Studies in Byzantine, Islamic and Near Eastern Silk Weaving. 1899828419, 9781899828418

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Studies in Byzantine, Islamic and Near Eastern Silk Weaving

Studies in Byzantine, Islamic and Near Eastern Silk Weaving

Anna Muthesius

The Pindar Press London 2008

Published by The Pindar Press 40 Narcissus Road London NW6 1TH · UK

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

Copyright © 2008 by Anna Muthesius. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher and the copyright holder.

ISBN 978-1-899828-41-8 (hb) ISBN 978-1-904597-60-5 (pb)

Printed by Raithby Lawrence Ltd 18, Slater Street Leicester LE3 5AY This book is printed on acid-free paper

For Theodore Shu Fu Lee (born 19.8.2006) and Tobias Shu He Lee (born 28.1.2008) First and second born children of Bianca Helena (née Muthesius) and Paul Lee and first two darling grandchildren of the author and of Tom and Irene Lee

Contents Preface

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I

A Millennium of Byzantine Silks

1

II

Silk as Politics in Byzantium

14

III

Silken Dress Codes, Gender and Power in Byzantium

31

IV

The Silk Patronage of the Emperor Henry II (d. 1024)

38

V A Tribute to Donald King: Silken Embroidery and Orthodox Faith in Byzantium

52

VI Silk as Fabric of Monastic Life in Byzantium: Silks at Patmos and Sinai

70

VII Sealed for God: Reliquary Bags, Burses and Purses (4th–15th Centuries) VIII The Exotic Near Eastern Silks at Canterbury Cathedral

98

IX Byzantine Silks in the Latin West: Economic and Artistic Exchange or Political Ploy?

116

X

Mediterranean Silks in the Caucasus

132

XI

Byzantine Orthodoxy and the Silken Cult of St. Cuthbert

143

XII

The Silk Heritage of Durham Cathedral

166

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XIII Durham Mediaeval Silks: Problems of Research and Conservation

186

XIV

Two Unknown Tapestry Weave Silks from Croatia

197

XV

Material Culture and Well-being in Byzantium

207

XVI

Silk at Sinai

284

XVII The Importance of Textiles to the Understanding of Byzantine Civilisation

294

Index

317

Acknowledgements

335

List of Plates

337

Plates

347

Preface

T

HIS volume of seventeen studies complements Professor Muthesius’s two earlier ground breaking volumes in the field of silk as material culture: Studies in Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving (1995) and Studies in Silk in Byzantium (2004). The publication highlights the fact that similar patterns of selection were at work in the acquisition of silks by secular and ecclesiastical bodies (I–III, XII). These patterns of selection were governed not only by fashions of the time, but also by access to international trade routes leading to the Great Silk Road, linking the Near East to the Mediterranean. The surviving silks prove that the Mediterranean/Near Eastern silk trade flourished continuously and for centuries prior to the thirteenth century, contrary to what has previously widely been assumed (XIV, VIII). It also highlights the crucial role of the Caucasian silk routes in accessing the Great Silk Road in the early period (X). Above all, the book demonstrates how important it is to assess the impact of Near Eastern silk manufacture and silk distribution in relation to Byzantine and Islamic Mediterranean silk production and trade. Three papers (IV, IX, XI) consider the role of Byzantine silks in the Latin West, and the influence of Byzantine silken practices in particular. Later Byzantine embroideries are highlighted in three further papers (V, VI, XVI), and another paper (VII) explores earlier, partly embroidered reliquary pouches, burses and purses, a number of which are Byzantine. Paper XVI especially explores the relationship of later Byzantine embroideries to establishment of power systems, and to the development of ritual processes. One paper (XIII) deals with the problems faced in the research and conservation of surviving silks, and this emphasises the need for funds to preserve such historical textiles for future generations. The original contents have been expanded to include a paper on ‘theory and method’ within Byzantine material culture (XV). This paper for the first time suggests a comprehensive theoretical method for application

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across different areas of Byzantine Material Culture studies. It emphasises the central role of Byzantine textile and dress studies, to the development of a generic, material culture, theoretical method, which is inter-disciplinary, and which combines material remains, visual and documentary evidence analysis. The final paper (XVII) puts into words the sentiment behind all three volumes of Professor Muthesius’s collected studies. It illustrates how Byzantine textiles, key artefacts of Byzantine Material Culture, hitherto largely overlooked by Byzantine scholarship, provide unique and crucial evidence for the interpretation of Byzantine Civilisation. The author contends that the study of Byzantine textiles has to be recognised as a distinct and specialised discipline within the wider field of Byzantine Material Culture Studies. The discipline of Byzantine Textile Studies requires a special method, which combines technical and academic expertise across a wide spread of disciplines. Byzantine Textile Studies represent a new interdisciplinary branch of Byzantine Scholarship: a rare field of object-based research, which moves well beyond traditional, purely text based Byzantine Studies. It distinguishes itself also from art historical studies of textiles, in that it demands a total mastery of the technical aspects of the subject and a first hand expertise of dating method through technical analysis. From an early period (1984), the Byzantine Institute of the University of Vienna, with its interest in Byzantine Material Culture, recognised the relevance of the doctoral research of the present author. Under the auspices of the Austrian government that Institute brought to publication the author’s standard textbook publication, Byzantine Silk Weaving (1997). This book is the only publication to provide a technical chronology of nearly all surviving Byzantine silks datable between the fourth and the twelfth century, alongside some comparable Islamic and Near Eastern silks. The technical training of the present author (1970–1980) was gained through first hand international, empirical study of all the surviving materials, under the guidance of the late Donald King, Keeper of Textiles at the Victoria and Albert Museum, London (see chapter V). Academic, theoretical, history of art training, at undergraduate and postgraduate levels, was gained at the University of East Anglia and at the Courtauld Institute, University of London (1970–1980). At post doctoral level the author’s method was enriched by a greater engagement with purely historical approaches, whilst based at the University of Cambridge (1987–1990). An inter-disciplinary historical seminar, ‘Byzantine Silk, Trade and Diplomacy’,

preface

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subsequently was developed and taught by the author at the University of Cambridge each year (1990–2000). The relevance of contemporary, object based, material culture design theory was clear to the author from her teaching at undergraduate and at post-graduate level, of Design theory within the Faculty of Textiles at the Surrey Institute of Art and Design (1990–2004). Contemporary Material Culture studies methods, therefore, have also influenced some of the work carried out by the present author in the field of Byzantine Textile research. It has become clear that textiles act as a timeless object of communication across space, and that meanings and status associations given to the production and use of different types of textiles may be traced across civilisations and through time. In this sense the textiles reflect basic human needs and aspects of their ‘well-being’. Within the last few years, again at the University of Cambridge, through a Fellowship of the McDonald Institute for Archaeological research (2003–2006), the author has grown aware of firmer inter-disciplinary links that may be forged between the discipline of Byzantine Textile Studies and the disciplines of Archaeology and Anthropology in general. A conference, ‘Byzantine Material Culture and Well-Being’, organised by the present author, at the University of Cambridge in 2001, brought together the interests and methods of Byzantine scholars at the Byzantine Institute in Vienna, and those of the archaeologists and anthropologists of the University of Cambridge. These approaches also were combined with the researches of philosophers and historians of medicine at the University of Munich. The principal characteristics of the Material Culture and Textile Studies method of the author, as presented at that conference and as subsequently enriched (2002–2007) is reflected in chapter XV in the present publication. Further enrichment of the author’s Byzantine Textile Studies method is underway with reference to integration of approaches proper to Byzantine Theology and Biblical Studies. This is true particularly of the author’s research for the forthcoming publications of Byzantine and Post Byzantine gold embroideries and textiles, of the monastery of St. Catherine in Sinai and of St. John’s monastery, Patmos. In the present volume this area is only briefly touched upon (chapters V, VI and XVI). The author sees Byzantine Textile Studies as a dynamic, challenging, evolving, inter­disciplinary, Material Culture discipline: a fitting branch of Byzantine Studies for major development in the twenty-first century. To ensure that this new discipline flourishes, it is important to see that researchers have been fully trained in all branches of method essential to the

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field of Byzantine Textile Studies; that is both in empirical, technical analysis and expertise and in inter-disciplinary academic theoretical method. Anna Muthesius Cambridge, July 2007.

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A Millennium of Byzantine Silks Introduction

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N much the same way as Byzantine icons, Byzantine silks represent an enduring legacy, but the difficulty of working with textiles (both through lack of access and owing to the absence of established training centres) has meant that few have managed to specialise in this important field of Byzantine studies. Silks are physical and symbolic artefacts, in which technological and technical expertise, religious and political meanings, and social hierarchies became imbedded. An analysis of this rich aspect of Byzantine material and spiritual culture is essential to an understanding of Byzantine civilisation. The silks were produced in different parts of the Byzantine Empire across an entire millennium, from the fourth to the fifteenth centuries.1 The purpose of this short paper is to illustrate key ways in which these silks served as artefacts of rare distinction, intimate mirrors of intricate aspects of Byzantine culture. Early Imperial silk policy Imperial silk weaving was initially established in a number of state factories across the Byzantine Empire in the fourth century.2 The main centre

For silk dating before 1200 A.D. see, A. Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving (J. Koder, E. Kislinger eds.). Vienna 1997. For silk embroideries see in the present book, chapters 5, 6, and 16. 2 R. S. Lopez, ‘Silk industry in the Byzantine Empire’, Speculum 20 no. 1 (1945) 1–42. Cf. by the present author, ‘The Byzantine silk industry: Lopez and beyond’, in: A. Muthesius, Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving. London 1995, chapter 16, 255–314. 1

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of production was Constantinople, and in the Imperial workshop of the Capital, impressive, sea snail-purple dyed and gold embroidered, Imperial costumes were woven and tailored.3 The Imperial house was swift to carefully nurture an association between distinctly tailored sumptuous, specific murex- dyed silken attire and Imperial prowess and authority, as well as Imperial piety: a reflection of the Triumphal Christian State.4 By the fifth century, the Imperial house, through the promulgation of an Imperial ruler cult alongside a cult of Christian saints, emphasised their own claim to rule by ‘Divine Right’.5 The Emperor Constantine the Great crossing the Miluvian Bridge is styled the great warrior of Christianity, in a ninth century Byzantine manuscript of the Homilies of Gregory of

The literature on purple dyes used in Byzantium is extensive, but no single publication deals with all the technical factors behind the processes for obtaining the many subtle shades of purple dyes. The sources are most fully explored in G. Steigerwald, ‘Das kaiserliche Purpurprivileg in spätrömischer und frühbyzantinischer Zeit’, Jahrbuch für Antike und Christentum 33 (1990) 209–239. Cf. Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 3, 27–28, 29–31 with notes, and 32–33 for bibliography on the technical analysis of purple and other Byzantine dyes. Also consult: W. T. Avery, The Adoratio purpurae and the importance of Imperial purple in the Christian era. Memoirs of the American Academy in Rome 17 (1940) 66–80; M. Reinhold, The History of Purple as a Status Symbol in Antiquity. Brussels 1970. On purple dyes beyond Byzantium see, La Porpora, Realita e immaginario di un colore simbolico (O. Longo ed.). Venezia 1998. Most recently note, J. H. Hofenk de Graff, The Colourful Past. Origins, Chemistry and Identification of Natural Dyes Stuffs. London 2004. 4 See by the present author, ‘Cultural Imperialism, Identity and Value’, in: Silk in Byzantium. Chapter 1, 1–22, and in the same publication, ‘The “cult” of Imperial and Ecclesiastical Silks in Byzantium’, chapter 2, 23–36. In relation to Byzantine diplomacy, the role of silk is explored by the present author, in: Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving, chapter 14, 231–244. Specific court costumes are discussed in E. Piltz, ‘Middle Byzantine Court Costume’, in: Byzantine Court Culture (H. Maguire ed.). Washington 1997, 39–51. 5 See, F. Dvornik, Early Christian and Byzantine Political Philosophy. Origins and Background. I–II. Washington 1966. Also refer to: G. Dagron, Emperor and Priest. The Imperial Office in Byzantium. Cambridge 2003, part 2, chapters 4–6, on pages 127–219; V. Limberis, Divine Heiress. The Virgin Mary and the creation of Christian Constantinople. London 1994, chapters 3–4, on pages 47–97. The latter two chapters explore the nature of the changing relationship of the Byzantine Emperors to God in the fourth and fifth centuries, in conjunction with the development of the cult of the Virgin. Also note, H. Maguire, ‘The Heavenly Court’, in: Court Culture (H. Maguire ed.), 247–258, where the concept of ‘Heaven on earth’, is examined in relation to the Emperor and his court. For ‘triumphal rulership’ across the East and West in general see, M. McCormick, Eternal Victory. Cambridge 1986. 3

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Nazianzus. He wears a purple Imperial military tunic, as a symbol of political Imperial piety.6 Weaving metaphors and the development of Byzantine ‘cult’ imagery In the fourth to the ninth centuries, there was also private silk manufacture.7 One reference to public use of silk garments patterned with both secular and religious subject matter, occurs in a fifth century homily of Saint Theodoret of Cyrrus.8 The saint admonishes the public for indiscriminately mixing secular and sacred motifs upon their silken clothing, terming arts of weaving and embroidery, ‘gifts from God’. Weaving metaphors were also used by Proclus, Patriarch of Constantinople, in the fifth century. He wrote an extensive homily upon the feast of the Virginity of the Theotokos in which he called the Virgin: ‘the purest fleece full of heavenly rain whereby the shepherd clothed himself with the sheep’ and, ‘the awesome loom of salvation on which the robe of union was mysteriously woven; whose weaver was the Holy Spirit’. These weaving metaphors, when applied to the mystery of Divine Incarnation, served to emphasise the human nature of the Son of God. The same emphasis occurred on silks, where cycles of the life of the Virgin appeared, including the nativity.9

6 L. Brubaker, Vision and Meaning in Ninth-Century Byzantium. Image as Exegesis in the Homilies of Gregory of Nazianzus. Cambridge 1999, chapter 4, 163–172 and figure 45. Cf. Dagron, Emperor and Priest, chapter 4, 127–157. 7 On the private silk guilds of Constantinople in the tenth century see, J. Koder, Das Eparchenbuch Leons des Weisen. CFHB 33, Wien 1991, chapters 4–8, pages 90–107. The organisation of the guilds is analysed in Muthesius, Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving, chapter 16.7, 280–290. 8 See, Theodoret of Cyrrhus. De Providentia oratio IV. PG 83, 617–620. Cf. Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 2.2, 23–24. For Proclus and the reference in his Homily on the Virgin see, PG 65, 681. On weaving metaphors in Proclus consult, F. J. Leroy, L’homiletique de Proclus de Constantinople. Citta del Vaticano, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana 1967. Also see, Limberis, Divine Heiress, 51, 62, 85–89, 96, 11–112, 122, 129, 131–132, 135–137, 145–147. 9 On the silk with the cycle of the life of the Virgin refer to, M. Fluery-Lemberg, Textile Conservation and Research. Bern 1988, 367–369. Also see, L. Kotzsche, ‘Die Marienseide in der Abegg-Stiftung. Bemerkungen zur Ikonographie der Szenenfolge’, in: Begegnung von Heidentum und Christentum im spätantiken Ägypten. Riggisberger Berichte I, Riggisberg 1993, 183–194.

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The development of silken ritual Between the sixth and ninth centuries, elaborate silks destined for church use were made in both private and in Imperial silk weaving workshops of the Byzantine Empire.10 Private workshops of Byzantine Egypt in the sixth to early seventh centuries wove elaborate religious cycles.11 Other silks, remarkably, were woven in Syria under Moslem domination in the eighth to ninth centuries, and they included both old and new testament scenes.12 Silk furnishings for Haghia Sophia and for important monastic foundations, were Imperially woven pieces, donated by the court.13 Not least amongst them, was an altar cloth presented to St. Sophia by the Emperor Justinian in the sixth century.14 This portrayed the miracles of Christ bordered by the heroic military feats of Emperor Justinian. Between the sixth and the ninth centuries, the growing processions of icons; the outpouring of panegyrics, hymns and homilies to the heavenly host; the use of proskynesis in the liturgy; the acclamation of saints; the establishment of religious feasts, and 10 Refer to notes 7 and 2 above. In addition see, N. Oikonomides, ‘Commerce et production de la soie à Byzance’, in: Hommes et richesses dans l’Empire byzantin IVe–IXe siècle. Paris 1989, 187–192. By the same author for raw silk supply and taxation see, ‘Le Kommerkion d’Abydos, Thessalonique et le commerce bulgare au IXe siècle’, in: Hommes et richesses dans l’Empire byzantin VIIIe–XVe siècle. Paris 1991, 241–248. 11 As discussed by the present author in relation to scenes from the life of Joseph, for example, in Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 8.1.1, page 80, with notes 1–5 on page 82. There are two distinct silk woven Joseph silks at Sens Cathedral treasury: M16 (see pages 169–170) and M6a (see pages 165, 167). For further bibliography on Joseph scenes woven upon Coptic textiles see, C. Nauerth, Koptische Textilkunst in spätantiken Ägypten. Trier 1978, 89, no. 3. 12 Silks with Christian narrative scenes were woven in the eighth to ninth centuries and these were described in the Lives of the Popes the, Liber Pontificalis (L. Duchesne ed.). Paris 1892. For discussion of references to silks in the Liber Pontificalis see, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving 7, chapter 14.1.3, 124–125. 13 Palaeologian embroidered silks survive at the Monasteries of St. John, Patmos and St. Catherine, Sinai, and in monasteries on Athos. The Patmos and Sinai silks have been catalogued for publication by the present author. 14 The silk alter cloth donated to Haghia Sophia in Constantinople by Emperor Justinian (527–565), is described in, Paulus Silentarius, Descr. S. Sophia, in: Johannes von Gaza und Paulus Silentarius (P. Friedländer ed.). Leipzig-Berlin 1912, 755–805. For English translation see, C. Mango, The Art of the Byzantine Empire, 312–1453. New Jersey 1972, 88–89. This silk altar cloth was of purple murex with gold and silver embroidered figures of Christ, Peter, and Paul. On it miracle scenes appeared and it had a border upon which deeds of the Emperor were depicted.

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the growth of liturgical drama, all encouraged an immensely elaborate ritual use of ecclesiastical silk vestments and furnishings.15 An amalgamation of civic and religious silken ceremonial was effected between the fifth and the tenth centuries. The Prefect of Constantinople first took on the task of the reception of Christian relics in the fifth century. Important relics served as symbols of divine approval of Imperial authority.16 In the fifth century, the Byzantine Capital boasted three churches dedicated to the Virgin, each designed to house one of her relics. The portrait of the Virgin by St. Luke was housed at the Hodegetria; the virgin’s shroud adorned the Blachernae and the Virgin’s girdle the Chalkoprateia.17 The veil of the Virgin too, became a relic in its own right.18 These relics were variously processed around the Capital to elicit Divine protection at times of foreign attack.19 Later, in 944 Romanos I had brought from Edessa, the Holy Mandylion of Christ, which he housed in another Church of Constantinople, the Pharos.20 See, Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium. London 2004, chapter 2, pages 23–35. Refer to, S. G. Mercati, ‘Santuari e reliquie Constantinopolitaine’. Rendiconti: Atti della Pontificia Accademia Romana di Archeologia 12 (1937) 133–156. P. Maraval, Lieux saints et pèlerinages d’Orient. Paris 1985. Oxford Dictionary of Byzantium, 3, Oxford 1991, 1779–1781. 17 See, M. Jugie, La mort et l’assomption de la Sainte Vierge. Vatican 1944, 688–707, on the cloth relics of the Virgin. On the Virgin’s robe in relation to her documented maphorion and other cloth relics and their terminology see, O.D.B. 2, Oxford 1991, 1294, with source references and bibliography. The cloth relic at the Blachernai was called not a robe but a shroud in the fourteenth century. For the portrait of the Virgin by St. Luke consult, R. L. Wolff, ‘Footnote to an incident of the Latin occupation of Constantinople: the Church and the Icon of the Hodegetria.’ Traditio 6 (1948) 319–328. 18 The maphorion of the Virgin served to protect Constantinople during a Rus’ attack in 860 see, Theophanes Continuatus (I. Bekker ed.). Bonn 1838, 674.23. 19 Discussed in, N. H. Baynes, ‘The supernatural defenders of Constantinople’, in: Byzantine Studies and Other Essays. London 1955, 257–260. Also consider, L. Kalavrezou, ‘Helping hands for the Empire: Imperial ceremonies and the cult of relics at the Byzantine court’, in: Court Culture (H. Maguire ed.) 53–79, with accompanying references in notes 1–105. 20 In 944, the Mandylion was returned from Edessa by the Emperor Romanos I. For the relic at the Church of the Pharos see, Ioannis Scylitzae Synopsis Historiarum (I. Turn ed.). Berlin 1973, 231–232, 58 to 62. Also see, K. Weitzmann, ‘The Mandylion and Constantine Porphyrogenitus’, Cahiers Archéologiques 11 (1960) 163–184, and, A. Cameron, ‘The History of the Image of Edessa: the telling of a story’, in: Okeanos: Essays presented to Ihor Sevcenko on his sixtieth birthday (C. Mango, O. Pritsak eds.). Cambridge Mass. 1984, 80–94. For further relevant literature consult under ‘Mandylion’, O.D.B. 2, Oxford 1991, 1282–1283. Also see, International Byzantine Congress. Paris 2001. Pre-Actes II. Tables Rondes, Paris 2001, section 10, 117–125, for relics of the passion. 15 16

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The blend of political and ecclesiastical concerns The Book of Ceremonies, a tenth-century compilation attributed to the Emperor Constantine VII, illustrates the lavish use of silks for civic and ecclesiastical ceremonies, both within and outside the Imperial Palace of Constantinople.21 The silks used were woven mainly in the Imperial workshop but some were specially commissioned from the private silk guilds of the Capital.22 Major silken processions took place between the important churches of the Capital to mark the religious year and even the Imperial horses were adorned with silk trappings during the time of such mass spectacle.23 The Imperial silk weaving workshops produced both private and public wardrobes for the Imperial house.24 This duality had to reflect both sacral and secular authority. The Emperor was not only Byzantium’s great military warrior but he was also God’s pious representative on earth. The earthly court acted as a reflection of the heavenly kingdom above. In paintings, 21 See following source literature for Byzantine ceremonial: De ceremoniis aulae byzantinae (J. J. Reiske ed.) I–II. Bonn 1829–1830, and, Le livre des cérémonies (A. Vogt ed.) I–II. Paris 1935–1939. Important secondary literature includes the following; A. Alföldi, ‘Die Aufgestaltung des monarchischen Zeremoniells am römischen Kaiserhof ’, in: Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archaologischen Instituts. Römische Abteilung 49–50 (1934–1935); O. Treitinger, Die oströmische Kaiser und Reichsidee nach ihrer Gestaltung im höfischen Zeremoniell. Jena 1938; A. Grabar, ‘Pseudo Codinos et les cérémonies de la cour Byzantine au XIVe siècle’. Art et société a Byzance sous les Paleologues. Venice 1971, 193–221; A. Cameron, ‘The construction of court ritual: the Byzantine Book of Ceremonies’, in: Rituals of Royalty. Power and Ceremonial in Traditional Societies. (D. Cannadine, S. Price ed.) Cambridge 1987; M. Mc Cormick, ‘Analysing Imperial Ceremonies’, Jahrbuch der Österreichischen Byzantinistik 35 (1985) 1–20; C. Zuckermann, ‘A propos du livre des ceremonies, II, 48’, Travaux et Mémoires 13 (2000 531–594. 22 Koder, Eparchenbuch, 8.1 on pages 102–103. The Serikarioi were responsible for production of certain purple silk tailored costumes restricted to Imperial use. These were whole tunics termed skaramangia. They also produced mesophora of different shades of purple. 23 This can be seen in the early eleventh century on the Bamberg Gunther tapestry. See chapter 9 note 26 below for literature on this silk tapestry. 24 Public and private wardrobes are discussed in J. Haldon, Byzantine Praetorians. Bonn 1984, 318–323. Cf. M. Hendy, Studies in the Byzantine Monetary Economy c. 300–1450. Cambridge 1985, 275 and note 124, and 410–414. Earlier see, J. B. Bury, The Imperial Administrative System in the Ninth Century. London 1911. New York reprint undated, 95–96. Cf. J. F. Haldon, Three Treatises on Imperial Military Expeditions. CFHB 28, Vienna 1989, commentary 5.8, 8.20, 18.1. Also see J. Ebersolt, ‘Sur les functions et les dignités du vestiarium byzantin’, in: Mélanges Charles Diehl, I, Paris 1930, 81–82.

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members of both earthly and heavenly courts were depicted dressed in precious Imperial silks.25 The repertoire of designs The Byzantine Imperial workshops set the fashion for different designs at different periods and political and theological circumstance often dictated the nature of the motifs chosen. The eighth to ninth centuries saw the rise of mythological and of charioteer and hunter themes under Imperial patronage at a time when Iconoclasm forbade the weaving of religious images (Plates 1–3).26 Byzantine examples of stellar mantles are alluded to in the literature but none survive. Byzantine Emperors certainly took note of their horoscopes and they entertained astrologers at court. Some eighth- to ninth-century Byzantine silks include Sassanian astrological elements. The Brussels Charioteer silk has a depiction of a type of Helios sun god for Emperor, accompanied by sun and moon personifications (Plate 4).27 There was by the time of this silk in the eighth to ninth century in Byzantium, already a strong interest in eschatology and in the prediction of the end of the world using astrological calculations. The silk may reflect this trend. Further research may yet reveal eschatology as a major factor behind the development of certain aspects of Byzantine cult ritual.28 Following Iconoclasm, from the second half of the ninth century onwards, large scale bird and animal motifs became popular.29 Meanwhile, increasing demand and broadening markets served to encourage private silk manufacture in the Capital from the tenth century on.30 By the twelfth cenSee discussion by the present author, ‘Embroidered silks as reflected in Byzantine Painting’, in, Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium. London 2004, chapter 12, 207–226. 26 Concerning Charioteer and Hunter themes on silks during the periods of Iconoclasm see, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 6, 58–64, and chapter 7.3, 68–73, with full bibliography in the accompanying footnotes. 27 For the Brussels Charioteer silk see, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 7.4, 72. 28 G. Podskalsky, Byzantinische Reichseschatologie. Munich, 1972; M. Jugie, ‘La doctrine des fins dernières dans l’Eglise gréco-russe’, Echos d’Orient 17 (1914–1915) 1–22, 209–228, 402–421. Further see under ‘Eschatology’, O.D.B. 1, Oxford 1991, 728. 29 Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 4, 34–44; chapter 5, 44–57. 30 On provincial silk weaving see, ‘Silk in Western Byzantium before the fourth Crusade’, in: D. Jacoby, Trade Commodities and Shipping in the Medieval Mediterranean. Aldershot 1997, chapter 3, 425–500. Jacoby is not a textile specialist although he attempts to discuss 25

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tury, Thebes and Corinth had become important centres for the manufacture of fine silk dresses sold on the open market, and worn on the streets of Constantinople.31 A twelfth century popular literary source describes one dress motif as a multi-bodied lion. Such a silk survives today as a relic cover at Aachen Cathedral treasury. From the tenth to eleventh centuries there was also a fashion for monochrome foliate and geometrically patterned silks.34 These were probably woven in both Imperial and private silk weaving workshops of Byzantium. Very similar silks were woven in Islamic Mediterranean silk workshops.35 During the Latin occupation of 1204–1262, the silk workers of Constantinople seem mainly to have been engaged in finishing spoilt silks

technical matters. He is inaccurate in his descriptions of dyes and of weaving and embroidery techniques. Jacoby, for example, confuses embroidery with woven brocade techniques. Although there is rich reference to documentary sources, Jacoby evidently knows nothing about the surviving silks and he fails to refer to them. Consequently, Jacoby uses mainly scant documentary evidence, on occasion to make conclusions unsupported by the evidence of the extant textiles. He considers Andros an important weaving centre, although no silks from Andros featured in Thessaloniki at the St. Demetrios fair held in 1110. Also, none of the extant silks has been identified with Andros. In addition, Jacoby implies that Sicilian silk production was inferior to that of the Peloponnese, but surviving Sicilian silks would argue against such a conclusion, (quite apart from the fact that Peloponnese silk textiles would first have to be identified alongside the surviving Sicilian silks, in order properly to verify his hypothesis). Definitions of textile terminology attempted by Jacoby have no technical basis. For later historical source analysis (non-technical) see his, ‘Silk production in the Frankish Peloponnese: the evidence of fourteenth century surveys and reports’, in: D. Jacoby, Trade Commodities and Shipping in the Medieval Mediterranean. Aldershot 1997, chapter 8, 41–61 31 Niketas Choniates (Magoulis ed.). Detroit 1984, 253, for silks from Thebes. For fine garments of Thebes refer to, M. Choniates, Epistolai, in: Michael Akominatou tou Choniatou ta sozamena (S. Lampros ed.). Athens 1879–1880, reprint, Gröningen 1968, 11.83. 32 Theodori Prodromi de Rhodanthes Dosiclis Amoribus Libri IX (M. Markovich ed.). Stutgardiae et Lipsiae 1992. Cf. C. Cupane’s comments in: Byzantinische Zeitschrift 89 (1996) 99–100 with note 2. 33 Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, 43. 34 For these silks see, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 9, 85–93 with plates 85A, 86A–B, 88A, 116A–B, 117A, 121A–B, 127A. 35 For monochrome lampas weave silks from Islamic centres in Spain see, J. Becker, Pattern and Loom. Copenhagen 1987, chapter 6, 145–154. The monochrome rewoven Spanish silk examples shown in Becker sometimes use a single identical shade of silk for both warp and weft threads, and sometimes two slightly different shades of the same colour of silk thread. Less developed than lampas technically, is ‘pseudo-lampas’, as discussed by Becker on pages 140–144, with figure 118.

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imported from Italy.36 Whether there was Byzantine production for export under Latin occupation is not documented. But Imperial workshops must have functioned again after the restoration of Constantinople in 1261, judging by the rich Palaeologian Imperial costumes shown in manuscripts, and by surviving embroidered silks bearing Palaeologian arms.37 The eagle and the griffin motifs in imperial vestiture In Byzantium, certain motifs did acquire special imperial significance, both before and after the Latin occupation. Amongst the silk designs especially favoured by the mid. Byzantine court of the tenth to twelfth centuries and by the later Palaeologian dynasty, were the eagle and the griffin (Plates 5–6).38 Both symbolised heavenly flight. From Roman times eagles had been associated with ascent, and griffins were traditionally linked to the theme of flight, for instance in the legend of Alexander.39 The special significance of both of these motifs is well attested in Byzantine literature. One particularly revealing account, an ekphrasis, describes a joust, held perhaps under the Emperor Manuel I Comnenos (1143–1180).40 This Emperor wore a splendid garment on which paired, addorsed golden griffin motifs appeared in medallions, on a red ground. The Ekphrasis details how: ‘Around the shoulders in a red circle griffins Silk weaving of a sumptuous kind is indicated for Nicaea after the fall. See Theodore Metochites, Nicene Oration (C. Foss transl.), in: Nicaea. A Byzantine Capital and its Praises. Brooklyn 1996, 190–192, chapter 18, 12–17. 37 See by the present author, ‘The Thessaloniki Epitaphios: a technical examination’, in: Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium. London 2004, chapter 11, 175–206. This discusses the existence of a silk and gold embroidery workshop active under the Palaeologian Emperors (1259–1453). 38 On the surviving eagle and griffin silks see, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 5, 44–57 and plates 42A, 74A, 75A–B, 85B and 90B, for example. Amongst these, 85B and 90B are examples of Islamic Eagle silks. See also by the present author,’The Byzantine Eagle’, in: Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, chapter 13, 227–236. Also consult, J. E. Korn, Adler und Doppeladler. Ein Zeichen im Wandel der Geschichte. Ph.D. thesis, Göttingen University 1969. 39 Refer to the following: H. J. Gleixner, Das Alexanderbild der Byzantiner. Munich 1961; A. K. Orlandos, ‘Neon anaglyphon tes analepseos tou Alexandrou’, Epistemonike Epeteris tes Philosophikes Scholes tou Panepistemiou Athenon 6 (1954–1955) 281–289. Earlier note, C. Settis-Frugoni, Historia Alexandri elevati per griphos ad aerem. Rome 1973. 40 See, ‘Ekphrasis of the jousts of our mighty and holy lord and emperor’ (Lampros ed.) N.E. 5 (1908) 13–18. 36

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spread their wings in different directions’. These, the writers explains, were ‘golden and adorned with many pearls, intimating altogether by the circles, by the wings and by the colour, that the Emperor is on high and elevated: and [that] thundering, as it were, from heaven, he performs great and wonderful deeds.’ ‘On his red shoes’, the writer continues, ‘the emperor had white pearled eagles’ so that, ‘through the whiteness of the pearls and the high flying of the birds’, the author is at pains to explain, ‘the total elevation of the emperor might be depicted’. ‘For’ the author concludes, ‘the emperor is spotless like a pearl and high flying like the eagles.’41 Under the Palaeologian dynasty in particular, the use of double-headed eagle alluded to the dual spiritual and secular authority of the Emperor. The metaphor of ‘ethereal aloofness’ even extended to depicting some Emperors as angels.42 Byzantine ecclesiastical vestiture Only the Church could match the Imperial splendour of the court. Sumptuous court costumes themselves, were used both for civic and for religious ceremonial. The Book of Ceremonies, cites numerous items of Imperial vestiture, revealing a rich array of tunics, cloaks, stoles, gloves and buskins.43 It is also noticeable from descriptions in the Book of Ceremonies, that the Patriarch used exceptionally impressive silk vestiture: the sakkos, phelonion and omophorion, alongside various symbolic attributes such as the epigonation and epimanikia. Under the patronage of the Palaeologian Emperors from the late thirteenth century onwards, elaborate embroidered

See by the present author, ‘The ‘cult’ of Imperial and Ecclesiastical silks in Byzantium’, in: Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, chapter 11, 23–35. 42 The coinage of John Ducas of Thessaloniki, from 1237–1244, depicted an image of a figure with wings. On this subject, and on the bicephal eagle motif under the Palaeologians, see, C. Chatzakoglou, ‘Die Palaiologen und das frühste Auftreten des byzantinischen Doppeladlers’, Byzantinoslavica 57 (1996) 60–68. 43 On specific types of Imperial costumes see Piltz as cited above in note 4. Also note the following four contributions all by E. Piltz: ‘Kamelaukion et mitra’. Acta Universitatis Upsaliensis. Figura, n. s. 15. Stockholm 1977, 50ff.; ‘Loros – ett bysantinskt insignium’. Reallexikon zur byzantinischen Kunst ( K. Wessel ed.) III, Stuttgart 1965-, 428–444; ‘Le costume officiel des dignitaires byzantins a l’epoque Paléologue’. Figura n.s. 26. Uppsala 1994; ‘Costume in Life and Death’, in: Bysans och Norden. Figura n.s. 23. Stockholm 1989, 153–165. 41

