CHAPTER I. THE GENESIS OF ECCLESIASTICAL VESTMENTS.

The study of ecclesiastical history or antiquities can be pursued from either of two standpoints. We may take into account those essentially religious or theological elements which distinguish this subject from all other branches of antiquarian science, and keep them prominently before us during our investigations; or else, disregarding those elements more or less completely, we may consider the subject wholly from the point of view of the antiquary.

As a general rule, those investigators who lay stress on the ecclesiastical rather than on the antiquarian side of ecclesiology and its various subdivisions have been attracted to the study not so much by the intrinsic interest which, in some {2} degree, every branch of archæology possesses, as by the wish to settle controversial questions relating to Church doctrine, usage, or discipline. This is especially true of the important section of ecclesiology with which these pages are concerned. There are two schools into which the students of Church vestments may be divided—the ritualistic and the antiquarian. Each strives to attain full knowledge of the subject, and the means employed by both schools are the same—the evidence drawn from a patient comparison of the works of authors and artists of successive periods. But while those of the purely antiquarian school regard the knowledge thus gained as in itself the chief end of their researches, those of the other consider it rather as a stepping-stone, leading to proofs of the Divine appointment of the use of vestments, and indicating regulations to govern the usage of vestments in the modern Church.

It is not surprising that the results of the investigations of two schools, having aims so diverse in view, should be mutually incompatible. According to the views of some members of the ritualistic school, the vestments of the Christian Church were modelled directly upon the vestments of the Jewish priesthood; and as minute instructions for the shapes and usage of the latter were laid down in the divinely-revealed laws of Moses, they thus claim an at least indirect Divine appointment for {3} the Christian vestments. The antiquarian party, on the other hand, are unanimous in holding that the vestments of the Christian Church were evolved, by a natural process, from the ordinary costume of a Roman citizen of the first or second century of our era.

The consideration of these two theories must first occupy our attention. Neither is absolutely correct; for, although the balance of probability is enormously in favour of the second view, yet this theory, in the form in which it is often stated, does not cover certain changes which were made in the textures, outlines, and number of the vestments while the Church was yet comparatively young. These changes were all introduced to assimilate, as far as possible, the Jewish and Christian systems; and thus it may be said that both views contain an element of truth.

The theory of a Levitical origin is the older of the two; in fact, it was the first, and for many years the only, solution proposed. We shall therefore at the outset devote a page or two to considering its merits. Very few, even among the students of the ritualistic school, now hold it absolutely. The weight of argument which can be brought to bear against it is so great that it is almost universally abandoned as untenable.

For comparative purposes, it will be necessary at this stage to introduce a short descriptive {4} catalogue of the vestments of the Levitical priesthood, as prescribed in the Book of Exodus (chap. xxviii). Josephus ('Antiquities,' iii 7) is also a locus classicus on the subject, and some additional particulars from that source are here incorporated:

I. The Drawers or 'Breeches' of Linen.

II. The Tunic of Linen ('coat of fine linen,' Exod. xxviii 39).—Josephus tells us that this tunic was of fine linen or flax doubled; that it reached to the feet, fitting close to the body, and was furnished with tight sleeves. It was girded to the breast, a little above the level of the elbows, by

III. The Girdle.—This was a strip of linen which, according to Josephus, was four fingers broad; according to Maimonides,[1] three fingers broad and thirty-two cubits long. It was wound many times round the body; the ends were then tied over the breast and hung down to the feet, except when the priest was engaged in sacrifice or other service, in which case he threw it over his left shoulder, so that it should not impede him in his duty. It was elaborately embroidered with flowers, worked in scarlet, purple, and blue threads.
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Fig. 1.—Vestments of the Jewish Priesthood.

{5} IV. The Priest's Cap ('bonnet,' Exod. xxviii 40).—This was an ordinary turban, fastened round the head. The description given by Josephus is clear and detailed. He says: 'Upon his head he wears a cap, not brought to a conic form nor encircling the whole head, but still covering more than half of it, which is called mesnaemphthes; and its make is such that it seemeth to be a crown [garland], being made of thick swathes, but the contexture is of linen, and it is doubled round many times and sewed together; besides which, a piece of fine linen covers the cap from the whole upper part, and reaches down to the forehead and hides the seams of the swathes, which otherwise would appear improperly.'[2]

{6} These four vestments constituted the complete equipment of the ordinary Jewish priest, as prescribed in the Mosaic law. The high-priest, however, added four more, which were as follows:

V. The Tunic of Blue ('robe of the ephod,' Exod. xxviii 31).—This was a long garment which, according to some authorities, reached to the feet, but according to others to the knees only. It was woven in one piece, with an aperture through which the head of the wearer was passed; this aperture was guarded by a binding or braid to prevent it from tearing. Round the lower hem of this garment were hung golden bells and models of pomegranates, alternating one with another. The meaning of this remarkable ornament is not clear, and several explanations have been advanced to account for it; all, however, fanciful, and not worth recording here.

