This week, I’m going to tell you a wonderful story. It is that of a medieval manuscript called the “Codex Irmengard”. It was made in the 11th century in Germany, at the request of a wealthy patron, Irmengard of Nellenburg, a relative of both Pope Leo X and the Ottonian Emperor Henry II.
The work of Benedictine copyists from Reichenau Abbey, located on an island in Lake Constance, this manuscript features sublime illuminations illustrating the major scenes from the Gospels. The copyists opted for soft colors of pastel pink and emerald green, or for bright oranges and deep blues. The freshness and beauty of this work are overwhelming. Endowed with a keen sense of dramaturgy, the monks sometimes also used the two facing pages to give more breadth to a scene. Movingly, Irmengard dedicated this collection to her husband Werner and her son Adalbert, both killed in the battle of Civitate (1053). A two-page plate shows us Irmengard offering her husband to Christ, who himself offers her the Gospel book, as a viaticum towards the beyond.
Imagine that this manuscript traveled. He left the abbey to migrate to Lorraine, France. We find traces of it in Toul in the 17th century, then in Saint-Mihiel in the Meuse in the 18th century. This marvel of art and spirituality was acquired from a bookseller in Saint-Mihiel in 1830 by a parish priest and future bishop, Charles Didiot (Pierre Jova once told this in the magazine The life). He donated it to his relative Jules Didiot, who was dean of the faculty of theology in Lille. In 1881, this precious treasure was offered to the library of the Catholic Institute of Lille, thanks to the support of industrialists from the North who were anxious to keep this book in the bosom of the Church.
But the journey does not end there! In 2019, the Catholic Institute decided to sell this manuscript to meet its costs. Even the upkeep of the manuscript is very expensive. Maintaining collections is expensive. And above all, above all, the restoration of the Saint-Joseph chapel was estimated at several million euros.
“Historical rarity”
The Ministry of Culture was then approached, but did not respond. Was the itinerancy of the manuscript going to start again? Was this medieval masterpiece going to leave France? No ! The ministry decided to classify it as a “national treasure” to ensure that the manuscript, were it sold, would not leave France. Was the National Library of France going to be the buyer? We believed him, then we became disillusioned. Was the Ministry of Culture finally going to preempt? We hoped so, but no.
Was it then necessary to expose this miraculous manuscript to the public to finance at least the cost of its upkeep, as is done quite often? The competent people replied that this was out of the question and that it was good practice for the Anglo-Saxons.
And here is the outcome: the Getty Center in Los Angeles has just announced the acquisition of the so-called Saint-Mihiel manuscript, alias Codex Irmengard. Much to their delight, our American friends rave in a press release on the absolute rarity of this object, on its exceptional beauty, on the chance which is theirs to have been able to acquire such a good, of which no example was been on the market for fifty years. Elizabeth Morrison, in charge of manuscripts at the Getty Museum, beams with happiness: “We had not been able to add any object from this distant era to our collections since the 1980s, so it is impossible to exaggerate the historical rarity of such a acquisition.” How we understand it! and how admirable is this age-old voyage from the waters of Lake Constance to the gentle hills of California! Another cause for celebration: the manuscript will be on display to the public from autumn 2023 – a good practice for Anglo-Saxons, you are told.
Obviously, this beautiful story raises the question of the value of the “national treasure” label. Under the authority of the Ministry of Culture. France’s heritage priorities. Of the capacity of institutions to deal with the problems of financing the most precious goods in a country where millions are found every day for cultural gadgets. Of the cultural negligence of the Catholic Church. But at least, a consolation is allowed us: the restoration of the Saint-Joseph chapel (1876) will finally be able to begin.
Oh no, sorry.
At the request of the Catholic Institute, the Ministry of Culture authorized its destruction.
She was shaved in February 2021.