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vestments and furnishings were produced.44 Imperial patronage enhanced the silken treasuries of monasteries including St. John’s Patmos, St. Catherine’s Mount Sinai and monasteries of Athos.45 Sumptuous gifts also were also sent abroad, not least to Photius Metropolit of Moscow around 1414 (Plates 7, 173–174).46 Clearly, sumptuous Orthodox Christian ritual vestments and furnishings had little to do with the simple linen clothing of Christ and his disciples. The point of reference lay rather, in the sacred vestments and the ritual clothing of the Old Testament. They equipped the priest to enter the sanctified temple and to officiate at the sacred altar.47 Ecclesiastical silk furnishings of post Byzantine date survive in number, examples, including many notable examples in Cyprus.48 These serve to underline Orthodox doctrine. They also uphold iconographic traditions which reflect earlier relationships between Church and State. Take for example, the motif of Christ as priest or Patriarch.49 This motif popular by the thirteenth century, was used to suggest that God could directly communicate with his people through the Church. God did not require the intermediary of the Byzantine Emperor. Not surprisingly, this particular See note 37 above. For Byzantine gold embroideries that survive see, G. Millet, Broderies religieuses de style byzantin. Paris 1947. Later note, P. Johnstone, Byzantine tradition in Church Embroidery. London 1967. 45 Various Imperial donations to monasteries are documented in different types of sources. F. Dölger, Regesten der Kaiserurkunden des oströmischen Reiches von 565–1453, I–III. München, Berlin 1924, 1925, 1932, and more recently reworked and reprinted, collects together many examples. Individual monasteries record Imperial gifts in Typica, Inventories and other documents. For example, see C. Astruc, ‘L’Inventaire dressé en Septembre 1200 du Trésor et de la Bibliothèque de Patmos’. Travaux et Mémoires 8 (1981) 15ff.. Earlier cf. C. Diehl, ‘Le trésor de la bibliothèque de Patmos au commencement du XIIIe siècle’. Byzantinische Zeitschrift 1 (1892) 488–525. Also see, F. Dölger, ‘Die Kaiserurkunden des Johannes Theologes-Klosters auf Patmos. Byzantinische Zeitschrift 28 (1928) 332–371, and E. Vranoussi, Βυζαντιν γγραφα τς Μονς Μ τµου Α Ατοκρατορικ . Athens 1980. 46 For the greater Sakkos of Metropolitan Photius see, Medieval Pictorial Embroidery. Byzantium, Balkans, Russia. Exhibition catalogue. XVIII International Congress of Byzantinists. Moscow August 8–15, 1991, 44–51. 47 See for example, The Royal Purple and the Biblical Blue: ‘Argamen’ and ‘Tekhelet’ (E. Spanier ed.). Jerusalem 1987. On the Imperial purple dyes see, G. Steigerwald, ‘Das kaiserliche Purpurprivileg’ as in note 3 above. 48 For silk in Cyprus see, ‘Introduction to silk in medieval Cyprus’, in: Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, chapter 14, 237–255. 49 See G. Dagron, Empereur et prêtre. Etude sur le ‘césaropapisme’ byzantin. Mayenne 1995. 44

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subject matter became popular in monastic circles, not least Athos and Sinai, and was frequently copied in post Byzantine times. Precious cloth in secular context The Imperial silk weaving workshops also produced precious silks which were distributed as diplomatic gifts that served several purposes.51 They were used to seal nuptial alliances and to encourage political allies; or they were used to ransom political prisoners.52 The Venetians closely involved in the provision of military and naval assistance to defend Byzantine territories, were also the recipients of silk trade concessions, up to the twelfth century.53 This was at a time before the Latin west possessed its own developed silk industry. The Rus from whom the Byzantine Imperial guard was drawn, traded furs and slaves for Byzantine silks.54 The most splendid extant diplomatic silk has an elephant motif in a medallion measuring over a metre wide.55 Its inscription reveals that it was

Further by the present author see, ‘Ecclesiastical ritual piety’, in: Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, chapter 10, 157–173. 51 See by the present author, ‘Silken Diplomacy’, in: Muthesius, Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving, chapter 10, 165–172, and, ‘Silken Diplomacy’, in: Byzantine Diplomacy (J. Shepard, S. Franklin ed.). Cambridge 1992, chapter 15, 237–248. 52 On Byzantine diplomatic silks sent to Islamic rulers consult, M. Hamidullah, ‘Nouveaux documents sur les rapports de l’Europe avec l’Orient du Moyen Âge’. Arabica 7 (1960) 281–300. Also see, M. Canard, ‘Les relations politiques et socials entre Byzance et les Arabes’, in: Byzance et les musulmans du Proche Orient. London 1973, chapter 19. Cf. also, chapter 15 in the same publication. 53 See, D. Nicol, Byzantium and Venice. A study in diplomatic and cultural relations. Cambridge 1988, chapter 3, 35–49, and esp. 39–42. 54 By the present author refer to, ‘Byzantine silks in Viking hands’, in: Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, chapter 17, 289–304. For the Russian-Byzantine trade treaty of 907, ratifies and enlarged in 912 see, S. H. Cross and O. P. Sherbowitz-Wetzor, The Russian Primary Chronicle, Laurentian Text. Cambridge Mass. 1953. Also relevant is I. Sorlin, Les traités de Byzance avec la Russie au Xe siècle. Cahiers du Monde Russe et Soviétique II, 3 (1961) 313–360, 447–475. more recently on the Rus, see, J. Shepard, S. Franklin, The Emergence of Rus (750–1200). London 1996. 55 This silk has been returned to the shrine of Charlemagne, but it was fully examined, photographed and technically analysed by the present author, prior to its enclosure in the shrine at Aachen Munster treasury. See, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 4.4.2, 38–39, with notes 35–52 on pages 41–43. 50

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woven in the Imperial silk weaving workshop of Constantinople.56 It can be dated to around the second quarter of the eleventh century.57 Other important extant diplomatic silks include a series with paired lions.58 The names of the rulers under whom these silks were woven appears at the feet of the lions.59 The series dates between the ninth and the eleventh centuries. Conclusion To conclude, one can say that in essence, the use of precious cloths in Byzantium in a ‘cult’ context, whether secular or religious, served to underline expressions of authority in Imperial and ecclesiastical space. The role of such precious cloths was to influence the populace into the acceptance of the appropriate authority, and to cause a sense of awe, itself designed to promote respect and devotion. Secular and sacral practice at this level, became one. As economic assets, the silks engendered important political spin offs. The development of private guilds and the broadening markets of the period from the ninth century onwards, in non-political terms, also allowed silk to reach lower down the Byzantine social scale.60 The export of Byzantine silks, not least to the Latin west, where they were widely prized and used, allowed the precious fabrics to serve too, as agents for the transmission abroad of Byzantine cultural and artistic sensibilities and values. In their post Byzantine form the silks serve as symbols of ecclesiastical Orthodoxy and to underline National identity.61

56 Ibid., 38, plates 9A (one of the two inscriptions repeated on the face of the silk), 8A–8B (second inscription as seen both on the face and on the obverse of the silk). The second inscription is incomplete due to wear and it is also reversed. The whole design was woven using a complex pattern making mechanism with a reverse repeat capability. 57 For this dating see, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, 38–39. 58 Ibid., 34–38. 59 The Emperors in question are Romanos Lecapenos and his son Christophoros (921–931) and Basil II and Constantine VIII (976–1025). Two of the lost, documented, inscribed lion silks, most probably were of the time of Basil and his son Constantine (869), and of the time of Leo V (813–820), respectively. On the dating sequence of the surviving and of the documented Lion silks see, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, 35–37. 60 Refer to note 30 above. 61 On the Post Byzantine material consider by the present author, ‘Ecclesiastical ritual piety’, in: Silk in Byzantium, chapter 10, 157–174.

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Silk as Politics in Byzantium Introduction

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HIS paper explores the idea of ‘silk as politics’ in Byzantium. It uses the concept of silk as a form of power, and it examines silken ceremonial and attendant ritual as a form of legitimisation of Byzantine ‘rulership’.1 The paper looks at the Byzantine State ‘as an institutional form for the exercise of power’, and it asks, ‘What part did silk play in the maintenance of Byzantium’s notion of the ecumenical state?’2

1 See, ‘Silk in Byzantium: Cultural Imperialism, Identity and Value’ and ‘ The cult of Imperial and ecclesiastical silks in Byzantium’; in: Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, chapters 1 and 2 respectively, pages 1–22 and notes 2, 8, 12, 22, 43, and pages 23–35 and notes 1 and 13, respectively. For further reading consult Oxford Dictionary of Byzantium III. Oxford 1991, volume I, 400–402, 595–597. 2 On the origin of the word ‘ecumenical’ and the word ‘oikoumene’ in relation to the Byzantine Orthodox Church see, O. D. B., I, 675–676, III, 1518. Also see, H. Saradi, ‘The Oecumenical character of Byzantium’, and N. Gioles, ‘The oecumenical idea of the Emperor’, in: Byzantium: an Oecumenical Empire, Exhibition catalogue, Byzantine and Christian Museum, October 2001–January 2002, Athens 2002, chapter 1, 21–34 and 76–77, respectively. In addition, note A. Mastino, Orbis, Kosmos, oikumene: Aspetti spaziali dell’idea di impero universale da Augusto a Teodosio. Popoli e spazio romano. Napoli 1986, 63–162. Further see, T. C. Lounghis, ‘Die byzantinische Ideologie der ‘begrentzen Okumene’ und die römische Frage im ausgehenden 10. Jh.’, in: XXX Studia byzantina ac slavica Vladimiro Vavrynek ad annum sexagesimum quantum dedicata (R. Dostalova, V. Konzal, L. Havlikova eds.). Prague 1995, 117–128. Cf. T. C. Lounghis, ‘La théorie de l’oecuménè limitée et la revision du Constitutum Constantini. Sbornik T. Zaimova. Sofia 1997, 119–122.

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Legitimisation of Byzantine ‘rulership’ The establishment of the Imperial Byzantine silk industry in the fourth century, heralded the extraordinarily prominent part, which silk was to play in the self-legitimisation of Byzantine ‘rulership,’ throughout the entire history of the Empire.3 Silk was developed as a visual symbol of prestige, and it acted to justify the authority of the Imperial house both at home and abroad. In the eighth to ninth centuries and later in the thirteenth and in the fourteenth to fifteenth centuries, silk was widely used in Byzantium’s dealings with the Papacy.4 Special murex purple dyed silks, particular gold borders and specifically tailored silk garments were reserved for Imperial use between the fourth and the tenth centuries, and these embodied theories of state and of political identity.5 The court costume assumed a part in the process of governing, and increasingly elaborate ceremonies were devised in which these magnificent silks were featured.6 Legitimacy and legitimisation The ‘legitimacy’ of the ruler in Byzantium was a different matter from the ‘legitimisation’ of the ruler.7 The Emperor ruled by consent of God: the source of legitimacy was external to the ruler. By virtue of the Emperor’s ‘Divine Right’, it was possible to acknowledge the ruler as the ‘instrument of God’.8 Divine Right was equated with ‘legitimation’. On the other hand, ‘legitimisation’, involved a ritualised making of claims.9 The term implied See in the present book, chapters 1–3 and 9. Earlier by the present author see, Muthesius, Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving, chapters 10, 12, 13, 14, and Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, chapters 1, 2, and 12. 4 Consult Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 14. 5 Refer to chapter 1, note 3 of the present book, and in particular to the works of Steigerwald, Avery, Reinhold and others writing on purple in Byzantium. 6 See chapter 1, note 21 with references to Reiske and Vogt; chapter 1, note 43 for Piltz reference, and Detorakis reference given in note 14 below of the present chapter. 7 Principles of ‘legitimacy’ and of ‘legitimisation’ were discussed in R. Barker, Legitimating Identities. The self-presentations of rulers and subjects. Cambridge 2001. The concepts under discussion there can be usefully explored in relation to Byzantine power politics. 8 On ‘Divine Right’ consult, O. D. B., I, 692–693, under the word ‘Emperor’. Also see, M. F. Auzépy, Le Christ l’empereur et l’image (VIIe–IXe siècle), Ευψυχα Mélanges offerts à Hélène Ahrweiler, I, Paris 1998, 35–47. 9 See, Barker, Legitimating Identities, 7–29, for definitions of ‘legitimacy’ and ‘legitimisation’ and 30–40 for an introduction to the theme of self-legitimisation. In chapter 6, 3

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that ‘rulership’ was a ‘distinct activity’ with its own ‘aims, justification and culture’. ‘Legitimisation’ one may suggest, involved the cultivation of a powerful image for the Emperor; a silken identity. The impressive court ceremonial, which was developed, with its elaborate use of silk costume and furnishings, emphasised who the Emperor was. These ceremonials, it might be argued, did not so much reflect the expectations God had of the ruler, as the ‘attitudes and values’ of Byzantine society, itself. Rituals of ‘inclusion’ and of ‘exclusion’ Enactment of ‘inclusion’ and of ‘exclusion’ within silken ceremonial and attendant ritual, offered the rulers opportunity to distance themselves from their subjects.10 It also provided citizens and visitors the chance to recognise the superiority of the ruler. A symbolic space was created, within which mutual recognition of status, (through the symbols of silk costumes, silk and other diplomatic gifts, and ritual actions within elaborate ceremonies) might take place. Feelings of ‘inclusion’ and of ‘exclusion’ might be very keenly felt, particularly when exercised as part of foreign policy. Take, for instance, the contrast between the reaction of Luitprand to his first and his second visit to the Byzantine court.11 His first mission in 949, as a novice diplomat to the court of Constantine VII, he found most congenial, but his subsequent mission in 968 to the court of Nicephoros Phocas, he found 106–135, Barker deals with the theme of how rulers legitimate themselves in the eyes of their subjects. Further, on the subject of ‘legitimacy’ in Byzantium see, O. D. B., 2, 1203; F. Dölger, ‘Johannes VI Kantakuzenus als dynastischer Legitimist’, Seminarium Kondakovium 10 (1938) 19–30, and A. Cameron, ‘The Construction of court ritual: the Byzantine Book of Ceremonies’, in: Rituals of Royalty: Power and Ceremonial in Traditional Societies (D. Cannandine, S. Proce eds.). New York, London 1987, 106–136. 10 Barker, Legitimating Identities, 55–56. 11 The first visit of Luitprand to Constantinople was in 949–950 and the second visit took place in 968. The second embassy was documented in his ‘Relatio de legatione Constantinopolitana’, (see note 12 below). On Luidprand consult the following: J. Becker, Die Werke Liudprands von Cremona (MGH SRG 41). Hannover-Leipzig 1915; F. A. Wright, The Works of Liudprand of Cremona. London 1930; Quellen zur Geschichte der Sachischen Kaiserzeit. Widukinds Sachsengeschichte, Adalberti Fortsetzung der Chronik Reginos, Liuprands Werke (A. Bauer, R. Rau eds.) Ausgewählte Quellen zur deutschen Geschichte des Mittelalters. Freiherr vom Stein-Gedächtnisausgabe VIII. Darmstadt 1971; J. Koder, T. Weber, Luitprand von Cremona in Konstantinopel. Wien 1980, with bibliography on pages 11–14; M. Rentschler, Luiprand von Cremona. Frankfurt am Main 1981; Liuprand of Cremona, Relatio de Legatione Constantinopolitana (B. Scott ed.). London 1993.

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humiliating, particularly in relation to the confiscation of purple silk cloth he was carrying.12 Ruler cults and courtly rituals of inclusion Before examining foreign policy in relation to ceremony with attendant rituals of ‘inclusion, and ‘exclusion’, it is necessary to explore how such a system worked inside the Byzantine Empire. ‘Authoratitive rulership’ and ‘political legitimisation’went hand in hand, in the manner of clothing the ruler in a mantle of legitimate authority.13 The extensive studies on Imperial costume which already exist, illustrate to what extent not only the general identity of the Imperial house was associated with silk and murex dye, but also how each specific aspect of ‘rulership’ was characterised by a special combination of silk vestments.14 Particularisation of costume, not only of the ruler but also of those attending the ruler, suggest that a complex code was at play.15 The Book of Ceremonies speaks of different combinations of visual silken symbols for celebration of different aspects of ‘rulership’, the whole emphasising that the earthly court is a mirror of the heavenly court above.16 Constantine VII in the Book of Ceremonies explains how the courtly ritual with Emperor and supporting dignitaries embodies the See, M. Lintzel, Studien über Liuprand von Cremona. Berlin 1933, 35–36, and W. Ohnsorge’s contribution in Byzantinische Zeitschrift 54 (1961) 28–52. Later see, C. Schummer, ‘Liudprand of Cremona — a diplomat?’, in: Byzantine Diplomacy. Cambridge 1992, 197–202. 13 A useful early general bibliography is found in D. M. Nicol, ‘Byzantine Political Thought’, in: Cambridge History of Medieval Political Thought c. 350–c. 1450 (J. H. Burns ed.). Cambridge 1988, 51–79, 696–703. On the sacred nature of Byzantine Emperors consult, G. Dagron, Empereur et prêtre: étude sur le ‘césarpapisme’ byzantin. Paris 1995. With regard to the emperor’s sacred nature in relation to concepts of ‘Empire’ see, Alföldi, Treitinger, Grabar and Cameron respective publications as cited in chapter 1, note 21 above. 14 For court costumes refer to Piltz as cited in chapter 1, note 43 and for Byzantine purple dyes see above, references in chapter 1, note 3. 15 On court costumes in relation to rank there are two important sources: Le Klèterologian de Philothée (N. Oikonomides ed.), in: Les listes de préséance byzantins des IX et X siècles. Paris 1972, 165–235 and Pseudo Kodinos, Traite des offices (J. Verpeaux ed.). Paris 1966. For terminology, see M. Detorakis, Mutatio vestis. La terminologie du vêtement dans le ‘De Cerimoniis de Constantin Porphyrogénète’, Επετηρς Εταρεας Βυζαντινν Σπουδν. 50 (1999–2000) 79–161. 16 Refer to note 14 above and see, H. Maguire, ‘The Heavenly court’, in: Court Culture (H. Maguire ed.) 247–258. 12

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Imperial power, and ‘represents the harmony and movement which the Creator has installed in all things’.17 For the coronation of the Emperor, the loros and four other vestments were worn: the skaramangion (tunic of parade); a divitision (another tunic); the tzitzakion (a Khazar kaftan), and the sagion (mantle).18 Religious feasts called for equally elaborate display, and it was to be expected that saints were depicted in Imperial costume.19 At Easter the skaramangion, the divitision, the tzitzakion, the sagion and the chlamys were variously worn by the Emperor.20 For Easter Sunday he wore the tzitzakion, a dark red skaramangion, and the sagion with gold embroidery.21 For the feasts of the Ascension and of Pentecost, it was the white tzizakion that was worn by the Emperor.22 At Pentecost the Emperor also wore the chlamys, and at Easter and Pentecost the loros was featured in the Imperial costume as a sign of Christ’s triumph over death.23 The descriptions are endless and as well as a hierarchy of dress types and combinations, there clearly also existed a specific symbolism of colour. The most auspicious ceremonies called for the use of the Imperial purple.24 A purple divitision, for example, was worn on the birthday of the Emperor. The purple sagion featured at the coronation of the Emperor.25 The deep purple skaraReiske, De. Cer. I, 1–2 of Preface (Vogt I, 1–2). Reiske, De. Cer., 47, 191–193 (Vogt II, 1). On the coronation of the Emperor consider, P. Yannopoulos, Le couronnement de l’empereur à Byzance: rituel et fond institutionnel’, Byzantion 61 (1991) 73–89. On the coronation ritual see, F. E. Brightman, ‘Byzantine Imperial Coronations’, Journal of Theological Studies 2 (1901) 359–392. For the liturgical significance of coronations see, M. Arranz, ‘Couronnement royal et autres promotions de cour. La sacraments de l’institution de l’ancien Euchologe constantinopolitain’, Orientalia Christiana Periodica 56 (1990) 83–133. On Imperial coronations and where they were held consult, O. D. B., I, 533–534 with references to A. Christophilopoulou, Ekloge, anagoreusis kai stepsis tou byzantinou autokratoros. Athens 1956, and J. Nelson, ‘Symbols in Context: Rulers’ Inauguration Rituals in Byzantium and the West in the Early Middle Ages’, Studies in Church History 13 (1976) 97–119. Compare Byzantine Court Culture (Maguire ed.) 1–11, on court rituals. 19 Discussed by the present author, in ‘Embroidered silks as reflected in Byzantine painting’, in: A. Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, chapter 12, 195–212. 20 Reiske, De. Cer. 22 (Vogt, I, 17). Also Piltz, ‘Middle Byzantine court costume’, 42. 21 Reiske, De. Cer. 22 (Vogt, I, 17, and cf. 175).22 Reiske, De. Cer. 188–189 (Vogt, I, 176). 23 A systematic study of colour on cloth has yet to be made, but in painting consider, O. J. Lindsay, ‘Some remarks on the colour system of medieval Byzantine painting’, Jahrbuch der Österreichischen Byzantinistik 32 (1982) 85–91. For the later period in painting see, U. M. Ruth, Die Farbgebung in der byzantinischen Wandmalerei der spätpalaologischen Epoche (1341–1453). Rheinische Friedrich-Wilhelms-Universität, Bonn 1977. 24 See note 5 above. 25 Piltz, ‘Middle Byzantine court costume’, 43. 17 18

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mangion was worn on the Feast of Orthodoxy and for the Ascension26 as well as at the feasts of the Presentation, and the purple divitision for the Dormition.27 On Easter Monday a kolobion of purple silk, with golden threads and gems including pearls, and known as ‘the cluster’ was worn.28 The ‘true’ purple chlamys is especially mentioned as the costume of the kouropalates on his promotion to office, as is the purple divitision.29 Tyre purple was worn, by the officials of the Imperial bedchamber at the celebration of the Nativity.30 At Christmas also, it was the purple chlamys of Tyre with green yellow medallions, that distinguished the top ranking officials.31 The purple chlamys of Tyre decorated with peacocks, served to distinguish the officials of the Imperial bedchamber at the same season. In the case of the Empress, it was the oval shield called the thorakion, which served as her distinguishing costume.32 Next to purple as a sign of rank, gold featured as an important mark of status. The gold chlamys, for instance was worn by the Emperor for his funeral.33 Gold embroidery decorated the divitision and the sagion of the Emperor, worn on January the first, for the celebration of the feast of St. Basil.34 The sagion worn at Easter and for the wedding or coronation of an Augusta was also golden.35 The commemoration of All Saints Day, called for a gold skaramangion.36 The golden loros was worn not only by the Emperor but on certain auspicious occasions, also by court dignitaries, for instance, by the magistroi and the proconsuls at Easter.37 The costumes were either classed as court costumes or as costumes of parade.38 It appears that costumes of parade allowed for a coloured hierarchy of rank to be established, and for the use of special ornaments on cloaks, to Reiske, De. Cer. 188–189 (Vogt, I, I76 and cf. 147). Reiske, De. Cer. 189–190 (Vogt, I, 178 and 177). 28 Reiske, De. Cer. 80 (Vogt, I, 72). 29 Reiske, De Cer. 229–230 (Vogt, II, 37). 30 Reiske, De. Cer. 128 (Vogt, I, 119. 31 Reiske, De. Cer. 128, see lines 5–9. 32 Piltz, ‘Middle Byzantine Court costume’, 48. 33 Reiske, De. Cer. 275 (Vogt, II, 84). 34 Reiske, De. Cer. 137 (Vogt, I, 128). 35 Reiske, De. Cer. 213 (Vogt, II, 21). 36 Reiske, De. Cer. 189 (Vogt, I, 177). 37 Reiske, De. Cer. 24, see lines 30–31 (Vogt, I, 18). 38 In the Book of Ceremonies two types of costumes were distinguished: court costumes and costumes of parade. Most sumptuous of the costumes of parade were the chlamydes, long cloaks fastened on the right shoulder. See, O. D. B., I, 424. For court costume see in 26 27

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distinguish one rank from another. Especially upon the birthday of the Emperor, this ranking system was in evidence. On that occasion it was the patricians who wore the chlamys with a gold tablion, whilst the protospatharioi wore the sagion, and others the particular costume characteristic of their own rank.39 The concept of ‘robes of honour’ was evident in Byzantium as well as across the Islamic and the Near Eastern worlds.40 Victorious generals were particularly noted for receiving gifts of magnificent skaramangia, some of which later were used for ecclesiastical furnishings.41 The Imperial blue and purple chlamys, and the Imperial green chlamys, were awarded to the Blue and the Green demarchs respectively, at the time of their promotion,42 and such ceremonies marked the transference of Imperial dignity. The award of special robes of honour in Byzantium was part of a wider practice that was well documented across the Christian and the non-Christian mediaeval world, but it is not the prime subject of this paper. The present discussion has considered how the ‘politics of clothing’ can be used to isolate the Imperial figure, but whilst distinguishing the ruler from the court dignitaries, it can also create an elite hierarchy around the Emperor. There were individual people chosen by the ruler, to be cultivated and sustained as an elite, and these figures were to be marked out by their special silk clothing. The ruler operated as the head of state, whilst a subsystem of authority was sustained by the ruler, in the form of a silk-clad elite, upon whom he could call in decision making.43 The ruler in this system, was set above the people rather than depending upon them for supthe O. D. B. the following headings: Loros (II, 1251); Divetesion (I, 639); Sakkos (III, 1830); Skaramangion (III, 1908); Chlamys or Sagion (I, 424 and III, 1827), and Tzangia (III, 2135). 39 On a sumptuous variety of chlamydes see, Piltz, Middle Byzantine court costume, 44. 40 On the subject of robes of honour see, Robes of Honour (S. Gordon ed.), Oxford 2003. 41 For the wills of provincial magnates see the following publications; P. Gautier, ‘Le typikon du Sébaste Grégoire Pakourianos’, Revue des études Byzantines 42 (1984) 5–145; L. Petit, ‘Typikon du Grégoire Pacourianos pour le monastère de Pétritzes (Bacˇ kovo) en Bulgarie’, Viz. Vrem. 53 (1904) 24ff.; ‘Le Testament d’Eustathios Boilas (April 1059)’, in: Cinq études sur le XI siècle byzantin (P. Lemerle ed.), I–III, Paris 1977, I, 15–63. In the same publication see, ‘La Diataxis de Michel Attaliate’ , II, 67–111, and ‘Le Typikon de Grégoire Pakourianos’, III, 113ff. 42 Reiske, De. Cer. 271–272, (Vogt, II, 79). 43 On the social composition of the Byzantine court consult A. P. Kazhdan, M. McCormick, ‘The social world of the Byzantine court’, and N. Oikonomides, ‘Title and income at the Byzantine court’, in: Byzantine Court Culture, section V, 167–199.

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port. This is the type of system, which appears to have operated up to the time of the ascent of the trade guilds in the tenth to eleventh centuries.44 Civic ceremonial and the rise of the guilds Taken in this light it is interesting to consider the role of the guilds, not least of the silk guilds in Constantinople, in the tenth century. Whilst the tenth-century Book of Ceremonies indicates an elaborate silken ceremonial spearheading the Emperor and his courtly elite, the Book of the Prefect records the civic role of the trades people of the Capital.45 Amongst the duties of certain of the silk guilds was the production of Imperial court costume.46 Also, the silk guilds were charged with the decoration of the streets of the Capital with silks on special occasions.47 Hendy has noted the rise in power of the guild members during the eleventh century, and he detailed the Imperial measures which eventually had to be taken to curb their power.48 Under Leo the Wise, the promotion of the guilds might be viewed as a form of ‘co-option’. The endorsement of the guilds under Leo the Wise and his immediate successors, could be read as a form of mutual legitimisation.49 The two sides could offer each other mutual support. But it is noticeable, as Hendy has shown, once the guilds became too powerful, and once their voice was heard as high up as the Senate, Imperial control and authority had to be re-established. The guilds had to be ‘cut down to size’ so that the power of the ruler was not compromised.50

See, S. Vryonis, Byzantine ∆ΗΜΟΚΡΑΤIΑ and the guilds in the eleventh century, in: Byzantium. Its internal history and relations with the Muslim World. London 1971, paper III, 289–314. Also see, M. Hendy, The Byzantine Monetary Economy. Cambridge 1985, 584–585. Further discussed by the present author, in, ‘Silk, power and diplomacy in Byzantium’, in: A. Muthesius, Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving, chapter 14, on page 238. 45 Koder, Eparchenbuch, 2.2.2., on pages 3–35. 46 Ibid., 8.1., on pages 102–103. 47 Reiske, De. Cer. 12–13 (Vogt I, 9). Vryonis, Guilds, 299–301. 48 Hendy, Byzantine Monetary Economy, 584. 49 Barker, Legitimating Identities, 70–88. 50 Hendy, Byzantine Monetary Economy, 578–590, on the influence of the mercantile classes and the artisans, from the 1040s onwards. 44

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Silken rites in public spaces and the concept of the Byzantine ecumenical state With the growth of the provincial silk industry and the broadening of markets in the eleventh to twelfth centuries, the use of silks was passed lower down the social scale.51 Byzantine women were wearing silk dresses upon the streets of Constantinople.52 Silk clothing was available on the open market in Constantinople, through the imported silk garment merchants, the prandiopratai.53 These garments acted as symbols of private identity in public space. They also encouraged a growing consciousness of individual identities outside those of the ruler and of the ruling elite. But it is noticeable, that this private sense of silken identification, never came to challenge Byzantine Imperial silken authority sufficiently, to merit radical sumptuary legislation of the type found elsewhere.54 This was perhaps because the fall of Constantinople to the Latins (A.D. 1204–1261) effectively concentrated minds upon other things.55 But more importantly, one must consider that the use of silks was too firmly bound up in Byzantium with the notion of ‘Divine Right’. There was a tremendous display of silks not only in court ceremonial, but also within Orthodox ritual.56 This served as a means for maintaining the balance of power between Church and State It also served as a tangible means of offering praise to the Divine creator, and in the ‘NeoPlatonic’ sense, of allowing human minds to be drawn to the Divine light.57

See Jacoby paper as cited in chapter 1, note 30, above. See M. Choniates as cited in chapter 1, note 31, above. 53 Koder, Eparchenbuch. 5.1–5.5, on pages 94–95. 54 Nicephori Gregorae Historiae Byzantinae (L. Schopen, I. Bekker eds.), CHSB II, 43–44 (I.II.6). Evidently John III Ducas Vatatzes , Emperor of Nicaea (1222–1254), forbade the purchase of imported luxuries, including fine silk for dresses, In particular silks imported from Italy and from the Sultanate of Iconium were rivalling those of local manufacture. For English sumptuary legislation from the late fourteenth century onwards see, N. B. Harte, ‘Silk and sumptuary legislation in England,in: La Seta in Europa sec. XIII–XX (S. Cavaciocchi ed.) 801–816, with further bibliography in note 2 on pages 801–802. 55 See, G. Ostrogorsky, History of the Byzantine State (J. Hussey transl.) Oxford 1968, chapter 7, 418–465, with bibliography on pages 418–422. 56 See A. Muthesius, Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving. London 1995, chapters 10 and 14, and A. Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium. London 2004, chapters 1–2, 8–11 and 13. 57 On the relationship of philosophy to Christian religion in Byzantium consult the following: O. D. B., 3, 1658–1661 (Philosophy); O. D. B., 2, 1455–1456 (Neoplatonism); O. D. B., 2, 1226–1227 (Light). Also, G. Podskalsky, ‘Gott ist Licht’, Geist und Leben 39 51 52

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Silken ceremonial was a perfect medium not only for establishing and sustaining Imperial identity and power, but also for lending a common identity to, and for symbolically tying together the members of the ecumenical state. The ties of kinship and of allegiance, the mutual recognition of selfidentities, the ceremonial enactment of rituals for transference of power, were all elements of Byzantine ‘rulership’, which could be and which indeed were, re-enacted upon the diplomatic stage of foreign policy.58 Chrysos asked, was the Byzantine idea of ‘oikoumene’ to be associated with the whole world, the regions of the Mediterranean basin, or only the actual dimensions of the specific territories at any one time under Byzantine rule?59 Kahzdan suggested that a flexible interpretation of the term linked to the changing fortunes of the Byzantine Empire was necessary. He wrote that, ‘The essence of late Roman diplomacy was the establishment of a chain of satellites around the unique empire identical with the civilised ‘oikoumene’.60 By the eleventh century, Byzantium had become one among ‘equal’ European States’. Later, he argued, ‘The balance was lost in the predicament of the fourteenth and the fifteenth centuries, when Byzantium had no choice but to assume the role of humble supplicant’.61 Foreign policy and diplomacy in relation to the ecumenical state Kahzdan’s reading of the evidence is commendable in historical terms, but the question is, how far was Byzantium outwardly willing to acknowledge historical ‘truths’? The silken ceremonial and display did not cease with the fall to the Latins, and neither did the fourteenth to fifteenth cen(1966) 201–214. P. Plank, Phos hilaron: Christus hymnus und Lichtdanksagung der griechischen Christenheit. Würzburg 1986. On the themes of ‘Divine Light’ and ‘Union with God’ in Palamas see, D. Staniloae, Orthodox Spirituality. Pennsylvania 2002, 327–361. 58 Concepts discussed in Barker, Legitimating Identities, see esp. 70–88, and 106–128. On all aspects of diplomacy see Byzantine Diplomacy (J. Shepard, S. Franklin eds.), Cambridge 1992. Of particular relevance in that publication note: A. Kazhdan, ‘The notion of Byzantine diplomacy’ (3–21); E. Chrysos, ‘Byzantine diplomacy, A.D. 300–800: means and ends’ (25–39); J. Shepard, ‘Byzantine diplomacy, A.D. 800–1204: means and ends’ (41–71). On the special role of the ambassadors in the later period see, N. Oikonomides, ‘Byzantine diplomacy A.D. 1204–1453; means and ends’ (73–88). For diplomatic marriages see, R. Macrides, ‘Dynastic marriages and political kinship’ (265–280). 59 Chrysos, Byzantine Diplomacy, 25–26. 60 Kahzdan, Notion of Byzantine diplomacy, 21. 61 Ibid., 21 and Ostrogorsky, Byzantine State, 478–572, esp. 487, 490, 492–493, 505–506, 523, 533–572.

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tury see an end to silken ecclesiastical ritual or to silken diplomacy.62 Silk was and it remained, a prime medium for the legitimisation of Byzantine rule, both at home and abroad, a point to which I return in the conclusion to this paper. Turning to the earlier period under Leo VI, 886–912, Karlin-Hayter suggested that two elements belonged to the business of governing in foreign policy: diplomatic activity and military events.63 In relation to the reign of Leo the Wise, she saw diplomatic activity as essentially a means of maintaining a balance with Armenia and with the West. Military activity she linked to maintenance of frontiers, consolidation of earlier conquests and addition of territories; all closely connected to activity involving the Saracens in Asia Minor. The balance between defensive (diplomatic) activity and offensive (military) action was further related to the concept of the ‘just war’, and to defence against non-Christian intrusion. Kinship and the cultivation of moral allies, principally the Latin West, were expressed through a variety of embassies. An idea proposed by Chrysos, takes this concept further.64 Chrysos distinguished eight forms of embassy, each with a specific purpose. These eight he designated as being for: • • • • • • • •

Notification of accession to the throne Confirmation of foreign relations Recognition of rulers after elevation Announcement of victories, marriages, royal births etc. Settlement of dynastic quarrels Trade regulation Prevention of hostilities or declaration of war and Negotiation of a truce or a peace settlement

Multiple documented examples exist of silk at work under all these listed

62 Consider the gift of the magnificent silk sakkos made to Photius, Metropolitan of Moscow, between 1414–1417, for instance. See, Medieval Pictorial Embroidery, Byzantium, Balkans, Russia. Catalogue of the exhibition for the XVIII International Congress of Byzantinists. Moscow, August 8–15, 1991, cat. no. 10, 44–50. 63 P. Karlin-Hayter, ‘When military affairs were in Leo’s hands. A note on Byzantine foreign policy (886–912)’, in: Studies in Byzantine Political History. London 1981, chapter XIII, 15–40. 64 Chrysos, Byzantine Diplomacy, 29, 36–39 and reference in note 39.