VI. The Ephod, which was at once the most elaborate and the most important of the Jewish vestments, is more fully described than any of the rest. The superiority of this vestment over the others is due to the part which it, and the breastplate intimately connected with it, played in the mysterious revelations by which the children of Israel were guided during the period of the {7} Theocracy. For us, however, it would be as irrelevant as it would be futile to speculate on the nature of the revelation, or the instrumentality of the ephod in indicating the Divine will to the priest. We are here concerned only with the ephod as an element in the equipment of the high-priest, with its shape, and with such particulars of its ritual use as we can find directly stated in the different authorities.

'The ephod,' says Josephus, was 'woven to the depth of a cubit, of several colours [gold, blue, purple, and scarlet are enumerated in Exodus]; it was made with sleeves also; nor did it appear to be at all differently made from a short coat.'[3] The vestment seems to have consisted of two pieces, a front and a back, which were buttoned together by two onyx stones, one on each shoulder, set in bezils or 'ouches,' and engraved with the names of the twelve tribes, six on one, six on the other. Round the waist was passed a girdle, which was an essential part of the vestment—indeed, Josephus tells us that the girdle and the ephod were sewn together. This girdle, which was made of materials similar to those which constituted the ephod, seems to have been embroidered elaborately with coloured threads.

{8} The ritual uses of the ephod, even apart from its supernatural associations, are obscure. It is distinctly implied both in Exodus and by Josephus that the vestment was intended for the use of the high-priest alone; yet we find allusions scattered through the early historical books of the Old Testament which clearly indicate that it was worn by others as well. Thus, we read in 1 Sam. xxii 18 that Doeg, commanded by Saul to fall on the priests who had assisted David, 'slew ... fourscore and five persons that did wear a linen ephod.' Again, Samuel, when a child in the service of the priests, 'ministered before the Lord ... girded with a linen ephod' (1 Sam. ii 18). Further, we read that King David himself, when he escorted the ark from the house of Obed-Edom to Jerusalem, was 'girded with a linen ephod.' In these three passages we read of an ephod being worn by the minor priest, the acolyte, and the layman, for none of whom it was originally intended. The most probable explanation seems to be that the ephod, originally intended as a vestment for the high-priest alone, was gradually assumed, probably in a less elaborate form, by the minor priests as well—when or how we cannot say. This explanation assumes that the regulation was originally laid down as it stands in Exodus; but it is possible that the more stringent restrictions may not be earlier than the recension of Ezra.

{9} We learn from the incidents of Gideon (Judg. viii 27) and of Micah (Judg. xvii 5; xviii 14 et seq.) that the ephod, or, rather, copies of it, early became objects of superstitious veneration. In the two latter passages quoted, as well as in Hos. v 4, the vestment is coupled with the teraphim or penates, to the worship of which the Israelites showed marked inclination at different periods of their history. It may be noticed in passing that Ephod, which signifies 'giver of oracles,' is used as a personal name (Num. xxxiv 23).

VII. The Breastplate of the Ephod.—This was a rectangular piece of cloth of the same material as the ephod. That it might the better hold the precious stones with which it was set, it was doubled, its shape when so treated being that of a perfect square, with a side of about nine inches long. The stones were twelve in number, and fixed in settings of gold, being arranged in four rows of three each. On each stone was engraved the name of one of the twelve tribes.

This breastplate was secured by two plaited or twisted chains of gold, fastened at the one end to the bezils of the shoulder-pieces of the ephod, at the other to rings of gold in the upper corners of the breastplate, and by two blue cords secured to rings of gold in the lower corners of the breastplate and in the sides of the ephod above the {10} embroidered girdle. Josephus asserts that there was an aperture in the ephod immediately under the breastplate. For this statement there is no Scriptural authority; but it is possible that it is the record of a modification in the details of the vestment naturally evolved and established at some time subsequent to the institution of the vestment itself.

