit. One explanation might be that this was a love match. History showed, however, that the alliance was also shrewd. Henry was, from his early years, imbued with a distinct religious fervour initially inspired by Cluny. Lotharingia was home to a particular version of this reform movement forged at Gorze and Metz and vigorously supported by a faction of the German bishops under whose care and guidance Henry grew up. Bordering Franconia, Lotharingia constituted a powerful satellite to the west, bolstering the church politics of the people in charge of the “End of Times”.
To conclude, It appears that the religious but also secular magnates who supported Henry’s candidacy were linked to this reform movement, the ideas of which the new King evidently shared. At the centre of these concerns lay the reformation of the regulated life in religious institutions as well as the prerequisite of protection from the continued eruptions of feuding and violence so prevalent in the sources.
The Anointment and Coronation at Mainz
These concerns filled the Coronation Liturgy, the so-called Mainzer-ordo, which was celebrated in June 1002, when Henry finally succeeded in crossing the Rhine to get a formal acceptance in the Cathedral.
Reading the prayers, we get a sense of what the Archbishop of Mainz and the Church expected of their new King. First, they obviously hoped for a “strong man” able to provide justice and peace in the manner of Abraham, Moses, Joshua, David, and Solomon. Thus, a prayer in the coronation liturgy asked God to bless Henry with faithfulness, mildness, fortitude, humility and wisdom so that he might provide a stalwart defence against evil forces. In this sense, Henry was installed as Christ’s representative on earth.
After the unction, he would have been fitted out with the incumbent symbols – the ring, the sword, the crown, the sceptre and the rod. Just as we can see the event depicted in the Regensburger Sakramentar (CLM 4456 fol 11 r), where Henry stands in front of a throne supported by two sainted bishops, Ulrich von Augsburg and Emmeram von Regensburg, while Christ crowns and angels provide him with the sword and the Lance. As often noted, Henry’s head reaches into the mandorla of Christ with the Holy Lance playing the role of the rod, symbolising justice. The illumination is part of a double spread, showing the coronation on the right and the enthroned ruler on the left. Curiously, in the enthroned scene, Henry is holding a dagger in his right hand and a sphere in his left hand while courtiers are providing him with the sword and the Lance. Also, he is dressed differently. In the coronation scene, he wears a plainer tunic, while in the enthroned scene, he is gaudily dressed in a jewel-encrusted outfit with shoulder plates. The Sakramentar was produced at St. Emmeran at Regensburg between 1002–1007 before Bamberg was promoted, and before he was crowned Emperor. Likely, the Sacramentary was a political text produced shortly after the events in 1002 and included in the library at Bamberg in 1012.
In the inscriptions circumscribing the illuminations, the echo of the prayers from Mainz is provided. According to these, Henry was elected by divine providence and blessed because of his lineage, his heart and deeds, and his fearsomeness leading to a reign imbued with conquests, while he honourable pursues and commands justice to be carried out.
The End of Times
These were troublesome times. The Europe of the Early Middle Ages had been based on predatory economies. As Einhard famously wrote about Charlemagne’s war against the Avars in /91, “No one can recall the war against the Franks that left them richer or better stocked with resources. Until then they had seemed almost impoverished” (2).
However, since the end of the 8th and beginning if the 9th century, raids and forays had been directed from the periphery and into the former Carolingian centre of Europe by Northmen, Slavs, Magyars and Muslims.
Although Germany had been able to cushion itself better than France and Anglo-Saxon England, it also suffered, leading to contracted, besieged, and fragmented realms. In this world, former powerful religious institutions became more and more overwhelmed by violence forged by their neighbours, such as the devastations and pillaging visited upon the city of Strasbourg by the Duke of Swabia during the hostilities in 1002. Thietmar tells us that, “After climbing the walls, they left nothing to the conquered. Without the Duke’s knowledge, a detestable horde of Swabians fearlessly entered the Cathedral of the Blessed Mother for a bit of easy pillaging. They seized all the treasure and, most shameful of all, set the house of God on fire”. (Thietmar 5:12)
No wonder, this period in time witnessed an overall sense of gloom and doom, invested in apocalyptic thinking, while at the same time, ordinary people – peasants and burghers – sought the protection of the Church. This endeavoured to bolster up any strong man which might defend its livelihood, not least its landed resources. Much ink has been spilt to explain how feudalism should be understood. Let it suffice here to appreciate it as a decentralised and fragmented mode of production involving large-scale racketeering.