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headings.65 One limited but representative sample is presented here. An early example of the recognition of rulers and indeed of the recognition of the new ruler as a Christian brother, is recounted in the Chronicle of John Malalas, which records the visit of the King of the Lazi, to Constantinople in 520.66 The chronicle records that the King, ‘(He) was received by the emperor, baptised and having become a Christian, married to a Roman wife . . . and he took her back with him to his own country. He had been crowned by Justin, the emperor of the Romans, and had put on a Roman Imperial crown and a white cloak of pure silk. Instead of the purple border, it had a gold Imperial border; in its middle was a true purple portrait medallion with a likeness of the emperor Justin. He also wore a white tunic, a paraggudion, with gold Imperial embroideries, equally including the likeness of the emperor’. This account illustrates the role of silk Imperial costume for the transference of authority, and the symbolic ties of Christian kinship, which were expressed through silken ceremonial. A further example of the use of silks for expressing ties of Christian kinship includes the silk cloths sent by Michael Ducas to Robert Guiscard, in anticipation of future ties of kinship.67 In 1158 Manuel I, too, included silks amongst the dowry items given to his niece Theodora for her marriage to Baldwin III of Jerusalem.68 This dowry had a total value of 150,000 hyperpyra, of which over a quarter took the form of silks, jewels, and luxury artefacts. Earlier, the Mozac hunter silk, was linked to diplomatic activity, related to the proposed marriage between the son of Leo IV and Gisela, daughter of Pippin III (Plate 8).69 Later, Byzantine Lion silks also, appear to have been a standard part of marriage 65 For silks in relation to east-west marriage negotiations see, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 4, 34–43. For silks in Byzantine-Arab truce negotiations see, M. Hamidullah, ‘Nouveaux documents sur les rapports de l’Europe avec l’orient Musulman au Moyen Âge’. Arabica 7 (1960) 281–300. 66 Malalas (Dindorf ed.). Bonn 1831, 233. Translated in E. and M. Jeffreys, R. Scott, The Chronicle of John Malalas. Melbourne 1986, 233. 67 Psellus, Scripta Minora (Kurtz and Drexl eds.) I, 331–332. H. Bibicou, ‘Une page d’histoire diplomatique de Byzance au XI siècle: Robert Guiscard et la pension des dignitaires’. Byzantion 29–30 (1959–1960) 43–75. 68 William of Tyre (Huygerns ed.), 843. Discussed by Macrides, Dynastic marriages, 278. 69 Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 7.3, 68–69.

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negotiations with the Latin West especially between the eighth and the eleventh centuries (Plate 9).70 Another example of kinship ties marked by the use of silks, involved Alexius I, who offered his nephew as bridegroom for a proposed Latin marriage alliance. Alexius arranged that the suitor would bring with him 360,000 gold coins, and a variety of precious reliquaries, jewels and silks.71 But perhaps most impressive of all, as a symbol of Christian kinship between Byzantium and the West, is the presence of an Elephant silk, a Byzantine Imperial cloth of the early eleventh century, at Aachen (Plate 10).72 With this magnificent piece, the relics of Charlemagne were honoured, either at the time of the canonisation in 1165, or for the subsequent translation of the relics into the shrine of the Virgin in 1215.73 Such activities were not limited to Christian nations. Silken kinship ties were formed under Manuel I, outside the Christian brotherhood of nations. In 1161, for example, this Emperor symbolically adopted the Sultan Kilic Arslan, and he marked the occasion with the presentation of gold precious cloths, silver cups and plates.74 Similarly, in dealings with the Arabs, silks were frequently used to secure ransom of prisoners, or as part of trading agreements, although here they must be viewed more in the light of pure substitutes for gold currency.75 The mercenary exploitation of silks as a form of currency, can be recognised also in Byzantine trade based dealings with her Christian allies. For instance, Venice received sizeable silk trade concessions.76 Part payment for Ibid., 34–43, and for a little known lion silk see, A. Muthesius, ‘A previously unrecognised Lion silk at Canterbury’, in: The Roman Textile Industry and its Influence. A Birthday Tribute to John Peter Wild (P. W. Rogers, L. Bender Jorgensen, A. Rast-Eicher eds.), chapter 18, 148–157. 71 Anna Comnena, Alexiad (B. Leib ed.), I–III, Paris 1937–1945, I, 132.24–136.5. discussed in Macrides, Dynastic marriages, 273. 72 Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 4.2, 38–39, plates 5A–9A. 73 For the shrine of the Virgin see, E. Gunther Grimme, Der Aachener Domschatz. Aachener Kunstblätter, 42 (1972) 66–69, cat. no. 44, plates 52–56. E. Stephany, Der Karlschrein. Mönchen Gladbach 1965. 74 Choniates (van Dieten ed.) 120.90–121.22, discussed by Macrides, Dynastic marriages, 273 75 See Hamidullah as cited above in note 65. 76 See, D. Nicol, Byzantium and Venice. Cambridge 1988, 30–41 and notes 2–3 on page 40 for references. Further, see, S. Borsan, Also see several studies of: D. Jacoby, ‘Italian privileges and trade in Byzantium before the Fourth Crusade: a reconsideration’, in: Trade, Commodities and Shipping in the Medieval Mediterranean, chapter 11, 349–368; cf., ‘Silk in 70

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the mercenary services of the ‘Rus’ too, who formed the private bodyguard of the Emperor, was in rhogai, perhaps including Byzantine silks.77 Certainly, up to the thirteenth century, Byzantium used silk both for diplomatic and for military ends, in the two senses that Karlin Hayter distinguished. The defensive and offensive aspects of Byzantium’s manipulation Western Byzantium’ (chapter 7, 466, 490–492) for Venice and silk from Thebes. Jacoby notes Imperial privileges granted to Venice but not uniformly implemented. ‘Silk crosses the Mediterranean’, in: Byzantium, Latin Romania and the Mediterranean, chapter 10, 56–57, 61–62, 63 and note 60, 77–78. Jacoby notes both Byzantine and Islamic silks in relation to Venice. Jacoby does not refer to the work of Muthesius regarding the hundreds of extant Byzantine silks in western treasuries, and he does not consider what part the Venetians played in transporting such silks. He also fails to consider what part political intentions played in Byzantium’s silk economic activities. In this regard see, Nicol, Byzantium and Venice, ‘Venice the ally of Byzantium’, chapter 3 on pages 35–67, esp. 40–42. Nicol deals with the chrysobull of March 992, issued by Basil II and Constantine VIII (see 40 note 2 for source references). Nicol stresses that the Byzantine Emperors were making trade concessions, ‘in consideration of the fact that the Venetians, although described as ‘outsiders’ (extraneos) were fellow Christians, loyal to the Empire. The Venetians had never forgotten their pledge to come to the emperor’s aid whenever his armies were fighting in Italy (Lombardy), and that they never failed in their duty to send their own ships to fight alongside the Imperial fleet. In return, the emperors hoped that the Venetians would continue to act as loyal servants in Italian waters when called upon’. Nicol suggests that the reference to ‘ancient practices’ in the source, implies that similar arrangements probably existed in the past. 77 Shepard, Byzantine Diplomacy, 65 draws attention to the fact that the northern peoples demanded ‘imperial clothing and diadems or ceremonial robes’. See, De Administrando Imperio: Commentary (R. J. H. Jenkins ed.). London 1962, chapter 13/25–26 on pages 66–67. Payment of rhogai to both military and civil officials, was recorded by Liutprand of Cremona, see, Antapodosis (Becker ed.) VI. 10, pages 157–158 and Hendy, Byzantine Monetary economy, 191 for English translation. Hendy, Byzantine Monetary Economy, 229, notes that Romanos IV paid rhogai in gold and silk citing, John Scylitzes (Scylitzes Continuatus), (Bonn ed.) 688–689. In relation to the Varangian guard see, P. Grierson, ‘Harold Hardrada and Byzantine coin types in Denmark’, Byzantinische Forschungen I (1966) 124–138. M. F. Hendy, ‘Michael IV and Harold Hardrada’, Numismatic Chronicle 10.7 (1970) 187–197. C. Morrisson ‘Le rôle des Varanges dans la transmission de la monnaie Byzantine en Scandinavie’, in: Les Pays du Nord et Byzance (R. Zeitler ed.), (Scandinavie et Byzance. Actes du colloque nordique et internationale de byzantinologie tenu à Upsal 20–22 avril 1979) 131–140. S. Sturluson, Heimskringla: The saga of Harald Sigurtharson (L. M. Hollander transl.). Austin 1964, 590, 595–596. Some of Harald’s wealth may have been gained as booty. Cecaumenus, Strategikon (Litavrin ed.) 278–279, 282–285, reported the return home of Harald Hardraada after having reached the rank of spatharokandidatos. On Byzantine coinage in Russia see, T. S. Noonan, ‘The circulation of Byzantine coins in Kievan Rus’, Byzantine Studies/Études Byzantines 7 (1980) 143–181.

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of her silk assets are evident during this period and it is clear that silks graced most if not all types of embassies distinguished by Chrysos. But, what of Khazdan’s idea that Byzantium took a more humble stance by the fourteenth to fifteenth centuries? Certainly, this is implied by the magnificent silk dalmatic in the Vatican, a Byzantine gold embroidery which appears to acknowledge the primacy of the Papacy, in the light of the negotiations for union between the Catholic and the Orthodox churches.78 However, after the failure of the Council of Union in 1274, there appears to have been a strengthening of Byzantine Orthodox tradition, with the production of magnificent pieces such as the Thessaloniki epitaphios (Plates 11–12, 29).79 How far might such embroideries be thought to have simply represented a reaction against unionist policy?80 Nicaea then perhaps acted as a new centre of silk production.81 Later, the production of magnificent vestments such as the greater sakkos of Metropolitan Photius of Moscow datable 1414–1417, indicates that Imperial silk patronage, and diplomatic presentation of silks as a sign of Christian alliance, was alive and well in the fifteenth century (Plates 7, 173–174).82 This vestment bears the portraits of the Emperor John Palaeologus and of his wife Anna, alongside the text of the Nicene Creed. Further Palaeologian embroideries survive in the treasuries of important Orthodox monasteries, including Athos, Patmos and Sinai, and these suggest the special relationship which was formed between Church and State under the Palaeologian dynasty.83 The alliance of Imperial silken ceremonial and religious silken ritual was evident already in the time of Justinian, but during the fourteenth to fifteenth century, in troubled political times, the

78 For the Vatican dalmatic see, G. Millet, La Dalmatique du Vatican. Paris 1945. P. Johnstone, Byzantine Tradition in Church Embroidery. London 1967, 15, plates 1–6. 79 For the Thessaloniki epitaphios consult, Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium. London 2004, chapter 11, pages 175–206. 80 Ibid., 192–195. 81 D. Jacoby refers to silk industry in Nicaea between 1208–1261 with reference to delivery of silk to the Imperial court, Theodore Metochites, Nicene Oration (C. Foss ed. and transl.), in: C. Foss, Nicaea. A Byzantine Capital and its Praises. Brookline Mass. 1996, 190–192, chapter 18, lines 12–17. The dating of the text is discussed in I. Sevcenko, Études sur la polémique entre Théodore Métochite et Nicéphore Choumos. Bruxelles 1962, 137–140. 82 See references in note 62 above. 83 See in the present book, chapter 6 above. Also note chapters 5 and 16, both of which include research upon the Patmos and Sinai silks.

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allegiance of Church and State was more poignant than ever, perhaps as a sign of the survival of Byzantium’s earlier ecumenical ambitions. Oikonomides drew attention to the survival of Byzantine diplomacy under the Palaeologian dynasty, and to the maintenance of lavish diplomatic gift exchange including silks.84 He also showed that when times were leaner, lesser gifts were offered, and that in truly difficult times under Manuel II in Paris and London, relics of the ‘robe of Christ’ were presented in place of silks and jewels.85 Kahzdan considered that it was the ‘preservation of Byzantine ceremonial’ to the last, which acted to sustain the ‘fiction of the emperor’s prerogatives’. Conclusion In conclusion, one must admit that the fourteenth to fifteenth centuries marked a significant shift in Byzantine fortunes and that the changes in political circumstances called for fresh diplomatic approaches. Thus, it was that not only the Patriarch, but also the Emperor, could be personally involved in diplomatic missions, during the later phases. The maintenance of silken ceremonial to the bitter end, is an important factor in determining what might be suggested to have been the relationship between Byzantine political fact and Byzantine political ideology. During the later centuries, a discernible attempt to keep in tact a system of inter-state Christian allegiance perhaps represented the only hope for the survival of the Empire. Still as late as the 1390s, the Patriarch of Constantinople wrote to the Grand Duke Basil of Moscow, at the time of the siege of Constantinople by the Turks, ‘And if by God’s decree the infidel has encircled the realm of the Emperor, he still receives today from the Church the same consecration, the same honour and the same prayers, and is anointed with the same holy oil, and is consecrated Emperor and Autocrator of the Romans, that is, of all Christians’.86 Oikonomides, Byzantine Diplomacy, 85–86 and notes 44–46. Ibid., 85 with reference to G. Dennis, ‘Two unknown documents of Manuel II Palaeologus’, Travaux et Mémoires 3 (1968) 397–404, esp. 398 and note 4. 86 The attitude of the Patriarch Antonius IV in 1393 is discussed in D. M. Nicol, The Last Centuries of Byzantium 1261–1453. Cambridge 1993, 299–300. He cites the letter of the Patriarch as given in, F. Miklosich and J. Müller, Acta et Diplomata Graeca Medii Aevi, 84 85

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The silken ritual and the silken ceremonial of Church and State in Byzantium helped to support Imperial claims both to ‘Divine Right’ and to stewardship of the legacy of the Roman Christian heritage. No Papal attempts at Union of the Churches, and no amount of territorial loss to the Latins, the Arabs, or the Turks, could shake these ideas. Silk served as the chief and the most tangible medium, through which not only political ideology but also the spiritual obligation of Byzantine ‘rulership’ was to be expressed.

II, 188–192. Regestes des actes du Patriarch de Constantinople, II; Les Actes des patriarches VI (Darrouzes ed.) Paris 1979, no. 2931, pages 210–212. See the discussion by E. Barker, Social and Political thought in Byzantium. Oxford 1957, 194–196, and also Manuel II Palaeologus (1391–1425): A Study in Late Byzantine Statesmanship. New Brunswick, New Jersey 1968, 106–109. Further note, S. Runciman, The Great Church in Captivity: a study of the Patriarchate of Constantinople from the eve of the Turkish Conquest to the Greek War of Independence. Cambridge 1968, 57, 71.

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Silken Dress Codes, Gender and Power in Byzantium

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ILKEN dress codes were firmly entrenched in Byzantium from earliest times as is amply witnessed by fourth to sixth century silk legislation in the Theodosian and the Justinianic Codes.1 These Codes reflected the efforts of a central Imperial bureaucracy first to establish and then vigorously to regulate an Imperial sense of cultural capital through dress. They were underpinned by a form of cultural Imperialism, which found expression in a variety of displays of vicarious consumption within an involved and elaborate court ceremonial.2 The purpose of this short paper is to examine some of the ramifications of the imposition of Imperial critiques of silken luxury on the Byzantine populace at large; both from the point of view of any inherent ‘civilising’ element, and for signs of the ever-present danger of subversion of privilege leading to silken debauchery. Legislation and ‘lived experience’ were not necessarily the same thing and the evidence of the codes of enforcement must be balanced with infor-

For example, see ‘Codex Justinianus’, (P. Krüger, P. Mommsen, T. Schoell, G. Kroll eds.) Berlin 1954, IV. 40.1. The Theodosian Code and Novels and the Sirmondian Constitutions (C. Pharr transl.). Princeton 1952, and 1970, 10.21.3; 10.20.17; 7.1.7; 8.1.13; 8.7.4, 8–9, 16; 12.1.70. For later legislation see for example, P. Noailles, H. Dain, Les Novelles de Léon VI le Sage. Paris 1944, 272–274. Basilika (H. J. Scheltema, N. Wal, P. Holwerda eds.). Gröningen 1, 55–1960, III, 923, BxIx, I, 82. Much legislation was concerned with special types of purple murex dyes reserved for Imperial use. See by the present author, ‘The Byzantine silk industry: Lopez and Beyond’, in: A. Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving. London 1995, chapter 16, 299–300. Further, see titles in chapter 1, note 3 above. 2 By the present author note, ‘Silk in Byzantium: Cultural Imperialism, Identity and Value’, and ‘The ‘cult’ of Imperial and Ecclesiastical silks in Byzantium’ in: A. Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, chapters 1 and 2 on pages 1–35. 1

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mation from extant silks, from other written sources, and in relation to pictorial documentation. The evidence in general suggests the existence of four basic categories of dress: i. Imperial and courtly (Plate 13);3 ii. civil and military (Plate 1);4 iii. ecclesiastical (Plate 14);5 and iv. lay (urban/rural)6 Uniforms were the norm; those of lawyers, doctors and teachers being closely modelled upon the military. The costlier the fabric the higher the social status of the wearer; the finer the weave of the cloth the more refined See Piltz reference in chapter 1 note 4 above. Specialised terminology for court costume is found in, The Kleterologion of Philotheos (N. Oikonomides ed.), in: Les listes de préséance Byzantines du IXe et Xe siècle. Paris 1972; in the De Cerimoniis (Reiske and Vogt as cited in chapter 1, note 21 above), and in Pseudo Kodinus, Traité des Offices (J. Verpeaux ed.). Paris 1966. Military costume is described within the Baggage Train account appended to the Book of Ceremonies see, J. Haldon, Three Treatises on Imperial Military Expeditions (C.F.H.B.) 28, Wien 1990. Further relevant references are given above in chapter 2, notes 15 (Detorakis) and 38 (O. D. B.). By the present author, consult, Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, chapter 9, 154 and note 27, with reference to contributions on the subject in Treadgold, Ebersolt and Haldon. 5 See, T. Papas, Geschichte der Messgewänder. Miscellanea Byzantina Monacensia, III. Munich 1965. Also, Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, chapter 9, 153 and note 16. 6 Legislation on silk clothing of the early period is scarce. The Price Edict of Diocletian is particularly useful for gauging relative values of textiles and relative wages of different artisans at work in the textile industry and elsewhere. See, S. Lauffer, Diokletians Preisedikt. Berlin 1971. On dress in Byzantium see by the present author, ‘Textiles and Dress in Byzantium’, in: Silk in Byzantium, chapter 4. A considerable number of source references to dress were assembled by P. Koukoules, Byzantinon bios kai politismos, I–IV. Athens 1948–1957; see, II (1949), 5–59. Excavations in Israel in more recent times have unearthed clothing of lay communities, and this extant material can be usefully compared to descriptions of cloths in documented sources. For the extant textiles see: O.Shamir, ‘Byzantine and Early Islamic Textiles Excavated in Israel’, and A. Baginski, ‘Later Islamic and Medieval Textiles from the Excavations of the Israel Antiquities Authority’, both in: Textile History 32 (1). Special edition on Medieval Textiles, Proceedings of the Biennial Conference of the Early Textiles Study Group, (conference organiser and Proceedings editor A. Muthesius), University of Manchester, September 1998, (2001), see pages 93–105 and 81–92, respectively. In the same publication also useful for early medieval textiles are the following papers: P. Lindscheid, ‘Late Antique to Early Islamic Textiles from Egypt’, and L. Woolley, ‘Medieval Mediterranean Textiles in the Victoria and Albert Museum’, on pages 75–80 and 106–113, respectively. 3 4

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the owner of the garment. Silk stood at the pinnacle of refinement. Linen, wool and cotton, and linen/silk or cotton/silk mixtures were less costly.7 Naturally, the most expensive and elaborate costumes were those required to maintain Imperial ritual display, not only in private courtly surrounds, but also across public space during mass spectacles of a secular or a religious character.8 Notions of the ‘civilising’ element of such luxurious dress were deliberately cultivated and did not pass un-remarked. In 968, for instance, the Emperor Nicephoros told Luitprand of Cremona: ‘As we the Byzantines surpass all other nations in wealth and wisdom so it is right that we should surpass them in dress. Those who are unique in the grace of their virtue, should also be unique in the beauty of their rainment.’9 Leo the Wise, aware of the temptation of imitation by lower social ranks, saw fit to emphasise that the Emperors should not be jealous of their subjects’ ‘little luxuries’ but that even ordinary citizens should be permitted to attached scraps of Imperial murex purple to their own garments.10 The Emperor Constantine Porphyrogenitos carried special silks into battle. On the battlefield he presented Imperial purple silk skaramangia to victorious Byzantine generals, but he gave only lesser quality Egyptian silk tunics to their vanquished foreign counterparts.11 Victory parades across the Capital involved not only the Emperor, the victorious military and the vanquished, all clad in silk but also the silk uniformed civil authorities including the Eparch, regulator of the guilds.12 In See Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, chapter 4, 67–68, 70–71. Numerous examples of public processions between the main churches of the Capital are described in the Book of Ceremonies, alongside the Imperial ceremonies, which took place in the confines of the Imperial court. All called for elaborate costumes. 9 English translation in, Liuprand of Cremona. The Embassy to Constantinople and other Writings (J. J. Norwich ed.). London 1993, chapter 54, 203. Cf. ‘De Legatione Constantinopolitana’, Scriptores Rerum Germanicarum in usum Scholarum ex Monumentis Germaniae Historicis, 41, Luidprandi Opera (J. Becker ed.). Leipzig 3, 1915, chapter 54. For commentary upon material culture in Byzantium as reflected in the work of Luidprand see, J. Koder, T. Weber, Luitprand von Cremona in Konstantinopel. Wien 1980, passim. 10 See above in note 1, Noailles and Dain reference. Also, ‘Silk, Power and Diplomacy in Byzantium’, in: A. Muthesius, Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving, chapter 14, 232. 11 Haldon, Baggage train, c. 289–291, for open market purchase of silk garments from Egypt. 12 On the role of the Eparch see, R. Guilland, ‘Études sur l’histoire administrative de l’Empire Byzantin. L’Eparque. I. L’éparque de la ville’, Byzantinoslavica 41 (1980) 17–32, 145–180. Cf. remarks of J. C. Cheynat, Byzantinoslavica 45 (1984) 50–54. The symbolic nature of the costume of the Eparch was described in, Christopher of Mytilene, Die Gedichte 7 8

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addition, the private silk guilds were given the responsibility for decoration of the streets of the Capital with silks.13 The victory parades and other mass spectacles held in the enclosed urban space of the Capital not only encouraged Imperial prowess but they also fostered a sense of kinship and a growing political awareness amongst the guildsmen and women. By the tenth century subtly intertwined notions of silk and power were no longer confined to the court. Silk engendered a different sort of power through its ability to act as a form of material guarantor of personal morality. Legislation was set in place to exclude its use by those of doubtful morals. In the sixth century actresses were forbidden from wearing silks, so distancing the use of the precious stuff from pornographic costume.14 In the twelfth century prostitutes were forbidden from parading in striped silken clothing for similar reasons.15 Although formal sumptuary law appeared only later, both Latin and Byzantine writers from an early date expressed concern about unseemly ostentation.16 John Chrysostom complained about the use of lavish patterned costumes, as did Asterius of Amasia.17 Later, in the eleventh century, Othlon of St. Emmeram at Regensburg, reported how a nun dreamt that the Empress Theophanou (who in 972 had married the Ottonian Emperor Otto II), admitted to deserving eternal damnation for introducing luxurious Byzantine garments and decorations into the Latin court.18 The nun was allegedly implored to pray for the deliverance of the Empress from her torments. This highlights at least two points:

(E. Kurtz ed.). Leipzig 1903, 30, 12–26. Note corrections of C. Crimi in, Bollandia Badia Grottaferrata 39 (1985) 231–242, and see also, I calendari in metro innografico di cristoforo Militeneo (E. Follieri ed.) 1–2, Brussels 1980. 13 See chapter 2, note 47 in the present publication. Also see, ‘Silk, Power and diplomacy in Byzantium’, in: Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving, 234–235. 14 On silk and the question of propriety of dress note by the present author in, ‘Textiles and Dress in Byzantium’, in: Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, chapter 4, 72. 15 S. Leontsini, Die Prostitution im frühen Byzanz. Ph.D. thesis, Byzantine Institute, University of Vienna, 1988, 88–89 with sources. 16 Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, chapter 4, 72, 74–75. 17 Asterius of Amasia, Homilia I, PG 40, 165–168, cited in C. Mango, The Art of the Byzantine Empire. Toronto 1986, 50–51. Cf. Theodoret, De providentia oratio IV, PG 83, 617D–620A, for both religious and secular, figuratively decorated textiles. 18 Othloh of St. Emmeran, Liber visionum, PL 146, cc.372–3 (M.G.H. SS. XI, page 385). Discussed in K. Ciggaar, ‘Theophanou: an Empress reconsidered’, in: The Empress Theophanou (A. Davids ed.). Cambridge 1995, 54.

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i. ecclesiastical and secular use of Byzantine silks in the west by the eleventh century was seen as a moral threat. ii. earlier silken dress codes of the tenth century Byzantine court were considered the fountainhead of such corruption. On the other hand, an earlier Byzantine source, a life of the newly deceased Theophanou, first wife of Leo VI, took the view that the dress of the Empress was capable of acting as a medium for the occurrence of miracles, much like other cloth relics in Byzantium, including the Mandylion or the Girdle of the Virgin.19 The writer of the life of Theophanou reports how the Maphorion and the embroideries of the Empress provided miraculous cures for the sick who came into contact with them. A posthumous apparition of Theophanou revealed her clothed in Imperial dress and standing next to the Virgin.20 An idea of just how immense was the reach of secular Byzantine fashion is given by the discovery of eighth- to ninth-century silken dress in the Caucasian burial grounds of Moščevaja Balka.21 The most splendid of the Byzantine silks utilized, was tailored into a kaftan worn by the chief of the tribe.22 Female dresses and cloaks incorporated Byzantine, Central Asian and Chinese scraps of silk.23 In Byzantium, by the tenth century Syrian and Cilician as well as Egyptian garments were on sale and oriental costume held great sway in the Byzantine court.24 None of these fashions appeared to challenge central Imperial control. For cloth relics of the Virgin see, Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, chapter 1, notes 17–18 with source references. For Theophanou, wife of Leo VI, see note 20 below. 20 Vita Theophanou, in: Zwei griechische Texte über die Hl. Theophanou, die Gemahlin Kaisers Leo VI (E. Kurtz ed.). St. Petersburg 1898, 1–21, esp. 16ff. Also see, A. Davids, ‘Marriage negotiations between Byzantium and the West’, in: The Empress Theophanou, 113–115. 21 A. Ierusalimskaja, Die Gräber der Mosˇˇcevaja Balka. München 1996, see sections III 33–54; V 115–121; catalogue part 2, 143–160 and part 8, 233–296. 22 Refer to, A. Ierusalimskaja, B. Borkopp, Von China nach Byzanz. Bayerisches National Museum, München 1996. Exhibition catalogue, no. 1, pages 18–21, with colour plates. Cf. A. Ierusalimskaja, ‘La Caftan aux simourghs au tombeau de Mochtchevaja Balka’, Studia Iranica 7 (1978) 183–211. 23 Ibid., catalogue numbers 3 and 9 are made entirely of silk. Catalogue numbers 4–6, and 8, are linen garments with silk borders. Catalogue number 103 is a silk garment only partially preserved. 24 Koder, Eparchenbuch, 5. 1–2, pages 94–95 for Syrian and Cilician silks. For Egyptian silks refer to note 11 above. 19

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In the twelfth century, rich silk dress was made in Thebes and Corinth and exported for everyday use by the women of Constantinople.25 This was a far cry from the days in the sixth century when only the most noble of ladies would have been able to afford the splendid Imperial silk dresses temporarily on public sale in the house of Lamps.26 Similarly the silken dowries of Jewish brides in the Islamic Mediterranean in the eleventh century also indicate the existence of a highly developed sense of gendered fashion.27 But personal vanity, ostentation and sexual innuendo in Byzantium were not restricted to the female gender. Choniates in the twelfth century, wrote that the Emperor Andronikos, was ‘the acknowledged king of dandies; a man titillated by fine long robes, especially those that fall down over the buttocks and thighs and are slit and appear woven on the body.’28 One particular costume he wore consisted of ‘a violet coloured garment of Iberian weave, open at the sides and reaching down the knees and buttocks and covering the elbows’, whilst on his head he wore ‘a greyish black head-dress shaped like a pyramid.’29 One notable twelfth century Byzantine vernacular verse seems to contain an actual eye-witness account of the appearance of a specific pattern on a Byzantine dress silk. Remarkably, this can be closely compared with the image on a Byzantine multi-bodied lion silk that survives in Aachen.30 But truly detailed dress and fabric descriptions in Byzantine literature appear only later by which time, gendered individuality in dress had reached fresh heights in west European fashion. Not surprisingly, by the fifteenth century west European fashion had so infiltrated Byzantine dress codes, that

See M. Choniates reference in note 31 of chapter 1 above. This was destroyed in the Nika revolt of 532. See, O.D.B., 2. Oxford 1991, 1473, with further bibliography and discussion of the background for the revolt. 27 Y. K. Stillman, Female attire in medieval Egypt according to the Trousseau Lists and Cognate Material from the Cairo Geniza. Ph.D. thesis. University of Pennsylvania. Philadelphia 1972. 28 Niketas Choniates, Historia, (van Dieten) Berlin 1975, 139, (Magoulis 79). 29 Ibid., 252 (Magoulis 141). 30 For this silk see chapter 2, note 73 above with reference to Aachener Kunstblätter, pages 23–24. For the vernacular verse see, Theodori Prodromi de Rhodanthes Dosiclis Amoribus, Libri IX (M. Markovich ed.). Stutgardiae et Lipsiae 1992. Cf. C. Cupane’s contribution in Byzantinische Zeitschrift 89 (1996) 99–100 and note 2. 25 26

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Limenites’ description of the women of Rhodes would appear to reveal as much about Italian fashion as it does about Byzantine dress and hairstyles.31 Conclusion One may conclude that by the fifteenth century, centralised codes of Byzantine silken power dressing, had fully succumbed to western influence. Rigid Imperial dress hierarchies were displaced by decentralised, gender conscious Latin fashions. This loss of Imperial control over Byzantine social hierarchy, identity and status, bode ill for the Empire’s future. And indeed, the first act of the Turks after the fall of Constantinople in 1453, was to establish a courtly Ottoman silk production based directly on the principles of earlier Byzantine Imperial silken dress manufacture.32

31 Emanuel Georgillas Limenites, in: Bibliothèque Grecque Vulgaire (E. Legrand ed.) I, Paris 1880, Athens 1974, 206–209. Cf. A. Micha-Lampaki, ‘To Thanatikon’, Vyzantinos Domos 3 (1989) 51–62. On the translated passage of Limenites concerning dress of Byzantine women see, Muthesius, ‘Byzantine silks in Viking hands’, in: Silk in Byzantium, chapter 17, 295–296. 32 For the Ottoman silks see, J. M. Rogers, T. Tezcan, S. Delibas, Topkapi. Costumes, Embroideries and other Textiles. London 1986. For silk and silk trade in the Ottoman Empire consult, An Economic and Social History of the Ottoman Empire, 1300–1914 (I. Inalcik, D. Quataert eds.) chapter 10, ‘Bursa and the silk trade’, on pages 218–255. Further refer to the index under silk, silk trade, and raw silk, for discussion in text, of Ottoman silk cultivation, manufacture and trade.

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IV

The Silk Patronage of the Emperor Henry II (d. 1024) Introduction

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ENRY II, the grandson of the younger brother of Emperor Otto I, was a notable silk patron, who acted in the mould of his Ottonian predecessors.1 He not only promoted the use of silk to establish his own political power, but he also richly endowed his ecclesiastical foundations with magnificent silk vestments and furnishings.2 This lecture addresses the theme of the role of those precious textiles as a signifying system within medieval society. The paper asks, ‘What did Henry’s lavish silken patronage symbolise? and ‘How should this be viewed in the broader context of cultural inter-change between Byzantium and the West?’3 The paper will fall into two parts. The first part will deal primarily with the earlier (fourth–ninth centuries) use of silks in the west,4 and the second 1 For the use of Byzantine silks by the Ottonian Emperors see A. Muthesius, ‘The role of Byzantine Silks in the Ottonian Empire’ in, Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving, chapter XII, pages 201–215, republished in Byzanz und das Abendland im 10. und 11. Jahrhundert (E. Konstantinou ed.). Köln, Weimar, Wien 1997, 301–317. 2 A. Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 15, 140, for a brief summary of Henry II’s silk patronage. See further, P. Lasko, Ars Sacra 800–1200, Middlesex 1972, part two, chapter 10, pages 110–133, for the artistic patronage of Henry II. 3 For discussion of some important links between East and West see, O. Mazal, Byzanz und das Abendland, Wien 1981. This exhibition catalogue of the Austrian National Library covers many fields: theology; literature; philosophy; natural sciences; law; and miniature illumination. In addition, for stylistic exchanges within works of art see, O. Demus, Byzantine Art and the West, Glückstadt 1970, with extensive bibliography on pages 253–266. 4 See A. Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapters 5 and 6 on pages 58–84 and chapter 12 on pages 104–112 for Byzantine silks in the West during this period.