VIII. The Mitre.—This did not differ in essence from the head-dress of the priests except in one important respect—the addition of a gold plate, set on a lace of blue, and bearing the inscription, 'Holy to Jehovah.' Josephus does not mention this plate, but describes the mitre as a kind of triple tiara, surmounted by a flower-shaped cup of gold, and covering the turban proper.[4] This, however, is quite at variance with the original laws on the subject.

In one respect these vestments are similar to those which it will be our duty to describe in the following pages. Although there is no injunction on the subject in the Law, the Talmud states clearly that 'he who wears the vestments of the priests outside the temple does a thing forbidden.'

{11} It is admitted by almost all students that the vestments during the first six or eight centuries of the Christian era were of much greater simplicity than those of later times. The evidence of contemporary art is overwhelmingly opposed to any other view. This fact being admitted, we need not be surprised by finding that until the eighth or ninth century no attempt was made to trace any connection between the elaborate vestments which we have just described, and the vestments worn by those who ministered in the offices of Christian worship.

It is true that until the time we have mentioned Churchmen did not greatly trouble themselves with investigations into the history of the religion they professed or the ritual they performed. But it is also true that several authors before this date enumerate the Jewish vestments, and enter at length into the figurative meanings which they were alleged to bear; but not one of these refers to any supposed genealogical connection—if the expression be permissible—between the two systems. This would be inexplicable if the Christian vestments were actually derived from the Jewish; for not only would the resemblance between the two be obvious, but the tradition of the assumption by Christian clerics of the vestments originally instituted for the Jewish priesthood would still be fresh in the minds of the authors. Yet not only do these {12} writers not point out any resemblance between the two: they even make use of words and phrases which point to considerable differences between the outward appearance of Jewish and Christian vesture.

Apart from these considerations, may we not ask with reason how the early Christians, a poor and persecuted sect, could possibly assume and maintain an elaborate and expensive system of vestments such as the Jewish? And if the assumption had been made after the days of persecution were past, surely some record of the transaction would have been preserved till our own day? We possess a tolerably full series of the acts and transactions of ecclesiastical courts in all parts of the known world from the earliest times—how is it that all record of such an important proceeding has perished?

The first hint of the idea of the Mosaic origin of the Christian vestments is given by Rabanus Maurus, Archbishop of Mainz, in his treatise 'De Institutione Clericorum,'[5] written about the year 850. In the first book of this tract he discusses each Christian vestment in turn, endeavouring to find parallels to some of them among the vestments of the Jewish priesthood, but without much success. The seed thus sown, however, rapidly bore fruit among subsequent writers, who expanded the theory with great elaboration.

{13} Many of the identifications brought forward by some of the late writers are very far-fetched, and mutually contradictory. To these but little weight can be attributed. It is a significant fact that none of the writers who endeavour to find parallels between the two systems can discover an equivalent among the Jewish vestments for the chasuble. Now, if for each of the Christian vestments there existed a corresponding vestment among those of the Jews, it would be singular that the most important of the former should be unrepresented among the latter. The maniple, too, has no equivalent (this, however, is more intelligible, since that ornament was certainly a later introduction); while the amice is the only vestment that even the most ingenious can produce to represent the ephod, though the similarity between the two is of the slightest.

There is another important point which the advocates of a Mosaic origin for Christian vestments overlook. The early Christians certainly did borrow many details of their worship from the Jews who lived around them, and from whose religion many of them had been converted; but these details were taken not from the antiquated ritual of the temple worship, but from the synagogue worship, to which they had been accustomed. Now, the vestments which we have described above were appointed for the tabernacle worship and the {14} temple worship, its direct successor, whereas no vestments were at any time or by any authority appointed for use in the synagogue worship;[6] and hence the Christian vesture cannot be said to 'come directly' from the Jewish.

We have discussed the theory of a Levitical origin on purely a priori grounds, making only the slightest allusion to the vestments themselves as we find them in primitive times. In considering the second view, to which it is now time to turn, we shall adopt a different course. We shall first collect the main facts which can be discovered or deduced respecting vestments in the earliest centuries of Christianity, from the beginning till the rupture of the East and the West, and then discuss in detail the vestments as we find them in the succeeding period, which in all ecclesiastical matters was a period of transition, comparing each in turn with its hypothetical prototype among the civil costume of the Romans. The remainder of the present and the whole of the succeeding chapter will be devoted to this investigation.

