CHAPTER III. THE FINAL FORM OF VESTMENTS IN THE WESTERN CHURCH.

Hitherto, to a great extent, we have been groping in the dark, guided only by the dim light yielded by obscure passages in early writers or by half-defaced frescoes and shattered sculptures. Much is conjectural, much uncertain; and often the shreds of information obtained from different sources appear contradictory, requiring patient thought and investigation to unravel the entanglement and reconcile the inconsistencies.

The progress of Christian literature and art had been retarded first by persecution, then by war and tumult. This partly accounts for the comparative scantiness of the material extant for a history of the Christian antiquities of the first eight centuries. But with the ninth century a new era began, which lasted unchecked all through {61} the Middle Ages. The military genius of Charles the Great effected a general peace in the year 812; and under his enthusiastic patronage a true renaissance took place in learning and in art. Architecture and manuscript illumination were carried to a high degree of perfection, and for the first time active and systematic researches were made into the details of the doctrine and ritual of the church in the preceding centuries.

As a natural consequence of the inquiring spirit which thus made itself felt, the number of books and tracts on ecclesiastical matters multiplied enormously. Among the many branches of study which were and are open to the inquiry of the ecclesiologist, few occupied the attention of these ninth-century writers more than the vestments worn by the priests when ministering in Divine service.

It has been reserved for the antiquaries of our own day to formulate the true principles of scientific archaeology. We smile at the childish fancies which are gravely put forward in works not more than fifty years old; small wonder is it, then, that we find these early treatises on vestments disappointing. All are firmly impressed with the Levitical origin of the usage and shape of Christian vesture; and the majority are occupied with vague speculations concerning the symbolic meaning {62} of the individual items in an ecclesiastical outfit.

Mr. Marriott assigns a reason for the then universal belief in the Levitical origin of ecclesiastical vestments which is highly ingenious, and probably correct. I cannot do better than cite his words on the subject:

'Churchmen who had travelled widely, as then some did, in East as well as West, could hardly fail to notice the remarkable fact, that at Constantinople as at Rome, at Canterbury as at Arles, Vienna or Lyons, one general type of ministering dress was maintained, varying only in some minor details; and that this dress everywhere presented a most marked contrast to what was in their time the prevailing dress of the laity. And as all knowledge of classical antiquity had for three centuries or more been well-nigh extinct in the church, it was not less natural that they should have sought a solution of the phenomenon thus presented to them in a theory of Levitical origin, which from that time forward was generally accepted.'[49]

Rabanus Maurus, as we have already stated (supra, p. 12), was the first who endeavoured to draw the parallel between the Christian and the Jewish vestments. The older writers saw the {63} difficulties in the way of establishing a complete correspondence. Thus Walafrid Strabo (circa 840), in chapter xxiv of his 'De Rebus Ecclesiasticis,' merely says: 'Numero autem suo antiquis respondent' (In their number they correspond to the ancient vestments); and he further admits that mass was formerly celebrated by a priest robed in everyday dress.[50] But, as the desire to prove the correspondence grew more widespread, changes and additions were rapidly made in the vestments themselves, with a view to assimilating the two systems. In the interval between the ninth and eleventh centuries the number of recognised vestments was doubled by the accretions thus made to the original set.

As the simplest and most intelligible method of exhibiting the extent of these changes, I have drawn up the subjoined table, in which are given the lists of vestments known to writers on ecclesiastical matters during this interval of time. These lists are placed in parallel columns, and a uniform system of nomenclature has been adopted, so that the reader can see at a glance the date of the various additions:
{64}
Rabanus
Maurus,
circa 820.     Pseudo
-Alcuin,
saec. x.     Ivo of
Chartres,
ob. 1115.     Honorius
of Autun,
circa 1130.     Innocent III,
circa 1200.
Alb     Alb     Alb     Alb     Alb
Girdle     Girdle     Girdle     Girdle     Girdle
Amice     Amice     Amice     Amice     Amice
Stole     Stole     Stole     Stole     Stole
Maniple     Maniple     Maniple     Maniple     Maniple
Dalmatic     Dalmatic     Dalmatic     Dalmatic     Dalmatic
Chasuble     Chasuble     Chasuble     Chasuble     Chasuble
Sandals     Sandals     Sandals     Sandals     Sandals
Pall     Pall     —     Pall     Pall
—     —     Stockings     —     Stockings
—     —     —     Subcingulum     Subcingulum
—     —     —     Rational     —
—     —     —     Mitre     Mitre
—     —     —     Gloves     Gloves
—     —     —     Ring     Ring
—     —     —     Staff     Staff
—     —     —     —     Tunicle
—     —     —     —     Orale

From this table it will be seen that the number of vestments was increased, not so much by the invention of entirely new ornaments, as in the exaltation to the rank of separate 'vestments' of what had previously been subordinate. The ring and staff, for instance, were known to the councillors at Toledo, but they do not appear in these lists till the twelfth century.

We must now discuss each of these vestments, noting their shape and the peculiarities which they presented at different times. It will be convenient to follow the order of the above table.

{65} I. The Alb.—We have traced the history of this vestment from its use as a purely secular garment till the ninth century, and have seen how its proportions, at first ample, were contracted till the vestment fitted with comparative tightness to the body, on account of the greater convenience which the less flowing form of the vestment offered for active administration in Divine service.

The material of which the alb was made was usually linen, of more or less fine quality; but we often meet with entries in old inventories of church goods which enumerate albs of other material. Silk and cloth of gold are very commonly mentioned, and velvet is not unknown. Thus we have

    'Albe sunt viginti de serico principales.'—Inv. Westminster Abbey, 1388.
    '30 albes of old cloth of Baudkyn.'—Inv. Peterborough, 1539.
    'One olde aulbe of whyte velvyt.'—Inv. St Martin Dover, 1536.

The proper colour of the alb was white; but in England coloured albs were sometimes worn, and we meet with such vestments in inventories passim. The following is a selection:

    'Red albes for Passion week, 27.
    '40 Blue albes of divers sorts.
    '7 Albes called Ferial black.'—Inv. Peterborough, 1539.
    'Alba de rubea sindone brudata.'—Inv. Canterbury.

The ornamentation of the alb, in the earlier {66} years of the third period, sometimes consisted of round gold plates, just above the lower hem of the vestment, one on either side. Occasionally there were rows of small gold plates arranged round the lower edge. Albs of the first kind were called albae sigillatae, from the seal-like appearance of the gold plates. Albs of the second kind were named albae bullatae. Dr Rock quotes the following:

    'Camisias albas sigillatas holosericas.'—Record of gift of King Æthelwulf to St Peter's, Rome, in Liber Pontific. in Vita Benedicti III, t. iii, p. 168, ed. Vignolio.
    'Alba bona et bullata.'—Peterborough, A.D. 1189.

The more usual ornamentation, however, and that which became universal in later years, consisted in ornamental patches of embroidery, technically called apparels, sewn on to various parts of the vestment. There were two such rectangular patches just above the lower hem,[51] one in front, one behind; two similar patches, one on the back, the other on the breast; two small patches, one on each cuff; a narrow strip encircling the aperture for the head, more for use (as a binding to prevent tearing) than for ornament; and, in earlier examples, two narrow strips running down in {67} front and two behind, like the clavi of the Roman tunic.

In the earliest representations of albs, as seen on sculptured monuments, the vestment is left plain; one of the earliest apparelled albs being on an effigy to the memory of Bishop Giffard, at Worcester, 1301. This, however, does not imply more than that the apparels were originally painted on, and that the paint has worn off.

Another difference is observable between the cuff-apparels of early effigies and of those of later date. In the early albs the cuff-apparel invariably encircles the whole wrist; but in later specimens we find that it has shrunk to a small square patch, sewn on the part of the sleeve which is toward the back of the hand.

Dr Rock has shown some reason for believing that the apparels were occasionally hung loose over their proper place; the lower hem apparels being suspended from the girdle, and those on the breast and back being fastened together by two cords, between which the head was passed, and which consequently, when in position, ran across the shoulders. This was obviously suggested by convenience; for the entry in the accounts of St Peter's, Sandwich—

'for washing of an awbe and an amyce parteȳing to the vestments of the garters and flour de lice and for sewing on of the parelles of the same, vᵈ'

{68} —tells us what we should have expected, that the apparels had to be removed from the vestment when it was washed, and sewn on again afterwards. It was only natural that some such plan as the loose suspension of the apparels should be followed; for the constant ripping off and sewing on of the embroidery must have been not only laborious, but ultimately detrimental to the vestment.

This entry gives us an instance of another fact, that vestments and suits of vestments were named after the pattern which was embroidered upon their apparels. A singular collection occurs in the Peterborough inventory, including

    '6 albes with Peter keys.
    '6 albes called the Kydds.
    '7 albes called Meltons.
    '6 albes called Doggs.'

Albs were sometimes worn plain, i.e., without apparel. The Salisbury Missal, for example, forbids the apparelled alb to be worn on Good Friday; and it is not at all impossible that some of the plain albs, as represented on early monuments, are really intended for unadorned vestments.