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part will look specifically at Henry II’s silk patronage in the context of those earlier silken traditions. The introduction of silk to the west The silks, which were used in the west up to the twelfth century, were all imported pieces.5 They had been woven either in Byzantine or in Islamic silk-producing centres, and imported into the west. Some arrived as items of trade; other more elaborate examples, arrived as diplomatic gifts.6 Politically speaking, ‘exotic’ imports were highly prized as part of an elaborate material display, and as a form of cultural capital within courtly circles.7 Within the church, they were viewed as a material ‘fitting to God’, with which to adorn cults, and through which to embellish worship and to enrich liturgical practices.8 All this was particularly relevant to Henry II, as initially he had prepared for a life in the church. By the time of Henry II, several thousand pieces of Byzantine silk had reached hundreds of the major churches and cathedrals of Europe.9 Many still survive today. These range

Ibid., for uses of the silks consult chapter 14, pages 119–139. For diplomatic silks see A. Muthesius, Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving, chapter X, ‘Silken Diplomacy’ and chapter XIV, ‘Silk, Power and Diplomacy in Byzantium’ on pages 165–172 and 231–244. Cf. A. Muthesius, ‘Silken Diplomacy’ in Byzantine Diplomacy, (J. Shepard, S. Franklin eds.) Cambridge 1992, chapter 15, pages 237–248. The lion silks sent to the Latin West as diplomatic gifts are dealt with in technical detail in A. Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 4, on pages 34–43. 7 See A. Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, chapters I, II and V, entitled ‘Silk in Byzantium: Cultural Imperialism, Identity and Value’, ‘The “cult” of Imperial and Ecclesiastical Silks in Byzantium’, and ‘Courtly and Aristocratic Silk Patronage’. Also refer to ‘Silk as Politics’ above, chapter 2 of the present book. 8 Compare the Byzantine Orthodox and the Latin Catholic views on the use of precious objects in the worship of God, in Hypatius of Ephesus and in Suger of St. Denis, for example. See Hypatius of Ephesus, Miscellaneous Enquiries (F. Diekamp ed.) Patristica Orientalia Christiana Analecta 117 (1938) 127–9, translated in, Art of the Byzantine Empire, (C. Mango ed.) New Jersey, 1972, 116–117. For Suger see, Abbot Suger on the Abbey-Church of St.-Denis and its Art Treasures (E. Panofsky ed. and transl.), Princeton 1946, Section XXVII, ‘Of the Cast and Gilded Doors’, and in particular consider the inscription on the doors. The two relevant passages from Hypatius and Suger are given also in, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, on page 120. 9 A. Muthesius, Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving, see centres marked on a map in plate 57. 5 6

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in date between the fourth and the twelfth centuries.10 Prominent amongst the centres where these silks have endured are Rome, Aachen, Milan, Ravenna, Sens, Maastricht, Liege, Köln and Chur.11 Bamberg and Basle Cathedrals, each founded by the Emperor Henry II also house an impressive number of silks.12 The practice of using silk in a court setting, as well as in a religious context, was known both in Byzantium and across the Islamic world up to six centuries earlier than the time of Henry II.13 The inspiration for Henry’s use of these fabrics can be most firmly tied to the Byzantine tradition. Most of the eleventh century silk textiles at Bamberg appear to have been Byzantine, Dating of the textiles depends on analysis of technique and of subject matter taken in relation to contextual and documentary evidence surrounding the silks. For a discussion of the methodology and dating system, together with a listing of all the extant silks see, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, 1–3, 144–148, 151–244. 11 The relevant centres are: the Vatican (Rome); the Münster Treasury (Aachen); St. Ambrogio (Milan); St. Vitale (Ravenna); the Cathedral (Sens); St. Servatius (Maastricht); the Cathedral (Liege); the Cathedral (Köln); St. Heribert (Köln); the Cathedral (Chur). These silks are not on general public display as a whole, but a selected number of the silks are exhibited in certain of these religious centres, most notably in Milan and Maastricht. 12 At Bamberg Cathedral treasury, the silk treasury is displayed almost in full. The Basle Cathedral silks are fragmentary archaeological specimens not suitable for exhibition. On the Bamberg silks see, A. Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 9, pages 85–87 and chapter II, pages 101–103. For further bibliography on Bamberg silks see the titles under Grabar (1956) and Müller Christensen (1966), and also the references to Geijer in note 2, as well as to Beckwith in note 4, and to Prinzing in note 5, on page 102, of the same publication by the present author. See also, K. Knefelkamp-Müllerschön, ‘Die Bamberger Textilfunde — Gewandteile und Schnittformen im Zusammenhang mit der Gewandung der Domherren’ in Textile Grabfunde aus der Sepultur des Bamberger Domkapitels. Arbeitsheft 33 Bayerisches Landesamt für Denkmalpflege. Schloss Seehof 22/23 April 1985 Munich 1987, 44–61. The silks are described in technical detail on 118–239 of the same publication, and also in another paper by R. Schorta, ‘Anmerkungen zu Technik einzelner Gewebe aus den Bamberger Grabfunden’, on pages 80–89. See in addition, L. von Wilckens, ‘Zur kunstgeschichtlichen Einordnung der Bamberger Textilfunde’, on pages 62–79. 13 In the fourth century in Byzantium silk was used to wrap the relics of St. Athanasius. In the Latin West silks were used for the relics of St. Paulinus at Trier, at the same date. In the Islamic faith, precious textiles with gold inscriptions are still used to drape the Kacba shrine of Mohammed at Mecca. See P. Baker, Islamic Textiles. London 1995, page 19 plates showing the draped Kacba and the creation of a gold embroidered silk covering for the holy shrine. For the reference to the relics of St. Athanasius see, Vita S. Athanasiae AASS, Aug. III, 170–175, BHG 186, page 174, section B. For the Trier silks consult T. K. Kempf, W. Reusch, Frühchristliche Zeugnisse im Einzugsgebiet von Rhein und Mosel. Trier 1965, 178. More generally, for early Byzantine silks, which reached Latin church treasuries see A. Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 8, pages 80–84, and chapter 12, pages 104–112. 10

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as does at least some of the silk and gold embroidery.14 In this regard, it should not be forgotten that Henry II inherited the Imperial treasury, which must have included silks from the dowry of the consort of Otto II, the Byzantine princess Theophanou.15 But Henry II probably relied more on German Imperial precedence than upon direct Byzantine influence. By the early eleventh century, the courtly use of Byzantine silks by the German Imperial house had become obligatory.16 These silks had amassed so many associations, that their absence at court would have acted to belittle the prestige of the ruler. Already under Pepin and then under Charlemagne, Byzantine silks had played a crucial role in establishing the identity and power of the ruler. Indeed, Pepin the Short presented a silk to Mozac in the 760s (Plate 8), and Charlemagne donated several hundred silks to Aachen Cathedral and to Sens Cathedral.17 The latter silks were used largely for the wrapping of relics, also donated by the Emperor Charlemagne.18 The eight to ninth century Imperial Byzantine charioteer silk at Aachen Cathedral, was one of these pieces, and this was eventually used to shroud Charlemagne’s own relics.19 14 The so-called ‘Kunigunde Chasuble’ has the name Henry embroidered alongside the portraits of emperors. The embroidery in gold uses the same silk core for the gold threads as appears on the woven silk. The ground silk and the embroidery are Byzantine. The stellar mantle and the rider mantle have imported silk grounds but the embroidery is western. For the Bamberg silks see reference in note 12 above. Also see, M. Schuette, S. MüllerChristensen, The Art of Embroidery (D. King transl.), London 1969, catalogue numbers related to Henry II and ‘Cunigunde’s’ embroidered copes. Cf. A. Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, M 843, M 872 and M 873. 15 For Henry II’s reign see, S. Hirsch, H. Pabst, H. Bresslau, Jahrbücher des Deutschen Reiches unter Heinrich II, 1–3, Leipzig 1862–1875, repr. Berlin 1975. Further, S. Weinfurter, ‘Die Zentralisierung der Herrschaftsgewalt im Reich durch Heinrich II’, Historisches Jahrbuch, 106 (1986), 241–297. Earlier see, K. L. Mikoletsky, Kaiser Heinrich und die Kirche. Wien 1946, and P. F. Sadee, Die Stellung Kaiser Heinrichs II zur Kirche. Königsberg 1877. On the dowry of Theophanou see, H. Wentzel, Das byzantinische Erbe der ottonischen Kaiser. Hypothesen über den Brautschatz der Theophano. Aachener Kunstblätter, 40 (1971), 15–39, and 43 (1972). Not all the silks discussed by Wentzel belong to Theophano’s time. 16 See A. Muthesius, ‘The role of Byzantine silks in the Ottonian Empire’, in: Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving, chapter 12, pages 201–215. 17 Discussed in, A. Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 7, pages 68–69 (Mozac silk), chapter 15, pages 140, 143 and note 4 (Sens, Charlemagne silks). 18 For examples of silks used for wrapping relics see, A. Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, cat. nos. M449–535, on pages 216–217. 19 A. Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 7, pages 72–73, cat. no. M 29, plate 23A.

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Fresh silks were added to the relics of saints at successive translations and recognitions. The most magnificent silk associated with the ruler cult of Charlemagne is the Imperial Byzantine elephant silk, datable to the early eleventh century (Plate 10).20 It was probably added to the relics of Charlemagne at the time of his canonisation and upon the occasion when the relics were translated into the shrine of the Virgin (completed 1215).21 It is interesting to speculate that had this silk arrived in the west as an earlier diplomatic gift from Byzantium; Henry II might have been in a position to actually have seen the silk before his death in 1024.22 The Aachen elephant silk acted on many levels. It was a visible sign of political alliance between the east and west. It was a symbol of the powerful authority of the ruler, relying on recognised Byzantine precedent.23 From the fourth century onwards the Byzantine court had taken great pains to adorn itself with sumptuous silks as symbols of power, authority and prestige. When Byzantine silks were received in the west as diplomatic gifts, part of the symbolism intended by Byzantium entailed recognition of the receiving party, and acknowledgement of their ally’s political prowess.24 Through the association of the ruler with a material ‘fitting for God’ the ‘piety of the kingship’ was emphasised.25 The ritual and ceremonial practices built up around Ibid., chapter 4, pages 38–43, cat. no. M58, plates 5A–9A. For the shrine of Charlemagne see, E. G. Grimme, Der Aachener Domschatz, Aachener Kunstblätter, 42, (1972), 66–69 with bibliography. 22 The technical, stylistic and contextual evidence points to a date in the first quarter of the eleventh century for the Aachen Elephant silk. For detailed discussion of the dating, see A. Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, 38–39. Henry II could have seen the silk, had it arrived in 1001, at a time when there were negotiations for Otto III to marry one of the daughters of Constantine VIII. The silk would have had to be newly woven. Alternatively, it could have arrived later, under Conrad II or Henry IV, in relation to marriage negotiations (Conrad II and daughter of Constantine VIII) or as part of diplomatic gift exchange (Henry IV). F. Dölger, Regesten der Kaiserurkunden des oströmischen Reiches von 565–1453, I–III. München, Berlin 1924, 1925, 1932; I, 784, 787, II 830, 1068. 23 For silk as symbol of authority see, A. Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, chapter 1, pages 1–22, and chapter 2, pages 23–36. On East-West diplomatic relations see, Byzantine Diplomacy (J. Shepard, S. Franklin eds.) Cambridge 1992, chapters 1–4. 24 See M. Mullett, ‘The language of diplomacy’, in: Byzantine Diplomacy, chapter 13, pages 203–216. Cf. R. Barker, Legitimating Identities. The self-presentations of rulers and subjects, Cambridge 2001, chapter 4, pages 82–88, who discusses ‘universal principles’ of international diplomacy, which underscore legitimacy of rule and also support the affirmation of identities. 25 See G. Dagron, Emperor and Priest. The Imperial Office in Byzantium (J. Birrell transl.) Cambridge 2003, especially chapter 1, ‘Heredity, legitimacy and succession’, on pages 31–53. Dagron also points to the concept of the theological basis of power under the caliphs, 20 21

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the use of eastern silks in the west acted like a mirror of their practical uses in Byzantium; and in the east and west they served much the same purpose. The identity of the eastern and western rulers was ‘clad in silk’ and supported by a hierarchy of silk court costume. The silken rituals acted as a visual reenactment of the nature of the relationship of state to state, or within different lands, of the relationship of state to church. Public silken processions to promote ruler cults and other saintly cults served as a means to demonstrate the role of intercession played both by the ruler and by the church, in the combined effort to promote the well-being of God’s subjects.26 Silk acted as a valuable medium for establishing the identity of the ruler; for distancing him from his subjects and for establishing a courtly, silken reinforcing element to support the ruler. Also, silk was instrumental in creating the appearance of a pious bond between the ruler and the Church, and for the enactment of stabilising ritual and ceremonial practices, through which the ruler could be ‘recognised’ by his citizens. Silk acted as a means to an end. The use of these precious imported silk materials not only established the boundaries between the ruler and the ruled, but also between the political and the sacral elements of ‘Medieval Christian Kingship’.27 Little wonder then, that Henry II saw fit to continue the tradition of the silken patronage of his Carolingian and Ottonian predecessors. as discussed by, R. G. Khoury, ‘Calife ou roi : du fondement théologico-politique du pouvoir suprême dans l’Islam sous les califes orthodoxes et omeyyades’, in, La Syrie, de Byzance à l’Islam, VIIe–VIIIe siècles (P. Canivet, J. P. Rey-Coquais eds.) Damascus 1992, 323–332. 26 On ruler and saintly cults see, A. Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, chapter 2, ‘The “cult” of Imperial and Ecclesiastical silks in Byzantium’, on pages 23–36. Also see, L’empereur hagiographe. Culte des saints et monarchie byzantine et post byzantine (P. Guran ed.), Actes des colloques internationaux tenus au New Europe College. New Europe College, 2001, especially chapter 1, B. Flusin, ‘L’empereur hagiographe. Remarques sur le rôle des premiers empereurs macédoniens dans le culte des saints’, on pages 29–54. In addition consult, The Byzantine saints (S. Hacker ed.) Fourteenth Spring Symposium of Byzantine Studies, Birmingham, Sobornost incorporating Eastern Churches Review (Studies supplementary to Sobornost 5), London 1981, esp. section on ‘The Saint in Cult and Art’, six papers on pages 171–226. See also, E. Malamut, Sur la route des saints byzantins, CNRS, Paris 1993, chapter 6, ‘Visites des pèlerins et des fidèles’, on pages 195–229. For the development of processional liturgy in particular see, R. Janin, ‘Les processions religieuses è Byzance. Revue études Byzantines 24 (1966) 69–88. Cf. J. F. Baldovin, ‘The urban character of Christian worship. The origins, development and meaning of stational liturgy’. Orientalia Christiana Analecta 228 (1987) chapter 6. 27 For ruler cults in the west, consult, S. J. Ridyard, The Royal Saints of Anglo-Saxon England, Cambridge 1988. The feast of the translation of the relics of Edward the Confessor under King Henry III see, N. Vincent, King Henry II and the Westminster Blood Relic,

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The silk patronage of Henry II Through his family links to the Ottonian court, Henry II inherited what by the eleventh century had become the silken mantle of ‘Imperial rule’.28 A stable situation north of the Alps allowed Henry II time to turn his attenCambridge 2001. The latter publication highlights the role of grand public ceremonies, to accentuate the nature of royal piety, by the mid-thirteenth century in England. Note also, that on the Continent there was a revival in the cult or relics in the eleventh century, see, Medieval Hagiography. An Anthology (T. Head ed.), London 2000, chapter 13, ‘The Cult of Relics in the Eleventh Century’, on pages 273–294. Cf. T. Head, Hagiography and the Cult of Saints. The Diocese of Orleans, 860–1200, Cambridge 1990, and B. Abou-El-Haj, The Medieval Cult of Saints. Formations and Transformations, Cambridge 1997, for the cult of saints in the west in the eleventh and the twelfth centuries. The special relationship between the promotion of cults and royalty is emphasised in, G. M. Spiegel, ‘The cult of St. Denis and Capetian Kingship’, in Saints and their Cults (S. Wilson ed.) Cambridge 1983, chapter 4, pages 141–168. This cult alongside that of St Edward at Westminster and of Charlemagne at Aachen formed the subject of a paper by the present author. See, A. Muthesius, Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving, chapter XIII, ‘Politics, piety and the silken cult of relics: Aachen Münster treasury in historical context’, on pages 217–230. The cults of St. Thomas Becket and of St. Cuthbert at Durham, are also most important in considering royal promotion of saintly cults. See chapters 11 and 12 below for the cult of St. Cuthbert. For Thomas Beckett see, J. Butler, The Quest for Becket’s Bones. London 1995, and for St. Thomas, St. Cuthbert and the major English saintly shrines consult, B. Nilson, Cathedral Shrines of Medieval England, Woodbridge 1998. For further bibliography on cults and saints and silks, see notes to chapters 11 and 12 below. 28 Henry II identified himself with the concept of ruler Solomonic or Platonic philosopher-king. This is evident from his use of a stellar ceremonial mantle. This mantle was a gift from Ismahel, duke of Apulia. The vestment symbolised the wisdom of the ruler and the assimilation of Henry II’s reign to the reign of God over the world. On the stellar mantle the celestial sphere was depicted in its entirety and the embroidered motifs (a mixture of Christian, astronomical and mythological symbols), conveyed a message of imperial ideology that emphasised the autonomy of the ruler over all other earthly powers. The stellar mantle is in the treasury of the Cathedral of Bamberg. On this mantle and its significance to ideas of kingship see, S. C. McCluskey, Astronomies and Cultures in Early Medieval Europe, Cambridge 1988, chapter 8, ‘The fusion of astronomical traditions’, on pages 131–164, especially 141–144, with bibliography in notes 31–37 on pages 142–144. See also Medieval Concepts of the Past (G. Althoff, J. Fried, P. J. Geary eds.), Cambridge 2002, esp. chapter 1, S. Weinfurter, ‘Authority and Legitimation of Royal Policy and Action: The Case of Henry II’, on pages 19–37, and chapter 2, J. W. Bernhardt, ‘King Henry II of Germany: Royal SelfRepresentation and Historical Memory’, on pages 39–69. Both papers have extensive bibliographical references in the footnotes. It is important to note that Henry II, is called both ‘emperor’ and ‘king’ by Thietmar, as J. W. Bernhardt remarked at the end of footnote 124 on page 65. Refer to, Thietmar, Chronicon ( R. Holtzmann ed.) Monumenta Germaniae Historica Scriptores rerum Germanicarum n.s. 9 (Berlin 1935) 7. 54.

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tion to lavish artistic patronage.29 Pious by nature, his Papal coronation in 1014 allowed him to style himself ‘servant of the servants of Christ and the august Emperor of the Romans, according to the will of God and of our saviour and liberator’.30 Although not directly basing his identity on Divine Right, as did the Byzantine Imperial house, Henry II clearly regarded pious humility as an important element of kingship.31 He established an autocratic control over ecclesiastical matters and he certainly promoted the bishops’ political might and enlarged their jurisdiction over monastic reform.32 Henry favoured use of Episcopal towns over royal manors on his many travels. This close and controlling relationship between Henry and the Church, provided him with the perfect opportunity for ‘silken patronage’. Documentary sources, as well as surviving silks, demonstrate the breadth of Henry’s patronage. It is documented that extensive artistic patronage was extended to Monte Cassino by the Emperor in 1022.33 This included the donation of a woven chasuble, a cope with gold borders and a valuable silk altar cloth. Another source describes an Eagle silk presented to Brixen Cathedral and perhaps intended directly for use by Bishop Albuin of Brixen (1002–1006).34 This might well have been a present from the Emperor Henry II, who counted Albuin as a close friend. The Eagle silk described in this documentary source has been identified with a surviving eagle silk chasuble of bell shape, typical of the cut of ecclesiastical chasubles of Henry II’s time (Plate 18).35 Another documentary source indicates that Henry donated an Eagle silk to his foundation Basle Cathedral, on the

On the artistic patronage of Emperor Henry II see, P. Lasko, Ars Sacra, 800–1200, Middlesex 1972, chapter 10, ‘Court patronage’, on pages 123–133. The stellar mantle (cf. note 28 above) is discussed on page 131, and shown in plate 133. 30 Cited by McClusky, Astronomies and Cultures, 144. The fullest treatment of the mantle is in E. C. W. O’Connor, The Star Mantle of Henry II, Ph.D. dissertation, Columbia University, 1980. 31 On the action of humility of Henry II before the Bishops, and its effect after the synod of Frankfurt, see Weinfurter, Authority and Legitimation, pages 36–37. 32 On Henry II’s attitude to the election of Bishops see, Bernhardt, Royal Self Representation, page 48–64. 33 Chronicon monaster. Casinensis I MGH SS VII, lib. 3, c. 43, 656–657. 34 Discussed in A. Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 5, section 2, pages 47–50 with notes 27, 28 and 32, and with relevant bibliographical references in those notes. 35 The references to the Brixen silk chasuble are given in notes 27 and 28 as cited in note 34 above. 29

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occasion of the dedication of the building in 1019.36 Silk vestments were also excavated in the graves of bishops of Basle including that of Adalbero II, who had officiated at the consecration of Henry’s foundation.37 Another magnificent silk bell chasuble, probably the gift of Henry II, belonged to Bishop Godehard of Niederaltaich, who was elevated to the see of Hildesheim by Henry II in 1022 (Plate 19).38 Similarly, magnificent silk bell chasubles survive, which belonged to Archbishop Willigis of Mainz, who consecrated Henry II in 1002 (Plate 20).39 A further silk bell chasuble belonged to Bishop Meinwerk of Paderborn, who had been appointed Bishop by Henry, in 1009.40 This series of silk chasubles can be multiplied. The monochrome silk chasuble of Bishop Bernward of Hildesheim, for example, may well have been a gift from Henry II.41 The significance of their existence is two-fold. The silk of which these chasubles are made, are of two types. Either they bear a typical Imperial Byzantine image, an eagle, or they belong to a monochrome silk type, where the design of foliate and geometric character, appears incised on the surface of the textile. Both are termed ‘twills’.42 The monochrome chasubles, however, represent a departure from traditional weaving production methods; they rely on a change in the weaving surface, rather than on colour contrast for the production of their designs. In fact, the monochrome pieces would have been at least half as cheap to produce as their equivalents using contrasting colours.43 The imported Byzantine monochrome silks used by the Emperor Henry II represented the height of technical achievement and fashion. The presence of this type of silk in Henry II’s circles, suggests that he had access to contemporary Byzantine silks. Henry II certainly received an Breviarium Basilense, In festo Henrici imperatoris (Trouillat ed.) Monuments de l’histoire de l’ancien évêché de Bâle, I (Porrentruy. V. Michel, 1852), no.87, 142–143, cited by C. Davis-Weyer, Early Medieval Art (H. W. Janson ed.) Sources and Documents in the History of Art Series, New Jersey 1971, 118–119. 37 A. Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, catalogue no. M877. 38 Ibid., catalogue no. M867a. 39 Ibid., catalogue nos. M68, M862, plates 38B and 88A. 40 Ibid., catalogue no. M847b for a silk fragment from the neck of this chasuble. 41 Ibid., catalogue no. M86, plate 39A. 42 Ibid., chapters 5 and 9 on the two types of twills (polychrome and monochrome, respectively). 43 Ibid., Appendix 1, see ‘Weaving Types’, under Twill and Lampas, with figure 16 for weave diagrams, which distinguish the two technical structures. 36

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abundance of Byzantine silks as indirect or direct diplomatic gifts, but other Byzantine silks may have been acquired through trade. Certainly, Byzantine trade silks were carried to the west by Venice in the eleventh century.44 Byzantium’s abolition of silk trade taxes in favour of the Venetians is significant. It gave Venice a distinct trade advantage edge over her Italian trade rivals. The question is what did Byzantium expect in return? What did she wish from her Italian trade ally, and how far was this restricted only to economic alliance?45 Silk in Byzantium was a valuable economic asset, but it was also exploited as a powerful political weapon. It was the myriad political associations of Byzantine silks, which most greatly influenced the western Emperors, including Henry II. There is evidence that Henry II, and his consort Cunigunde, themselves wore Byzantine silks, and that Henry may have distributed Byzantine silks to members of his family.46 Gisela, the sister of Henry II, was married to 44 On the trade chrysobull issued by Emperors Basil II and Constantine VIII in March 992, regulating custom dues at Abydos, see A. Pertusi, Venezia e Bisanzio nel secolo XI’ in La Venezia del Mille, Florence 1965, 155–160, reprinted in Storia della civiltà’ veneziana’, I, Florence 1979, 195–198. This was discussed by D. Nicol, Byzantium and Venice’. A Study in diplomatic and cultural relations, Cambridge 1988, 40–42. These custom concessions were made in consideration of the fact that the Venetians had never forgotten their promise to come to the aid of the Byzantine Emperors whenever the Byzantine armies were fighting in Lombardy. Also the Venetian ships had honoured their duty to fight alongside the Byzantine fleet as part of what was called ‘ancient practice’ (Nicol, pages 40–42 and note 2 on page 40). To reward the loyalty of the Venetian ships at Durazzo in 1083/1084, (Nicol 58–59), a series of special trade privileges were granted (Nicol 60–61 and note 1 on page 60), including abolition of trade taxes. See S. Borsari, ‘il crisobullo di Alessio I per Venezia’ in, Annali dell’ Instituto Italiano per gli studi storici, II (1969–1970), 111–131, (124–131; Appendices A and B). Nicol reports that the Venetian carried silks from Thebes and Corinth to the west, but he emphasised that they also carried oil, wine, grain, linen and cotton in the eleventh century, (Nicol, 92). Cf. D. Jacoby, ‘Silk crosses the Mediterranean’, chapter X in Byzantium, Latin Romania and the Mediterranean, Aldershot 2001, 57 and notes 17 and 18, and 77, with notes 46 and 47, on Byzantine silk in relation to Venice. 45 Not all these occasions appear to be documented. See the discussion on the 992 chrysobull in note 44 above. In 992 a direct link appeared to be drawn between the trade concessions granted to Venice and earlier military and naval aid provided by Venice. The trade concessions affected silk amongst other commodities. The 992 chrysobull also suggested that Byzantium might expect further similar assistance from Venice in the future. Certainly, Venetian naval aid was forthcoming in 1083/1084 at Durazzo. The events at Durazzo were followed by the granting of special trade concessions, as discussed in note 44 above. 46 A variety of silk mantles of Henry and Cunigunde are at Bamberg Cathedral. The socalled ‘Cunigunde mantle bears the name of Henry, although there is a later added hood, with portrait of Saint Cunigunde, A. Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, M843, plate 38A.

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King Stephen of Hungary. A bell-shaped silk chasuble with gold embroidery was plausibly received by Gisela and Stephen as a gift from Henry II, prior to its later presentation in 1031 by them to the Church of the Virgin at Székesféhérvár (Plate 21).47 The embroidered figures of the chasuble mirror the style of the figures on Henry II’s gold antependium given to Basle cathedral in 1019. The silk vestments most closely associated with Henry II and Cunigunde survive at Bamberg Cathedral, which was founded by Henry in 1007, and consecrated in 1012.48 One of the vestments has a later-added hood naming St. Cunigunde (Plates 22–24).49 For centuries this vestments, which bears embroidered Byzantine emperor portraits, was associated with St Cunigunde. However, when the vestment was conserved, it was found to bear the embroidered name of Henry. The embroidered Emperor-portraits and the embroidered name are in the same gold thread, and it has been suggested that the vestment could have been made especially for Henry II, in Byzantium. A closer examination of the embroidery is necessary before this can be firmly established on technical grounds, but it would suggest a very special relationship might have existed between the two Empires.50 Two further gold embroidered mantles at Bamberg may be dated to Henry II’s reign. One of these bears a series of old and new testament scenes, and it has a Byzantine monochrome silk ground with incised design The mantle is included in S. Müller-Christensen, Sakrale Gewänder Munich 1955, no. 17, on 17–18. Cf. M. Schuette and S. Müller-Christensen, The Art of Embroidery, (D. King transl.), London 1963, no. 29/30, on 299. There has been uncertainty about the provenance of the embroidery, but the silk in the core of the gold embroidery thread has been compared to the silk used in the woven silk, suggesting both are from a Byzantine rather than southern German centre. 47 For this chasuble see, A. Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, M81, plate 36A, and chapter 9, page 85. Also, E. Kovacs, Casula sancti Stephani Regis Acta Historiae Artium 5, Budapest 1958, 181ff. After restoration in America the chasuble was published by E. Kovacs and Z. Lovag, The Hungarian Crown and other regalia. Budapest 1980, 58–75, with bibliography. For the work carried out on the mantle see, K. E. Nagy, ‘An account of the preparations of the coronation mantle. Conservation-restoration of church textiles and painted fragments etc., in, Fourth International Restorer’s Seminar II, Budapest 1984, 34ff. 48 For Bamberg Cathedral in relation to Henry II see, W. Störmer, ‘Heinrichs II Schenkungen an Bamberg etc.’ in Deutsche Königspfalzen: Beiträge zu ihrer historischen und archäologischen Erforschung, 4 (Pfalzen, Reichsgut, Königshöfe, Göttingen 1996, 377–408. 49 See note 46 above. 50 The embroidery is behind glass and it has not been examined in great technical detail, unfortunately. The silks at Bamberg are considered relics in their own right, and they are not available for detailed examination.

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of the technical sort described earlier.51 A second chasuble shows gold embroidered falconers, and this has a lining of silk with small geometric design and with Kufic inscription that reads, ‘The kingdom is of God’.52 This illustrates that both Byzantium and Islamic silks were available to Bamberg. A similar Islamic falconer chasuble with design stamped in gold is at Durham Cathedral.53 One final, impressive gold embroidered silk vestment is probably the most interesting of the pieces. This is the so-called ‘star mantle’, a gift from Ismahal Duke of Apulia to Henry II (Plates 26–28).54 The Duke died at Bamberg in 1020, which provides a terminus ante quem for the silk vestment. An embroidered inscription names both donor and recipient. The gold couching embroidery technique is found on later Byzantine vestments.55 This ‘star mantle’ bears classical astrological symbolism. The vestment symbolically designates the ‘Ruler Philosopher King’, garbed in wisdom.56 His ‘star mantle’ vestment also assimilates Henry’s reign to the reign of God over the universe. It is a silken political statement, with magical overtones, sent from the Duke of Apulia, to the Emperor. The use of astronomy for regal symbolism can be traced back to a western, antique, stellar mantle tradition.57 Time does not allow for a more detailed discussion of this remarkable piece here, but it has been the object of icono51 In 1127 there were fifteen embroidered silk chasubles at Bamberg Cathedral. Eight of these survive at the Diocesan museum of Bamberg Cathedral. See S. Müller-Christensen, Sakrale Gewänder, numbers 18 to 25 inclusive. Cf. A. Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, silk M872, on page 228. 52 Described in Müller-Christensen, as cited in note 51 above in conjunction with the mantle. Cf. A. Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, silk M873 on page 228. 53 See A. Muthesius, ‘The Rider and the Peacock Silks’, in: St. Cuthbert, his cult and his community, (G. Bonner, D. Rollason, C. Stancliffe eds.) Woodbridge 1989, 343–366. 54 See note 28 above and also the references in note 30 above. 55 Gold couching in the west used an ‘underside’ technique whereby the gold threads were pulled to the back of the embroidery ground and secured there. Byzantine ‘surface’ couching technique involved securing of the gold threads on the face of the embroidery ground. For the later Byzantine gold embroideries see for instance, A. Muthesius, ‘The Thessaloniki epitaphios’, in: Studies in Silk in Byzantium, London 2004, chapter XI. 56 See note 28 above, and for the background to the use of the stellar motifs consider van de Vyver, ‘Les plus anciennes Traductions latines médiévales (Xe–XIe siècles) de Traités d’Astronomie et d’Astrologie. Osiris, I (1936), 658–691. 57 On the magical properties of images in Byzantium see, E. Kitzinger, ‘The Cult of Images in the Age before Iconoclasm, Dumbarton Oaks Papers 8 (1954) 83–150, esp. 100–109. H. Maguire, ‘Garments Pleasing to God: the Significance of Domestic Textile Designs in the Early Byzantine Period. Dumbarton Oaks Papers, 44 (1990), 215–224. Also by Maguire, ‘Magic and the Christian Image’, in Byzantine Magic (H. Maguire ed.), 51–71.

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graphical study. Here, I would suggest that the silk combines traditions surrounding the apotheosis of the Roman ruler with elements of the belief of ‘Divine Right’ in Christian rulership.58 Conclusion Returning to the questions raised in the introduction to this paper, ‘What did Henry’s lavish silken patronage symbolise?’ and ‘How should it be viewed in the broader context of east/west cultural exchange’, a number of broad conclusions may be suggested. Henry’s lavish silk donations formed only one part of his extensive artistic patronage, which as a whole acted to cement his relationship of state to church, and which also underlined Henry’s aspirations towards ‘Divine Ruler’ status. His use of imported, mainly Byzantine, silks helped to establish his authority much in the manner that similar silks had done earlier, within the Carolingian and Ottonian courts. But Henry II, a pious individual, was perhaps less concerned with ostentatious display than were Otto II and Otto III, under the direct influence of the Byzantine born Theophanou, and who were in constant diplomatic contact with Byzantium. For Henry, with less direct family involvement in matters Byzantine, his donations of magnificent silk vestments to the clergy may have represented more a kind of pious acknowledgement of the importance of Church to State, and of the necessity for the ruler to be protectively ‘surrounded’ by the ecclesiastical establishment. The stellar mantle shows how religious piety was, nevertheless, tinged with overtones of a more secular, See note 28 above. Also, K.J. Benz, ‘Untersuchungen zur politschen Bedeutung der Kirchweihe unter Teilnahme der deutschen Herrscher im hohen Mittelater: Ein Beitrag zum Studium der Verhältnisses zwischen weltlicher Macht und kirchlicher Wirklichkeit unter Otto III und Heinrich II’. Regensburger historische Forschungen, 4, Kallmünz 1975. H. Hoffmann, Mönchskönig und ‘rex idiota’: studien zur Kirchenpolitik Heinrichs II und Konrads II. MGH Studien und Texte, 8, Hannover 1993. On the consecration of bishops under Henry II see, J. Fleckenstein, Die Hofkapelle der deutschen Könige, 2: Die Hofkapelle im Rahmen der ottonisch-salischen Reichskirche, MGH Schriften 16.2, Stuttgart 1966, 208–221. For the relationship between Henry II and cult and ritual see, D. A. Warner, Henry II at Magdeburg: Kingship, Ritual and the Cult of Saints’ Early Medieval History 3 (1994) 133–166. Note also, G. Beyreuther, ‘Die osterfeier als Akt königlicher Repräsentanz und Herrschaftsausübung unter Heinrich II (1002–1024)’ in, (D. Altenburg, J. Jarnut, H. H. Steinhoff eds.) Feste und Feiern im Mittlealter: Paderborner Symposium des Mediävistenverbandes, Sigmaringen 1991, 250–253. 58

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philosophical and semi-magical tradition of ‘ruler status’ reaching back to the time of Antiquity. Overall, Henry II’s silk patronage reflected many of the concerns of his age: the nature of Kingship and the art of ruling; the character of the ruler and how the ruler should be perceived; the relationship of power to piety and the possibility of an earthly court mirroring the heavenly court above. Henry II’s surviving silks can perhaps ‘speak’ about his character in a way that the documented sources cannot. Set alongside his lavish artistic patronage, the silks acted to symbolise the pious ‘flavour’ of his reign. One might say that the sanctification of Henry II by Pope Innocence III in 1146 might be seen as a fitting act, which cemented together the political and the ‘spiritual’ elements of his silken rule.

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Tribute to Donald King: Silken Embroidery and Orthodox Faith in Byzantium Introduction

T

HE production of magnificent silk embroidery enjoyed a long history in Byzantium. The use of gold embroidered borders in fourth-century Constantinople constituted an Imperial Byzantine dress prerogative.1 These embroidered borders emanated a spirit of Imperial might and they signified political legitimacy and authority, as did their counterparts, certain types of tailored Imperial murex-purple dyed silks.2 In the sixth century, the Emperor Justinian presented to Haghia Sophia an embroidered silk altar cloth which featured scenes of the life of Christ alongside military exploits of the Emperor: the political and the sacral were brought into alignment and set within a form of Theo-centric court ceremonial aligned to a devel-

1 R. S. Lopez, ‘Silk industry in the Byzantine Empire’. Speculum 20/1 (1945) 1–42, saw three late Roman state guilds, the gynaeciarii, the bapheis or purpurari, and the barbaricarii, as the forerunners of the tenth-century Imperial Byzantine clothiers and tailors, purple-dyers and gold embroiderers. Cf. corrections in S. Vryonis, Byzantium and its internal history and relations with the Muslim World. London 1971, chapter 3. Further see by the present author, ‘The Byzantine silk industry: Lopez and beyond’, in: A. Muthesius, Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving. London 1995, chapter 16, esp. 298–303. In 369 the Theodosian Code stipulated that exclusively Imperially manufactured gold or gold and silk borders for male and female costumes were to be confined to court use. See, C. Pharr, Theodosius II Emperor of the East. The Theodosian Code and Novels and the Sirmondian Constitutions. The Corpus of Roman Law I. Princeton, New Jersey 1952, 10.21.1. This was repeated in the Justinianic Code, see, P. Krüger, P. Mommsen, T. Schoell, G. Kroll, Codex Justinianus. Berlin 1954, 9.1.8. 2 See, chapter 1 note 3 above for bibliography on purple dyes.