A recent study has explained the events in 1002 and Henry’s later rule as a distinct reflection of his personal reading of the Apocalypse, as expressed in both art and chronicles at that time (Freising 2015).
Central to this understanding might be the Bamberger Apokalypse (from c. 1007 – 1010), which Henry commissioned at Reichenau. But the motif outlining the events up to and after the Apocalypse may also be found elsewhere in the artistic corpus, not least in the veneration of large-scale crucifixes and crosses such as the “Heinrichs Kreuz”, a famous Staurothek holding a relic from the True Cross.
Also, we know he had occasion to discuss the imminent future with the eremite Romuald, who preached imitation Christi as a preparation for the end-times, and with who he discussed such issues as the restoration of the Church, the powerplay of the lords and the suppression of the poor.
Perhaps Henry and his followers simply sought the throne because they were inspired by religious fervour ripe at the end of time, the turn of the first millennium.
Why Kings? The Functional Explanation
The system of government in Ottonian Germany has long puzzled historians. Arguably, Germany appeared as the undisputed centre of Medieval Europe in the tenth century. To the east and north, Slavic principalities partially cushioned Germany from the predatory Viking warriors ensconced in Normandy, Scandinavia, and on the Viking Rus’ axe from Novgorod to Kyiv. To the west, the fragmented and fragile kingdom of France was surrounded by the principalities of Burgundy, Brittany, Normandy and Flanders, while to the south the Papal State and the Lombard and Byzantine satellite regions cushioned from the Fatimid and Umayyad Caliphates. While the immediate periphery appeared fragmented, a series of rather daunting opponents operated behind the first tier of defences – the Vikings, the Saracens, and the Rus.
We meet them in Thietmar’s narrative as “filthy dogs”, “vipers”, “fornicators”, and people lacking any sense of “love” and characterised through their “cruel and wicked deeds” appearing as “plagues”. In short, as Thietmar writes about Sven Forkbeard, he was a “destroyer” and not a “ruler” (Thietmar 7,26).
One way of explaining the necessity of kings in tenth-century Germany might be the need in the political centre to muster large enough armies to hold these despicable people in the periphery at arms’ length. Being able to gather large contingents of soldiers would create the possibility for any contender to present himself as an attractive and viable offer on the kingly market. Such retinues represented the results of long-term, dynastic efforts of calibrating social networks created through gifts, marriages, and grants of offices and land. These networks of “familiares”– consisting of margraves and counts as well as their dependant followers – constituted the core of any inheritance in the tenth century. And help explain the importance of dynastic thinking.
Arguably, Henry had the support of his Bavarian network as well as very important allies in the Church. Soon, he also gained the support of his Saxon relatives, who provided him with easy access to a wider network of magnates and minor lords in the north. Further, to the west, in Lothringia, he was supported by his wife Kunigunde’s family. Thus, he was able to sandwich his enemies, not least the Duke of Swabia, between Lothringia and Bavaria in 1002. Military might was a sine qua non in the tenth century. And military might was a reflection of robust dynastic networks. And Henry had a large set of connections at his disposal.
