CAROLINI, LIBRI

CAROLINI, LIBRI. — This is the name given today to a voluminous work, written at the command of Charlemagne, against the veneration of images, originally called *Capitulare de imaginibus*. The king of the Franks, kept in ignorance of the celebration of the Second Council of Nicaea (787), became acquainted with its acts through an unfaithful translation, heavily censored and later replaced, a century afterward, by Anastasius the Librarian. The court theologians, probably under the direction of Alcuino, immediately composed a lengthy refutation, which develops the following points: 1) adoration is homage reserved exclusively for God; 2) images should not receive the cult and veneration that is rendered to the Saints and their relics; 3) neither should they receive relative worship, because while the educated may ascend from images to the persons of the saints living in Heaven, for the uneducated this transition is difficult; there is thus the danger of idolatry: “Nihil aliud in his, praeter id quod vident, venerantur et adorant” (III, 16); 4) before images, which are devoid of sensation, it is not fitting to light candles and burn incense; 5) it is not, however, illicit to paint or sculpt figures of Saints as adornment for churches or as a reminder of historical events. Even in this case, it must be held that such representations contribute nothing to spiritual salvation, “cum ad peragenda nostrae salutis mysteria, nullum penitus officium [imagines] habere noscuntur” (II, 21); 6) existing images should not be destroyed.

Although the compilers of the *Libri Carolini* protest that they wish to uphold pure Latin tradition and the teaching of St. Gregory the Great (“images must neither be adored nor destroyed”), nevertheless, due to their vehement opposition to the Nicene canons, they strayed into expressions bordering on heterodoxy. Perhaps the *προσκύνησις* granted by the Greeks to images (Denz.-U., no. 302), and rendered by the unskilled translator as *adoratio*, provoked the exaggerated reaction; yet it seems that the ultimate reason for the outright denial of any cult, even relative, of images must be sought in the attitude, unfavorable to such veneration, long manifested by the Frankish people.

In any case, the royal theologians were now weighed down by the new political orientation of the sovereign: in 787, precisely, Charlemagne had broken with Empress Irene. From every page of the voluminous memorandum there emanates the hostility of the Frankish court toward Byzantium. Charles, who through military exploits and patronage had restored the fortunes of the West, felt strongly his dignity as a Christian prince and, like the Greek basileus, claimed for himself special prerogatives in ecclesiastical matters. Thus, in the king’s view, an ecumenical council should not be convoked without consulting the West. The *Libri Carolini* are the living expression of this state of affairs. At the Council of Frankfurt (794), presided over by Charlemagne, not only was Spanish Adoptionism condemned, but also the teaching of Nicaea, albeit in a more attenuated form than in the *Libri Carolini*. It was now necessary to inform the Pope. Angilbert, abbot of St-Riquier, carried to Rome the *Libri Carolini*, a summary of them, and a letter in which Charlemagne begged the Pontiff not to accept the Nicene council. Adrian I immediately perceived the contentious character of the criticisms leveled by the palatine theologians against the Eastern Church and, in a lengthy writing, refuted point by point the *reprehensiones* of the Carolingians, demonstrating their lack of foundation and their animosity, and then concluded: “Ideo ipsam suscepimus synodum” (PL 98, 1291).

It is unlikely that the Pope’s letter modified the sentiments of Charles and his court; in any case, for the moment the controversy over images receded into the background, only to be resumed after the emperor’s death in 824.