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oping liturgical ritual.3 The purpose of this paper is to explore the intermingling of the ‘sacral’ and the ‘political’ through the medium of precious cloths. Two questions are asked: What kind of relationship was forged between the use of priceless gold and silk embroidered cloths and the celebration of the Byzantine Orthodox liturgy? and What was the political significance of this textile medium in its role as a mark of Byzantine and of Post Byzantine Greek Orthodox faith? The flowering of Byzantine embroidery occurred in the fourteenth to fifteenth centuries under Palaelogian Imperial patronage and it is towards this period and into the subsequent Post Byzantine era that this paper will look for most of its evidence.4 But although this paper looks to the later surviving silk embroideries, the principles it explores apply equally to the lost gold embroideries of the earlier phrase of production from the fourth to the fourteenth centuries. Silken gold embroidery in Byzantium represented an ‘institution’, a focus of timeless stability, chronologically spanning the entire Millennium of Byzantium’s existence. The later silk embroideries (post 1453) were a conscious revival, a renewed attack on Iconoclastic tendencies, a statement that the Divine could be reached through pictorial imagery. The paper falls into two distinct sections which, respectively, examine: i. Methods for understanding the liturgical significance of images on the cloths; and Relevant references are given above in chapter 1 note 14. The earlier embroideries do not survive in great numbers. Of the surviving textiles, for the mantle of Henry II (d. 1024), with Byzantine embroidered, seated Emperors, see above chapter 4 and notes 4, 14 and 46. Two small, embroidered roundels survive on a vestment of Philip of Swabia see, Die Zeit der Stauffer. Stuttgart 1977, I, no.777, II, plate 568. These may be Byzantine embroideries executed in Sicily. P. Johnstone, Byzantine Tradition in Church Embroidery. London 1967, plates 85–86, illustrates two late twelfth-century, Byzantine gold embroidered, liturgical cloths at Halberstadt Cathedral with scenes of the Communion of the Apostles. Johnstone plate 89 illustrates an aer with Communion scene, from the Benaki Museum, Athens. She dates this to the fourteenth century, but the present author made a detailed technical examination of the silk at the request of Dr. Anna Balian keeper of the silk and concluded that the piece belongs to the thirteenth century on stylistic and technical grounds. This dating has been adopted by the Benaki Museum. 3 4

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ii. Processes of politicizing and of commercializing the liturgical imagery used. Methods for understanding the liturgical significance of the images An understanding of Byzantine ecclesiastical embroidery involves more than technical analysis of materials, although these of course, should be thoroughly examined.5 Technique The embroidered techniques are relatively simple to understand and they enjoy a high degree of technical conservatism. Unlike the case of woven precious Byzantine cloth, one cannot speak of a strict chronology of techniques based upon technological developments, in Byzantine embroidery. Two approaches are apparent from the first: i. the use of pure wire, over-side couching and ii. The use of over-side couching with gold foil wrapped around a silk core and sometimes interspersed with use of coloured silk threads.6 Beyond perhaps an increasing tendency to the use of cotton or linen padding and the raising of embroidered over-side couched motifs, alongside the progressively marked application of broader flattened metal strips and other filigree surface devices, it is possible to discern little change

Gold thread couched embroidery can be carried out by attachment of the gold threads either on the surface or on the obverse of the base textile (termed overside and underside couching, respectively). The Byzantine workshops favoured overside couching whilst Western workshops used underside couching in the main. Underside couching was used for example, for the eleventh century silk fragments from the grave of Bishop William of St. Calais (1081–1096) at Durham Cathedral. Unusually, surface couching over net was used on the stole and maniple of St. Cuthbert (datable 909–916) at Durham Cathedral, see, J. Ivy, Embroideries at Durham Cathedral. Durham 1977. See also, page 18, figure 21 for illustration of underside couching technique. Byzantine, overside couching technique is described in Johnstone, Byzantine Tradition, chapter 8, 65–73, see esp. 66–67 with diagram. For an illustration of both overside and underside couching see diagram h facing page 66, with diagram j, which illustrates different patterns made by the couching threads. 6 Byzantine surface couching uses gold wound on a silk core or pure silver-gilt or gold wire. Coloured silk threads sometimes are used in conjunction with the gold wound on a silk core. All these techniques are found amongst Byzantine and Post Byzantine gold embroidered textiles of the monasteries of St. John, Patmos, and St. Catherine’s Sinai, presently under publication by the author. See in the present book, chapter 6 below. 5

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of technique from Byzantine into Post-Byzantine times.7 The traditional techniques become part of a true expression of Orthodox Faith. Imagery Imagery takes two basic forms: the historical Salvatory scene developed into: i. the festal cycles (Plate 34),8 or into ii. the mystic, liturgical scene (Plates 29, 35-36).9 The first category remains remarkably standard; the scenes depict the main historic events from the life of Christ, each with its own special message of salvation, as will be discussed further below. It is only in the second category of depiction, the mystical, liturgical, interpretative scene that experimentation is allowed free reign. The images then have to be interpreted very much as a sign-language. To do this it is necessary to examine the complex inter-play of liturgical rite and the symbolic interpretation of the liturgy through key commentaries written at dif-

The Post-Byzantine embroideries use an increased volume of wire threads and these are sometimes built up into elaborate spirals. Alternatively wider flattened metal strips are employed on the later embroideries. There are also small metal discs that are incorporated into these embroideries. 8 See, A. Stoelen, ‘L’année liturgique byzantine’, Irénikon 4/10 (1928) 1–32. M. Arranz, ‘Les fêtes théologiques’ du calendrier byzantin’, in: La Liturgie, expression de la foi’ (A. M. Triacca, A. Pistoia ed.)). Rome 1979, 29–55. R. Macrides, ‘Justice under Manuel I Komnenos: four Novels on court business and murder’. Fontes Minores. Forschungen zur byzantinischen Rechtsgeschichte 6 (1984) 99–204, esp. see, 140–155 for the half feasts. Also refer to, A. Laiou, ‘The Festival of ‘Agathe’, in: Byzantion: Aphieroma ston Andrea N. Strato, I–II, Athens 1986, I, 111–122. 9 On Byzantine mysticism consult, I. Hausherr, ‘Les grandes courants de la spiritualité orientale’, Orientalia Christiana Periodica 1 (1935) 114–138. J. Daniélou, Platonisme et théologie mystique. Essai sur la doctrine spirituelle de saint Grégoire de Nysse. Paris 1944. J. Vanneste, Le mystère de Dieu: Essai sur la structure rationelle de la doctrine mystique du PseudoDenys l’Aréopagite. Paris 1959. H. Lewy, Chaldean Oracles and Theory: Mysticism, Magic and Platonism in the Later Roman Empire. Paris 1978. In, G. Podskalsky, Theologie und Philosophie in Byzanz. Byzantinisches Archiv 15. München 1977, see in the index page references for the following: pseudo Dionysios the Areopagite; Origen; Evagrios Pontikos; Maximos the Confessor; Symeon the Theologian; the Hesychasts and Nicolas Kabasilas. On liturgical mysticism see, H. J. Schulz, The Byzantine Liturgy. Symbolic Structure and Faith Expression. New York 1986. Further see notes 10 and 37 below. 7

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ferent times between the sixth and the fifteenth centuries.10 In addition, cultural and spiritual attitudes of the time need to be considered, not least the contribution of developing monastic rules as set against the contrasting trappings of earlier spiritual Court Ceremonial, and the Dogmatic stance of successive Church councils.11 The imagery of liturgical rite then can be recognised both as theoretical dogma, and as empirical practice, the latter expressed in liturgical ritual, and enriched through contact with external stimuli (e.g. liturgical drama, dramatic sermons (kontakia) etc.).12 In treating the imagery found on precious cloths, parallels must be drawn between art, liturgical rite and liturgical commentary. The two-fold division between the historical and the mystic imagery may have had its 10 R. Bornaert, Les commentaries byzantins de la divine Liturgie du VIIIe siècle. Archives de l’Orient Chrétien 9. Paris 1966. 11 Monastic regulations are known from some fifty surviving Typika. See, K. A. Manaphes, Monasteriaka typika-diathekai. Athens 1970. Also note, M. Kondiares, Nomike theorese ton monasteriakon typikon. Athens 1984, and C. Galatariou, ‘Byzantine Ktetorika Typika: a comparative study’. Revue des études Byzantines 45 (1987) 77–138 and list on 137–138. For the Typikon of Haghia Sophia in Constantinople see, J. Mateos, Le Typicon de la Grande Église, I–II. Rome 1962–1963. For Imperial ceremonial see Treitinger, Alföldi and Mc Cormick references above in chapter 1, note 21. Concerning Councils refer to Sacrorum conciliorum nova etamplissima collectio (J. Mansi ed.) 1–31. Florence, Vienna 1759–1798, Paris 1901–1927. More recently consult, Acta Conciliorum Oecumenicorum (E. Schwartz ed.) 1–5, parts 1–32. Berlin, Leipzig 1922–1984, and Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils I–II (N. P. Tanner ed.). Georgetown 1990. For a historical overview see, Le concile et les conciles (B. Botte, H. Marat et al. ed.). Chevetogne 1960. Histoire des counciles 1–12. Paris 1962. 12 Processions were important throughout the liturgical year. See, R. Janin, ‘Les processions religieuses à Byzance’, Revue des études Byzantines 24 (1966) 69–88. Medieval liturgical drama was known in Byzantium, although it has not been researched fully. See, M. Velimirovic´. ‘Liturgical drama in Byzantium and Russia’, Dumbarton Oaks Papers 16 (1962) 171–211. Cf. S. Baud-Bovy, ‘Le théâtre religieux, Byzance et l’occident’ Ελληνικ 28 (1975) 328–349.On the kontakion (sermon in verse) see, P. Maas, ‘Das Kontakion’, Byzantinische Zeitschrift 19 (1910) 285–306. K. Mitsakis, Byzantine Hymnographia. Thessalonike 1971, 171–353. Also note, Mit der Seele Augen sah er deines Lichtes Zeichen Herr. Romanos der Melode. Hymnen des orthodoxen Kirchenjahres (J. Koder transl.). Wien 1996. Earlier see, J. Grosdidier de Matons, Romanos le Mélode. Paris 1977, 3–156. Also refer to, Kontakia on the Life of Christ. St. Romanos the Melodist. (E. Lash transl.). New York 1995. On popular sermons see, Preacher and Audience. Studies in Early Christian and Byzantine Homiletics (M. B. Cunningham, P. Allen ed.). Leiden 1998. Concerning the Imperial homilies of Leo VI see, T. Antonopoulou, The Homilies of the Emperor Leo VI. The Medieval Mediterranean 14. Leiden 1997. For the early period in general consider, S. Mac Cormack, ‘Christ and Empire, time and ceremonial’, Byzantion 52 (1982) 287–309.

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roots in the two different approaches of the Liturgical Fathers, Basil and John Chrysostom.13 Basil saw the eucharistic liturgy as a historical, salvation bearing re-enactment; John Chrysostom regarded it as a mystical, eucharistic, sacramental incarnation. In both cases the liturgy served as an act to signify redemption. From pure remembrance of Christ’s salvation granting death and resurrection, the eucharistic liturgy was to develop an Anamnectic character of re-enactment. The main festal cycle largely followed historical salvation based, re-enactment imagery. Annunciation, Birth, Baptism, Passion, Crucifixion, Burial, Resurrection, Ascent into heaven and seating at the right hand of God the Father at the Second Coming, are all included. They are made present in order that redemption may become immediate and accessible to the faithful. The numerous precious embroidered cloths, either vestments or liturgical furnishings, serve as a medium through which the saving acts of Christ are rendered present at the time of liturgical ritual re-enactment. The actions of the earthly Christ serve to symbolise the saving grace earned for the salvation of humanity. Nowhere is this more clearly stated than on the Vatican dalmatic, where the heavenly liturgy appears and the scene of salvation is rendered complete (Plate 30).14 The Vatican dalmatic is a prime document expressing the tenets of the Byzantine Orthodox faith. A statement of Orthodoxy at a time when the Union of the Orthodox and of the Catholic Churches had been under close discussion.15 Amongst several hundred surviving pieces of Byzantine gold and silk Refer to, The Orthodox Liturgy, being the Divine Liturgies of St. John Chrysostom and St. Basil the Great, and the Divine Office of the Presanctified Gifts. (Oxford 1982). The works of Basil the Great, Bishop of Caesarea (c. 329–379) and of John Chrysostom, Bishop of Constantinople (398–404) are referenced in the O.D.B., 1, 269–270; and O.D.B., 2, 1057–1058 with reference to Clavis patrum graecorum (M. Geerard ed.) 1–5. Turnhout 1974–1983, 2 nos. 4305–5197, respectively. 14 G. Millet, La Dalmatique du Vatican. Paris 1945. 15 In 1248, the Nicaean Emperor John Vatatzes approached Pope innocent IV about the possible Union of Churches. See, L. Stiernon, ‘Le problème de l’union gréco-latine vue de Byzance. De Germain II à Joseph Ier (1232–1273), in: 1274. Année charnière: mutations et continuitiés. Paris 1977, 148–152. Earlier in 1234, a Papal mission had been sent to the Emperor John Vatatzes. See, H. Golubovich, ‘Disputatio Latinorem et Graecorum seu Relatio apocrisariorum Gregorii IX de gestis Nicaeae in Bithynia et Nymphaeae in Lydia 1234’, Archivum franciscanuno historicum 12 (1919) 436. Cf. J. Gill, Byzantium and the Papacy 1198–1400, New Brunswick 1976, 64–72, and J. Gill, Church Union: Rome and Byzantium (1204 –1453). London 1979. 13

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embroidery, apart from the theme of the Heavenly Liturgy,16 a number of iconographic types, especially stand out. One of these is the image of Christ as High Priest (Plates 31–33). Christ as heavenly High Priest Bishop Theodore of Mopsuestia (c. 350–428) wrote: ‘he carried out his priestly function when he died, rose and ascended into heaven, in order that all of us too might rise and ascend into heaven’ and ‘We must think of that man who stands now at the altar as an image (eikon) of that high priest. For he carries out, in a kind of image (eikon) the liturgy of this ineffable sacrifice’.17 The related concept of Emperor as High Priest has a long and complex history recently explored in depth by Dagron.18 The imagery of Christ as High Priest evidently had close political associations. The stress this image placed upon the authority of the Church as intercessor between God and his creation, bore upon the changing relationship of Church to State in general, as will be explored further later. The implication was that the Church might stand in place of the Emperor as intermediary between God and His people. Bishop, priest and deacon as perfect illuminators and purifiers Not surprisingly the vestiture of bishop, priest and deacon bore particular symbolism. Patriarch Germanos (d. 733) wrote the work entitled, History of the Church and Contemplation of the Mysteries, without reference to vestiture but later interpolations included in the Latin translation by Anastasius in 869–870 reveal the symbolism that had developed by the ninth century.19 By then it was clear that the bishop acted as a visible form 16 The earthly liturgy serves as an image of the Heavenly liturgy according to Theodore of Mopsuestia. See, Theodore of Mopsuestia. Homélies catéchetiques (R. Tonneau, R. Devreese ed.), (ST 145). Rome 1949, XV, 15, 20 on pages 485 and 497. 17 Ibid., XV, 23 on page 497. Cf. J. Betz, Die Eucharistie in der Zeit der greichischen Väter, 1/1, Die Aktual präsenz der Person und des Heilwerkes Jesu im Abendmahl. Freiburg 1955. 18 See G. Dagron, Emperor and Priest. The Imperial Office in Byzantium. Cambridge 2003. 19 For an English translation consult, St. Germanus of Constantinople. On the Divine Liturgy (P. Meyendorff transl.). New York 1984. Meyendorff used N. Borgia, Il commentario Liturgicodi S. Germano patriarca Constantinopolitano e versiona latina di Anastasio Bibliotecario. Studi Liturgici I. Grottaferrata 1912. Meyendorff considers the Migne text,

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of Christ. The priest acted as a mediator for Christ. Both required suitable vestments carrying appropriate imagery. Theodore of Studites (d. 826) explained, ‘The priestly garment corresponds first of all to the robe of Aaron that reached his feet.’ It was also blood-red in accordance with O.T. prophecy symbolising ‘the bloodsoaked garment of Christ’s flesh’. On occasion, the ‘priests image forth the seraphic powers by wearing garments that are covered as it were by wings’. The epimanikia represent the manicles of Christ worn when he was led before Caiaphas and Pilate. The epitrachelion is the rope around the neck of Christ. The Bishop’s omophorion, at this stage of wool, symbolises the strayed lamb whom the Good Shepherd took upon his shoulders. The imagery of the Lamb of God was enacted by the bishop ascending onto his throne.20 Symeon Bishop of Thessalonica (d. 1363) later also wrote extensively on the liturgical vestiture. The sticharion and orarion of the deacon were to be bright to symbolise the angels. The orarion represented the deacon’s wings. The priest had five vestments, sticharion, epitrachelion, girdle, epimanikia and phelonion, all symbolic of his role as mediator between God and Humanity.21 Amongst the extant embroideries of the Palaeologian era, the epitrachelia in particular, have portraits of the Church Fathers and Saints, or alternatively scenes of the twelve major feasts (Plate 34).22 In addition to the priest’s five vestments, the Bishop had two further vestments, the epigonation expressing virtue and strength, and the omophorion representing victory over Christ’s enemies.23 Amongst the surPG 98, 384–453, to be unreliable, see his discussion on pages 11–14. The Latin text was published by S. Petrides, ‘Traites liturgiques de Saint Maxine et de Saint Germain tranduits par Anastase le bibliothecaire’, Revue de l’ Orient Chrétien 10 (1905) 287–309. Also see, S. Petrides, ‘Traités liturgiques de sainte Maxime et de saint Germain’, Revue de l’Orient Chrétien 10 (1905) 287–313, 350–364 and esp. 293ff. 20 Discussed in, H. J. Schultz, Byzantine Liturgy. New York 1986, 70 with bibliographical references. 21 Refer to Symeon of Thessalonica, ‘Explanation of the House of God of the Functions exercised therein by priests, deacons, and bishops: of the sacred vestments which each of them wears, and the sacred Mystagogy, with the reason for each of its Divinely accomplished Rites’. PG 155, 687–749. 22 For examples of Palaeologian silks see, Patmos. Treasures of the Monastery (A. D. Kominis ed.). Athens 1988, 206, figures 8–9 and 212, figure 16. 23 On Byzantine vestments see, G. Millet, Broderies religieuses de style Byzantine. Paris 1947. For the history of such vestments read, T. Papas, Studien zur Geschichte der Messgewänder im byzantinischen Ritus. München 1965.

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viving silks a variety of scenes appear on these two vestments. The epigonation often has Anastasis or Resurrection or Transfiguration.24 The omophorion has scenes from the twelve great feasts, for example, Annunciation, Baptism, and Crucifixion.25 Thus, the vestments were an integral element of a liturgical re-enactment. In an Episcopal eucharistic liturgy the bishop, in an ordinary liturgy the priest, enacted the rituals that symbolised the sacrifice of Christ, and which through the action of the Holy Spirit rendered Christ present. This enabled the communicants to partake of the eschatology inherent in redemption and resurrection.26 The earthly and heavenly hierarchies All this took place within a clear symbolism; one of earthly and heavenly hierarchy and of legitimization of sacral space, most fully developed in Byzantium from the eleventh century onwards.27 The Church represented the cosmos with heaven symbolised in the bema and the earth mirrored in the nave.28 The Church was the throne room of God.29 The bema generally 24 On the resurrection see, A. Kartsonis, Anastasis. The Making of an Image. Princeton 1986. Cf. R. Gounelle, La Descente du Christ aux Enfers. Institutionalisation d’une croyance. Paris 2000. On the transfiguration consult, G. Habra, La Transfiguration selon les pères grecs. Paris 1974. Cf. H. J. Schultz, ‘Die Höllenfahrt als “Anastasis” ’, Zeitschrift für Katholische Theologie 8 (1959) 1–66. 25 See note 8 above for bibliography on the fests and half feasts. Also refer to, T. J. Talley, The Origins of the Liturgical Year. New York 1986, and E. Kislinger, ‘Reflections on the Feast Cycle in Byzantine Art’, Cahiers Archéologiques 36 (1988), 51–73. 26 For a study of the last things see the following: M. Jugie, ‘La doctrine des fins dernières dans l’Église gréco-russe’, Echos d’Orient 17 (1914–1915), 1–22, 209–228, 402–421; G. Müller, Apokatastasis panton: a bibliography. Basel 1969; G. Podskalsky, Byzantinische Reichseschatologie. Munich 1972 with further bibliography; B. E. Daley, ‘Apokatastasis and ‘honorable silence’ in the Eschatology of Maximus the Confessor’, in: Maximus Confessor. Fribourg 1982, 309–339. Also note, H. Petzold, ‘Die eschatologische Dimension der Liturgie in Schöpfung, Inkarnation und Mysterium pascale’, Kyrios, n.f. 12–13 (1972–1973) 67–95, and L. M. Clucas, ‘Eschatological Theory in Byzantine Hesychasm: a parallel to Joachim da Fiore?’, Byzantinische Zeitschrift 70 (1977) 324–346, both with further bibliography. 27 See, H. Maguire, ‘The Heavenly Court’, in: Byzantine Court Culture from 829–1204 (H. Maguire ed.). Washington 1997, 247–258. Also see,R. J. Mainstone, Haghia Sophia. Architecture, Structure and Liturgy of Justinian’s Great Church. London 1988. Earlier note, T. Mathews, The Early Churches of Constantinople: Architecture and Liturgy. University Park, Pa. 1971. 28 See, Mystagogy of Maximus Confessor, Mystagogia 8, PG 91:688. 29 Eusebius, Historia Ecclesiastica 10, 4: GCS 9: 862–883.

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figured the image of the Virgin, the medium for the salvation of mankind; a site of the incarnation, eventually of Bethlehem.30 It might also be the place where Christ is imaged enthroned with his twelve apostles, a scene foretelling the Second Coming.31 In some cases, scenes of the liturgy of the Church Fathers (Basil and John Chrysostom ministering at a heavenly liturgy) and of the Communion of the Apostles (scenes of Take eat and Take drink with Christ as High priest) also appeared there.32 Above where bema and nave met, in the dome, the image of the Pantocrator appeared surrounded by angels occupied in the Heavenly Liturgy, image of Second Coming and Ascension.33 The altar became the grave or table of the Last Supper; the ciborium the hill of Calvary (Plate 35).34 The imagery of liturgical silks echoed the liturgical bias of Church architectural and pictorial symbolism. Imagery of individual liturgical rituals Alongside the symbolic nature of individual architectural spaces, and even vessels (the censer was variously seen by some commentators as the womb of the Virgin or as representative of the Humanity of Christ; its fire as his divinity, and the sweet smelling incense as the fragrance of the Holy

30 For the general iconographical developments refer to, E. Giordani, ‘Das mittelbyzantinische Ausschmuckungs-system als Ausdruck einer hieratischen Bild programms’. Jahrbuch der Österreichischen byzantinischen Gesellschaft 1 (1951) 103–134. 31 On the second coming see, Cyril of Jerusalem, PG 33: 869–916, and discussion in V. Christe, La Vision de Matthieu (Matth. 24–25): origine et developpement d’un image de la seconde Parousie. Paris 1973. 32 J. D. Stefaˇnescu, L’Illustration des Liturgies dans l’art de Byzance et de L’Orient. Bruxelles 1936, 160ff. For the communion of the apostles (metalepsis kai metadosis ton Apostolon) and the Divine Liturgy (Theia Leitourgia) see, E. Dobbert, ‘Das Abendmahl Christi in der bildenden Kunst bis gegen den Schluss des 14. Jahrhunderts’, Repertorium für Kunstwissenschaft 14 (1891) 451–459. Cf. C. Walter, Art and Ritual of the Byzantine Church. London 1982, chapter 5.7, 184–189 and cf. chapter 5.12, 215–217. Also see note 37 below. 33 See note 31 above and for the ascension see, E. T. Dewald, ‘The Iconography of the Ascension’, American Journal of Archaeology 19 (1915) 277–319, and J. Danielou, ‘Gregoire de Nysee et l’origine de la fête de l’Ascension’, in: Kyriakon: Festschrift Johannes Quasten, 2. Munster 1970, 663–666. 34 For the crucifixion and entombment of Christ consult, D. I. Pallas, Passion und Bestattung Christi in Byzanz. Der Ritus-Das Bild. Miscellanea Byzantina Monacensia, 2, Munich 1965. Earlier see, L. H. Grondijs, L’iconographie Byzantine du Crucifié mort sur la croix. Leiden 1941, 1947. On the ciborium see, D. I. Pallas, ‘Le Ciborium hexagonal de Saint Démétrios de Thessalonique’, Zograf 10 (1979) 44–58.

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Spirit), individual rites became linked to individual stages in the salvation making earthly life of Christ.35 This is already reflected by the early twelfth century in the imagery of liturgical psalters, where liturgical text and liturgical image appear side by side.36 Imagery on the embroideries too, similarly, was linked to liturgical text. The rites of the Prothesis (preparation of the gifts) for instance, could be imaged by the Annunciation scene and the Heavenly Liturgy.37 The Transfer of the gifts and the Great Entrance procession, when the sacrament was carried to the altar, were pictured via the image of Christ as High Priest.38 The Words of Institution (Take eat and On the symbolism of censers see, Walter, Art and Ritual, 138–144, 146–152. On incense note the paper of, B. Caseau, ‘Incense and Fragrances from House to Church. A study of the introduction of incense in the Early Byzantine Churches’, in: Proceedings of the Conference, Material Culture and Well-Being in Byzantium (Cambridge University, 8–10 September, 2001 (conference organiser A. Muthesius; proceedings editors M. Grünbart, E. Kislinger, A. Muthesius, D. Stathakopoulos) Vienna 2007, 75–91. On the subject of Christology within popular religion see, G. Babic´, Les discussions christologiques et le décor des églises Byzantines au XIIe siècle. Les évêches officiant devant l’Hétimasie et devant l’Amnos’, Frühmittelalterliche Studien 2 (1968) 368–386. On the links between events of Christ’s life and liturgical rites see, Schultz, Byzantine Liturgy, chapter 5, sections 1 and 2, pages 77–101. 36 For liturgical psalters consult, K. A. Corrigan, The Ninth Century Byzantine Marginal Psalters. Ph.D. dissertation, University of California, Los Angeles 1984. A. Cutler, The Aristocratic Psalters in Byzantium. Paris 1984. Also see, M. J. Rondeau, Les Commentaires patristiques du Psautier, 1–2. Rome 1982–1985. Further, see, G. Dorival, ‘Aperçu sur l’histoire des chaînes exégétiques grecques sur le psautier’. Studia Patristica 15 (1984) 146–169, and M. Simonetti, ‘La tecnica esegetica di Teodoreto nel Commento ai Salmi’, Vetera Christianorum 23 (1986) 81–116. In addition see, K. Weitzmann, Byzantine Liturgical Psalters and Gospels. London 1980 reprint. 37 A variety of iconographical types appear. Refer to M. Altripp, Die Prothesis und ihre Bildausstattung in Byzanz unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der Denkmäler Griechenlands. Ph.D. thesis, Mainz 1996. Published in Studien und Texte zur Byzantinistik, 4, (P. Schreiner ed.). Frankfurt am Main 1998 with bibliography on 267–299. Also relevant are the following: G. Heil, Pseudo-Dionysius Areopagita über die himmlische Hierarchie. Über die kirchliche Hierarchie. Stuttgart 1986; H. U. von Balthasar, Kosmische Liturgie. Das Weltbild Maximus des Bekenners. Einsiedeln 1961; K. Gamber, Über die Göttliche Mystagogie, Regensburg 1984, and by the same author see, Heilige Zeiten, Heiliger Raum. Regensburg 1989, 69–82; J. E. Klentes, Byzantine Liturgy in twelfth century Constantinople: An analysis of the Synaxarion of the monastery of the Theotokus Evergitis (Athens National Library 788). Ann Arbor 1995; S. Dufreene, ‘Images du décor de la prothèse’, Revue des études Byzantines 26 (1968) 297–310; O. Barlea, ‘La proscomidie. L’offrande dans le rite byzantin, son écho sur la communion’, in: Acta Philosophica et Theologica II, Rom 1964, 11–66; J. M. Spieser, ‘Liturgie et programmes iconographiques’, Travaux et Mémoires 11 (1991) 575–590. 38 See reference in note 18 above. 35

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Take drink) were mirrored in the image of the Communion of the Apostles.39 The eucharistic prayer or Anamnesis was rendered visible through the scene of the Baptism of Christ.40 The Epiclesis or calling down of the Holy Spirit found pictorial representation in the scene of the Hospitality of Abraham.41 The fraction of the Bread and the Commingling or mixing of wine and warm water expressed in the rite of the Zeon, as well as the Communion itself, were symbolised through the image of the Koimesis of the Virgin (Plate 36).42 The images of Gethsemane and of the Crucifixion expressed the essence of the last prayers.43 Only by recognition of these ritual liturgical analogies, do the images of the precious vestments and cloths of the Orthodox faith come alive. Maturity of new mystic forms under the Palaeologian Dynasty A considerable body of thought had been built up concerning the use of precious liturgical cloths, by the time of the Palaeologian era. Before considering the a-historical imagery and the religious speculation and mysticism of Palaeologian imagery itself, it is instructive to turn to some of the liturgical commentary. John Chrysostom wrote, ‘Thus we believe that Christ lies on the altar as though in the tomb and has already completed his suffering. For that reason the deacons who spread the linens on the altar

See note 32 above. For the rite of baptism see, M. Arranz, ‘Évolution des rites d’incorporation et de réadmission dans L’Église selon l’Euchologe byzantin’, Gestes et paroles dans les diverses familles liturgiques. Rome 1978, 31–75, esp. 53–66. C. Walter, Art and Ritual, chapter 4, section 3, 125–130 and cf. C. Walter, ‘Baptism in Byzantine Iconography’, Sobornost 2 (1980) 8–25. 41 On the ‘Epiclesis’ see, J. H. Mc Kenna, Eucharist and Holy Spirit. Essex 1975, 29–82. For detailed discussions see, R. F. Taft, Divine Liturgies–Human Problems in Byzantium, Armenia, Syria and Palestine. London 2001, chapters 4 and 5 and esp. 6, 204–210, 213–218, 225 with bibliography. For general discussion refer to Schulz, Byzantine Liturgy, 12–15. 42 Schultz, Byzantine Liturgy, 39ff., for the ‘Zeon’ or infusion of hot water to the chalice at the Eucharist. Cf. Taft, ‘Water into Wine’, Museen 100 (1987) 323–342. For the koimesis of the Virgin consult, M. van Esbroeck, Aux origins de la Dormition de la Vierge. London 1995, esp. chapters 1 and 10. Also see A. Wenger, L’Assomption de la Vierge dans la tradition Byzantine du VIe au Xe siècle. Paris 1955; I. Zervou Tognazzi, ‘L’iconografia della koimisis della Santa Vergine, specchio del pensiero teologico dei Padri bizantini’, Studi recherché sull’ Oriente cristiano 8 (1985) 21–46, 69–90. 43 L. H. Grondijs, L’iconographie Byzantine du Crucifié mort sur la croix. Leiden 1947. Later see, R. Haussherr, ‘Der tote Christus am Kreuz: zur Ikonographie des Gerokreuzes.’ Ph.D. thesis, Rheinische Friedrich-Wilhelms Universität, Bonn 1963, 125–142. 39 40

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provide an image of the burial cloths’. The linen represents the liturgical service of Joseph of Arimathea, who wrapped the body of Christ in linen.44 Patriarch Germanus (d. 733) indicated that the aer in particular actuated the symbolism of the Resurrection at the eucharistic liturgy. Schultz reports, ‘Some time after the gifts have been deposited on the altar, the deacon raises aloft the aer (veil) which previously enclosed the gifts as in a tomb, and with triple exclamation the resurrection that took place on the Third Day is signified.’45 Nicholas and Theodore of Andida (active eleventh century) in their ‘Summary meditation on the symbols and mysteries accomplished in the Divine liturgy’, or ‘Protheoria’, write: ‘the closing of the doors, the drawing of the curtain hung before them, as is customary in monasteries, and the covering of the divine gifts with the so-called aer signifies it seems to me, the night in which the disciple betrayed Jesus . . . For why should this veil be called ‘aer’ that is ‘misty air’ if not because it represents the darkness of that night? The removal of the aer and the opening of the curtain and the door are an image of the morning when they led Christ away and handed him over to Pilate.’46 Symeon of Thessalonica (d. 1429) in his Collection and Canonisation of Symbolic Interpretative Motifs writes: ‘The transfer and entrance of the venerable gifts is marked by splendour . . . and renders visible the return of Christ when he shall come in glory. For this reason the pallium embroidered with the cross also comes at the head of the procession, just as the sign of Jesus will appear in heaven and Jesus will receive himself. Next come the deacons who take the place of the angels. Then come those who carry the sacred gifts, and after them everyone else, including those who carry the holy veil above their heads, thus symbolizing the naked and dead Christ’ (Plates 37–38).47 It is clear that the veils variously represent the firmament, the swaddling clothes and the grave clothes of Hom. Cat. 15, 26 (Tonn-Devreesse 505). Schultz, Byzantine Liturgy, 72–73. 46 PG 140: 417–468, esp. 445BC. 47 PG 155: 687–749, esp. 728AB. 44 45

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Christ. In churches, angels of the heavenly liturgy were pictured mirroring these earthly ritual practices. Symeon explains that after the particles have been offered, then the priest, ‘takes the veil, which together with the other veils signifies the swaddling clothes, and says the words of the Psalm ‘The Lord is King’ (Psalm 92) which announce the Incarnation. Then he covers the discos and the chalice. Finally, having incensed, he places over discos and chalice the aer, which symbolises both the firmament in which the stars shone and the grave cloth. For this reason the aer goes several times around the annointed dead Jesus and is called the epitaphios. As clearly as though written on a tablet it teaches the whole mystery . . .’48 The epitaphios was indeed an important liturgical embroidered cloth.49 It was used on Good Friday and its pictorial history well echoes the different stages of the development of the Byzantine liturgy The increasing realism and expression of emotion are found with the addition of lamenting angels and members of the Holy family on these magnificent textiles and in the development of the Melismos or foretelling of the sacrifice of the Christ Child iconography (Plate 39).50 The suffering and death of Christ are highPG 155: 253–304, esp. 285D. See, Millet, Broderies religieuses, 86–109, plates 176–216 and idem., ‘L’epitaphios: l’image’. Comptes rendus des séances de l’Académie des inscriptions et belles-lettres (1942) 408–419. Johnstone, Byzantine Embroidery, 117–128, plates 93–120. On the Thessaloniki epitaphios see, L. Bouras, ‘The Epitaphios of Thessaloniki, Byzantine Museum of Athens no. 685’, in: ‘L’art de Thessalonique et des pays balkaniques et les courants spirituals au XIVe siècle. Belgrade 1987, 211–231. Cf. by the present author, ‘The Thessaloniki Epitaphios: a technical examination’, in: A. Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, chapter 11, 175–206 with notes 1, 4, 16, 24, 29, 55, 66–67 and 77 for further bibliography including a reference to, S. Cˇurcˇic´, ‘Late Byzantine Loca Sancta? Some questions regarding the form and function of Epitaphioi’, in: The Twilight of Byzantium (S. Cˇurcˇic´, D. Mouriki ed.). Princeton, New Jersey 1991, 251–261, plates 1–16. Cˇurcˇic´ argued that epitaphioi with commemorative inscriptions may have been displayed upon patrons’ tombs and not have been simply stored and used only once a year. However, the author has noted that the storage of epitaphioi is the norm in monasteries such as St. John, Patmos and St. Catherine, Sinai. 50 For the ‘Melismos’ see, R. F. Taft, Melismos and Comminuition. The Fraction and its symbolism in the Byzantine tradition, in: Traditio et progressio. Studi liturgici in onore de Prof. Adrien Nocent OSB (G. Farnedied) Analecta liturgica 12 = Studia Anselmiana 95 (Rome 1988) 531–552. Also see, M. Garidis, ‘Approche realiste dans la représentation du Mélismos’. Jahrbuch der Österreichischen byzantinistik 32/5 (1982) 495–502. Also note, C. Constantinidi, Ο Μελισµς Parousia 9 (1993) 480. 48 49