Some difference of opinion seems to exist among the authorities about the mystical signification of this vestment. Rabanus Maurus holds it to inculcate purity of life. Amalarius of Metz, contrasting Jerome's description of the tight-fitting {69} Jewish tunic with the flowing alb of his own day, considers that it denotes the liberty of the New Testament dispensation as contrasted with the servitude of the Old. Pseudo-Alcuin thinks that it means perseverance in good deeds, and that therefore Joseph is described as wearing a tunica talaris among his brethren. 'For a tunic which reaches all the way to the ankles is a good work carried out to the end, for the ankle is the end of the body.' Ivo of Chartres asserts that it signifies the mortification and chastisement of the members. Honorius of Autun agrees more or less with Rabanus Maurus; but Innocent III regards it as symbolical of newness of life, 'because it is as unlike as possible to the garments of skins which are made from dead animals, and with which Adam was clothed after his fall.'

The following dimensions are among those given by Mrs Dolby as the correct measurements of an alb for a figure of medium height and ordinary proportions:
    ft.     in.
Length behind when made     4     9
Length before     4     5
Depth of shoulder-band     0     8½
Width of same     0     1¼
Length of sleeve, outside of arm     2     1½
Width of sleeve at wrist folded in two     0     6½
Width of sleeve half-way up     0     9½
Length of neck-band     2     2½
Width of same     0     1¼
Opening down front     1     1½

{70} II. The Girdle, with which the alb is secured, is a narrow band, usually of silk, the ends of which terminate in a tassel.

The colour of the girdle is properly white, though occasionally it varied with the colour of the day. Though (as stated) properly of silk, it is sometimes made of cotton.

Occasionally the girdle was embroidered in colours. In the Westminster inventory of 1388 we have:

    'Zone serice sunt septem diversi operis et diversorum colorum.'

The following is a selection of the esoteric meanings ascribed to this vestment: custodia mentis; discretio omnium virtutum; virtus continentiae; perfecta Christi caritas.

The length of the girdle is stated at about four yards. The length of the alb, it should be noticed, was so considerable that it was necessary to draw it through the girdle and let it hang over above it. It is therefore extremely rare (if not unknown) for the girdle to be visible on mediaeval monuments, for even in those exceptional effigies in which the whole length of the alb is visible, the latter vestment entirely conceals the girdle by falling over it.

III. The Amice.—This vestment was quite unknown in the earlier period: it was a mediaeval invention.

{71} The amice was clearly originally intended to serve as a hood; and a survival of this use remains in the ritual of vesting, in which the priest first places the vestment on his head, with the prayer 'Impone Domine capiti meo galeam salutis ad expugnandum diabolicos incursus,' before adjusting it round his neck.

In several dioceses of France the amice was worn as a hood upon the head from All Saints' Day till Easter, and something of the same kind may have been the practice elsewhere; thus, we find an effigy of a priest in Towyn, Merionethshire, and another in Beverley Minster, in which the amice is drawn over the head hoodwise.

In shape the amice was a rectangle (the dimensions are given as thirty-six inches by twenty-five inches). At each end strings were sewn, which were of sufficient length to cross over the breast and encircle the body. An apparel of embroidered work ran along one of the long sides; so that when the vestment was in position it was turned down, like a collar, over the other vestments round the neck, and so far open as to leave the throat of the wearer exposed. A small cross was marked in the centre of the upper edge of the vestment.

So much of this vestment was concealed that there appears to have been little or no scope for variety of treatment, either in form or material. The latter seems always to have been linen. The {72} orphreys (embroidered edges), of course, are subject to the same unlimited variation of design as the corresponding ornaments on other vestments; but the shape is constant.

The same uniformity is not, however, observable in the symbolism of this vestment. The variety of meanings is even greater than is the case with the alb and its girdle. We are told that it signifies (inter alia) the Holy Incarnation; the purity of good works; the subjugation of the tongue; the earthy origin and heavenly goal of the human body; the necessity of justice and mercy in addition to temperance and abstention from evil; and the endurance of present hardships.

IV. The Stole.—The early history of the stole has been discussed in the preceding chapter, in considering the orarium.

Why, or when, the proper name of the vestment became 'stole,' or stola, does not appear. It is named stola in the later ecclesiastical canons of our second period; but it is not clear how stola, which in its original significance denoted a flowing tunic, like the under-garment of the Roman or the alba of the priests of the second period, came to signify a narrow strip of orphrey-work. It is quite certain that it cannot be explained (as some writers have attempted to do) as the orphrey of a lost vestment which has survived while the bulk of it has disappeared; for {73} the continuity of the stole and the orarium is a matter of historic certainty, and we have already shown reason for assigning an entirely different origin to the latter vestment. Such an evolution, too, as that of a narrow strip from a large vestment is not natural, and is contrary to our observation in the history of other vestments; and it assumes the existence of embroidered 'orphreys' at a time far too remote for such ornamentation to be found. This hypothesis has suggested one of the less probable etymologies which have been proposed for the word orarium.
ill-p073

Fig. 6.—Stole-ends, showing Varieties in Form and Ornament.

The stole is a narrow strip of embroidered work, nine or ten feet long and two or three inches wide. In its original form it was of the same width throughout; but about the thirteenth or fourteenth century we find its ends terminating in a rectangular compartment, giving each the appearance of a tau cross. This was in order to secure extra room for the cross with which every stole {74} was supposed to be marked at the end. For the same purpose the modern stole expands gradually from the middle point, where also a cross is embroidered.

Priests wear the stole between the alb and chasuble, crossed over the breast, and secured in that position by the girdle of the alb—nowadays only when officiating at mass, formerly on all occasions on which the stole was worn. Deacons generally secure it over the left shoulder and under the right arm, thereby approximating the disposition of the vestment to that of the ancient Roman ornament from which the vestment takes its origin. Bishops wear the stole between the alb and tunicle[52] pendent perpendicularly on either side of the breast; the pectoral cross which they wear is supposed to supply the place of the crossed stole.

The embroidery and material of the stole were supposed to tally with that of the alb, with which it was worn. The same rule applies to the maniple, and we commonly find in inventories that the three vestments are catalogued together. But if we can trust the evidence of brasses and other monuments, the vestments of different suits were worn together in a very haphazard manner, {75} and it does not seem possible to extract any definite rule as to the collocation of different vestments embroidered with different patterns of orphreys.

The ends of the stole—below the embroidered cross when such existed—terminated in a fringe; and it was not uncommon in earlier years for little bells to be included in this fringe. Thus we have:

    'Una stola cum frixio Anglicano cum perlis albis et endicis et campanellis.'—Inv. Vest. Papae Bonif. VIII, cit. ap. Rock, 'Church of our Fathers.'

The stole is said to signify 'the easy yoke of Christ.' Authorities earlier than the twelfth century are agreed on this point, though they differ on some minor details in the subordinate symbolism of its length, disposition, etc. But Honorius of Autun asserts that it signifies 'innocence,' and makes some vague and, to the present writer, unintelligible allusions to Esau's sale of his birthright; while Innocent III, with a faint reminiscence of the earlier exegesis, declares it to signify the servitude which Christ underwent for the salvation of mankind—referring to Phil. ii 5-8.

V. The Maniple.—The history of the development of the maniple follows closely on that of the stole. With a very few exceptions, the maniple, as represented on mediaeval monuments, differs from {76} the stole, with which it is associated, in size alone.[53]
ill-p076

Fig. 7.—Archbishop Stigand. (From the Bayeux tapestry, showing maniple carried over fingers.)

The maniple was originally worn over the fingers of the left hand. This arrangement was most inconvenient, as it was constantly liable to slip off, and the fingers had to be held in a constrained attitude throughout the service. It was early found more comfortable and convenient to place the vestment over the left wrist; but no {77} definite rule seems to have been formulated, and, indeed, in some parts of France the earlier custom seems to have survived till the middle of the eighteenth century. When placed on the wrist it was either buttoned or sewn so as to form a permanent loop, so that it should not slip off the arm.

In a few effigies the maniple is represented on the right wrist. For this there is no liturgical authority, and it can only be attributed to the blundering of the engraver or sculptor.[54]

In reference to its original utilitarian purpose, Amalarius assigns to the maniple the significance of the 'purification of the mind.' Pseudo-Alcuin holds it to denote this present life (in qua superfluos humores patimur). It is also said to denote penitence, caution, and the prize in the racecourse.

The width of the maniple is the same as that of the stole—the length is given at from three feet to three feet eight inches.

{78} VI. The Dalmatic.—I am unable to find any representation of this vestment older than the ninth century, showing the special features which distinguished it from the other vestments of the mediaeval period. Before that date the dalmatic seems to have been identical with the alba, possibly distinguished from it by being a little shorter when, as at Rome, the two vestments were worn together.
ill-p078

Fig. 8.—Deacon in Episcopal Dalmatic. (From Randworth Church.)

Fig. 9.—Deacon in Diaconal Dalmatic.

In the mediaeval period, however, this vestment (and its modification, the tunicle) is marked out {79} from all others by being slit up a short distance on either side. These side-slits were decorated with fringes; but here an important theoretical distinction must be observed between the dalmatic of a bishop and that of a deacon. This was often neglected in mediaeval times, and is consequently frequently overlooked by ecclesiologists of the present day. In the dalmatic, as worn by a bishop, the side-slits, the lower hems, and the ends of the sleeves were fringed; in the dalmatic of a deacon there were also fringes, but only on the left sleeve and along the left slit.