The materials available for an inquiry into the vestment usage of the early Church are twofold: the incidental statements of contemporary authors, and the more direct information obtained from a {15} study of contemporary paintings and sculpture. We shall now discuss the results which follow from an examination of these sources.

The references in the earliest writers—even including those which have a very indirect bearing on the subject—are extremely few in number; and all passages which can possibly throw any light on the question have been eagerly sought out and called into evidence to support one theory or another. The two best-known passages are the statement of St Jerome: 'Holy worship hath one habit in the ministry, another in general use and common life';[7] and the yet more famous passage in the liturgy of St Clement, in which a rubric directs the priest to begin the service 'girded with a shining vesture.'[8] The phrase λαμπρὰν ἐσθῆτα μετενδὺς has been translated 'being girded with his "splendid" vestment,' a translation which the Greek cannot possibly bear; and this passage, coupled with the excerpt from Jerome just quoted, have been brought forward to testify that gorgeous vestments were in use even at the early times when those documents from which they have been extracted were written.

{16} Mr. Marriott has carefully examined and commented on these and the other passages cited as authorities. He proves that the first passage given above is used in a context which shows that Jerome, though possibly he may have had Christian usage in his mind, was thinking primarily of Jewish usage; the second (which not improbably is an interpolation) does not specify a 'splendid' vesture, but a 'white' or 'shining' garment.

Mr. Marriott's inference from these and similar passages is 'that white was the colour appropriated in primitive times [i.e., in the first four centuries] to the dress of the Christian ministry.' Though this view is preferable to the theory that the primitive vestments were of the same elaborate description as their mediaeval successors, yet it does not altogether commend itself as following naturally from the authorities cited. It will be necessary to review these passages, for, as we shall endeavour to show, they are quite consistent with the third alternative: that no distinctive vestments were set apart for the exclusive use of the Christian minister during the first four centuries of the Christian era.

The third passage is also from Jerome. In another part of the same commentary as the last he writes: 'From all these things we learn that we ought not enter the Holy of Holies clad in our everyday garments and in whatever clothes we will, defiled as they are by the usage of common {17} life; but with pure conscience and in pure garments we ought to hold the sacraments of the Lord.'[9]

The fourth passage is from Jerome's letter against the Pelagians, in which occur these remarkable words: 'You say, further, that gorgeousness of apparel or ornament is offensive to God. But, I ask, suppose I should wear a comelier tunic, wherein would it offend God? or if bishop, priest, deacon, and the rest of the church officers were to come forward dressed in white?'[10]

Only one other passage remains. This is the account of the charge preferred against Cyril, Bishop of Jerusalem, before the Emperor Constantius. It is narrated in Theodoret (Eccl. Hist., ii 27), and, not being worth quoting at length, may be briefly stated thus: Constantine had sent to Macarius, the then bishop, a sacred robe—ἱερὰν στολήν—made of threads of gold, to be worn when administering baptism; Cyril had sold this robe to a stage-dancer, who wore it during a {18} public exhibition. It was further stated that the stage-dancer had fallen while dancing and been fatally injured.

As the reader will see, these passages give but few data for deductions as to the vestment-usage in the early Church. There is no indication, for instance, in the passage from Theodoret of what sort the sacred robe in question was: it may just as well have been a splendid garment originally from some temple or other. The fact that the early Greek ecclesiastical writers do not use the word στολή to denote a sacred vestment further weakens the force of this anecdote as an argument. Only Germanus, Patriarch of Constantinople (early seventh century), supplies another instance, where he says: ἡ στολὴ τοῦ ἱερέως . . . κατὰ τὸν ποδήρη Ααρών; and this latter passage can be explained away, as στολὴ refers here to Jewish vesture, in which connection it is also employed by the Septuagint.

On a careful and unbiased reading of these passages, it will be noticed that nothing is said which can be construed into denoting garments of a special prescribed shape, and that their colour is only specified by such indefinite words as λαμπρός and candidus.