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lighted in keeping with the commentary of 1361 of Nicholas Cabasilas (d. after 1363), the nephew of Nilus Archbishop of Thessaloniki and close friend of the Palaeologian Emperor John Cantacuzenos (1347–1354).51 Nicholas Cabasilas emphasised that it was the suffering and death of Christ and not his miracles, which were significant to human redemption. This close connection between Imperial house and liturgical commentator reflects upon the continuing relationship of sacral to temporal concerns in Byzantium. This process of politicization and commercialization of liturgical imagery, into a ‘sign language’ has endured into Post Byzantine and NeoHellenic times. Certainly, the process of politicization of precious gold and silk embroidery and its liturgical imagery, had begun under Justinian with the altar cloth of Haghia Sophia.52 With this Imperial church of the Holy Wisdom Justinian gave expression to the heavenly dimension of the liturgy. Its enormous spherical dome was seen as ‘suspended from heaven by a golden chain’.53 The Church stood as political symbol par excellence, of God’s guarantee of protection to the Empire. Its great internal spaces with metal braces pierced for silken hangings, could only have been divided into manageable liturgical spaces through the use of textile hangings.54 Maximus Confessor (d. 662), much earlier, had already pronounced the liturgy at Haghia Sophia55 as imitative or even as a direct participation in an angelic heavenly liturgy.56 Light flooded Haghia Sophia, to enable the visitor’s thoughts to be carried aloft to God. The light itself, a form of NeoCabasilas, Ερµενεα τς θεας λειτουγας, PG 150: 367–492. Cf. Nicolas Cabasilas, Explication de la Divine Liturgie (S. Salaville transl.) Paris second edition, 1967. Also note, Nicholas Cabasilas, A Commentary on the Divine Liturgy (J. M. Hussey, P. A. McNulty ed.). London 1960. 52 See above, chapter 1, note 14. 53 This analogy is drawn from the Iliad of Homer, VIII, 19, as pointed out by C. Mango, The Art of the Byzantine Empire 312–1453. New Jersey 1972, 75 and note 98. 54 Personal observation by Van Nice made to the present author. See, R. L. Van Nice, St. Sophia in Istanbul: An architectural survey. Washington 1965–1986. earlier cf. Mainstone, Haghia Sophia. 55 Refer to, Taft, Liturgy in Byzantium and Beyond. Aldershot 1995, section 1, chapters 1–2 for the liturgy at Haghia Sophia. By the same author see also, Divine Liturgies — Human problems in Byzantium, Armenia, Syria, Palestine. Aldershot 2001, section 3, chapter 7–8. 56 See, Schulz, Byzantine Liturgy, chapter 3, with reference to Mystagogia 8–24, PG 91: 688–704. For further literature consult O. D. B., 2, Oxford 1991, 1323–1324, and note 66 below. 51

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Platonic Christian symbol, imaged the descent of enlightened grace: the Holy Spirit active in a supra-temporal ambient.57 The Byzantine Emperors as rulers exercising ‘Divine Right’, inevitably had to consider their relationship to divine ritual. Indeed, special liturgical hymns, not least the Cherubikon, were developed under Justinian, as was the rite of the Great Entrance.58 Time does not allow for detailed consideration of the relationship between Church and State in Byzantium, but in general one notes the growing influence of both Bishops and of monasteries in the period before the Latin conquest of 1204.59 The Latin occupation 1204–1261 affected the confidence of Byzantine Emperors to act as protectors of Orthodoxy, and it has been argued that then Orthodoxy came to act as protector of Imperial authority.60 By the time of the restoration of the Byzantine Empire in 1261, it was inevitable that the relationship of Church to State had changed. One new form of alliance between Orthodox faith and Imperial stability was reflected in the type of precious embroidered diplomatic gifts sent abroad by the Byzantine court. Take for example, the Vatican dalmatic already described, and later, the Greater saccos of the Metropolitan Photius of Moscow, datable 1414–1415 This saccos bears the portrait of the Imperial donors John VIII Palaeologus and Anna.61 The images on the saccos make every possible reference to the tenets of Orthodox faith, incorporating the symbolism described in detail. The sheer extravagance of costly materials involved, mirrors the power and temporal might of the Palaeologian Imperial house. Earlier the Imperial gift of many an elaborate epitaphios to individual monasteries of Mount Athos, made by the Palaeolgian Emperor Andronicus and his successors, again reflected a carePodskalsky, Theologie und Philosophie section B, chapter 4, and section C, chapter 2. On the Holy Spirit and light consult, J. Meyendorff, Byzantine Theology, historical trends and doctrinal themes. New York 1983 edition, chapter 13, 168–179, esp. 172. 58 Schulz, Byzantine Liturgy, 33ff. 59 The power of bishops is examined in, C. Walter, Art and Ritual of the Byzantine Church. London 1982. 60 On the subject of the relation of the terrestrial to the heavenly court see, H. Maguire, ‘The Heavenly Court’, in: Byzantine Court Culture, 247–258. On the subject of the changing balance of power between Church and State see, D. J. Geanakoplos, Byzantium. Church, Society and Civilization seen through Contemporary Eyes. Chicago 1984, section B, number 95–106 on pages 131–144. 61 Medieval Pictorial Embroidery. Byzantium, Balkans, Russia. Moscow exhibition, 8–15th August, 1991, 44–51, cat. no. 10, with donor portraits on plate of page 49. 57

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fully allied lavish, and costly Imperial patronage; perhaps the ‘ultimate’ in the proclamation of Orthodox faith.62 As liturgical imagery increasingly came to form an obligatory part of the declaration of Orthodoxy, the demand for precious embroidered cloths multiplied. The initial monastic production centres of Athos, the Meteora and so on, and the more lavish Imperial embroidery workshops, were to be supplemented by commercial workshops and professional embroiderers.63 This became particularly true after the fall of the Byzantine Empire to the Turks in 1453 and following the Diasphora of later centuries. By the eighteenth century, in particular, very fine embroideries indeed were being produced in the traditional manner by commercial embroidery specialists centred in Constantinople (Plates 40–41).64 The secularization of manufacture which boosted production, allowed for further standardization of imagery and for a ‘sign language’ of Orthodox imagery to become widely dispersed.65 Conclusion In answer to the questions posed at the beginning of this paper, one can say that the precious embroidered cloths of the Byzantine Orthodox Faith, came to act as a means of emphasis of the ‘real presence of Christ’ after the consecration of the species. Against the Iconoclastic claim that Divine images could not be portrayed, ritual imagery acted as medium for imaging not only the Divine but also for the invoking of the parallel ‘real presence’ of the Divine. Furthermore, the doctrine of the indivisible Trinity demonstrated the hypostatic union of Christ with God and the Holy Spirit.66 This For example, see the Thessaloniki epitaphios as discussed by the present author in: A. Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, chapter 11, 175–206, with plates 42–51. This epitaphios in conjunction with others is discussed on 190–193, and on 204 in notes 61–67 relevant bibliographical references are provided. 63 Johnstone, Byzantine Tradition, chapter 7, on ‘Workers and Workrooms’. 64 See for instance, E. Vlachopoulou-Karabina, Holy Monastery of Iveron, gold embroideries. Mount Athos 1998, where a variety of workshops are discussed. References to works by Theocharis (1956–1994), Drandakis (1967), Hatzimichali (1956), Millet (1947), Nasturel (1972–1973), Tafrali (1925) and Zographou-Korrel (1985), appear on pages 137–139. 65 See chapter 15 below, of the present book. 66 For the Trinity see, O. D. B., 3, Oxford 1991, 2116–2118, with bibliography. Also consult, H. U. von Balthasar, Kosmische Liturgie. Das Weltbild der Maximus des Bekenners, 2, Einsiedeln 1961. Cf. Podskalsky, Theologie und Philosophie, index on page 258, see under ‘Trinitat’. For the Post Byzantine period see, G. Podskalsky Griechische Theologie in der Zeit der Türkenherrschaft 1453–1821. München 1988, index on page 428, see under ‘Trinitat’. 62

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pointed to the possibility of the union of ordinary human beings to God, a doctrine which was to find full expression in Hesychaism, the Palamite theology of the Palaeologian period, and which has coloured the imagery of the Orthodox precious liturgical cloths of that time right up to the present.67 The possibility of ordinary human hypostatic union with God could only have become acceptable to an originally Theocentric Imperial Byzantine court, after the relationship between Church and State had radically altered (between the time of Justinian and the period of the Palaelogian Emperors). No longer did the Emperor stand as mediator between God and Man. Instead the Orthodox Faith, as expressed through the liturgical ritual of the Church, acted as intermediary between God and Humankind. The process of ritual, liturgical, salvation granting re-enactment, was firmly in the hands of the Church. At the same time Orthodoxy increasingly became a focus of political stability for the Empire not least as consistently expressed in the celebration of the Feast of Orthodoxy. After the fall of the Empire in 1453 and after the Diasphora, the precious embroidered cloths bearing poignant liturgical imagery as symbol of Orthodox faith, represented a stable ‘sign language.’ It was then only a short step from ‘expression of Orthodox faith’ to ‘proclamation of National identity’ through these precious cloths: a tendency which continues from Post Byzantine times right up to the present day.69 Thus, for example, when the community of Greeks fled Asia Minor in 1922, it was a silk embroidered icon of John the Baptist that they carried to Greece (now in the Byzantine museum). During the aftermath of the Athens earthquake of 7 September 1999, it was the silken relics of St. Raphael that the elaborately silk and gold vested Archbishop Chysostom of Athens carried to the churches of the devastated regions of the capital. The silken, gilt-embroidered symbolism of Orthodoxy lives on.

67 The most detailed treatment of the work of Palamas, in particular in relation to Trinitarian and other key Orthodox doctrines is in, K. Garitsis, Μετδοσις Θεανθρπου Σµατος Die Dynamik der trinitarischen Vergöttlichung des Menschen im Rahmen der Gegenseitigkeit von Christologie und Pneumatologie bei Gregor Palamas. Ph.D. thesis, Universität Bern 1996.

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Silk as Fabric of Monastic Life: Silks at Patmos and Sinai Introduction

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HE monasteries of St. John on Patmos1 and of St. Catherine’s on Sinai2 represent two bastions of Orthodoxy famous the world over. Although over many years, splendid publications have appeared covering various aspects of the cultural and religious heritage enshrined in these monasteries, only very tiny samples of their respective, very large, textile collections have been studied and published.3 In my paper today I am concentrating principally on the Patmos silks. Two questions will be explored: How far did the acquisition of precious cloths reflect upon the The documentation associated with the foundation and the operation of the monastery of St. John, Patmos is extensive. It is published in Byzantina engrapha tes mones Patmou, (E. L. Vranouse, M. Nystazopoulou-Pelekidou eds.), Athens 1980. 2 The archive materials of St. Catherine’s monastery, Sinai remain unpublished on the whole. For background information consult K. Amantos, Syntomes historia tes hieras mones tou Sina. Thessalonike 1953, and M. Labib, Pèlerins et voyageurs au Mont Sinai. Paris 1961. 3 A number of the Patmos silks were inadequately published in G. Jacopi, Clara Rhodes. Studi e materiali pubblicatia a cura dell’ Istituto storico-archeologico di Rodi, 6–8 part 1, (1932), with figures 11–92. The figures are mis-numbered in part and there are no technical details of the pieces included in this article. A small number of silks were briefly described in M. Theocharis, Patmos. Treasures of the Monastery. Athens 1988, 185–200 with plates 1–28. A number of Sinai silks were published in M. Theocharis, Sinai. Treasures of the Monastery of St. Catherine (K. A. Manafis ed.) Athens 1990, 231–242 with plates 1–25. 1

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broader everyday concerns of the monastery of St. John on Patmos? and What do both the Patmos and the Sinai textiles reveal about the role of Orthodox monasticism in the development of Byzantine cultural identity? A division into themes My enquiry is divided into three distinct, though closely inter-related parts. These view the acquisition of silks successively as: 1. Signs of Imperial patronage, and as indicative of the relationship between Church and State; 2. Signs of theological debate and instrument for underpinning Orthodox belief; and 3. Element of an economic phenomenon within broader landowning and sea-trading monastic agendas. Precious cloths in relation to Imperial patronage Turning first to the subject of precious cloths in relation to Imperial patronage, I will look briefly at the documentary sources and then turn to the surviving silks. Initially one may remark that political patronage of Byzantine monasticism had a long history.4 The establishment of St. Catherine’s monastery by Justinian in the sixth century bears witness to this, and it set a precedent for later, lavish, Imperial monastic patronage on Athos and elsewhere.5 The foundation of the monastery of St. John’s on Patmos, formed part Imperial patronage is evident in the Imperial privileges documentation recorded for the monasteries. A summary of these privileges is published in R. Morris, Monks and laymen in Byzantium 843–1118. Cambridge 1995, see chart on pages 296–297. The author examines the question of Imperial patronage from the time of Basil I to Alexios Komnenos (c. 900–1118). Imperial privileges across a broader dating period are recorded in F. Dölger, Regesten der Kaiserurkunden des oströmischen Reiches von 565–1453, I–III, München, Berlin 1924, 1925, 1932. Further, see note 17 below. 5 The names of both Emperor Justinian and Theodora are recorded on the wooden roof beams of the monastic church at St. Catherine’s monastery, Sinai. See, Sinai. Treasures of the Monastery, 29–39, esp. 36–39, esp. 36–38 and U. Dahari, Monastic Settlements in South Sinai in the Byzantine Period. The archaeological remains. Israel Antiquities Authority. Jerusalem 2000, site 20, pages 54–64, esp. 59–61, ‘The Church’ of the monastery of St. Catherine, Sinai. 4

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of a monastic revival under Imperial patronage, which blossomed in the second half of the eleventh century.6 It was the Emperor Alexius I (1081–1118) who was a patron of Holy men: not only of St. Christodoulos on Patmos; but also of Saints Meletios and Cyril Philotheos, and of Bishop Manuel at Stroumitsa in Macedonia.7 Essentially one may say, Alexius ‘exchanged’ material patronage for spiritual protection. It was part of a dynastic policy: Anna Dalassena; Empress Eirene; Adrian and Zoe, all members of Alexius’s family, between them founded or reconstructed no less than four major monasteries and one nunnery.8 Alexius’s Commanderin-Chief, the Grand Domestic Gregory Pakourianos (d. c. 1086), also acted as spiritual patron, founding a private house.9 Monastic patronage characteristically called for presentation of silk vestIt is necessary to recognise the changes across Byzantine culture, which were taking place in the eleventh to twelfth centuries, in order to appreciate the circumstances under which the monastery was founded. See, A. P. Kazhdan, A. Wharton Epstein, Change in Byzantine Culture in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries. London 1985, and especially read, ‘Image of the Ideal ruler’, on pages 110–116. The theological controversies of the second half of the eleventh century also played a part. Consult, Change in Byzantine Culture, ‘Imitations of Rationalism: Theology and Ideology’ on 158–163, and S. Salaville, Philosophie et théologie ou épisodes scholastiques à Byzance de 1059–1117, Échos d’Orient 29 (1930) 132–156. Also, see J. Gouillard, Le Synodicon de l’Orthodoxie, Travaux et Mémoires 2 (1967) 57–61, 188–206. 7 The Emperor Alexius I was alarmed about the state of the Church. See P. Gautier, ‘L’édit d Alexis I Comnène sur le réforme du clergé, Revue des Études Byzantines 31 (1973) 165–201. Further consult M. Angold, Church and Society in Byzantium under the Comneni 1081–1261, Cambridge 1995, especially ‘Alexius I Comnenus and the Church’ on pages 45–72. There the alliance of Alexius I with the Patriarchal clergy is discussed. Alexius I acted as a guardian of the Church and of the Orthodox faith and as a patron of St. John’s monastery, Patmos. See P. Magdalino, The Empire of Manuel I Komnenos 1143–1180. Cambridge 1993, 271 and note 152, 304 and note 276. 8 On the subject of the lay administration of monasteries, see Angold, Church and Society, ‘Kharistike’ on pages 63–69 and notes 66–67, 74 and 89. In 1081, Adian, brother of Emperor Alexius I was granted the state taxes of Kassandra, and at that time the Emperor issued a chrysobull of reassurance to the Lavra monastery of Athos concerning their own tenure position. 9 For Symabtios and his wife Kale Pakourianos see, Actes d’Ivirôn, (J. Lefort, N. Oikonomides, D. Papachryssanthou eds.), Archives de l’Athos, 1–2, 1985, 1990, 2 nos. 44 and 47. Also see P. Gautier, Le typikon du Sébaste Grégoire Pakourianos, Revue des études Byzantines 42 (1984) 5–145, and A. Chanidze, Le grand domestique de l’Occident, Gregorii Bakurianisndzé et le monastère géorgien fondé par lui en Bulgarie, Bedi Kartlisa 28 (1971) 133–166. In addition, A. Muthesius, ‘Courtly and aristocratic silk patronage’, in: Silk in Byzantium. London 2004, chapter 5, pages 97–98 and notes 77–80. 6

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ments/cloths as well as of precious gold and silver furnishings. For example, Michael I (811–813) donated very rich silk altar cloths to the monastery of the Virgin of Pity in Macedonia, on his accession to the Imperial throne.10 These Theophanes described as ‘stuffs encrusted with precious stones, including ancient worked covers woven from gold and purple and adorned with marvelous holy icons’.11 Gregory Pacourianos in 1083 donated to his foundation, an altar cloth of white silk with a portrait of the Virgin in pearl embroidery, and three pure silk omophoria.12 His testament also detailed four purple epilorika, one with gold, and blattia and skaramangia of great value.13 Other eleventhcentury members of the military aristocracy, including the Hypatos Eustathios Boilas and the Kouropalattes Symbatius Pacourianos, received precious Imperial purples, termed ‘Basilika imatia’.14 These subsequently were willed to their private religious foundations. The Diataxis of the Imperial bureaucrat Michael Attaliates, includes a description of no less a splendid silk than a bi-cephal griffin-lion fabric.15 The fact that Christodoulos and his successors also received lavish silken patronage in the early troubled years after the foundation of the monastery of St. John in 1088, is clear from references in the monastic inventory of A.D.1200.16 The older precious cloths described included five covers for the celebration of the eucharist, and one old omophorion, and silk podeia and silk liturgical vestments were also detailed. Imperial patronage in the early centuries of the monastery extended to both silks and cultural artifacts for use in the katholikon, and to material

10 Theophanis chronographia (de Boor ed.) 1–2, Leipzig, 1883, 1885, reprinted Hildesheim 1963, 494. 11 The Chronicle of Theophanes (English transl. H. Turtledove) Philadelphia 1982, 174. 12 L. Petit, Typikon de Grégoire Pacourianos pour le monastère de Pétritzes (Backovo) en Bulgarie, Vizantijskij Vremmenik 53 (1904) 53, lines 26–27 and lines 27–29. 13 Ibid., 53, lines 20–23. Cf. Gautier, Typikon, 122–123. 14 See P. Lemerle, Cinq études sur le XIe siècle byzantin. Paris 1977, 13–63, esp. 15ff. An English translation was published by S. Vryonis, ‘The will of the provincial magnate, Eustathius Boilas (1059)’, Dumbarton Oaks Papers 11 (1957) 263–277. 15 Lemerle, Cinq études, 65–112. P. Gautier, ‘La Diataxis de Michel Attaliate’, Revue des études Byzantines 39 (1981) 5–143. 16 C. Astruc, L’Inventaire dressé en Septembre 1200 du Trésor et de la Bibliothèque de Patmos’, Trauvaux et Mémoires 8 (1981) 15ff.

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grants (boats together with specific tax exemptions, grain allowances, later converted into monetary grants, and gifts of land).17 From 1133 onwards, the monastery of St. John’s gained the title of ‘stauroplegial’ foundation.18 This offered protection from encroachment of secular landlords into the neighborhood lands of metochioi, which had been granted to the monastery. It also protected against interference from nearby island Bishops. At the same time the monastery must have served as a useful strategic look-out post in the south east Aegean, although unlike Ochrid under Archbishop Theophylact, it was not garrisoned.19 In time, Patmos also came to serve as stopping off point for the Latin Crusader States. The evidence of the silks Turning now to the evidence of the surviving silks at St. John’s monastery on Patmos, which number more than a five hundred pieces, it is clear that the collection ranges from the fifteenth century up to the present date. Each period has its representative textile selection. First there is the magnificent Palaeologian epitrachelion with Church Father portraits, representative of Imperial patronage. Another epitrachelion of Palaeologian date boasts a profusion of festal scenes and a bicephalous eagle motif end panel (Plates 42–43).20 Then there are the imported Latin silks acquired during times of Latin domination.21 Turkish domination too is evident in the rich array of Ottoman silks and embroideries housed in the treasury.22 Imperial patronage at Patmos as at other monasteries was partly directed towards the economic stability of the monastery. See A. Harvey, ‘The monastic economy and imperial patronage from the tenth to the twelfth century’, in: Mount Athos and Byzantine Monasticism (A. Bryer, M. Cunningham eds.). Aldershot 1996, 91–111. For specific Imperial grants to the monastery of St. John, Patmos, see the extensive documentation in Byzantina engrapha, I, Athens 1980. 18 For a definition of this term see, Oxford Dictionary of Byzantium, Oxford 1991, 1946–1947. 19 The island of Patmos had the potential to serve as a strategic base for the Byzantine fleet. 20 Patmos Treasures, 206 and plates 8–9, 207 and plate 10. 21 These textiles are unpublished. They will form part of the forthcoming publication on the silk treasures of the monastery under publication by the present author. 22 Turkish influence in the form of Ottoman sovereignty was present from the fourteenth century onwards. The monastery was recognised as self-governing under its abbot. The island was surrendered to the Turks peacefully after the fall of Constantinople to the Ottoman Turks in 1453. 17

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Some of the Ottoman foliate silks, not only at St. John’s monastery but also at Sinai, are almost identical to silks used for the silk wardrobes of the Turkish Sultans, which today survive in the Topkapi Museum of Istanbul (Plates 44–45).23 The Russian Imperial house too, is represented at both monasteries. One vestment at St. John’s incorporates a Russian Tzar portrait as a polos.24 The Russian shawl of an Empress is also housed there.25 Both St. John’s and Sinai have silver brocade Russian vestments and purple silk Russian headscarves of the eighteenth century. Catherine the Great, not only donated the Iconostasis at St. John’s, but she also harbored ambitions to re-establish a second Russo-Byzantine Empire based in Constantinople.26 The later Russian silken gifts almost try to echo the splendor of Palaeolgian silken monastic patronage. One should not forget that the Russian ruling house would have known well the still surviving, magnificent earlier Palaeologian embroidered Imperial sakkos, sent to Photius, Metropolit of Moscow in 1414–1417, by Manuel II Palaiologos.27 Similarly, the later gifts of Michael Soutsos, Prince of Wallachia, 1784–87, (metalwork as well as textiles) to St. John’s Patmos, belong to the same category of courtly patronage.28

Some of these unpublished silks are comparable to pieces at the Topkapi museum Istanbul. For examples of some of the Turkish silks woven first at Bursa and later at Istanbul, see J. M. Rogers, H. Tezcan, S. Delibes, Topkapi, Costumes, Embroideries and other Textiles, London, passim. More recently see, N. Atasoy, W.B. Denny, L. W. Mackie, H. Tezcan, I. Pek, The Crescent and the Rose. Imperial Ottoman Silks and Velvets. London 2001, 225–226, figs. 104–105, and fig. 288. For Ottoman embroideries consult, R. Taylor, Ottoman Embroidery. Hong Kong 1993. The Patmos and Sinai examples have been catalogued by the present author and are under publication in two forthcoming books by the present author on the silk treasuries of St. John, Patmos and of St. Catherine, Sinai, respectively. 24 Previously unpublished but included in the forthcoming publications by the present author. See note 23 above. 25 This is of wool and also under publication by the present author. See note 23 above. 26 Russian-Greek relations were close by the late eighteenth century. See A. Vakalopoulos, ‘Στροφ τ ν Ελληνων πρς τος Ρσους, Iστορα το Σλληνικο  θνους’, Athens 1970–1980, IIA, 58–96. Russian pilgrimage to Greek Orthodox monasteries was a regular feature from early times. The Russian Imperial house provided financial assistance at different periods from 1368 onwards. 27 See, Medieval Pictorial Embroidery. Byzantium, Balkans, Russia. Catalogue of the exhibition XVIII International Congress of Byzantinists, Moscow, August 8–15, 1991, Moscow 1991, catalogue no. 10, pages 44–51. 28 Patmos, Treasures of the Monastery (A. D. Kominis ed.) Athens 1988, cat. 20 on page 214, cat. 10 on page 245, cat. 48–49 on pages 266–267, cat. 54 on page 271. 23

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Precious cloths as signs of Orthodox belief The cult of relics Turning to the role of these precious cloths as symbols of Orthodoxy, one may first remark that whilst Christodoulos had initially emphasized the need for development of monastic virtues in a situation of isolation, it is clear that by 1200 A.D. the monastery of St. John on Patmos had attained the role of a religious centre with cult status. At a time when the creation of saints in Byzantium had generally ground to a halt, Patmos boasted not one but two saints. The founder saint Christodoulos was celebrated alongside St. Leontius, (abbot 1157–8, and then Patriarch of Jerusalem, 1176–c. 1190).29 At Patmos the cult of the founder saint was deliberately promulgated by the publication of the life of St. Christodulos in the second half of the twelfth century.30 Athanasius, Patriarch of Antioch (1156–70), also wrote an encomium for the translation of the saint.31 The cult drew attention from east and west alike. It is interesting to note here, that the Sicilian admiral Margantas in 1187 was refused relics of the founder Saint. He unsuccessfully later attempted to seize relics, but it is reported that, miraculously his ship foundered as a sign of his impiety.32 No less than Philip Augustus, King of France returning from the third Crusade, also attempted to gain relics of St. Christodoulos, whether by fair means or by foul. The thirty bezants he gave to the monastery did not compensate for the fact that the finger of the saint was secretly bitten off by the King’s agent.33 Again a miraculous intervention saved the day and caused the return of the finger relic to the monastery. Parallels between east and west The interest of the Latins in relics of this nature comes as no surprise by the late twelfth century. This was the time of the growth of relic cults in 29 Byzantina engrapha tes mones Patmou, (E. L. Vranoussi ed.) Athens 1980, I, 1–20, 72–74. 30 For the two lives see Vranoussi, Patmou engrapha, I, 8–12. 31 Athanasius, later Patriarch of Antioch (1156–1170), wrote a enkomion based on the first Life, see Vranoussi, Patmou engrapha, I, 15–18.Theodosios the monk, after 1191, in Constantinople composed a further enkomion to celebrate the posthumous miracles of the saint, see Vranoussi, Patmou engrapha, I, 8, 15, 68, with reference to Patmos manuscript 179, folios 100–130v, where this text appears. 32 See Vranoussi, Patmou engrapha, I, 69–70. 33 Ibid., 71–75.

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western Europe.34 It was the heyday of Royal Latin and of Imperial ruler cults, and a time of activity around National saints such as St. Denis in Paris.35 At Aachen the canonisation of Charlemagne in 1160, at Westminster the canonisation of Edward the Confessor in 1163, and in Paris the canonisation of St. Denis in the early twelfth century, all served as pious acts of religious spectacle.36 The developments on Patmos have to be viewed as part of this wider expression of medieval religious fervor. The use of silks there, at Sinai and in western Europe were all part of a related expression of silken ritual within ecclesiastical tradition. Although scholarship rightly centres on the study of the theological divisions between East and West, more parallels could be drawn in their development of religious ceremonial.37 The Latin church inventories of the period from the eighth to the twelfth centuries, and surviving silks before 1200 A.D., as well as a later Papal inventory of 1295, indicate the presence in western Europe of lavish imported Byzantine and other silks.38 The Papal inventory lists a riot of expensive gold brocaded silks, not least Cypriot pieces; English Opus Anglicanum embroidery; Venetian and other Italian patterned and brocaded silks; Byzantine silks, and Near Eastern and other Discussed in chapter seven of the present book. In particular refer to the references in notes 20–29 of that chapter. 35 On St. Denis and other medieval cults of saints refer to B. Abou-El-Haj, The Medieval Cult of Saints. Formations and Transformations. Cambridge 1997 ed., 9, 64, 212,242,247 for St. Denis and passim for other saints including: Adalbert of Prague; Agatha; Albinus of Mainz; Aldegonde; Amand of Maastricht; Ambrose of Milan; Anno of Cologne; Aubin of Angers; Augustine; Thomas Becket; Bernard of Clairvaux; Cuthbert of Durham; Edmund King of East Anglia; Edward the Confessor; Foy of Conques; Guthlac; Heribert of Cologne; James of Santiago; Jerome; Lazarus; Mark; Martial of Limoges; Martin of Tours; Omer of Therouanne; Peter; Quentin: Radegunde; Reginald of Durham; Remacle of Maastricht, and Remi of Reims. For a detailed analysis of the workings of the cults of saints in a provincial diocese see, T. Head, Haghiography and the Cult of Saints. The Diocese of Orleans, 800–1200. Cambridge 1990. 36 Discussed by the present author in, ‘Politics, piety and the silken cult of relics: Aachen Münster treasury silks in historical context’, in A. Muthesius, Studies in Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving. London 1995, chapter 13, 217–230. Also see chapter 7 of the present book. 37 The use of imported silks both for vestments and for furnishings was particularly widespread in Rome in the eighth to ninth centuries under the patronage of the Papacy. See A. Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving. Vienna 1997, chapter 14, 119–139. There may have been an influence from Byzantium transmitted through the Papacy. 38 For the surviving silks and descriptions of silks in inventories see Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapters 4–15 inclusive. 34

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sumptuous Islamic Mediterranean silken textiles.39 This was not new in Rome. The Liber Pontificalis shows how already in the eighth to ninth centuries the Popes had imported vast quantities of Byzantine silks into Rome for the decoration of the Basilicas.40 It was the Papacy who were instrumental in creating a fashion for liturgical vestments and furnishings across the Latin world. They in conjunction with the secular Imperial patrons, ensured every Latin Cathedral, church or monastic chapel had silks. Also they provided every Archbishop and Bishop with a silken liturgical wardrobe. Patmos maintained close links with Rome.41 By the sixteenth century the Papacy also had supported the establishment of a Greek school in Rome.42 The promulgation of the cult of St Christodoulos on Patmos, as indeed with that of St. Catharine at Sinai, was concommitant to the development of an elaborate ritual. The early Patmian silks that formed part of this ritual do not survive, but the eighteenth-century Constantinopolitan embroideries by Sophia, destined for the shrine of the saint, reflect the type of rich textile covers which would have long been deemed appropriate (Plates 40–41).43 At St. Catherine’s many sumptuous silks have been offered in honour of the patron saint, not least two eighteenth-century examples which depict her assumption into heaven (Plates 46–47).44 The development of liturgical ceremonial At the same time one is aware of the original wish of St. Christodoulos to emphasise the liturgy and to celebrate God in the musical life of the Patmian monastic community:

For the Papal inventory of 1295 refer to E. Molinier, Inventaire du Trésor du SainteSiège sous Boniface VIII (1295). Bibliothèque de l’École des Chartes, 43 (1882) 277–310, 626–646; 45 (1884) 31–57; 46 (1885) 16–44; 47 (1886) 646–667; 49 (1888) 226–237. 40 L. Duchesne ed., Liber Pontificalis. Paris 1892. 41 For the links between Patmos and Rome read, G. Hofman, Patmos und Rom, Orientalia Christiana, 41 (1928) 45–107. 42 See G. Podskalsky, Griechische Theologie in der Zeit der Türkenherrschaft 1453–1821. Munich 1988, 50–52 with map on 51, and further bibliography in notes 181–182 on page 52. 43 A. Muthesius, The silk treasury of the monastery of St. John, Patmos, forthcoming, catalogue number, MP185. 44 A. Muthesius, The silk treasury of the monastery of St. Catherine, Sinai, forthcoming, catalogue number, ME135, ME136. 39

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He advocated that ‘Man should hymn the creation of God by imitating as far as humanly possible’, what he termed ‘the anthem of the angels’.45 In Byzantium, the importance of liturgical ritual was particularly relevant in the development of the celebration of the Great Entrance.46 With growing liturgical ceremonial emanating from the Capital there was an increasing need for suitable precious liturgical cloths, and for appropriately rich vestiture. The individual iconographies of the monastic embroideries of Patmos and Sinai each have a story to tell but time does not allow for any lengthy examination. To take one example, the predominance of Christ as priest or patriarch emphasizes the strengthened role of the monasteries as protectors of Orthodoxy at times of political instability and of foreign occupation (Plates 31–33).47 Not only the Latin occupations between the thirteenth and fifteenth centuries, but also the later Ottoman domination of post Byzantine times, heralded a profusion, in the use of such iconography. This was accompanied by the widespread ecclesiastical use of the double-headed eagle. This, too, became a symbol of the power of the Orthodox Church (Plates 41–42).48 The effect of Hesychaist doctrine, so influential in Byzantine monasticism, is felt on the cloths, in the more subtle development of liturgical themes stressing the humanity of Christ alongside his divine nature.49 This 45 See M. Angold, Church and Society in Byzantium under the Comneni 1081–1261. Cambridge 1995, 275–276, for discussion and including all relevant source references in note 41. 46 For the Great Entrance consult, R. Taft, The Great Entrance. A History of the transfer of gifts and other pre-anaphoral rites of the Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom.Orientalia Christiana Analecta, 200 (1975) 1–38. 47 Consult G. Dagron, Emperor and Priest. The Imperial office in Byzantium. Cambridge 2003 edition, for an analysis of the direct relationship between secular and divine power as combined in the Imperial office before the Latin conquest of 1204. The concept of the Emperor as intercessor between the Divine and his people does not appear to be consistent with the iconography of Christ as Patriarch, known from embroideries of later date, however. Visually the figure of Christ vested as Patriarch suggests the exisatance of a direct link from Christ to the Patriarchate without reference to the authority of the Emperor. 48 The bi-cephalous eagle motif was in use by both Church and State. For discussion of the possible types of symbolism involved in its use see A. Muthesius, ‘The Byzantine Eagle’, in: Studies in Silk in Byzantium. London 2004, chapter 13, 227–236. 49 For the theological context see G. Podskalsky, Theologie und Philosophie in Byzanz. Munich 1977, section C part 3, 124ff. Detailed theological arguments are analysed in K. Garitsis, Μετδοσις Θεανθρπου Σµατος. Die Dynamik der trinitarischen Vergöttlichung

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can be traced most clearly upon the liturgical cloths. In post Byzantine times there is an emphasis on liturgical function and escatalogical overtones persist.50 Both at Patmos and at Sinai, not only the sanctuary but also the library provided an area for display of precious cloths. The practice of binding manuscripts with silk was known in both centres. The influence of Byzantine silken bindings, first documented in the ninth century in relation to silk bound manuscripts belonging to the Patriarch Photius, passed from Byzantine to western Europe and it became widespread before 1200 A.D.51 Precious cloths as a sign of economic activity This leads on to the question of how the imported trade silks arrived. In the case of Patmos, the acquisition of ships52 and the exemption of trade taxes was important from the outset.53 The initial eleventh-century Imperial provision of ships was intended to cover immediate material needs only. The size of the ships was carefully limited and they were restricted to a single visit to the Capital. Trade tax exemption and concessions were designed to foster lucrative economic growth, although the monks may have had designs eventually to partake of the wine trade. Certainly, from an early date, cheese and other products of the island were exported to Constantinople using the boats. Heavy losses to rough seas, to piracy and even to Latin aggression decimated the early small monastic fleet. Nevertheless, it was the activity of such boats that encouraged links with the Italian city states, especially Venice. It was probably due to such links that

des Menschen im Rahmen der Gegenseitigkeit von Christologie und Pneumatologie bei Gregor Palamas. Dissertation zur Erlangung der Doktorwürde der Christkatholisch-theologischen Fakultät der Universität Bern, 1996, see especially 133–201. 50 For an overall survey of the ‘study of the last things’, see G. Podskalsky, Byzantinische Reichseschatologie. Munich 1972. 51 Silk bound manuscript covers are extant in the libraries of both monasteries. For an overview of silk bindings East and West, see Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, section 14.3, 127–132 and notes 164–187. 52 Vranoussi, Patmou engrapha I, 47–50, 63–64, 69–97 for the relevant chrysobull sources numbered documents 7, 8, and 9. The chrysobull source numbered document 11 appears on 103–112 and source document 22 on 217–226. 53 Ibid., II, sources numbered documents 56, 59, and 60, on 89–107, 120–127 and 128–134.