The true reason for this distinction is probably to be sought in the same direction as that which prompted the peculiar diaconal method of wearing the orarium—convenience. The deacon, who was practically the servitor at the altar, required to have his right side free and unhampered as much as possible; the heavy fringes, which might have impeded him, were therefore dispensed with upon that side. But such an explanation would by no means satisfy the early mediaeval writers on vestments, and we are accordingly informed that as the left side typifies this present life and the right that which is to come, so the fringes on the left indicate those cares through which we must pass in this world, while their absence on the right symbolizes our freedom from care in the world to come. Why the bishop was not regarded as {80} exempt from care in the future world does not appear.

Another singular piece of blundering meets us at St David's Cathedral. Here we have two effigies representing clerics, who, though they wear the dalmatic, yet show the stole disposed symmetrically, in the manner of priests.[55] Either the presence of the dalmatic or the presbyteral stole must be incorrect; but in our ignorance of the identity of the persons whom these effigies commemorate we cannot decide which. Bloxam's idea, that these figures represent archdeacons, though ingenious, is untenable; for there is no authority for assigning the dalmatic to an archdeacon of priestly grade; and we have other figures of priests known to have been archdeacons in various parts of England, none of which show the dalmatic.

The ornamentation of the dalmatic before the twelfth century consisted either of vertical bands (like the clavi) or else of horizontal bands, of orphrey-work. After that date the plain white vestment was superseded by one covered all over with elaborate embroidery. This is especially the case with the episcopal dalmatic, which is only what we should have expected.

We have already stated one symbolical meaning {81} attaching to the dalmatic and its appurtenances. A few more may be of interest: the Passion of Christ; the 'pure religion and undefiled,' as described by St James; the Old and New Testaments; the crucifixion of the world in the wearer; the wide mercy of Christ, etc.

All of the early writers are misled by the decree of Pope Sylvester into imagining that Sylvester first instituted this garment as a purely ecclesiastical vestment; some even go the length of assigning a mystical meaning to the colobium, which it superseded. Even Walafrid Strabo, who in many respects is the least mystical of the early mediaeval writers on ecclesiastical vestments, is deceived, though he wisely contents himself with stating the fact that Sylvester had so commanded, without attempting to assign any reason for his so doing.

VII. The Chasuble.—The variety of materials of which the chasuble was made may be gathered from the following extracts from the Lincoln Inventory of 1536:
{82}

    'Imprimis a Chesable of rede cloth of gold wᵗ orfreys before and behind sett wᵗ perles blew white and rede wᵗ plaits of gold enamelled.'
    'Item a Chesuble of Rede velvett wᵗ kateryn wheils of gold.'
    'Item a chesuble of Rede sylk browdered wᵗ falcons & leopardes of gold.'
    'Item a chesable of whyte damaske browdered wᵗ flowres of gold.'
    'Item a chesable of whyte tartaron̄ browdered wᵗ treyfoyles of gold.'
    'Item a chesable of purpur satten lynyd wᵗ blew bukerham havyng dyverse scripturs.'
    'Item a chesable of cloth of tyshew wᵗ orfreys of nedyll wark.'
    'Item a chesable of sundon browdered wᵗ mones & sterres lyned wᵗ blew bukerham.'

Of the materials here mentioned the commonest were velvet, silk, or cloth of gold.

In the latest days of the transitional and the earliest days of the mediaeval period, there were two kinds of chasubles in use, the eucharistic and the processional. The distinction between them was utilitarian rather than ritualistic; it consisted in a hood sewn to the back of the latter, and designed as a covering for the head during outdoor processions in inclement weather. But the processional chasuble early gave place to the cope; and a hooded chasuble does not appear to be extant in representations of date later than the tenth century.

The manner in which the early chasubles were made seems to have been as follows: A semicircular piece of the cloth of which the vestment was to consist was taken, and a notch cut at the centre, so that the shape of the cloth resembled that of the figure in the annexed diagram; the {83} two straight edges corresponding to the lines AB and CD were then brought together and sewn; the result was a vestment somewhat of extinguisher shape, with a hole in the middle for the neck, and enveloping the body all round to an equal depth each way. The result was that when the priest had to raise his hands the vestment was gathered inconveniently on either shoulder, and probably injured by being crushed, certainly hampering the wearer by its weight. This difficulty was surmounted by a very simple expedient. The cloth, instead of being shaped as before, was cut into an oval form, and an opening was made at the centre for the wearer's head, the consequence being that when in position the vestment hung down over the front and back to some distance, and covered the upper part of the arms, though not sufficiently so to interfere with their free action. The latter shape is that which meets us all through the mediaeval period throughout the Western Church.
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{84} The modern Roman Church has made yet another innovation which, although it has its disadvantages, certainly reduces the inconvenience of the vestment to a minimum. Two fairly large semicircular pieces are cut from each side of the front of the vestment, thereby permitting the hands to be brought together when necessary without crushing the vestment between the forearms, which was inevitable in the old form. But the wasp-waisted appearance of this chasuble is ugly, and attempts are being made to abolish it and to return to the mediaeval pattern.
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Fig. 10.—Sir Peter Legh, Knight and Priest. (From his brass at Winwick. Vested in chasuble only.)

Yet another small distinction is to be found in the shape of individual examples of the mediaeval period. We find many of these vestments to be made circular or elliptical, so that the lower border is rounded off; while many others are found to be made in the shape known as the vesica piscis, so that the lower extremities terminate in a point more or less sharp. Writers who cannot be content with {85} simple or commonplace explanations of such phenomena as this have laboured in vain to invent some esoteric signification which will account for it. Perhaps the most common-sense guess is that made by Dr Rock, who thinks that the rounded chasuble was used during the period of rounded architecture—the Saxon and Norman—and the pointed chasuble during the pointed periods of architecture: a suggestion which we should have no difficulty in accepting at once, were it not for the fact that scores of brasses and other monuments of the Curvilinear and Rectilinear periods in architecture exist showing rounded chasubles; while (among others) the effigy of Bishop John de Tour, at Bathampton near Bath, A.D. 1123, shows a pointed vestment. We have no space to enter into particulars of the other suggestions—the symbolism of the vesica piscis, the perfection of the circle, etc.

The simple explanation seems to be that the difference depended merely on the taste and fancy of the seamstress or of the engraver of the monument. It would be perfectly possible to draw up a list of monuments in which the point of the chasuble shows every stage from extreme sharpness to extreme bluntness, and so, by one step further, into a continuous curve. This demonstrates that no rule was necessarily followed in choosing the shape of the chasuble, beyond that of making a {86} fairly symmetrical vestment which should hang down in front and behind, and should have a hole in the middle through which the priest's head should be passed. Nor can we even say that fashion affected the shape of the vestment; for were such a list as I have mentioned to be printed here, it would be seen to consist of the most haphazard and random series of dates and names of places thrown together without the slightest regard to chronological sequence or geographical position.

The dimensions of a pointed chasuble (circa fourteenth century) at Aix-la-Chapelle, which has been accepted as a standard for modern imitation, are given as follows:
    ft.     in.
Depth of shoulder, measuring from neck     2     9
Length of side, from shoulder to point     4     11
Depth from neck to point in front     4     6
Depth from neck to point behind     4     10

The chasuble of St Thomas of Canterbury, at Sens Cathedral, which is of the old extinguisher shape, is three feet ten inches in depth. In the oldest chasubles the length of the vestment behind was greater—often much greater—than in front. There is a more even balance between back and front in later mediaeval times.

Passing now from the manner of making the chasuble to the manner of ornamenting it, we find just the same divergence, with apparently just as {87} little rule. It is probable that, as the decoration was the most costly part of the manufacture of a chasuble, the amount of it was regulated by the resources available to pay for it.

We propose to consider at the end of the next chapter the classes of patterns with which vestments generally were decorated in the middle ages; at present, therefore, we shall confine ourselves to noticing briefly the positions in which these decorations were placed on the chasuble.

The groundwork of the vestment was either plain (invariably so in the older examples) or else embroidered or woven with a pattern, according to taste and means; the ornamentation proper consisted of strips of embroidered or 'orphrey' work, as it is technically called, sewn on to the vestment. These strips were sewn either on the edge or crosswise on the front and back of the chasuble.

The edge orphrey is the more frequently met with in the brasses of parish priests, and it is rarely so elaborately decorated as are the central orphreys. It usually consisted of some simple pattern of flowers or geometrical figures recurring at regular intervals round the edge.

Greater variety is seen in the shape of the central orphrey, which, being the more elaborate and expensive, is almost invariably found represented in the monuments of bishops, abbots, and other dignitaries, and in the effigies of priests of {88} the richer churches. It sometimes, though rarely, consisted of a simple 'pillar' on the front and on the back of the vestment; usually this ornamentation was extended by the addition of branches of orphrey work given off on either side, which passed over the shoulder and joined the corresponding branches of the other pillar, the result being that the orphrey on front and back had the appearance of the Greek Ψ, or of a Latin cross with oblique arms. When the bands were so disposed, the pillar on the front was called the pectoral, the pillar on the back the dorsal, and the auxiliary bands, which passed over the shoulders, the humeral orphreys. Very frequently this design was varied by omitting the part of the pectoral and dorsal bands above their intersection with the humeral; this resulted in the 'Y cross,' which we find in so many effigies in our cathedrals and churches. In a few examples the Y or Ψ is inverted, and in some it gives off auxiliary branches, so as to resemble (e.g.) the figure star. It would, however, be waste of time and space to enter further into a discussion of what was not regulated by any definite rule, but depended on caprice, or, at most, on pecuniary considerations. More often than not the central orphrey, of whatever form, is combined with the edge orphrey, and is usually of a different pattern from it.