Conclusion
The story of how Henry II was elected and anointed as King in 1002 is complex. It demonstrates how his close kinship to the dynasty of the late Emperor Otto and his forebears was of primary importance. However, it also shows how his ability to muster support was closely interwoven with his religious affinity to the ecclesiastic and lay supporters of the Gorze reform movement. Finally, though, it is probably reflected in a distinct cultural outlook fostered in his youth when he was suffering from what, by all accounts, looked like a protracted “exile” spent in a series of spiritually and religiously aroused milieu steeped in millennialism. Perhaps he suffered what we might call a cognitive dissonance between his identity as the first-born son of the Duke of Bavaria and rightful stirpes of the ruling dynasty, who was nevertheless pushed aside for nearly ten years to seek a career in the church, while his father was either living as a fugitive or held as prisoner at Utrecht.Nevertheless, it is pertinent to note that in his own words that he was the legitimate heir because he was close to the late Emperor, a linear descendant of the Ottonian House. For this reason he was elected by the people as destined by God. As he personally claimed in 1003 in the Arenga to a donation to the Diocese in Strabourg;
“After the departure from this life of such a great emperor, the old familiarity propagated between us from childhood, as well as the kinship and affinity of consanguinity which we had with such a Caesar, persuaded the aforementioned bishop [of Strasbourg], along with others whose numbers are infinite, to loyally give their hands to us, so that, with God presiding, a harmonious election of the people and princes might be granted to us that a hereditary succession to the kingdom could take place without any division”.
Translated from: Die Urkunden der Deutschen Könige und Kaiser. Dritter Band: Die Urkunden Heinrichs II. Und Arduins.
Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Hannover 1900-1903, p. 37
FEATURED PHOTO:
NOTES
(1). Thietmar wrote a detailed and picturesque chronicle about the events in Ottonian Germany. The quotations here derive from the edition by David A Warmer.
(1) Pace Ziolkowski 2020, who claims that the Latin text might be understandable on its own, while the Old High German would be too fragmented. My evaluation is based on the reading in OHG presenting itself as terse and precise.
(2) The Life of Charlemagne. Here quoted from Cahrlemagne’s Courtier. The Complete Einhard. Ed. And Transl. By P. E. Dutton. Broadview Press 1998, p. 24
SOURCES:
The Chronicon of the Thietmar of Merseburg.
Tr. and ed. By David A. Warmer
Manchester University Press 2001
Adalbold von Utrecht, Vita s. Heinrici II imperatoris: Übersetzung und Einleitung,
Tr. and ed. by M. Schütz,
In: Bericht des Historischen Vereins für die Pflege der Geschichte des ehemaligen Fürstbistums Bamberg 135 (1999) 148-195
Engl. translation: On the Deeds of St. Henry. Transl. by D. P. Curtin.
Dalcassian Publishing Company 020
Die Lebensbeschreibungen der Königin Mathilda, vol. 66 of
Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Scriptores rerum Germanicarum in usum scholarum separatim editi
Ed. By Bernd Schütte
Hannover: Hahnsche Buchhandlung, 1994
The Cambridge Songs. Carmina Cantabrigensia.
Ed. And translated by Jan M. Ziolkowski
Harvard Studies in Medieval Latin Vol 3
Harvard University Press 2020.
LITERATURE (SELECTION):
Die Königserhebung Henrys I. Erinnerung, Mündlichkeit und Traditionsbildung im 10. Jahrhundert
Fried, Johannes. (1995)
In: Mittelalterforschung nach der Wende 1989 S. 267-318
Manuscripts and Medieval Songs.
By Helen Deeming and Elizabeth Eva Leach
Cambridge University Press 2015
Henry II, liturgical patronage and the
birth of the ‘Romano-German Pontifical’
By Henry Parkes
Early Medieval Europe (2020) Vol 28 No 1, pp 104 – 141
King Henry II of Germany. Royal Self-Representation and Historical Memory
By John W. Bernhardt
In: Medieval Concepts of the Past. Ed by Althoff…
Heinrich II – Ein Kaiser der letzten Tage. Ein Beitrag zur Politischen Anthropologie.
By Werner Freitag
In: Historische Anthropologie (1998) Vol 6, No 2, pp 218-241
Königserhebungen zwischen Erbrecht and Wahlrecht? Thronfolge und Rechtsmentalität um da Jahr 1000
Von Steffen Patzold
In: Deutsches Archiv für Erforschung des Mittelalters 58 (2002) 467-484
Collogium familiare – colloquium secretum – colloquium publicum. Beratungen im Politischen Handels.
By Gerd Althoff:
Frühmittelalterliche Studien 24 (1990)
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