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the Italian lampas54 and damask weave silks arrived at Patmos.55 These were the pieces used for lining some of the epimanikia, and it was Italian silk upon which whole scenes were sometimes embroidered. Many such Italian trade silks are evident at Sinai also.56 At Sinai trade networks overland led to Cairo, long since an important centre for the purchase of precious cloths. There were also Sinai’s metochioi in countries like Poland, where Greek merchants were documented dealing in Italian, Constantinopolitan, western European and other textiles by the eighteenth century.57 European metochioi of the monastery, and even more exotically a metochion in India, was also sending precious textile gifts to Sinai, as is amply witnessed in the latter case by gifts of Indian printed cottons of the eighteenth century, as well as by Kashmir shawls (Plates 48–50).58 Crete was important to Patmos with its metochion at Stylos and it is not surprising to find important Cretan embroideries in the Patmos treasury.59 One epitrachelion of the eighteenth century at St. John’s Patmos is almost certainly by the same workshop if not by the same hand as another Cretan epitrachelion at Sinai (Plates 51–52).60 Crete the early supplier of Imperial 54 On Italian lampas weave textiles and their technical details see, D. and M. King, ‘Silk weaves in Lucca in 1376’, in: Opera Textilia Variorum Temporum. (I. Estham, M. Nockert ed.) Stockholm, 1988, 67–76. Also see bibliography on 76. 55 Examples include in the Muthesius catalogue of the Silk Treasury of St. John, Patmos, forthoming, MP105 lining, MP4, MP31 lining and MP38. 56 These silks sometimes appear as linings or as manuscript covers. They will be published in: The Silk Treasury of the monastery of St. Catherine, Sinai, forthcoming, by the present author. 57 For the early mediaeval textile trade carried out in Egypt, see, S. D. Goitein, A Mediterranean Society. London 1967, I, 101–108, 209–228, In the fourteenth to fifteenth centuries, Danzig (Gdansk) acted as an important centre for the import, trading and export of silks. A large collection of such mediaeval Italian silks survives from the Cathedral of Danzig. See, W. Mannowsky, Der Danziger Paramentenschatz. Kirchliche Gewänder und Stickereien aus der Marienkirche. Berlin 1931. 58 The walls of the Archbishop’s sleeping quarters were covered with printed Indian cottons up until recent times. For examples of historic Indian textiles consult, J. Irwin, M. Hall, Indian Painted and Printed Fabrics. Historic Textiles of India at the Calico Museum. Dehli 1971, volume I. For historical, technological and economic context see, V. Ramaswamy, Textiles and Weavers in Medieval South India. Oxford, 1985, especially 117ff. on the East India Company and its textile trade. 59 Muthesius Catalogue number MP 50 in the forthcoming publication cited in note 55 above. 60 Muthesius Catalogue number ME 48 in the forthcoming publication cited in note 56 above.

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grain to Patmos, was later to provide not only the precious embroidery described, but also the icon painters and the monumental painters, whose works adorn the monastic treasury and katholikon. The broad geographical diversity of acquisition of silks at Patmos and Sinai, is astounding. A Georgian aer at St. Catherine’s has an Anatolian embroidered silk ground (Plate 53), whilst at St. John’s, Patmos, a converted altar cloth was embroidered in Russia (Plates 54–55).61 Numerous belts in St. John’s and at Sinai indicate that frequent visits were made to the Holy Land and that such belts were acquired there throughout the eighteenth century (Plate 56).62 An Islamic workshop63 was producing silks used as liturgical cloths, some with Islamic inscriptions (Plate 57).64 A set of epimanikia at Patmos was embroidered in Armenia and the Virgin of the Annunciation is worn over the left rather than the right wrist.65 The wide range of surviving pieces not only illustrates that precious silks were used for liturgical furnishings, it also demonstrates a tremendous use of silk for liturgical vestments. Some later replacement silk vestments reveal the re-use of earlier polioi from vestments that must have worn out. A range of fifteenth to eighteenth century polioi survive on later vestments at both St. John’s monastery and at Sinai.66 The ground silks of the vestments date between the eighteenth and the nineteenth centuries and were imported from a host of different locations: Asia Minor, Italy, Northern Europe, Russia, Georgia, Syria and Palestine.67 In addition, Greek island embroideries of Crete, Naxos, Patmos and other isles are well represented in both

Muthesius Catalogue numbers ME 49 and MP 63. Muthesius Catalogue numbers MP 108 and MC 271–280, for example. 63 Silk weaving was documented as widely dispersed across Islamic centres from the mediaeval period onwards. Many references concerning the workshops and the textiles produced there were published in R. B. Serjeant, Materials for a history of Islamic Textiles up to the Mongul Conquests, in: Ars Islamica 9 (1942) 54–92; 10 (1943) 71–104, 11–12; (1944–1946) 98–145, 15–16; (1951) 29–85. 64 The presence of Islamic inscriptions occurs in some instances. This is true of Catalogue number ME 37, for instance, used as an altar furnishing at Sinai. 65 Forthcoming, Silk Treasury of St John’s, Patmos, catalogue number MP 52. 66 Forthcoming, Silk Treasury Patmos, catalogue numbers MP 93–95, and Silk Treasury Sinai, catalogue number ME 1–ME 11, for example. 67 The wide range of silks is reflective of both trade links and of powerful patronage at Sinai. Both aspects will be discussed in the forthcoming Sinai publication. 61 62

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monasteries (Plates 58–61).68 So are leather ground coloured silk, and brocaded, Ottoman embroideries.69 Conclusion This brief survey concludes with a return to the two questions posed at the beginning of the paper: In answer to the first question, What was the relationship between the acquisition of precious cloths and the broader everyday concerns of the monastery of St. John’s on Patmos? One can stress two main points. Firstly St. John’s monastery served jointly as a religious monastic community, and as a saintly cult centre embracing the wider world. Whilst its private monastic activity and its related public worldly religious mission engendered courtly and aristocratic silken patronage, its economic and material activity entailed contact with the wider commercial world, which allowed it to acquire lesser silken fabrics. The joint silken patronage and trade of Patmos reflected the broader concerns of the monastery on political, theological and economic fronts under a succession of periods of different foreign occupations. At Sinai the tremendous range of silks acquired reflects both Imperial patronage and the generosity of the brethren of the far flung dependencies of the monastery of St. Catherine. With regard to the second question concerning how monasteries such as St. John’s on Patmos and St. Catherine’s on Sinai contributed to a Byzantine (and post-Byzantine) cultural identity, one has to consider later as well as earlier developments. The establishment of a Greek school in Rome in the sixteenth century was only part of the long on-going saga of the question of East West Church Unity leading all the way back to the Schism of the eleventh century.70 68 Greek island embroideries in both monasteries reflect the gifts sent from the islands, some of which housed monastic dependencies. For examples of different kinds of Greek island embroidery see, R. Taylor, Embroidery of the Greek Islands. Yeovil 1998. In the forthcoming Muthesius, Silk Treasury publications, see catalogue numbers MP 31 and MC 96–98, MC 146–149, for instance. 69 For Ottoman work see, R. Taylor, Ottoman Embroidery. Dorset. 1993. Examples of such embroideries are included in the treasuries of Patmos and of Sinai, respectively. 70 M. Jugie, De processione Spiritus Sancti ex fontibus revelationis et secundum orientales dissidentes. Rome 1936. R. Haugh, Photius and the Carolingians: The Trinitarian Controversy. Belmont, Mass. 1975. B. Schultze, ‘Zum Ursprung der Filioque’, Orientalia Christiana Periodica 48 (1982) 5–18.

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Patmos, a seat of learning since the time of Christodoulos, (who had rescued the monastic library of Latros from the Seljuk Turks, and who had ensured that one-quarter of this library was deposited on Patmos), grew into an important centre for the schooling of future Bishops, Archbishops and Patriarchs of Antioch, Jerusalem and Constantinople.71 Patmos always stood its Orthodox ground against the Latins and it opposed the unification of the Two Churches.72 The Patmian school founded in 1718, stood as a symbol post-Byzantine Orthodoxy in the face of foreign infiltration. A firm stance was taken against Latin dogma, including Protestant influences upon the Russian Orthodox Church. The school at Patmos was part of the network of Greek schools and it received patronage from wealthy Venetian Greeks, and it was enhanced by the acquisition of printed books. These schools cemented relationship between Orthodoxy and Greek cultural identity. The Patmian school preached the doctrine, whilst the monastery of St. John practiced the silken reality of Greek Orthodoxy. Similarly, the monastery of St. Catherine, faithfully adhered to (and still to this day under Islamic protection), adheres to the fundamental tenets of Byzantine Orthodox tradition. Sinai acts as living proof of an unbroken tradition, and of the amalgamation of the teachings of the Desert Fathers to the ancient silken, liturgical ritual of Byzantium.

There is extensive literature on the library and its contents at Patmos, see Patmos, Treasures of the Monastery, (A. D. Kominis ed.), 375–377. On the Patmian school see, M. Malandrakis, ‘Η Πατµις Σχολ ’. Athens 1911. 72 On the subject of the Union of the Churches of Byzantium and Rome see, S. Runciman, The Eastern Schism. Oxford, 1955, F. Dvornik, Byzantium and the Roman Primacy. New York, 1966, D. M. Nicol, ‘Byzantine requests for an Oecumenical Council in the Fourteenth Century’, Annuarium Historiae Consiliorum 1 (1969) 69–95. 71

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Sealed for God: Reliquary Bags, Burses and Purses (4th–15th Centuries)

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N the period up to the fifteenth century, numerous sumptuous textile reliquary bags, burses and purses were fashioned.1 The purpose of the present paper is to discuss some of these surviving cloth reliquaries and to explore their broader significance. What do these artifacts reflect about the cultures (Byzantine and Latin) in which they played such a prominent part? First of all, it is important to note that a basic tenet underlining the use of fabrics to envelope holy relics was the notion that sufficiently precious cloth was apt not only to pay honour to the relics, but also to assume a degree of sanctity through contact with them.2 This tradition reached back to Early Christian times, when a number of textiles associated with Christ and the Virgin already came to be revered as relics (e.g. Christ’s swaddling clothes, loin cloth, mandylion or face cloth, and winding sheet (consider the Turin shroud); and the Virgin’s girdle, mantle and tunic).3 These are found extensively in silk treasuries of western Europe, for example at the Cathedral of Sens, or at St. Servatius, Maastricht. They are documented as once existing at important pilgrimage centres such as Durham Cathedral in the context of the shrine of St. Cuthbert. The surviving purses vary, some imported as purses, others made from imported silks and still others having first served a secular purpose and then been donated for ecclesiastical use. 2 Precious cloths in close contact with members of the Holy family were treated as relics from an early date. The cloths in contact with Early Christian saints, similarly were revered. See note 3 below. 3 On the cloth relics of the Virgin consult, M. Jugie, La mort et l’assomption de la Sainte Vièrge. Rome, Vatican, 1944, 688–707. Also see, V. Limberis, Divine Heiress. The Virgin Mary and the creation of Christian Constantinople. London, 1994, for the context of the use 1

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These cloth relics and particularly the mandylion and the garments of the Virgin, which were said to have been housed in Constantinople in the sixth century, served as the ‘divine guardians’ of the Byzantine Empire. They were carried out to battle or they were paraded around the Capital at times of foreign attack.4 By the tenth century when the Emperor Constantine VII Porphyrogenitus compiled his Book of Ceremonies,5 it is clear that the Emperor himself, had close contact with relics during special feasts, for example, with the swaddling clothes of the Christ Child, which were housed at the great church of Haghia Sophia in Constantinople,6 and with the relic of the Holy Cross.7 In the same way, the Emperor ceremonially embraced the robe of the Virgin kept at the chapel of the Soros of the Church of the Virgin of Blachernae in Constantinople, and he revered another vestment relic of the Virgin (her belt) first housed in the church of the Chalkoprateia and later at the Blachernae.8 of such relics. Earlier see N. H. Baynes, ‘The Supernatural Defenders of Constantinople’, in: Byzantine Studies and other Essays. London 1955, 257–260. On the Turin shroud note, Collected Textile Studies of Donald King (A. Muthesius, M. King ed.) ‘A parallel for the linen of the Turin shroud’, chapter 8 on pages107–110. There the technical evidence for dating the linen is discussed. There are many non-technical publications on the Turin shroud. Amongst these note. J. Walsh, The Shroud. London 1964, K. Wilcox. Shroud. London 1978 and I. Wilson, The Turin Shroud. London 1978. For the Mandylion see I. Economides, Le Saint Voile. Athens 1992 and earlier, A. Grabar, La Sainte Face de Laôn. Le Mandylion dans l’art orthodoxe. Seminarium Kondakovum 2 (1931) 16–32. Further see A. Cameron, ‘The history of the image of Edessa: The telling of a story’. Okeanos: Essays presented to I. SěvËenko on his Sixtieth birthday (C. Mango, O. Pritsak ed.) Cambridge Mass. 1984, 80–94, J. M. Fieh, Image d’Edesse ou Linceul de Turin, Revue d’histoire ecclésiastique 82 (1987) 271–277, K. Weitzmann, The Mandylion and Constantine Porphyrogenitus. Cahier Archéologiques 11 (1960) 163–184. Also, D. I. Pallas, Passion und Bestattung Christi in Byzanz: Der Ritus — das Bild. Munich 1965, 134–146. On the maphorion of the Virgin see discussion in Oxford Dictionary of Byzantium (E. Kazhdan ed.) 2, 1294. 4 On the prophylactic role of such relics see Baynes, cited in note 3 above. 5 Constantine VII Porphyrogennetos, De ceremoniis aulae byzantinae (J. J. Reiske ed.) I–II, Bonn 1829–1830; Le livre des cérémonies (A. Vogt ed. French translation) I–II, Paris 1967. 6 Reiske, De Ceremoniis, 133, Vogt, I, 32 (23), page 123. 7 Reiske, De Ceremoniis, 158, Vogt, I, 37 (28), page 146. 8 Two reliquary caskets with relics of the Virgin, respectively were housed at the Church of the Virgin Blachernae (within its adjoining Hagia Soros chapel), and at the Church of the Virgin Chalkoprateia. The Virgin’s mantle, was enclosed in the first casket, and her belt in the second casket. See A. Cameron, ‘The Virgin’s Robe: An episode in the history of early seventh century Constantinople’, Byzantion 49 (1979) 42–56. See M. Jugie, L’église de Chalcopratia et le culte de la Ceinture de la Sainte Vierge à Constantinople. Échos d’Orient

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This highly evolved liturgical cult ceremonial in Byzantium enshrined practices evolved in Early Christian times. By the fourth century, the veneration of the Early Christian martyrs of Rome, Jerusalem and Constantinople had involved the development of an elaborate and ornamented ‘Stational liturgy’.9 Pilgrims were systematically guided through liturgically sanctified areas encompassing shrines, the most important of which was the Holy Sepulcher with the adjoining shrine of Golgotha.10 At such Holy sites the pilgrims would witness Christian miracles in a spectacle which suggested that heaven was being symbolically recreated on earth.11 Furthermore, the Pilgrims were given the opportunity to mysteriously unite themselves to the shrines, through the use of the intermediary of pilgrimage tokens, such as the ampullae, which were worn around the neck as personal phylacteries.12 These ampullae contained either holy oil or dust from 16 (1913) 308–312. Also see C. Walter, Art and Ritual of the Byzantine Church. London 1982, chapter 4. 6, ‘The cult of relics’, 144–156 and especially 151–152 and notes 193–195, 155 and note 212. 9 For the stational liturgy see Janin and Baldovin references in chapter 4 note 26 above. 10 See P. Maraval, Lieux saints et pèlerinages d’Orient. Paris, 1985, 251–310 on pilgrimage sites in Palestine. Also, E. Malamut, Sur la route des saints byzantins, Paris, 1993, on specific pilgrimages made by Byzantine holy figures. 11 For the recreation of heaven on earth at the Byzantine court consult, H. Maguire, ‘The Heavenly Court’, in: Byzantine Court Culture from 829–1204. (H. Maguire ed.) Washington 1997, 247–258. A detailed study on the subject in the context of the concept of ‘New Jerusalems’ was made at an International symposium ‘New Jerusalems. Translations of Sacred Spaces in Christian Culture’. Centre for East Christian Culture, Moscow, June 26–30, 2006. The same centre held a Moscow symposium in 2004 entitled Hierotopy. Studies in the Making of Sacred Spaces, which is also relevant. Proceedings of these conferences are published. For Byzantine pilgrimage in the Holy Land, see, A. Külzer, Peregrinatio graeca in Terram Sanctam. Studien zu Pilgerführern und Reisebeschreibungen über Syrien, Palästina und den Sinai aus byzantinischer und metabyzantinischer Zeit. Studien und Texte zur Byzantinistik (P. Schreiner ed.) Frankfurt am Main 1994. 12 For pilgrimage tokens including ampullae with oil from the Holy Land, and the cult of relics see, E. D. Hunt, ‘The traffic in relics: some Late Roman evidence’, in: The Byzantine Saint (S. Hackel ed.). University of Birmingham. Fourteenth Spring Symposium of Byzantine Studies. Studies supplementary to Sobornost 5, 171–180. For amulets and the question of the relationship of magic amulets to Christian reliquaries see, J. Russell, ‘The Archaeological Context of Magic in the Early Byzantine period’, in: Byzantine Magic. (H. Maguire ed.) Washington, 1995, chapter 2, 35–50, and Everyday Life in Byzantium. Exhibition, Thessaloniki October 2001–January 2002. Athens 2002, 496–505, for small cross-reliquaries, 516–523 for small steatite reliquaries, and 552–555 for various reliquaries and ampullae. Also consult three articles in the collected studies of, G. Vikan, ‘Two Byzantine Amuletic Armbands and the group to which they belong’, ‘Early Byzantine

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the sacred sites and they served as permanent reminders of the individual’s response to the mysteries of religious experience. These ampullae, and equally small pieces of cloth or ‘brandea’, which had come into close proximity with the relics of Early Christian martyrs, became sanctified; and as sacred objects they came to be regarded as potent charms for promoting good.13 They were thought to be imbued with sacred protective forces, and sometimes even miraculous, spiritual, healing powers. In Byzantium personal phylacteries became popular in the last quarter of the eighth century and they continued to be important into the twelfth century. In 811 the Byzantine Patriarch Nicephoros sent to the Latin Pope Leo III a special gift of a phylactery, alongside precious vestments, some gold brocaded. The Patriarch at this time wrote to the Pope, ‘As a sign of God’s love through us, we send to you our brotherly, Happy Pious, a gold reliquary capsule, whose one side is covered with a crystal, the other side painted in an enamel technique. A further reliquary capsule is enclosed in which parts of the adored cross have been inserted. A white sticharion, a chesnut coloured, unhemmed phainolion, an epitrachelion, and an encheirion, which are worked through in gold’.14 The use of phylacteries in Byzantium was revived after Iconoclasm in the late eighth century and it was at this time that the Papacy had much Byzantine contact.15 Precisely at this point, the churches of Rome were flooded with Byzantine silk hangings and furnishings donated by the Papacy to all the major Basilicas of Rome.16 By the eighth to ninth centuries, both in Byzantium and in the Latin West various pilgrimage objects, Pilgrimage Devotionalia as evidence of the appearance of pilgrimage shrines’, and ‘Byzantine Pilgrims’ Art’, in: Sacred Images and Sacred Power in Byzantium. Aldershot, 2003, chapter 11, 33–51, chapter 6, 377–388, and chapter 5, 229–266. 13 The smallest Christian cloth personal phylactery presently known to survive from the mediaeval period was discovered in York. For this small silk pouch with embroidered cross see by the present author, ‘A silk reliquary pouch from Coppergate’, in: A. Muthesius, Studies in Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving, London, 1995, chapter 16, 337–339. Further bibliography is given on page 339. 14 Nicephori Constantinopolitani epistola ad Leonem papam, Mansi 14 (1769) 29–56, especially 56 for description of the gifts. For discussion see D. Nerlich, Diplomatische Gesandschaften zwischen Ost und Westkaisern 756–1002. Bern 1999, 6.3.1, 228 with original text and German translation in note 724. 15 For various aspects of the contacts made between the Papacy and Byzantium see, Nerlich, Diplomatische Gesandschaften, part 6, 193–231. 16 See A. Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving. Vienna 1997, 125.

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including ampullae, encolpia, and ‘brandea’ had been assigned great significance. They functioned on three main levels: i. They offered protection; ii. They acted as a witness to Christian faith; and iii. They served as sanctified repositories for wonder-working relics.17 Origins of the association of Cloth and Sanctity Already in the fourth century, the relics of St. Athanasius were enveloped in silk.18 In the Latin West at the same date, the relics of the Archbishop of Trier were shrouded in two different silk cloths.19 This suggests that the association of relics and precious cloths preceded the rise of the fully ritualistic cult of relics, known from the eight century onwards. Significantly, also it was from then onwards, that a great dissemination of the relics of the Early Christian martyrs across the wider mediaeval Christian world can be traced. The political implications of the growth of the cult of relics The rise of the cult of relics across the Byzantine and the Latin Christian worlds had both ecclesiastical and political overtones.20 From A.D. 800 onwards, every newly consecrated Latin altar was required to contain relics. On the one hand this had clear theological implications, but at the same time Charlemagne’s subsequent patronage towards his favoured religious foundations, not least Aachen21 and Sens,22 reflected how far his ideas of For the earlier period and public participation in relation to repositories containing relics see, K. H. Holum and G. Vikan, ‘The Trier ivory, Adventus Ceremonial, and the relics of St. Stephen’, in: Vikan, Sacred Images, chapter 14, 114–133. 18 Vita S. Athanasiae AA SS Aug. III, 170–175. BMG 186, page 174 section B. 19 Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, 168, Catalogue nos. M9a, M9b. 20 See, ‘The ‘cult’ of Imperial and Ecclesiastical silks in Byzantium’, in: A. Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium. London 2004, chapter 2, 23–35. 21 For early silks at Aachen see, ‘Aachen Münster Treasury silks in historical context’, in: A. Muthesius, Studies in Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving, London 1995, chapter 13, 217–230, especially 218–222. For the promotion of the cult of relics at the time of Charlemagne consult, A. Schiffers, Der Reliquienschatz Karl des Grosse und die Anfänge der Aachenfahrt. Aachen 1951, 195ff. 22 The present author carried out technical analysis of some 500 of the silks at Sens Cathedral treasury in the 1970s. The silks were subsequently listed amongst those from other 17

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political grandeur went hand-in-hand with his concepts of Imperial piety. His religious patronage was not only intended as a means of redemption but it also inevitably acted to lend an air of sacral authority and authenticity to the Imperial house which he had founded. Thus, the successors of Charlemagne encouraged the rise of a ruler cult of Charlemagne, and by 1164 the Emperor was canonised.23 Similarly, Continentally influenced and politically orientated piety underpinned the rise of the Anglo-Saxon and the Anglo-Norman Royal cults.24 And all these cults, under the influence of Byzantine Imperial cult practices, were marked by the presence of elaborate ceremonial involving precious cloths. By the twelfth century, there are clear parallels between the Cult of Charlemagne at Aachen and the Cult of Edward the Confessor at Westminster Abbey.25 At Aachen the Byzantine Charioteer and Elephant silks (Plate 10), amongst others ‘ornamented’ the cult of Charlemagne, whilst from amongst the silks adorning the relics of Edward the Confessor at Westminster three Byzantine silk fragments survive today in the Victoria and Albert Museum in London.26 At Durham Cathedral in the twelfth century, the cult of St. Cuthbert was enhanced through silken translation of the relics.27 Occasions such as the translation of 1104, at which time the relics were partly re-vested and enveloped in new coverings including the most costly pall to be found in treasuries, according to weaving type, and a broad chronology for each of these weaving types was presented in her, Byzantine Silk Weaving, Vienna 1997 publication. The silks which either date to before or to the time of Charlemagne are included under tabby weaves M157–M195, and M255–M262, twill damasks M312–M317, and single main warp twills M370, M449–M535, see Appendix 4, page 204 ff. It is possible that some paired main warp twills fall just into the period of Charlemagne, see for instance, M45. Muthesius’ preliminary Sens Cathedral silks catalogue exists as a handwritten document, which remains unpublished. For an earlier inventory of the Sens silks, which, however, provides no indication of technique or of dating according to technique, see E. Chartraire, Les Tissus Anciens du Tresor de la Cathedral de Sens. Revue de l’Art Chrétien 61 (1917) 261–280, 370–386. 23 For the canonisation of Charlemagne, and the translation of his relics in 1165, see J. Petersohn, S. Denis-Westminster-Aachen, Die Karls-Translation von 1165 und ihre Vorbilder. Deutsche Archiv für Erforschung des Mittelalters 31 (1975) 420–454. 24 S. Ridyard, Anglo Saxon Royal Saints. Cambridge 1989. 25 See Petersohn reference in note 23 above. 26 For the Aachen Elephant silk (M58), see Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, section 4.2, on pages 38–39 with notes 35–52 on pages 41–43. For the Edward the Confessor silks see in the same publication, section 9.2, (M1069b–d) on page 86, and note 12 on page 91 with further bibliography. 27 See below, chapter 12 of the present book.

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the Church, provided an opportunity to attract the Faithful, and to promote lucrative pilgrimage.28 Certainly, by the thirteenth century, a large part of the cost of the upkeep of Canterbury Cathedral for example, was dependant upon the income from pilgrimages to the shrine of St. Thomas Beckett.29 The importance of pilgrimage With this in mind, it is possible to turn to the specific role of reliquary purses, bags and burses in the context of the flowering of the cult of relics between the eighth and the fourteenth centuries. In this respect it is particularly fruitful to refer to a documentary account of 1383, concerning the relics of St. Cuthbert (d. 687) at Durham Cathedral.30 This account provides particularly splendid and telling detail about precious cloths and burses offered to the shrine. The account is by Dom Richard de Segbruck, who writes of the relics near the shrine of St. Cuthbert: ‘On the third step in a small enamelled chest is the cope of St. Cuthbert in which he laid in the earth for eleven years. Next an ivory box with a garment of St. John the Baptist. Next, the book of St. Boisil, St. Cuthbert’s teacher. Next, a small ivory chest with a fringed garment of St. Cuthbert’. And so the account goes on most diligently naming a variety of relics in precious gold and silver reliquaries until it reaches the passage: ‘Next, one purse of cloth-of-gold with a crystal lens and various unlabelled fragments of relics.’ And from this point onwards the account begins to detail the presence of many more textile reliquary pouches. The account continues: ‘Next, one silk purse with a coat of arms containing the garment, some 28 Different aspects of the cult of St. Cuthbert have been extensively researched and published. See St. Cuthbert, His Cult and His Community to AD 1200. (G. Bonner, D. Rollason, C. Stancliffe eds.). Woodbridge 1989, and especially 103–122 and 447–467 on the early and the later phases of the cult of St. Cuthbert. 29 For this and other aspects of the cult of St. Thomas Becket see B. Nilson, Cathedral shrines of Medieval England. Oxford 1998, passim, and earlier F. Barlow, Thomas Becket. London 1986, with references to source materials given before the notes. For more detailed aspects consult A. Duggan, ‘The Cult of St. Thomas Becket in the Thirteenth century’, in: St. Thomas Cantilupe, Bishop of Hereford: Essays in his honour (M. Jancey ed.). Hereford 1982, 21–44, and R. Eales, ‘The political setting of the Becket Translation of 1220’, in: Martyrs and Martyrologies (D. Wood ed.) Studies in Church History 30 (1993) 127–139. 30 Extracts from the account Rolls of the Abbey of Durham (J. T. Fowler ed.) Surtees Society volume 100. Durham 1898, II, 425–430, 450–452. English translation by J. Shinners, and cited in Medieval popular religion 1000–1500. (J. Shinners ed.). Toronto 1997, 194–200, especially 196–197.

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of the hair shirt, and the fingernails of St. Malachy the Bishop, etc.’ The latter silk purse was in close proximity to a number of further cloth relics, one of them a fragment of what is called St. Edward the Confessor’s cape. This fragment alongside a relic of St. Martin, a bone of St. Andrew, a piece of cloth from St. Barbara the Virgin and the hair of the abbot St. Bernard, were all enclosed in what was called: ‘a purse with a shield in various colours.’ This is the first reference to a purse with armourial markings but others follow later. Meanwhile the account details: ‘One red purse with relics of St. Peter’ and also: ‘a red velvet purse embroidered with the lamb of God’. In addition, one learns of ‘a piece of the Lord’s manger in a blue silk purse’ and further of several relics including: ‘one bone of St. Balbina in a silk purse with four pockets with white castles on it’. ‘a purse with red piping’ contained ‘a stone from the Lord’s sepulcher’ amongst other relics. It is also worth noting the presence of: ‘a piece from the Blessed Virgin’s dress’. ‘A piece of St. Christina’s garment’ was enclosed in ‘a white purse decorated with red tassels’ and not only the bones but even the teeth ‘from the martyr St. Cyriac’ were recorded in another ‘white samite purse’. ‘A red muslin purse’ was entrusted with ‘three teeth of St. Aidan, the Bishop’. The list of relics seems endless and following a detailed description of the veil of Veronica bearing the imprint of Christ’s face, the chronicler simply adds: ‘Next, the same sort of relics in a small red purse with a large label.’ St. Dunstan’s comb, nevertheless, was sufficiently impressive to be detailed within its ‘multicolored silk purse’.31 A separate account by Dom Thomas de Lythe (datable 1398–1401), lists items presented by pilgrims to the shrine of St. Cuthbert.32 These gifts included priceless jewels donated by Royalty and by the nobility, whose total value amounted to the astonishing sum of some four thousand pounds. Even allowing for exaggeration, this is an indication of the extent to which material wealth was thought to be reflective of the spiritual value of individual relics. The wealth reflected the prestige of the saint. The fit31 32

Ibid., 198. Ibid., 199–200.

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tingly splendidly housed relics of the saint and their similarly fitting degree of ornamentation through the addition of the precious objects, further served as signs of the sanctity of the saint. Preliminary remarks The public display of the relics alongside precious items and silk containers served several purposes. It fuelled popular religious belief and encouraged lucrative pilgrimage and patronage. At the same time, it served to highlight a cleric-led Christian space, which operated as a didactic focus for a visual display of Christian liturgical ritual.33 The occurrence of miracles at the shrines gave rise to the notion of the relics as supernatural defenders of body and soul.34 For rulers, the shrines acted as a focus through which to declare legal and to strengthen their own territorial political claims. By association with ecclesiastical cults, these rulers could invoke supernatural assistance from God in order to support their political regimes. The sacral and the political became inextricably linked in the promulgation of these cults and in the ornamentation of the sites of the shrines. Lavish patronage including the donation of precious cloths, whether as purses, shrouds or vestments, created a celestial space upon earth in which the saint could ‘exist’. The special significance of the use of armorial devices on the purses lay in their symbolism of the presence of the patrons not only before the Faithful at the shrine on earth, but also of their presence before God in so far as the earthly mirrored the celestial.35 Surviving textile bags, burses, and purses Turning to some specific surviving examples, attention will be drawn to a representative cross section. The bags, burses and purses basically fall into two groups: the small personal category and the larger Cathedral or monastic variety.