In many early chasubles the front and back are {89} charged with an embroidered Latin cross. This is also the case with the back of the modern Roman or slit vestment.

When the Y orphrey was placed on the chasuble, the space between it and the neck on the back was usually filled with an elaborate floral design embroidered in gold or crimson. Sometimes (not always) this extended round the neck, and was repeated in front. To this ornament the special name of 'flower' has been attached.

The chasuble surmounts and safeguards all the other vestments; hence the chasuble signifies love, which surmounts all the other virtues, and safeguards and illumines their beauty with its protection; so says Rabanus Maurus, prettily enough. Amalarius disagrees; he holds that as the chasuble is common to all clerics, so it ought to set forth the works which are common to all: fasting, thirsting, watching, poverty, reading, singing, praying, and the rest. The pseudo-Alcuin and Ivo of Chartres agree with Rabanus, though for different reasons. Innocent III, however, holds it to signify the virtue of apostolical succession: 'For this is the vestment of Aaron, to the skirt of which the oil ran down; but it ran down from his head to his beard and from his beard to the skirt. Forasmuch as we all receive of His spirit, first the Apostles, afterwards the rest.' Further, he goes on to say that because the {90} stretching out of the hands divides the chasuble into two complete and similar parts, so that vestment typifies the old and new church before and after the time of Christ.

VIII. The Sandals.—The sandals of the Roman citizens are well known—mere soles, secured across the instep by one or more thongs of leather, and clearly designed to protect the wearer from stony roads without unnecessarily cramping or confining his feet—an important consideration in a hot climate.

Such a sandal must have been worn by the early clergy as Roman citizens, and probably long continued in use among the lower orders of clerics. It was, and still is, the only foot-covering of certain monastic orders, and in some cases was retained even by monks who had attained to episcopal rank. In St Canice's Cathedral, Kilkenny, which contains a unique collection of mediaeval effigies and incised slabs, superior in merit to many better-known specimens of mediaeval art, there exists a most interesting effigy of a former bishop, de Ledrede, who died circa 1350. He is represented fully vested in Eucharistic dress; but in place of the episcopal sandals, which an ordinary bishop would have worn, he wears the simpler monastic sandal, which covers only the sole and instep; and shows the cord of St Francis hanging below his alb.

{91} The extension of the Church into more northern and colder regions, and the importation of foreign customs into the southern metropolis itself, probably suggested the transformation of the somewhat scanty sandal into a more appropriate and more comfortable shoe. The traditions of the old custom were, however, long maintained in a curious way: the upper leathers of the shoe were fenestrated or cut into open-work patterns, the result being that the bare surface of the foot showed through and displayed the decoration in light flesh-tint against the dark leather of the shoe. When the episcopal stocking was added to the equipment of the bishop, the colour became bright scarlet, though the effect remained much the same.

The fenestrated sandals were abandoned about the fourteenth century in favour of shoes, in shape very much resembling the modern ankle-shoe. It would have been inconsistent, however, with the spirit of the fourteenth century to have abandoned the decorative effect produced by the open-work, and neglected to find some substitute. This substitute was found in lavish embroidery and in ornamentation with jewels and spangles of gold. The sandals, in fact, became as elaborate as did the rest of the ecclesiastical vestments.

The sandals, as above described, were worn by bishops only, at the Eucharistic service. Deacons and priests appear to have worn simple everyday {92} shoes, without ornamentation of any kind. The fenestrated shoes (which were popular among the dandies of the day as well as consecrated to the bishops) were expressly forbidden to them, as also were coloured shoes, or shoes of the preposterous shapes occasionally in vogue among the laity of the middle ages.
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Fig. 11.—Bishop Waynflete's Episcopal Sandal.

'As the sandals partly cover the feet and leave them partly bare,' says Rabanus, 'so the teachers of the Gospel should reveal part of the Gospel and should hide the rest, that the faithful and pious may have enough knowledge thereof, and the infidel and despiser may find no matter for blasphemy. And this kind of shoe warns us likewise that we should have a care to our flesh and our bodies in matters of necessity, not in matters of lust.'

Amalarius of Metz enters into further details, incidentally touching on some points of difference which obtained between the sandal of the bishop {93} and that of the priest in his day—the first half of the ninth century. The following is a translation of his words:

'The difference in the sandal sets forth a difference in the minister. The offices of the priest and of the bishop are almost identical; but because there is a distinction in their titles and honours there is a distinction in their sandals, that we may not fall into error upon beholding them, which we might well do, owing to the similarity of their offices. The bishop has a band (ligatura) in his sandals, which the presbyter has not. It is the duty of the bishop to travel throughout the length and breadth of his diocese (parochia) to govern the inhabitants; and lest they should fall from his feet, his sandals are bound. The moral of this is, that he who mingles with the vulgar crowd must secure fast the courses of his mind (gressus mentis). The priest, who remains in one spot and offers the sacrifice there, walks more securely. The deacon, because his office is different from that of the bishop, needs not different sandals; he therefore wears them bound, because it is his to go on attendance. The subdeacon, because he assists the deacon, and has almost the same office, must have different sandals, that he be not thought a deacon. The inner meaning is this: Because the sandals set forth the way of the preacher, the sole, which is underneath, warns the preacher not to {94} mingle with earthly matters. The tongue of white leather, which is under the "tread"[56] of the foot, shows that there ought to be the same separation, guiltless and guileless; that it may be said of him, "Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom there is no guile;" let him not be such as were the false apostles, who preached in malice and disputation. The tongue, which rises thence, and is separated from the leather of the sandals, sets forth the tongue of those who ought to bear good testimony to the preacher, of whom Paul said, "He must have a good report of them that are without." These are in the lower rank, and to some extent are separated from spiritual intercourse. The upper tongue is the tongue of the spirits (spiritalium), who lead the preacher into the work of preaching. These search into the past life of the preacher. But the sandals are bound round within with white leather; so must the desire of the preacher be pure before God, out of a clean conscience; and without appears the black, since the life of the preacher seems despised by them that are worldly on account of the myriad afflictions of this present life. The upper part of the sandal, through which the foot enters, is sewn together with many threads, that the two leather bands be not separated; for at first the preacher should apply himself to the many virtues and {95} sayings of the Scriptures, that his outward acts may not be at variance with those which are secret and known to God only. The tongue of the sandals, which is over the foot, sets forth the tongue of the preacher. The line made by the craft of the shoemaker, stretching from the tongue of the sandal to its end, sets forth the perfection of the Gospel; the lines proceeding from either side, the law and the prophets, which are repeated in the Gospels; they are repeated at the middle line, which stretches to the end. The bands denote the mystery of Christ's Incarnation....'

We have given this strange mixture of mysticism and observation at length for several reasons. First, it emphasizes a curious distinction between the shoes of different orders of clergy which is not often brought into notice. Secondly, it gives a very full, though somewhat obscure, description of the sandal in the author's time. And thirdly, it exemplifies the absurd lengths to which an author can go who endeavours to extract hidden meanings from simple and easily explicable facts. Here Amalarius endeavours to extract solemn truths even from the seams which the maker found necessary in joining two pieces of leather together. If some modern writers on archaeological subjects took timely warning from such a melancholy example, we should have fewer wild theories and more facts.

It is sad that most of Amalarius' successors {96} quietly put aside his elaborately argued piece of symbolism. Pseudo-Alcuin is content with the old idea of Rabanus, that the Gospel should be kept from what is earthy as the feet are kept from the ground, but not otherwise covered. Ivo practically quotes Rabanus word for word; and even Innocent III, who is usually original, has little further to offer beside the quotation: 'How beautiful are the feet of them that preach the gospel of peace!'

IX. The Pall.—The pall is a symbol of jurisdiction, which is worn by the Pope, and by him bestowed upon all archbishops.

The material of which the pall is made is white wool. Both the shape of the vestment and its ornamentation have undergone modifications since it was invented, even during the mediaeval period itself. Its earliest appearance, and all that is known of its origin, is described in the preceding chapter. The folding of the pallium must have given a little trouble whenever it was put on; and this must before long have suggested the shape which meets us in the mediaeval pall: that of a loop of cloth with two tails projecting from opposite points in its circumference. A slight difference is observable between palls represented early and those represented late in the mediaeval period. In the former the branches are almost horizontal, passing round the arms between the shoulder and {97} elbow; in the latter they pass over the shoulder. In the former case the pall resembles a T, in the latter a Y, whether seen from before or behind the wearer.
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Fig. 12.—St Dunstan. (From a manuscript in the Cottonian Library; showing early forms of pall and mitre.)

In whichever form it appears, however, the pall was secured in its place by pins. At first, when the vestments were of simple description, these pins could be run through pall and chasuble without {98} doing much damage; afterwards, however, when enrichments were heaped upon the chasuble, these pins were not run into that vestment at all, but through loops provided for the purpose. It was discovered, however, that the pall in its latest development would stay in its place quite as well without pins as with them, and the loops were therefore abandoned. As the pins were generally made of gold, with heads of precious stones, some reluctance was felt at abandoning them altogether, and accordingly they sank into the position which the maniple and other vestments assumed—that of being ornaments.

The length of the pendent tails shows considerable variety at different times. They are extremely long—often extravagantly so—in monuments dating between the eleventh and fourteenth centuries. After that date they were curtailed, and at present are not more than a foot long. There is a little button of lead sewn into the ends of the tails to make them hang properly.