It is also important to notice that although in the first and third of the passages cited from Jerome a more special mention is made of the {19} dress of the clergy, yet it is not straining the meaning of either of them to regard them as applying equally well to the dress of the lay worshippers. This, of course, would preclude the supposition that they deal with any special ritual observance. The second of these quotations, if translated into homely nineteenth-century language, resolves itself into a simple but strong injunction to all worshippers (not the minister only) to wear their Sunday clothes. Mr Marriott lays great stress on the passage in the letter against Pelagius; its testimony is one of the strongest arguments which he can bring forward to support his thesis, that it was specially appointed, in the primitive church, that white vestments (something like the modern surplice) should be worn by the minister. But Jerome does not say, 'Is God displeased because the officers of the church dressed candida veste?' but 'would God be displeased if they were so vested?' The entire passage is hypothetical; and nothing is more clear than that Jerome was not contemplating any hard and fast rules.

We may dismiss the passage from the Clementine Liturgy with very few words. Λαμπρός, which the ritualists translate 'splendid,' in classical Greek always means 'bright, brilliant, radiant,'[11] and {20} is applied in Homer to the sun and stars. It is also applied, in the sense of 'bright,' to white clothes; indeed, we find in Polybius[12] (flor. circa 150 B.C.) this very phrase, λαμπρὰ ἐσθής, equivalent to the Roman toga candida. Other meanings are 'limpid' (of water), 'sonorous' (of the voice), 'fresh, vigorous' (of action), 'manifest,' 'illustrious,' 'munificent,' 'joyous,' 'splendid' (generally, in outward appearance, health, dress, language, etc.); but it never wears the definite meaning which we should expect were the word intended to be applied to a definite vesture. The λαμπρὰ ἐσθής of the Clementine Liturgy is, in short, a bright, clean robe, but no more an article of an exclusively ecclesiastical nature than is the 'fair white linen cloth' with which the rubric of the Anglican Communion Service directs the altar to be covered.

Another passage, somewhat later in date, may be cited as a type of a large class of passages very apt to mislead too credulous students. It is the Gaulish description of St Berignus cited by Lipomanus (de Vitis Sanctor., Ed. Surius, Venice, 1581, vol. vi, p. 4), 'Vidi quendam hominem peregrinum, capite tonso, cujus habitus differt ab habitu nostro, vitaque eius nostrae dissimilis est.' The context, however, makes it plain that secular, not religious, dress is intended.

{21} And when we refer to the few early frescoes and mosaics which have come down to us from the primitive epoch, we find ecclesiastics, apostles, and Our Lord Himself, represented as habited in the tunic and toga or pallium of Roman everyday life.

We gather, therefore, from these scattered shreds of evidence that, during the first centuries of the Christian church, no vestments were definitely set apart for the exclusive use of the clergy who officiated at Divine service: that clergy and people wore the same style of vesture both in church and out, subject only to the accidental distinctions of quality and cleanliness.

Fashion in dress or ornament is subject to constant changes which, though perhaps individually trifling, in time amount to complete revolutions; but the devotees of any religion, true or false, are by nature conservative of its doctrines or observances. Combined with the conclusions at which we have just arrived, these two universally recognised statements yield us presumptive evidence of the truth of the theory which views the Roman civil dress as the true progenitor of mediaeval ecclesiastical costume. We have seen that at first the worshippers wore the same costume both at worship and at home. Fashion would slowly change unchecked from year to year, while ecclesiastical conservatism would retard {22} such changes so far as they concerned the dress worn at Divine service: small differences would spring into existence between everyday dress and the dress of the worshipper, and these differences, at first hardly perceptible, would increase as the process went on, till the two styles of costume became sharply distinguished from one another.

Parallel cases are not wanting to show that this is not altogether mere random theorizing. For example, the ministers of the Reformed Church of Holland maintained, till comparatively recently, a picturesque fashion of dress over a century old, which they wore only when conducting Divine service.[13] Perhaps, however, the objection may be urged against this view of the case, that if the process were such as we have described, it should apply as well to the worshippers as to the minister: that they, as well as he, should wear service-robes. It is possible that this would actually have been the case had the church services maintained their most primitive form, as St Paul describes it in the First Epistle to the Corinthians: 'When ye come together, every one of you hath a psalm, hath a doctrine, hath a tongue, hath a revelation, hath an interpretation';[14] that is, had all the worshippers maintained an equally prominent position {23} instead of selecting one of their number to conduct their services. As it was, the outstanding position of the minister rendered his equipment especially liable to such stereotyping as we have imagined.

In the following chapter we shall submit the truth of this theory to a test. If the genesis of ecclesiastical vestments actually took place in some such manner as this, then the vestments as we find them described in the earliest writers ought to bear conspicuous points of resemblance to the civil costume of the Roman people during the first three Christian centuries. We shall now inquire whether this be so.