The pall never displayed that tendency to elaborate adornment which distinguished the other vestments of the mediaeval age. Doubtless the fact that all palls were made at Rome, and but few were made at a time, prevented any great change in fashion. Some differences are, notwithstanding, noticeable. In the earliest representations of tailed palls there is to be seen a single cross at the {99} end of each tail; the same cross is to be seen worked on early oraria and mappulae. But in mediaeval and modern times there is a difference. At present the pall has six crosses, one on each tail and four on the oval, worked in black. In the middle ages we find sometimes four, sometimes as many as eight, worked in purple.

The history of each individual pall is curious. On the morning of St Agnes's Day (January 21) in each year, two lambs are sent into Rome each in a basket, the baskets being slung over a horse's back. These lambs are chosen with special reference to whiteness and goodness. The horse is driven to the palace of the Pope, who comes to a window and makes the sign of the cross over the lambs, which are then conducted to the church of St Agnes without the walls. Here, gaily adorned with flowers and ribbons, they are brought up to the altar, and kept there till mass is sung. After mass (formerly at the Agnus Dei) the celebrant blesses the lambs, which are then handed over to the charge of the canons of St John Lateran, by whom they are sent back to the Pope. The Pope hands them on to the dean of his subdeacons, who delivers them up to a nunnery, where they are kept and fed. When they are shorn, the wool is woven by the nuns into palls. On the eve of the day of St Peter and St Paul these palls are taken to St Peter's, and there blessed {100} after evensong, after which they are shut up in a silver-gilt box to wait till they are wanted for bestowal on a new archbishop.

Each archbishop on election must go to Rome in person to receive the pall, unless prevented by serious obstacles—when the latter is the case it is solemnly sent to him by the Pope. He is not permitted to engage in any episcopal duty before receiving the pall; afterwards the vestment is worn only at High Mass on the following days: Nativity, St Stephen, St John, Circumcision, Epiphany, Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Holy Saturday, Easter Sunday, Monday and Tuesday, Ascension, Pentecost, Feasts of the Virgin, Nativity of St John the Baptist, all days of Apostles, All Saints, Dedications of Churches, principal local feasts in the diocese, Consecrations of Bishops, Ordinations of Clergy, Feast of the local Dedication, and the Anniversary of the wearer's consecration. The Pope, however, wears the pall at all times when he says mass.

The pall is the symbol of the archiepiscopal authority, therefore it may not be worn without express papal permission outside the limits of the jurisdiction of the archbishop.[57] When he dies, the pall is buried with him, but it is only placed {101} on his shoulders if he be buried within his own province, otherwise it is folded and placed beneath his head.[58] The pall is the only vestment which may not be lent by one cleric to another.
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Fig. 13.

{102} We now come to a singular point in the history of the pall, and one which has so far baffled ecclesiologists to explain. Although the pall is generally regarded as the peculiar emblem of archbishops, and seems to have been kept for their especial and peculiar use by the rites which we have described, yet a few favoured bishops have from very early times been entitled to wear this vestment. The bishoprics which possess this privilege are those of Autun, Bamberg, Dol, Lucca, Ostia, Pavia, and Verona.

The pall is represented on several monuments of bishops of these dioceses, e.g., the slab of Bishop Otto (1192) and the brass of Bishop Lambert (1399), both in Bamberg Cathedral. In illuminated manuscripts and elsewhere we often find figures of clerics of episcopal rank wearing the pall, but holding the crook-headed staff, commonly supposed to be the insignia of a bishop as distinguished from an archbishop; but as numerous examples exist to show that the latter notion (like the majority of popular ideas in archaeology) is erroneous, this combination proves nothing.

The peculiar circumstances distinguishing the pall from the rest of the ecclesiastical vestments would lead us to expect some remarkable disquisitions on its symbolism. This expectation is not disappointed. The cross on the back and front reminds the wearer to reflect piously and in {103} a worthy manner on the Passion of the Redeemer, and holds up before the people the sign of their Redemption. Such is the old view, and it has at least the merit of simplicity and religious feeling. But, unfortunately, Amalarius, in his dissecting manner, draws a parallel between the pall and the golden plate of the Levitical High Priest; this clears the way for the extraordinary disquisition of the pseudo-Alcuin on the Tetragrammaton יהוח (as he inaccurately writes it), wherein Jod signifies 'principium,' He 'iste,' Vau 'vita,' and Heth 'passio'—'id est, iste est principium passionis vitae.' Honorius thinks, however, that the four letters typify the four arms of the cross. Innocent III and others tell us that the pall signifies that discipline with which archbishops should rule themselves and those set under them. As Innocent's account of the pall gives as full an account as can be obtained of the vestment and its ornamentation and fastenings, we give an abstract of it here:

'The pall which the principal bishops wear signifies the discipline with which archbishops should rule themselves and those set under them. By this the golden chain[59] is obtained which those receive who strive lawfully, of which Solomon saith, "My son, hear the instruction of thy father and forsake not the law of thy mother, for they {104} shall be an ornament of grace unto thy head and chains about thy neck." For the pallium is made of white wool, woven, having a circle above constraining the shoulders, and two tails (lineae) hanging down on either side; moreover, there are four purple crosses, front and back, on the right and on the left. On the left side it is double, and single on the right.'[60] After a long moralization on these facts, he goes on: 'The three pins which are fixed in the pallium over the breast, on the shoulder and in the back, denote pity for his neighbour, the administration of his office, and the meting out of justice.... There is no pin fastened in the right shoulder,' because there is no trouble in everlasting rest. 'The needle is golden, sharp below, rounded above, enclosing a precious stone,' which bears a variety of meanings. If we may believe the Elizabethan reformers, the pall was an expensive item in an archbishop's insignia. Although Gregory I ordained that it should be given to the archbishop-elect freely, Jewel speaks of the Archbishop of Canterbury giving 5,000 florins (£1,125 at 4s. 6d. the florin) to the Pope for his pall, in addition to the first-fruits of his province; and Bullinger speaks of the pall being so dear that 'in gathering money for it' the archbishop often 'beggared his whole diocese.'
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Fig. 14.—Bishop Waynflete's Episcopal Stocking.

X. The Stockings, or buskins, seem to have {105} been originally appropriated to the Pope alone, bishops being content with the somewhat scanty sandal already described. But by the time of Ivo of Chartres the caligae had taken their place among the articles in an episcopal wardrobe. He is the first writer who mentions them. In the middle ages they, like all the other vestments of which we have been treating, forsook their primitive simplicity and became enriched with elaborate ornamentation. They signify the need of framing the courses of their feet aright; and in that they reach to the knees, they indicate that the wearer should strengthen the feeble knees weakened by heedlessness, and hasten to preach the Gospel.

XI. The Subcingulum.—The discussion of this vestment will be more difficult than that of any other among the equipment of the clergy of the West. It is all but obsolete at the present day; there does not seem to be more than one representation of it extant, and that only shows a small portion of it in an unsatisfactory manner; and the {106} references to it in ecclesiastical writers are few and far between.

In antiquarian or any other investigations it is invariably the best rule, when a puzzle is set for solution, to work backwards from the known to the unknown. We will follow this course in speaking of this vestment, and commence with a description of it as worn at the present day.

The modern subcingulum is reserved for the exclusive use of the Pope. It takes the form of a girdle, passed round the alb, and having on the left side a maniple-like appendage. This seems to have been the form which it had in the end of the fourteenth century, for in an 'Ordo Missae Pontificalis,' published by Georgi,[61] we read: 'Primo induit (pontifex) sibi albam, deinde cinctorium cum manipulo ad sinistram partem.' In the century before this Durandus, in his 'Rationale Divinorum Officiorum,' writes: 'Sane a sinistro latere pontificis ex cingulo duplex dependet succinctorium'[62] —a doubled 'apron' hangs on the left hand side; and he likens it to a quiver, in the course of an elaborate comparison between the episcopal vestments of his time and the spiritual armour of the Christian.

The subcingulum (also called 'succinctorium') must have adopted this form {107} about the middle of the thirteenth century. At the beginning of that century we find that it had its use, and was not a mere ornament. In the 'Ordo Romanus' of Cencio de Sabellis, written at the end of the twelfth century,[63] is a description of the new Pope's taking possession of the Church of St John Lateran. He is there described as being 'girt with a belt of crimson silk, hanging from which is a purple purse (bursa) containing twelve precious stones and some musk.' These all had their symbolical meaning: the belt denoted purity, the purse almsgiving, the stones the apostles, the musk 'a good odour in the sight of God.'
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Fig. 15.—Figure of a Pope. (Temp. Innocent III.)

Innocent III, writing at the commencement of the thirteenth century, describes the vestment as peculiar to bishops, but does not refer to it as peculiar to popes; neither, be it noticed, does Cencio. The last restriction may have crept in one or two centuries after Innocent. He does not enter into many details concerning it, but he clearly distinguishes it from the zona, or girdle, which denotes continence, as the subcingulum signifies abstinence.[64]

About this time a fresco was executed on the {108} wall of the Sagro Speco at Subiaco, which remains till the present day. It represents a Pope fully vested, but under the folds of the chasuble on either side is a fretted ornament which is certainly not part of any of the ordinary vestments of any rank of clergy. There is no alternative but to regard Dr Rock as correct in considering this ornament as part of the subcingulum.

This being granted, the subcingulum is seen to be a girdle, from either side of which depends a lozenge-shaped 'lappet.' We shall meet with a similar lappet in the ἐπιγονάτιον of the Greek Church. Only portions of these lappets are to be seen in the fresco in question, but enough is apparent to show them to be lozenge-shaped.

The testimony of Cencio points to these lappets being, not mere ornaments, but bags or purses hung to the belt; and this brings us to another stage in the evolution of this vestment. We know that through the middle ages a bag called a gypcière hung at the belts of civilians, and served {109} the double purpose of purse and pocket. It is but natural to suppose that the early clergy found such appendages useful even in divine service. Let us now go yet further, and see whether confirmation of these theories awaits us.

Honorius of Autun in 1130 writes: 'The subcingulum, also called perizona or subcinctorium, is hung doubled about the loins; this signifies zeal in almsgiving,' etc.

Note, in this passage, the expression 'hung doubled.' This can only refer to the 'lappets' being hung one on each side. And the 'almsgiving,' which Honorius asserts this vestment to signify, suggests a purse.

Other writers, in the century preceding Honorius, write to the same effect; and even as early as the tenth century, in a manuscript of the mass, we find a distinction drawn between the 'cingulum' and the 'baltheum' in the prayers said while vesting.

In short, it seems probable that the subcingulum, with its appendages, is, like several other sacerdotal vestments, a modification into an ornament of something which had been designed for some natural requirement. When the maniple became too narrow and too richly embroidered to be of the slightest use as a handkerchief, it cannot be supposed that the priest did entirely without some resource; some plain piece of cloth must surely {110} have been employed in its place, and some pocket must then have been required in which to place it. Again, some receptacle must have been wanted in which to place those comforting metal 'apples' in which hot water was placed when the day was cold; and the thumbstall or ponser, the thimble designed to keep the oil which adhered to his thumb after it had been dipped in the chrism, from greasing any of his vestments. It seems only natural to suppose that the subcingulum was originally designed to supply these wants.

XII. The Rational.—This ornament, obsolete now, was assumed by the ecclesiastics of the early years of the middle ages, in direct imitation of the breastplate of the ephod worn by the Jewish High Priest.

It consisted of a wooden brooch, overlaid with enamelled metal, which was fastened high up on the breast of the chasuble, and seems commonly to have been worn when there was no central orphrey on that vestment.

The shape and ornamentation of the rational varied altogether with the caprice of the artist who designed it. Examples are extremely rare in inventories of cathedral goods, if, indeed, they occur at all. It is probable that they were catalogued together with the morses of copes, with which they were practically identical in appearance.

The word 'Rationale' first meets us in the {111} expression 'rationale judicii,' used in the Vulgate passim as a translation of the τὸ λογεῖον τῆς κρίσεως, by which the Septuagint expressed the breastplate of the ephod. In the early Church writers the word 'judicii' was dropped and 'rationale' used alone, but always to denote the Jewish ornament. When pseudo-Alcuin wrote, in the tenth or eleventh century, the ecclesiastical rational was quite unknown, for he says: 'Pro rationali summi pontifices, quos archiepiscopos dicemus, pallio utuntur'—a statement which he would certainly not have made if anything less unlike the rational than the pallium had been known to him. Ivo of Chartres, too, knows nothing of the Christian ornament, for although he does not say definitely that the Jewish rational corresponded to the pallium, he says that it corresponded to an ornament conceded (concessum) to the chief bishops of his time—an expression which would define the pallium, but certainly not the rational. Honorius of Autun is the writer in whom we first meet with direct and unequivocal mention of the ornament; and he begins his remarks upon it by definitely stating: 'Rationale a Lege est sumptum'—Lege, of course, being the Levitical law. This gives us very closely the limits of date between which the rational was assumed—some time between 1100 and 1130.

The rational, if we may accept the testimony {112} of the monuments, gradually died out about the fourteenth or fifteenth century. It seems never to have been universal, and an actual rational is one of the rarest ecclesiological treasures a collector can possess.

XIII. The Mitre.—Like that of the subcingulum, the history of the mitre is a curious piece of evolution; but, unlike the subcingulum, the mitre can be traced through all its history in an unbroken chain of literary references, monumental effigies, and actual specimens.

The word mitra (Gk. μίτος, a thread) is applied in the transitional period to a female head-dress, and even St Isidore of Seville makes use of the word in that sense. The Septuagint, however, occasionally translates the expression for the cap of the high priest by μίτρα; at other times they use the word κίδαρις, which they also apply to the cap of the second order of the Jewish priesthood. The Vulgate follows the Septuagint, sometimes using mitra, sometimes cidaris, and occasionally tiara.

The advocates of an origin in primitive antiquity for Ecclesiastical Vestments make much of two passages which are certainly obscure, and would seem to indicate that in apostolic times 'bishops' wore a gold plate upon their heads. These passages are in a letter sent by Polycrates of Ephesus to Victor, bishop of Rome, about the {113} year 200 A.D., in which he alludes to St John as 'having become a priest wearing the gold plate' ἐγενήθη ἱερεὺς τὸ πέταλον πεφορηκώς;[65] and in the writings of Epiphanius of Salamis (circa 400 A.D.), in which he says of James, the brother of Our Lord, that he was a priest after the ancient rite, and was permitted to wear a gold plate—ἱερατεύσαντα αὐτὸν κατὰ τὴν παλαιὰν ἱερωσύνη εὕρομεν ... καὶ τὸ πέταλον ἐπὶ τῆς κεφαλῆς ἑξῆν αὐτῷ φερεῖν,[66] citing the authority of Eusebius, Clement, and others. These statements are so hopelessly vague and confused that very little can be made out of them, but it has been pointed out that (i) the passages in which they occur are largely allegorical, (ii) that the πέταλον seems to refer to the gold plate of Jewish priesthood, and that the expression 'priest with the πέταλον' probably was used currently in the early years of Christianity, much as 'mitred abbot' is by us at the present day. In any case, as Dr Sinker says,[67] it 'is plain enough that if St John and St James, or either of them, did wear this ornament, it was an ornament 'special to themselves' and ceased with them, affecting in no sense the further use of the church.'

{114} Other passages, supposed to refer to this or similar practices, bearing dates between the fourth and sixth centuries, are found on examination to have no real bearing on the question. The number of extracts from writers of that time which have been brought forward to prove the antiquity of the mitre is considerable; but those which can at all bear consideration apart from their contexts are all vague, unconvincing and inconclusive; some, indeed, are so obviously figurative that their production is only an amusing illustration of the straits to which the believers in the elaboration of primitive ritual are reduced. And the evidence of Tertullian on the other side is very clear—'quis denique patriarches, quis prophetes, quis levites, aut sacerdos, aut archon, quis vel postea apostolus aut evangelizator aut episcopus invenitur coronatus?'[68]

In the face of this quotation it is not easy to see what to make of the passages in St Jerome and elsewhere, in which a bishop is addressed by the expression 'corona vestra,' much as we use the words 'your lordship' now. Dr Rock argues from this that bishops, even so early as the fifth century, wore a circlet or crown of gold at Divine service. If so, the use must have been confined to Rome, for otherwise the Toletan or other {115} councillors would surely have given us definite information concerning it.

St Isidore of Seville, in his treatise 'De Officiis Ecclesiasticis,' book ii, chap. vii, describes the tonsure as indicative of the priesthood and the regal nature of the church, the shaven part of the head representing the hemispherical cap of the Jewish priests, and the circlet of hair representing the coronet of kings. It is true that he is not speaking definitely of bishops, but the fact that he is absolutely silent respecting a crown of any kind other than the crown of hair—for which he expressly uses the word corona—is at least presumptive evidence that the crown of gold was not worn in his day. The prophecy of King Laoghairé's druids affords a very curious corroboration of this; see post, p. 128.

The earliest representation that Dr Rock can adduce of an ecclesiastic wearing this circlet is a figure in the Benedictional of St Aethelwold, an MS. of the tenth century at Chatsworth. Here we have a figure, the brows of which are certainly encircled with a gold band set with precious stones. As Marriott points out, however, this is probably more of a secular than an ecclesiastical nature, and may indicate the royal rank to which bishops at that time frequently laid claim.

Menard, after a careful study of ancient liturgies, came to the conclusion that the mitre {116} was not in use in the church prior to the year 1000. Contemporary art bears out this statement. Probably the earliest genuine representation of a bishop wearing a head-dress to which any importance can be attached from a liturgical point of view is an illumination of St Dunstan[69] in an MS. (Claud. A 3) in the British Museum. This is of the early years of the eleventh century. It shows us a simple cap, low and hemispherical in shape, without the least trace of the cleft now invariably associated with the episcopal headgear.

The fashion seems to have changed with considerable rapidity, and the cleft very soon began to make its appearance. Its first beginning was a very shallow, blunt depression between two low, blunt, rounded points, one over each ear—in fact, a depression such as would naturally be made in a soft cloth cap by passing the outstretched hand gently across the crown. This change was not long in giving place to another and more important modification. The mitre was turned so that the horns appeared one in front, one behind, and they were raised a little higher than before, and, instead of being rounded, were made of a triangular form. The mitre in this shape is that universally represented in MSS. of the twelfth century.
{117}
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Fig. 16.—A Bishop, Salisbury Cathedral (Jocelyn, Twelfth Century).

Fig. 17.—An Archbishop, Mayence Cathedral (Diether von Isenburg, 1482).

Little difference in shape is traceable in the mitres of the thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth or sixteenth centuries. During these four hundred years the mitre increased considerably in size, but it was reserved for the seventeenth century to stereotype the final modification in form. Hitherto the two horns of the mitre had as a general rule {118} been in the shape of plain triangles, bent round so as to adapt themselves to the outline of the head; the mitre was thus cylindrical in outline. By the seventeenth century, however, the triangles had been made spherical, so that the mitre assumed the form of a pair of parentheses, or of a barrel, which it still possesses.[70] By this time it had grown to a considerable height—some eighteen inches.

When the mitre was a plain cloth cap it was kept in position by two ribbons, which were knotted at the back of the head. The end of these ribbons are well shown in the figure of St Dunstan. But the ribbons very early lost their usefulness and became simple ornaments, and the ubiquitous embroiderer was not long in seizing on these infulae, or lappets, and enriching them with needlework to the best of her ability.

The mitre was originally made of plain white linen, and until about the twelfth century continued to be so; it was occasionally, though by no means always, elaborately decorated with needlework. Such simplicity, however, was not consistent with the spirit of the age which followed, and we find that in the thirteenth century the mitre was made of silk, and invariably overlaid either with embroidery {119} or pearls and other jewels. To such a length was this enrichment carried at last in England, that we read that Henry VIII removed from Fountains Abbey, among other treasures, a silver-gilt mitre set with pearl and stone—weight seventy ounces!

Although properly belonging to the seventh chapter, in which the ritual uses of the various vestments which we have been describing will be discussed, it is necessary here to detail the three classes into which mitres are divided. Unlike other vestments, which are classified according to the particular liturgical colour which predominates in their embroidery, mitres are classified according to the manner in which they are ornamented. The background, when it can be seen at all, is white. A mitre which is simply made of white linen or silk, with little or no enrichment, is called a mitra simplex; one ornamented richly with embroidery, but without precious metals or stones, is called a mitra aurifrigiata; and one in which precious metals and stones are employed in its decoration is called a mitra pretiosa. The different times at which these different kinds of mitres are worn will be noted in their proper place in Chapter VII.
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Fig. 18.—Pastoral Staff and Mitra Pretiosa (the Limerick Mitre).

The papal tiara may be briefly described in this place. It first appears about the eleventh century as a conical cap, encircled with a single crown at {121} the brow; assumed about the time of the growth of the earthly power of the papacy, it may well be regarded as symbolical of spiritual and temporal rule. The subsequent modifications through which it passed were few in number, though considerable in character: they consisted in the addition of a second crown by Boniface VIII (1300 A.D.), of a third by Urban V (1362-70), and the swelling out of the body of the head-dress into a bulging form about the sixteenth century, much about the time when the mitre assumed the same shape.

XIV. The Episcopal Gloves.—These undoubtedly owe their invention to the coldness and cheerlessness of the early churches, and were invented simply to keep the hands of the wearer warm. But about the ninth century they, with so many similar vestments, assumed a more sacred character, and a prayer was prescribed for putting them on, as was the case with the other and better established vestments. They do not appear to be formally mentioned as vestments till the time of Honorius of Autun, who draws moral lessons from them.

Throughout the middle ages the gloves were richly embroidered and jewelled; often a large stone is to be seen on the back of each hand.

The gloves (chirothecae, or manicae) must be carefully distinguished from the manicae or {122} brachialia, the sleeves of coarse cloth which the bishop used to draw over his arm to protect the apparels of his alb from the water when administering baptism by immersion.

As the hands are sometimes covered with gloves and sometimes bare, so good deeds should be sometimes hidden to prevent self-sufficiency, and sometimes revealed as an edifying example to those near us. So says Honorius of Autun; perhaps this is as satisfactory an exegesis as has ever been given of the gloves or any other vestment.

XV. The Episcopal Ring.—Although, as we have seen, the ring was recognised as one of the special marks of a bishop at the time of the fourth council of Toledo, and was regarded by St Isidore of Seville as a special article used in the investiture of a bishop, none of the liturgical writers of the earliest years of the mediaeval period notices it; not till we come to Honorius of Autun is any mention of it to be found. The reason of this is not far to seek, and has been given by Marriott. Rabanus, Amalarius, Ivo, and the rest, occupied themselves more or less with the supposed connexion between the liturgical and the Jewish vestments, and therefore, as they were not writing treatises dealing solely with Christian vestments, they omitted all mention of ornaments which had no direct bearing on the questions with which they were engaged. Hence, {123} both the ring and pastoral staff suffered, as the most ingenious torturing could not extract anything in the Levitical rites analogous to these important insignia.

The evidence of the monuments is conclusive on two points. First, that the episcopal ring proper was only one of a large number of rings worn by the bishop, the others being probably purely ornamental and secular; second, that it was worn on the third finger of the right hand, and above the second joint of that finger, not being passed, as rings are now, down to the knuckle. It was usually kept in place with a plain guard ring.

The ring was always a circlet with a precious stone, never engraved, and it was large enough to pass over the gloved finger. The stone was usually a sapphire, sometimes an emerald or a ruby.

Although the ring is distinguishable, by its position on the right hand as well as by other circumstances, from the wedding-ring, Honorius of Autun (after referring to the ring placed on the finger of the Prodigal Son and the wedding ring of iron with an adamantine stone forged by 'a certain wise man called Prometheus') has been trapped into saying that the bishop wears a ring that he may declare himself the bridegroom of the church and may lay down his life for it, should necessity arise, as did Christ.

{124} XVI. The Pastoral Staff.—We have briefly sketched the probable origin of the pastoral staff in the preceding chapter, and come now to discuss the forms it presented and the connexions in which it was used during the middle ages. As there is no department of the study of Ecclesiastical Vestments about which so much popular misconception exists, it will be necessary to enter into these details at considerable length.

As utterly unfounded as the common notions concerning 'low-side windows' and crossed-legged effigies is the idea that the differences in the positions of pastoral staves as represented in sculptured monuments have any meaning whatsoever, secret or personal. A pastoral staff remains a pastoral staff, and nothing more, whether it is on the right side of the bearer or on the left, and whether its crook is turned inwards or outwards.

Synonymous with 'pastoral staff' is the word crozier or crosier; but it is frequently ignorantly applied to a totally different object—the cross-staff borne before an archbishop. The statements which we so often see in works professing to treat on ecclesiological subjects as to the pastoral staff being crook-headed and borne by bishops, the crozier cross-headed, and borne (instead of the pastoral staff) by archbishops, are derived from a misunderstanding of the evidence of mediaeval {125} monuments.[71] The truth is, that the pastoral staff, with which the crozier is identical, is borne by bishops and archbishops alike; but archbishops are distinguished from bishops by having a staff, with a cross or crucifix in its head, borne before them in addition. In many monuments, it is true, archbishops are represented as carrying the cross-staff, as, for instance, the brass of Archbishop Cranley in New College, Oxford; but it was obviously impossible in a monument of this kind to represent a cross-bearer preceding the archbishop, and the slight inaccuracy was, therefore, perpetrated of making the archbishop bear his own cross, thereby substantiating the evidence of the pall, that the person represented was of higher rank than that of a bishop. It was better managed at Mayence, where, in the monument of Albrecht von Brandenburg, 1545, figured above (p. 101), the figure is represented as bearing both the crozier and the cross-staff, one in each hand; and at Bamberg, in the cathedral of which city is a brass to Bishop Lambert von Brunn[72] (1399), wherein he is represented holding the crozier in his left hand, the cross-staff in his right.

{126} In the earliest representations of a staff of office there is a considerable variety in the shape of the head; knobs, crooks, and even Y-shapes, all meet us. The shape probably depended on the shape of the branch of the tree from which the staff was cut, much as does the shape of an ordinary walking-stick. By St Isidore's time, however, the crook-head had become stereotyped; the number of exceptional forms which we find after that date is small. There is a considerable number of staves of about the eleventh century, either represented on monuments or actually existing, of which the heads are tau-shaped; these possibly betray Eastern influence. A few effigies or pictures of bishops remain with a knob-headed staff; an example is to be seen in a ninth-century Anglo-Saxon pontifical at Rouen.
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The crook-headed staff is, however, by far the commonest, and after the eleventh century the only, form in which the bishop's crozier is found. Some variety is discoverable in the extent to which the staff is crooked. In some—notably in Irish specimens—the head is shaped like an inverted U, the form of the whole staff being that represented in the annexed diagram; but in the great majority of instances the head is recurved into a spiral or volute.

In the Irish form of crozier the front is flat, and shaped like an oval shield. This is often moveable, {127} disclosing a hollow behind it, which was almost certainly used as a reliquary.[73]

The materials of which the pastoral staff was made were very diverse. The stick was of wood, usually some precious wood, such as cedar, cypress, or ebony. This wood was often gilt or overlaid with silver plates. In the twelfth century the staff was shod with iron and surmounted with a knob of crystal, above which the crook proper was attached. The crook-head of the Irish crozier was of bronze; that of the other form generally of carved ivory. When the process of elaboration was felt in this as in all the other sacerdotal ornaments, the stick as well as the head was often carved from ivory, and either gilt or silvered heavily, and set with precious stones. Beneath the crook were often niches or shrines, containing figures of saints.

The bronze Irish crozier was decorated with the marvellous interlacing knots and bands which are the special glory of early Irish Christian art. On the flat front is often to be seen a plain cross, at the centre of which is a setting for a precious stone, and in each quarter an interlacing band. In the volute form of crozier a different style of ornamentation was adopted; the surface was not {128} ornamented, but the head was carved into solid forms; in the centre of the volute was usually represented some sacred person or scene, real or legendary, or else some symbolical device or conventional patterns. It is hard to say which of these two forms of crozier is the better from an aesthetic point of view. The graceful curve of the volute certainly compares favourably with the somewhat stiff outline of the Irish crozier; but the feebleness of even the best mediaeval attempts at representing the human figure in miniature considerably detracts from the artistic value of the volute crozier when a human figure is introduced; while, on the other hand, the incomparable excellence of the Irish metal-workers transformed the U-shaped crozier into an object of great beauty. The lines of the knots are always faultlessly executed, and the ornamentation is invariably in good taste.[74]

{129} The following copy of the Lincoln Inventory of pastoral staves (1536) illustrates some of the points already noticed. It also indicates that the head and staff of the crozier were separable, and, when stored in the vestry, kept apart from one another:

    'In primis a hede of one busshopes staffe of sylver and gylte wᵗ one knop and perles & other stones havyng a Image of owʳ savyowʳ of the one syde and a Image of sent John Baptiste of the other syde wanting xxj stones & perles wᵗ one bose [boss] and one sokett weyng xviij unces.
    'Item one other hede of a staffe copoʳ & gylte.
    'Item a staffe ordend for one of the seyd hedes the wyche ys ornate wᵗ stones sylver and gylte and iij circles, a boute the staffe sylver and gylte wantyng vij stones.
    'Item a staffe of horn and wod for the hede of copoʳ.
    'Item j staff covered wᵗ silver wᵗʰout heeid.'

In the corresponding inventory of Winchester Cathedral we find entered three pastoral staves silver-gilt, one pastoral staff of a 'unicorn's' (presumably a narwhal's) horn and four pastoral staves of plates of silver.

Suspended to the top of the staff was a streamer or napkin, which, like the lappet of the mitre, was called the infula. This was originally introduced to keep the moisture of the hand from tarnishing the metal of the staff. The symbolists think it is a 'banner' of some sort or other.

It will be convenient, before proceeding to the discussion of the next vestment on our list, to give {130} a few particulars regarding the archbishop's cross. This is necessary owing to the confusion already noticed, which exists between the crozier and the cross; but as the cross cannot strictly be included in a catalogue of ecclesiastical vestments, we shall make our notes as brief as possible.

The custom of preceding an archbishop with a cross was introduced throughout the Western Church about the beginning of the twelfth century. It was carried by one of the archbishop's chaplains, who in this country received the name of 'croyser,' or cross-bearer, for that reason. The cross was usually richly ornamented with metalwork and jewels, and often, if not always, bore a figure of Our Lord on each face, so that the eyes of the archbishop were fixed on the one, those of the people on the other.

The circumstance of highest importance connected with the archbishop's cross, so far as it concerns our present purpose, is this: the prelate never bore the cross himself, except on the one occasion of his investiture. He then received the cross into his own hands, but immediately passed it on to his cross-bearer.

The Pope is often in mediaeval monuments and illustrations represented as preceded by a cross with three transoms of different length, the uppermost being the shortest, the lowermost the longest. This is simply the result of a desire on the part of {131} the artist to improve upon the patriarch's cross of the Eastern Church, which appears to have two transoms, the upper transom being in point of fact a representation of the board on which the superscription on the cross was written.

One more staff may be worth a passing mention—the staff borne as an emblem of authority by the ruler of the choir, who looked after the singing and behaviour of the boys. This was of silver, with a cross-head.

The false conceptions about the crozier have probably arisen from an inaccurate etymological analogy with the word cross. The true derivation connects it with such words as our crotchet and crook.

The symbolism of the shepherd's staff is naturally the leading thought in the minds of the mystics. It was probably, however, considered too obvious, and they cast about to find yet further secret meanings. Thus, Honorius notices that the Lord commanded the apostles to 'take nothing save a staff only' when they were going out to preach, and then says that 'the staff which sustains the feeble signifies the authority of teaching,' and much more to the same effect. Innocent III says that the point is sharp, the middle straight, the top curved, to indicate that the priest should spur on the idle, rule the weak, collect the wandering. He further explains the fact that the Pope does {132} not bear the pastoral staff by telling us that 'the blessed St Peter sent his staff to Eucharius, the first bishop of Trèves, whom he had sent, together with Valerius and Maternus, to preach the Gospel among the Germans. Maternus succeeded him in the bishopric; he had been raised from the dead by the staff of St Peter. And this staff is preserved with great reverence in the church of Trèves.' St Thomas Aquinas supplements this piece of information by telling us that for this reason the Pope carries the pastoral staff when pontificating in Trèves.[75]

The episcopal staff is alleged to have borne the following inscriptions: round the crook, 'Cum iratus fueris misericordiae recordaberis'; on the ball below the crook, 'Homo'; on the spike at the bottom, 'Parce.' By these inscriptions the bishop was warned that he was but a man himself; that in wrath he should remember mercy; and that he should spare, even when administering discipline. Whether these warnings were invariably effective is a matter into which we will not inquire.

XVII. The Tunicle.—This was simply a small variety of the dalmatic, appropriated to the use of subdeacons and bishops.

It differed from the dalmatic merely in being somewhat smaller. It was made of silk or of {133} wool, and first appears about the year 820 as a subdeacon's vestment; but it is considerably later than this that it appears as a bishop's garment. In the ninth century bishops appear with but one vestment—the alba—under the chasuble; between the ninth and eleventh centuries the dalmatic makes its appearance; and it is not till about 1200 that we find the tunicle illustrated in paintings or effigies of bishops. A reference to the table given in the early part of the present chapter will show that the literary evidence points in the same direction.

The tunicle did not escape the common fate of all the vestments of the mediaeval church, and it, too, became overlaid with needlework, first in a strip across the breast of the subdeacon, then (as this would not show under the vestments of the bishop) on the rest of the surface. The tunicle on Bishop Goodrick's brass at Ely Cathedral—one of the latest representations of this vestment in England—is as richly embroidered as the dalmatic.

In a few episcopal effigies of the thirteenth century the dalmatic alone appears. The tunicle being worn beneath the dalmatic, and being naturally smaller, was hidden. This difficulty was, however, very soon surmounted by the simple process of shortening the dalmatic.

Properly, the dalmatic only is fringed; the tunicle of the subdeacon seldom, if ever, shows {134} this manner of ornamentation. But in the later episcopal effigies it is by no means uncommon.

XVIII. The Orale, or, as it is now called, the Fanon, is described by Dr Rock as 'an oblong piece of white silk gauze of some length, striped across its width with narrow bars, alternately gold, blue, and red.... It is cast upon the head of the Pope like a hood, and its two ends are wrapped one over the right, the other over the left shoulder, and thus kept until the holy father is clad in the chasuble, when the fanon is thrown back and made to hang smoothly and gracefully above and all around the shoulders of that vestment, like a tippet.'

From the orale being supposed to represent the ephod, as well as from the manner of its being put on, it is probable that it was an evolution from the amice. It is not mentioned by liturgical writers before Innocent III, and does not appear in paintings or monuments of much older date; it therefore seems to have been assumed about the twelfth or thirteenth century.

XIX. The Pectoral Cross.—We must not omit to mention this important episcopal ornament. As an official ornament it is of comparatively late introduction; it first appears in the pages of Innocent III and Durandus, and from the references which these liturgiologists make to it, it was evidently regarded by them as exclusively {135} confined to the Pope's use. Thus, Innocent says: 'Romanus autem pontifex post albam et cingulum assumit orale, quod circa caput involvit et replicat super humeros' for certain symbolic reasons; 'et quia signo crucis auri lamina cessit pro lamina quam pontifex ille [Judaeus] gerebat in fronte, pontifex iste crucem gerit in pectore.' Dr Rock has been unable to find any trace of the pectoral cross appearing on the breast of an ordinary bishop before the sixteenth century. Even by the Popes it appears before this time to have been covered by the chasuble. Probably the cross was originally a reliquary.

On p. 29 we referred to a MS. of uncertain date in the monastery of St Martin at Autun, which details the vestments worn in the Gallican church in (probably) the tenth century. This gives a somewhat different catalogue from the lists of the rest of the Western Church, and displays some Eastern influence. The pallium, casula, alba, and stola are described so that they appear identical with the corresponding vestments elsewhere; the maniple also appears, under the name vestimentum parvolum; and we have in addition the manualia or manicae, which do not appear in any other Western lists; they are said in the MS. to have been regularly worn 'like bracelets,' and to have covered the arms of 'kings and priests.' This points to vestments after the style {136} of the ἐπιμανίκια of the Greeks, which will be noticed in their proper place in Chapter V.

We have now described the vestments worn by the priests of the Western Church at the Eucharistic service, and are thus in a position to give a satisfactory answer to the question, 'Were they adaptations of the Jewish, or natural evolutions of the Roman costume?' We have seen that the jeweller, the goldsmith, and the embroiderer conspired to make the vestments of the middle ages as gorgeous as possible, and that therein, and in some few other particulars, they resembled the Mosaic costume; but as we go back nearer and nearer to the first ages of Christianity all the glitter drops off, vestment after vestment disappears, till we reach the three plain white vestments of the fourth century, from which it is but a step to the ordinary costume of a Roman citizen of good position during the second or third century of our era. We have also seen that all attempts at drawing hidden meanings from the vestments fail; the results, when not far-fetched, are contradictory and unconvincing.