For research on the concept of ‘sacred space’ see note 11 above. On the practical benefits see Shinners, Medieval Popular Religion, chapter 4, 149–210, with accounts of miracles experienced by pilgrims visiting the relics of saints in the west. See also note 35 in chapter 6. 35 See Maguire reference in note 11 above in relation to Greek Orthodox belief. 33 34

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The small personal cloth phylacteries This category is illustrated by: two examples at Hildesheim Cathedral treasury, one datable tenth century and the other datable tenth to eleventh century (Plates 62–63);36 by a larger Byzantine pouch of the tenth to eleventh century, of St. Michael, Beromünster (Plate 64);37 and by the tenth century, purple, Byzantine silk pouch from the Viking dig at York (Plate 65).38 These small reliquaries act as amulets not unlike the pagan amulets discovered in the Caucasian region in eighth to ninth century burials, which also contained imported Byzantine silks (Plate 66).39 Both the pagan amulet and the Christian reliquary were prophylactic ‘in intent’.40 The Christian pouch acted rather like a money pouch, of which examples can be seen on Byzantine works of art; the pilgrim with phylactery containing relics was storing up wealth in heaven. The cut of these tiny cloth phylacteries is quite straight forward. Although in the fourth century the Church Fathers generally had spoken out against phylacteries of this kind, roundly condemning the apotropaic practices the amulets signified, the practice was still evident in Byzantium much later.41 Chrysostom had asked: ‘And what is one to say about those who use charms and amulets and who bind bronze coins of Alexander of Macedon around their heads and feet?’42 See reference in note 45 below to Kirchenkunst des Mittelalters publication. See there, Cat. Inv. Nr. 1/7 described under section i. on page 172, with plate 14 on page 173. 37 Ibid., Inv. Nr. XVII/2/1, described under section k. on page 172, with plate 17 on page 175. See, B. Schmedding, Mittelalterliche Textilien in Kirchen und Klöstern der Schweiz, Bern 1978, catalogue 14 on pages 29–30, and plate on page 31, for Beromunster example. 38 See reference in note 13 above. 39 For the Caucasian amulets and silks see, A. Ierusalimskaja, Die Gräber der MošËevaja Balka. Frühmittelalterliche funde an der Nordkaukasischen Seidenstrasse. München 1996, 33–54 (clothing including silks), 62–63 (amulets), 115–122, 143–174 (with amulets 166–168, and textiles including some linens and woollens), 233–295. Plates 9, 16–29, 34–35. 67–88. 40 For Christian mediaeval reliquaries see, P. Lasko, Ars Sacra 800–1200. Middlesex 1972. 41 See H. Maguire, ‘Magic and the Christian Image’, in: Byzantine Magic (H. Maguire ed.). Washington 1995, 51–71. 42 Ad illuminandos catechis II, 5, PG 49, col. 240. On Chrysostom and magic in general, see discussion by M. Dickie, ‘The Fathers of the Church and the Evil Eye’, in: Maguire, Byzantine Magic, 9–34. Also relevant in the same publication are, M. T. Fogen, ‘Balsamon on Magic: From Roman Secular Law to Byzantine Canon Law’, and R. P. H. Greenfield, ‘A contribution to the study of Palaeologian Magic’, chapter 6, 99–115 and chapter 7, 117–153, respectively. 36

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But nevertheless, many tenth- and eleventh-century apotropaic tokens survive, including gold medallions, which wish health, good fortune, grace and wealth on their bearers.43 They were made in spite of Chrysostom’s warning, perhaps because the Byzantines succeeded in placing a Christian interpretation upon their mystical if not magical function. At the beginning of the ninth century, the Patriarch Nicephoros explained: ‘We Christians wear them suspended from the neck and hanging down over the breast for the protection and safeguarding of our lives and for the salvation of our souls and our bodies, for which reason they have received their name (phylactery), for curing our misfortunes and for averting attack by unclean demons . . . and there is an infinite multitude of these amongst Christians.’44 The presence of the small purple silk phylactery in the Viking Age finds in York, described earlier (Plate 65), suggests that such tiny amulet-like phylacteries were worn in both west and east. Cathedral or Monastic bags, burses and purses (Plates 62–71) The second category of phylactery, the cathedral or monastic bags, burses or purses were fashioned to reflect different degrees of splendor. These in turn can be sub-divided into three categories: a. Plain undecorated ecclesiastical pouches, such as those at Hildesheim 43 See for instance, I. Kalavrezou, Byzantine Women and their World. Harvard Art museums exhibition, October 25, 2002–April 28, 2003, London 2003, 275–304, catalogue numbers 166, 167, 169–170, 172–173, 175. Also see, Everyday Life in Byzantium, exhibition catalogue, Thessaloniki October 200–January 2002. Athens 2002, 486–488, catalogue numbers 660–663, 523–531, catalogue numbers 720–734, 552–553, catalogue number 755. Also note, G. Vikan, ‘Art, medicine and magic in early Byzantium’, in: Sacred Images and sacred Power, chapter 9, 65–86, plates 1–28. 44 Nikephoros I was Patriarch of Constantinople from 12 April 806 to 13 March 815. See, Opuscula Historica (de Boor ed.) Leipzig 1880, PG 100: 205–850. English translation in, Short History (C. Mango ed.) Washington 1990. Note in particular PG 100: 433. For further literature on Nikephoros consult, M. J. Mondzain-Baudinet, Nicephore, Discours contre les iconoclasts. Paris 1990. P. J. Alexander, The Patriarch Nicephorous of Constantinople. Ecclesiastical policy and image worship in the Byzantine Empire. Oxford 1958, J. Travis, In Defense of the Faith; The theology of Patriarch Nikephoros of Constantinople. New York 1984. C. Mango, ‘The Breviarium of the Patriarch Nicephoros of Constantinople’, in: Byzantion: Aphieroma ston Andrea N. Stratos, 1–2, (Athens 1986), 2: 539–552.

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Cathedral. Or patterned but simply sewn silk pouches such as exist at Sens, St. Servatius Maastricht and in several Swiss treasuries, not least splendid Byzantine examples at Beromunster (Plate 64).45 This category also encompasses the seal pouches evident at Canterbury Cathedral, which provide additional sanctity to the ecclesiastical documentation which they augment (Plates 72–98).46 b. Embroidered Christian silk pouches of specific liturgical, soteriological or christological significance, again mostly relatively simply sewn. Examples are at St. Servatius, Maastricht (Plate 74).47 c. More elaborate bags and purses, evidently made in secular western workshops. Some if not all may have been earlier used in a secular context, prior to their presentation to particular shrines. Examples of these survive at St. Servatius, Maastricht and at Tongeren (Plates 7–76) and at St. Truiden in Belgium in particular.48 Their decoration falls into different types. A 45 For the Hildesheim Cathedral reliquary pouches see, Kirchenkunst des Mittelalters. Exhibition catalogue of the Diocesan Museum, Hildesheim. Hildesheim 1989, ‘Mittelalterliche Reliquienbeutel’, 161–182. For two of the Beromünster Byzantine silk pouches see, M. Fleury-Lemberg, Textile Conservation and Research. Berne 1988, chapter 6, 273–274, catalogue numbers 35 and 36. For these and other silk, semi-silk, or silk embroidered reliquary pouches in Swiss treasuries see also, B. Schmedding, Mittelalterliche Textilien in Kirchen und Klöstern der Schweiz. Bern 1978, catalogue numbers 11, 13, 14, 16–17, 36–37, 91–92, 155, 158–160, 162–163, 255, 257–258, 262–265, 268–272, 282. For reliquary pouches at Maastricht consult, A. Stauffer, Die mittelalterlichen Textilien von St. Servatius in Maastricht. Bern 1991, catalogue numbers 6, 12, 47, 51–52, 61, 65, 67, 72, 80–81, 83, 100–103,105, 110, 124, 128–129, 131–133, 137, and 141. For other reliquary pouches see Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, 120. These include the lion silk reliquary pouch at Sens (M534, plates 12A, 12B),and a Samson silk pouch in the Vatican (M369, plate 78B). 46 Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, 120. G. Robinson, and H. Urquhart, Seal bags in the treasury of the Cathedral Church at Canterbury. Archaeologia 84 (1934) 163–211. One of the seal bags (no. 22) is further published in A. Muthesius, ‘A previously unrecognised lion silk at Canterbury Cathedral’, in: The Roman Textile Industry and its Influence. A birthday tribute to John Peter Wild (P. Walton Rogers, L. Bender Jorgensen, A. Rast-Eicher ed.). Oxford 2001, 148–157. The present author wishes to acknowledge the help of Ann Oakley and of the Canterbury Cathedral Dean and Chapter for their kind assistance in allowing her to carry out a close technical examination of the Canterbury seal bags. 47 See reference in note 45 above. 48 Refer to the catalogue, Tongeren. Basiliek van O. L. Vrouw Geboorte. I Textiel. Leuven 1988, 50, 169–230, catalogue numbers 23–52. Also see the catalogue, Stof uit de Kist. De middeleeuwse textielschat uit de abdij van Sint-Truiden. Sint-Truiden 1991, catalogue numbers 74, 79, 81. These bags and purses are generally west European examples with embroidered decoration.

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number have secular love scenes or mythological associations.49 Others bear shields or more specific armorial devices.’50 These represent gifts from particular wealthy patrons or on occasion royal donations. The secular purses as well as specific armorial bags, reflect wealth and stately patronage, and they can be related to concept of storing up wealth in heaven as discussed earlier. Documentary references to the presence of armorial devices in sacred spaces in cathedrals, for example on sculptural shields, further suggests that the patrons (even in their physical absence), wished to remain ever visible in the presence of God. The shrine or sacred space acted as the earthly mirror of the celestial court, and it was presided over by God.51 Seal pouches too, such as those at Canterbury Cathedral or Westminster abbey, added sacral authority to official documentation. Conclusion To conclude this rapid survey, one has to emphasise that it has been possible only to briefly touch upon some of the issues involved in a discussion of such a large subject. Much more could be explored with regard to fashion and sewing of these marvellous artifacts. In addition, it would be interesting to examine more closely the relationship between secular production and ecclesiastical use. Nevertheless, one can say that the textile bags, burses and purses reflect much about the relationship of the saints to the Faithful and to the Church. Additionally, they reflect a great deal about the relationship between State and Church. Finally, the survival of both small personal and also larger, ecclesiastical, textile phylacteries, suggests much about the relationship between popular religion and superstition bordering on the magical, and conventionally accepted liturgical ritual practice exercised under clerical control.

See Tongeren, catalogue numbers 40, 41, for instance. See Tongeren, catalogue numbers 31, 35, and 36, and St. Truiden, Stof uit de Kist catalogue number 81 for example. 51 For the nature of the development of the cult of saints within sacred and secular space in western Europe consider for example, B. Abou-El-Haj, The Medieval Cult of Saints. Formations and Transformations. Cambridge 1997, chapter 1, 7–32, and Nilson, Cathedral Shrines, chapters 1–5, 9–134, specifically on shrines, pilgrimage and Cathedral settings. 49 50

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The Exotic Near-Eastern Silks at Canterbury Cathedral

A

PROFUSION of impressive silks graced the treasuries of Britain’s Cathedrals during the mediæval period1 and right up to the time of the Dissolution of the Monasteries.2 At that time, 262 precious copes were 1 For eastern silks in western European ecclesiastical treasuries see, A. Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving. Vienna 1997, chapters 4–9, 11–12, and 14–15 and catalogue and hand list of silks on pages 159–244. This is the most comprehensive catalogue to cover silks datable up to the thirteenth century, and to provide a chronology of weaving types. The basis for dating of weaves is discussed in appendix 1 on pages 151–158. The dating depends on technical analysis evidence allied to evidence of the degree of sophistication of the loom technology involved, in combination with further historical, art historical and circumstantial evidence. The dating of the textiles thus depends upon technical, technological, visual, circumstantial and contextual evidence including that of available inscriptions. 2 Dating of textiles whether Byzantine, Islamic or Latin depends upon use of a method which incorporates technical analysis and technological knowledge, and which involves first hand examination of surviving materials as described in note 1 above. Dating of textiles without recourse to technical, weave analysis and technological evidence is not possible in textile studies. Errors of dating and assignment of provenance have been evident in the past. For example, a Central Asian lion silk was wrongly assigned Byzantine provenance and exhibited as such by Beckwith in the 1964 International Byzantine exhibition catalogue, see Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 5, 44–45. In the case of mediaeval textiles, the use of the same motifs across whole centuries renders dating on visual evidence alone, insufficient. It is evident that once the pattern making mechanisms on looms have been set up to produce specific patterns, they are not replaced for long periods of time. Fine dating of silks, therefore, is difficult unless the textile bears a datable or dated inscription. Whilst the Imperial Lion silks with their various inscriptions provide a basis for relatively fine dating, see Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 4, 34–43, silks without inscriptions cannot be so closely dated. The silks produced in the Iconoclastic period for instance, may be assigned an eighth to ninth century date, on the basis of technical evidence in combination with evidence of subject matter and style, and circumstantial evidence. More precise dating

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recorded at Canterbury Cathedral alone. The acquisition and use of precious silks was strongly influenced by a Continental practice, which itself, had been influenced by Byzantine practice. Precious silks acted as a tangible sign of, and as an expression of popular religious piety, and they

within first and second Iconoclasm purely on the evidence of written descriptions of images on silks said to have existed during Iconoclasm but which do not survive, can be no more than purely speculative. On the use of technical evidence for scientific assignment of broad dates to silks produced during Iconoclasm, see Muthesius, chapters 6 and 7, 58–79. For the dangers of non-technical dating of Byzantine textiles see, L. Brubaker, in: L. Brubaker, J. Haldon, Byzantium in the Iconoclast Era (c. 681–850). The Sources. Aldershot 2001, chapter 5, 80–108. Brubaker widely cites the seminal textbook ‘Byzantine Silk Weaving’ by Muthesius, but it is evident that Brubaker has no training in textiles, which would allow her to understand the technical information or to appreciate its significance. Brubaker writes ‘Two types of weaves, in particular, are currently attributed to the eighth to ninth century: both are weft twills — that is, the silks drawn through the threads on the loom (the weft) rather than the threads attached to the loom itself (the warp) predominates on the front surface of the finished cloth, and the weft is passed over two or three warps before going etc’. This is entirely misleading. Weft-faced twills are one category of weave and not two as Brubaker states. Brubaker describes one set of warps, but Byzantine twills are precisely characterised by the fact that they have two sets of warps (binding and main warps). Brubaker is ignorant of the pattern-making mechanism governing the main warps, which she fails to mention, and she does not display any knowledge of the role of binding in relation to main warps in the weaving of Byzantine silks. The chronology of weaves which she cites from Muthesius, relies precisely upon the analysis of this data about weave construction, see Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 2 and appendix A, 19–26 and 151–157. The dating of Byzantine silks according to their technical characteristics in conjunction with their design and the evidence of the historical and circumstantial evidence has already been established. Brubaker as a non-textile specialist is unable either to apply weaving technique analysis method or to explain weaving terminology that appears in documentary sources. The conclusions reached by Brubaker, ostensibly through application of Muthesius’s method for dating Byzantine silks, in fact do not apply the method as outlined by Muthesius. Brubaker’s claim to fine dating of silks from the time of Iconoclasm in Byzantium is unfounded. Brubaker outside her own field of expertise, also found that she needed to appropriate 12 copyright images from Muthesius, ‘Byzantine Silk Weaving’, without either seeking or gaining permission from the present author. Brubaker needs to reflect upon the damage that she inflicts upon the discipline of Byzantine Textile and Dress Studies through this type of unprofessional publication. Access to these textiles is difficult for true textile scholars, and there are strict agreements in place about the reproduction of images of textiles. Brubaker not only ignored the author’s clearly stated copyright regarding the 12 images; but she also violated the rights of the owners of the textiles. The latter aspect seriously endangers the trust established between textile scholars and the authorities holding the textiles, and hinders future access to as yet still unpublished textile collections. A full review of Brubaker’s chapter is in preparation by the present author.

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were key to the development of formal ritual display.3 Exotic imported silks acted as ‘pious cultural capital’ in an age of ‘cults of relics’ and at a time when important religious centres vied for supremacy in the ‘pilgrimage stakes’.4 The purpose of this short paper is to ask two questions: firstly, ‘In which ways did the seal bags alongside other exotic imported silks at Canterbury act to signify and to legitimise both secular and religious interests?’ and secondly, more broadly, ‘How far did such silks point towards the existence of a significant degree of inter-cultural discourse hitherto little recognised?’ My paper falls into four sections representing: i. An extended survey of the surviving seal bags, ii. A summary analysis of selected documentary sources in relation to silken ceremonial, status building, and acquisition of cultural capital at Canterbury. iii. An exploration of the use of precious silks for the legitimisation of secular/ecclesiastical authority within the Cathedral complex, and iv. An examination of silks as a medium for inter-cultural discourse, with links across the Latin, Byzantine, Islamic and Far Eastern worlds.5 For the Canterbury silks as well as others documented in Cathedrals and churches before the time of the Dissolution see, O. Lehmann-Brockhaus, Lateinische Schriftquellen zur Kunst in England, Wales und Schottland vom Jahre 901 bis zum Jahre 1307. München 1955. For documented silks abroad consult, O. Lehmann-Brockhaus, Schriftquellen zur Kunstgeschichte des 11. und 12. Jahrhunderts für Deutschland, Lothringen und Italien. New York 1971. B. Bischoff, Mittelalterliche Schatzverzeichnisse. München 1967. Individual Cathedral and church inventories also provide evidence of large collections of silk furnishings and vestments, for examples see, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapters 14 and 15, pages 119–144. Also, many silks are documented as gifts, for instance from the Papacy to Basilicas of Rome see, Liber Pontificalis (L. Duchesne ed.) Paris 1892. Precious silk vestments and ecclesiastical furnishings were in use in Byzantium as early as the fourth to sixth centuries. West European widespread use of imported silks for similar purposes appears to date from the eighth century onwards. Earlier use of silks is apparent but on a lesser scale. 4 For the cult of relics and precious cloths see chapter 6 above and references in notes 20, 23, 24, 28, 29, 45, 48, 51. 5 Silks were used in a secular as well as in a religious capacity across the Byzantine, Islamic, West European and Near and Far Eastern world in the mediaeval period. Silks were also widely traded across these divides. There is no single publication that brings this vast subject together. An overview of Western Textiles was published, The Cambridge History of 3

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More than fifty silk and linen fragments at Canterbury Cathedral represent the remains of an impressive collection of seal bags, once attached to a variety of charters, variously datable between the twelfth and the fourteenth centuries.6 An examination of the group as a whole is useful for highlighting the place of the more unusual and most exotic Near Eastern pieces. Seven distinct areas of production for these silks may be suggested: Byzantine and Islamic Eastern Mediterranean; Sicilian; Italian; Spanish; ‘Unsited’ Islamic; Eastern Islamic, and Far Eastern.7 These groups are as follows: 1. Byzantine and Islamic Eastern Mediterranean8 Byzantine i. N22 Lion silk. P.m.w. twill (Plate 77) ii. N12 Peacock feather fragment. P.m.w. twill (Plate 72) iii. N23A–E Griffin silk. P.m.w. twill (Charter 1321) Islamic (Egypt/Syria/Asia Minor?) iv. N6 Lion-griffin attacking bird. P.m.w. twill (Charter 1290, Eleanor). (Plates 78–79) v. N13 Striped silk. P.m.w. twill (Charter 1317, Edward II). (Plates 80–81) vi. N14 Kufic inscription silk. P.m.w. twill (Charter 1314). (Plate 82) Western Textiles (D. Jenkins ed.). Cambridge 2003. Exhibition catalogues of recent date have on occasion provided a valuable contribution. An example of an exhibition catalogue publication, which brings the different technical and non-technical strands of silk textile studies together is, J. C. Y. Watt, A. E. Wardwell, When Silk was Gold. Central Asian and Chinese Textiles. New York, 1998. 6 G. Robinson, H. Urquhart, Seal Bags in the Cathedral Church of Canterbury. Archaeologia 84 (1935) 163–211. 7 The seal bags illustrate the broad geographical spread of silk acquisitions in the mediaeval period at Canterbury. The same wide range of silks is evident in mediaeval treasuries on the Continent also, both as surviving and as documented examples. Large diverse collections of silks are at Sens, Cathedral Treasury, at St. Servatius, Maastricht and at the Vatican in Rome, for example. Documented silks from across the mediaeval world are found for example, in the Vatican inventory of 1295. See E. Molinier, Inventaire du Trésor du sainte Siège sous Boniface VIII (1295). Bibliothèque de l’École des Chartes, 43, (1882) 277–310, 626–646; 45, (1884) 31–57; 46, (1885) 16–44; 47, (1886) 646–667; 49, (1888) 226–237. 8 Robinson and Urquhart, Seal Bags, 199 (N22), 185 (N12), 199–200 (N23A–E), 176 (N6), 185 (N13), 185–186 (N14), 182 (N11), 171–175 (N1, N2).

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vii. N11, N11A, N11B Peacock and quadruped silk. P.m.w. twill (Charter 1264). (Plates 83–84) viii. N1 Scarfed bird silk with inscription c.f. N2. P.m.w. twill, brocaded (Charter 1366). (Plates 85–86) ix. N2 Scarfed-bird silk with inscription c.f. N1, P.m.w. twill, brocaded (Charter 1364). (Plates 85–86) x. N2 attached-Foliate with inscription. P.m.w. twill, brocaded (Charter 1364) 2. Sicilian9 i. N5 Paired birds. S.m.w. twill (Charter Richard I, 1191) 3. Italian, semi-silk10 i–ii. N16 Pattern unclear. P.m.w. twills. Linen m. warps (Charter 1326). 4a. Spanish Cloth of Areste, and related twills11 i–iv. N30 Diamond diaper. Cloth of Areste. (Plate 87) v. N16 Diamond diaper with brocaded stripe. Cloth of Areste. (Plate 88) vi. N33 Red silk with brocaded foliate motifs. Cloth of Areste. (Plate 89) vii. N19 Lion silk. S.m.w. twill. 4b. Spanish — other i. N15 Double headed eagle silk. P.m.w. twill. (Plates 90–91) 5. Islamic — other i. N8 Crescent and stars. S.m.w. twill (Charter 1228) ii. N9 Crescent and stars. S.m.w. twill (Charter 1290). (Plate 92) iii. N7 Crescent and stars. S.m.w. twill

Ibid., 175–176 (N5). Ibid., 190 (N16). 11 Ibid., 202 (N30), (note (N16) second piece but distinct from that in note 11 above), 203–204 (N33), 198 (N19), 187–189 (N15), 179–181 (N8, N9, N7), 203 (N32), 200–201 (N24), 192–198 (N18), 190–191 (N17). 9

10

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6. Eastern Islamic i. N32 Lion silk. Lampas, (tabby, tabby). (Plate 93) ii. N24 Ogee and foliate motif silk with peacock feather infill. P.m.w. twill. (Plates 94–95) iii. N18 Figure and bird silk. P.m.w. twill. (Plate 96, upper) iv. N17 Animal and bird silk. P.m.w. twill. (Plate 97, Plate 96, lower) 7. Far Eastern12 i. N25 Winged quadruped silk. Lampas, (tabby, twill). (Plate 98) The un-patterned silks and linens have not been included, although two single main warp blue twills were attached to charters of 1188 and 1189 respectively.13 In chronological order the later charters are related to the following silks: —————————————————————————————————————————————

Silk

Charter date

Description

—————————————————————————————————————————————

N5 N8 N11/AB N9 N6 N14 N13 N23A–E N16 N2 N2 N1

1191 1228 1264 1290 1290 1314 1317 1321 1326 1364 1364 1366

The Sicilian silk (This charter was sent by Richard I from Sicily) Crescent and stars. Unidentified Islamic Peacock silk. Eastern Mediterranean As above, crescent and stars. Unidentified Islamic Lion griffin attacking bird. Islamic, Eastern Mediterranean Kufic inscription. Islamic, Eastern Mediterranean, Egypt/Fatimid Striped silk. Islamic, Eastern Mediterranean, Egypt/Fatimid Griffin silk. Byzantine, Eastern Mediterranean Pattern unclear. Italian, semi-silks Scarfed birds. Islamic, Eastern Mediterranean Kufic inscription and foliate motif. Islamic, Eastern Mediterranean Scarfed birds, Eastern Mediterranean?

—————————————————————————————————————————————

Although the Charter dates provide a terminus ante-quem for dating the 12 13

Ibid., 201–202 (N25). Ibid., 175 (N3, N4).

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silks, this is only relevant if taken in conjunction with technical evidence for silk dating. Only in some cases were contemporary silks used, as for example with the Sicilian piece (N5). Much earlier silks were used in the cases of the 1314, 1317 and 1321 Charters, for example. These Byzantine and Islamic Eastern Mediterranean pieces belong no later than the twelfth century. The Italian semi-silks are closer in date to their 1326 charter; they probably belong to the thirteenth century.14 Most interestingly, the more exotic, scarfed birds, perhaps from Asian Minor under Islamic and/or Ottoman rule, may have been used close to their time of manufacture; and this applies also most particularly to the tiny purple brocaded silk addition to N2. As a whole, the seal bags conform to the pattern of acquisition of precious silks, which was well established in Britain and on the Continent by the twelfth century.15 It was customary practice at the great Cathedral and cult centres, to acquire vast collections of such silks. Aachen Cathedral; Sens Cathedral; Maastricht, St Servatius; the Cathedral of Köln and this city’s Romanesque churches (St. Heribert, St. Cunibert, St. Ursula); St Denis, and Notre Dame in Paris; Durham, Westminster and Canterbury Cathedrals, are only a few of the examples that spring to mind.16 (Over 500 silk fragments survive at both Sens and at Maastricht respectively, and these simply include the examples used only for shrouding relics.)17 The pattern

14 Ibid., 190 (N16). The semi-silk erroneously termed from ‘Regensburg’ belongs to a type that Donald king identified with Venetian manufacture. See Donald King reference in note 18 below. 15 Up to the twelfth century a mixture of Byzantine, Islamic and Central Asian silks predominated. Thereafter an increasing number of Italian and West Turkestan silks, and some Chinese examples, do appear in the treasuries. Chinese silks are rare but there are a few examples dating to the early mediaeval period, consider for example, St. Servatius, Maastricht, inventory number 34, Stauffer, Mittelalterlichen Textilien, 101. 16 The textiles at Westminster Abbey have not yet been systematically technically analysed and published as a group. Two individual bags (wool and semi-silk, respectively), have been researched and published, see F. Pritchard, ‘Two royal seal bags from Westminster Abbey’, in: Ancient and Medieval Textiles. Studies in honour of Donald King. Special edition of Textile History 20/2 (1989) 225–234. Another Westminster bag was exhibited in London in 1963, see reference in note 1 on page 232. Also see J. Wickham Legg. ‘On an inventory of the Vestry in Westminster Abbey, taken in 1388’. Archaeologia 52 (1890) 46–76. 17 For Sens and Maastricht silks, see Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, 160 (list of Maastricht silks as catalogued) and 161 (list of Sens Cathedral silks as catalogued). For all the Maastricht silks see, Stauffer, Mittelalterlichen Textilien catalogue.

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of acquisition was standard. Byzantine and Islamic, Eastern Mediterranean and ‘Zandaniji’ Central Asian silks, as well as Spanish western Mediterranean silks predominated up to the ninth to tenth centuries.18 From the tenth to eleventh centuries, Persian silks began to arrive.19 In the twelfth to thirteenth centuries, Sicilian, Spanish cloth of Areste and Italian semi-silks were acquired.20 From the thirteenth to fourteenth centuries, many Italian examples began to appear, but also in these centuries a more exotic market was opening up.21 Motifs and techniques which had begun to cross cultures (most strikingly in the Eastern Mediterranean between Byzantine and Islamic centres) in the tenth to eleventh centuries, heralded the later intriguing crosscultural silken discourses of the thirteenth to fourteenth centuries.22 The Persian lampas lion silk fragment at Canterbury N32, (10th–11th century), and the Byzantine lion silk N22 (9th–10th century), illustrate the use of common themes in the early period. N6 an Islamic piece of the Eastern

18 For Italian semi-silks and their dating on technical grounds see, ‘Some unrecognised Venetian woven fabrics’, in: D. King, Collected Textile Studies of Donald King. (A. Muthesius, M. King ed.) London 2004, chapter 9, 111–134. 19 For the period up to 1200 A.D. see, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, 145–148. Byzantine, Islamic, and Central Asian silks were widely available. From that date onwards, Italian silks were widely produced and exported and they appear in numbers later, in the treasuries. More Near Eastern silks are also evident. 20 Consult Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, appendix 2, list of silks by location. 21 For the Italian silk industry in general see contributions in proceedings of, La Seta in Europa (13–20 sec.) Instituto Internazionale di Storia Economica ‘F. Datini’, Prato, 4–9 Maggio 1992, B. Dini, ‘L’industria serica in Italia. Sec. 13–15., 91–124, and L. Mola, L’industria della seta a Lucca nel tardo Medioevo: emigrazione della manodopera e creazione di una rete produttiva a Bologna e Venezia, 435–452. More specialised articles on technical aspects of the Italian silk industry include, D. and M. King, Silk weaves of Lucca in 1376, in: Opera Textilia Variorum Temporum. (I. Estham, M. Nockert ed.) Stockholm 1988, 67–76. 22 See A. E. Wardwell, Recently discovered textiles woven in the western part of Central Asia before A.D. 1200’, in: Ancient and Medieval Textiles, 175–184. Also three further articles by A. Wardwell, Flight of the Phoenix: cross currents in late thirteenth to fourteenth century silk patterns and motifs. Bulletin of the Cleveland Museum of Art 74 (1987) 2–35; ‘The stylistic development of 14 and 15 century Italian silk design’. Aachener Kunstblätter. 47 (1976–1977) 177–226; ‘Panni Tartarici: Eastern Islamic silks woven with gold and silver (13 and 14 centuries)’, Islamic Art 3 (1988–1989) 95–173. 23 For N32 see Robinson and Urquhart, Seal Bags, 203 and for N22 see references in chapter 7 note 46 above.

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Mediterranean (Egypt/Syria?)23 combines Islamic stripes and Byzantine hearts alongside the typically Byzantine themes of animals attacking either other quadrupeds, or birds.24 The latter is an ancient theme that can be traced back to Classical Antiquity, and which can be found upon ancient Thracian treasures.25 Similarly, N11 is a silk with E. Mediterranean heart motifs, also found in Spain, but which here are used in conjunction with an Islamic, Near Eastern young leaf ornament.26 N16, N30, are examples of Spanish cloth of Areste, but Sophie Desrosiers suggests that such silks were also produced in France in the thirteenth century.27 No seal bag of typically Italian silk survives, but Italian silks of the same period boldly adopted Chinese and Eastern Islamic motifs, (as seen in the examples shown above), in an exuberant celebration of inter-cultural contacts.28 N24 is an Eastern Islamic silk, a paired main warp twill with brocading, which relates to the ‘Panni Tartarici’ group of Eastern Islamic lampases.29 The twill brocaded silks are much rarer than the lampas silks. N17 and N18 are the most intriguing pieces at Canterbury. These are two distinct paired main warp twills. The subject of figure and bird motif has no parallel on silks. The narrative style resembles that of later Persian carpets.30 Canterbury silks N17

For such motifs see, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, plates 29A, 83A and also plates 26A, 75B, 80A, 122B. 25 For example, an ancient theme is that of griffin attacking stag (or on medieval textiles and objects griffin attacking elephant). See, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, 52–54 for examples, with references to relevant literature in notes 53–65 on page 57. 26 Robinson and Urquhart, Seal Bags, 182, pl. LV, fig 2, shows these winding thin leafed tendrils in conjunction with a border of heart motifs. 27 Robinson and Urquhart, Seal Bags, 190 (N16) and 185 (N13). For cloth of Areste see, ‘Two medieval textile terms: ‘Draps d’Ache’, ‘Draps de l’Arrest’’, in: D. King, Collected Studies of Donald King (A. Muthesius, M. King ed.) London 2004, chapter 5, 77–83. S. Desrosiers, ‘Cloth of Aresta’, in: Ancient and Medieval Textiles, 135–149. More recently this has been modified by the same author see, S. Desrosiers, ‘Draps d’areste. Extension de la classification, comparaisons et lieux de fabrication’, in: Techniques and Culture 34 (1999) 89–119. 28 See Wardwell, ‘Flight of the phoenix’ and ‘Stylistic development’ articles as cited in note 22 above. 29 Robinson and Urquhart, Seal Bags, 200–201, (N24). Wardwell, ‘Panni Tartarici’ article as cited in note 22 above. 30 Robinson and Urquhart, Seal Bags, 190–198 (N17, N18) plate LII, figure 2 (N17), plate LVII figure 1 (N18). 24

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and N18, stylistically and technically belong no later than the 11th to 12th century. The subject can be variously interpreted as follows as the: i. Ganymede legend31 ii. Babylonian Etara legend32 iii. Islamic Paradise legend iv. Combination of Alexander legend, Ganymede (but not Islamic Paradise legend), and the Romance of Mizari33 v. Garvinda legend, Ascent of King Kai-ka’us vi. Persian legend of Zail in Kingshook or Firdansi.34 Once more this heroic literary type of theme across cultures illustrates how fertile the ground was for cross-cultural discourse, and it also (once manifested) makes individual artefacts difficult to pin down if not in terms of their provenance, certainly in the context of the line of their inspiration. Before leaving this survey, N25 has to be mentioned. This lampas quadruped silk does not conform in style with Eastern Islamic pieces. Could it be from an even more Eastern, perhaps Chinese, centre of origin?35 The Canterbury inventory of 1315 The surviving East Islamic twill at Canterbury N24 corroborates the evidence of the 1315 Canterbury inventory.36 Both fuel the idea that 31 J. Lessing, Mittelalterliche Zeugdrucke im Kunstgewerbe Museum zu Berlin, in: Jahrbuch der königlich preussischen Kunstsammlungen I (1880) 119–126 , especially 120–124. A Ganymede silk is discussed in, K. Otavsky, M. Abbas Muhammad Salim, Mittelalterliche Textilien II, Abegg Stiftung, Riggisberg 1995, 127–130, catalogue 77. 32 E. Herzfeld, Der Thron des Khosro, Quellenkritische und ikonographische Studien über Grenzgebiete der Kunstgeschichte des Morgen- und Abendlandes. Jahrbuch der preussischen Kunstsammlungen 21 (1920) 1–24, 103–147, especially 124–125, 132–133. 33 J. H. Schmidt, ‘Seldschukische Seidenstoffe auf der Persischen Kunstausstellung in London’, Belvedere 10 (1931) 81–86, especially 82, and J. H. Schmidt, Alte Seidenstoffe. Braunschweig 1958, 115–116. 34 G. Wiet, Soieres persanes. Mémoires de l’Institut d’Égypte 52. (Kairo 1947) 60–62. In addition, for the most detailed study of the eagle (and of the bicephlous eagle), as symbolic motifs, see J. E. Korn, Adler und Doppeladler. Ein Zeichen im Wandel der Geschichte. Ph.D. thesis. Göttingen 1969. For the legendary use of these motifs in ancient cultures see 45ff. 35 Robinson and Urquhart, Seal Bags, 202–203 (N25). 36 Ibid., 200–201, (N24). The 1315 and other Canterbury Cathedral inventories are published in: J. Wickham Legg, W. H. St. John Hope, Inventories of Christ Church, Canterbury. Westminster 1902.

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Canterbury was interested in the acquisition of exotic and exclusive silk fabrics. The 1315 inventory speaks of six exquisite ‘Pannini Tartarici’, of a cloth from ‘Tharse’, ‘with a design of gold birds and trees’ (no 106), and of another with a design of ‘cocks and horsemen in gold’ (no 110).37 Four whole vestments are cited as follows: ‘An alb with an apparel of white cloth from Tharse’ with a design of small birds’ (no 107)38 A ‘chasuble of green cloth from Tharse’ diapered with leaves of vines (no 108)39 A ‘red chasuble of Tharse (cloth) with gold coin like motifs’ (no 109),40 and a ‘red chasuble of cloth from ‘Tharse’ with a design of gold pine nuts (lotus-palmettes).41 Comparisons with descriptions in the Papal inventory of 1295 This paper does not attempt to compare in depth Canterbury with other silk treasury centres.42 In general one can say that an examination of inventories of British cathedrals and monastery/parish churches, reveals a predominance of Opus Anglicanum and of Italian imported silks.43 Pannini Tartarici do not abound. Canterbury must be compared rather, with the Continent. In particular, the Papal Inventory of 1295 reveals many Eastern Islamic examples, some with vine ornament.44 Other examples include: ‘A dorsal (cover) of tartarici cloth, white with gold foliage’ (no 825), or ‘A red pluvial of tartarici cloth with gold’ (no 898) and ‘A tunic and dalmatic of tartarici cloth, white with pomegranates

Ibid., see nos. (106, 110). Ibid., see no. (107). 39 Ibid., see no. (108). 40 Ibid., see no. (109). 41 Ibid., see no. (109). 42 For Opus Anglicanum see, D. King, Opus Anglicanum exhibition, Victoria and Albert Museum, London 26 September–24 November, 1963. Arts Council, London 1963. 43 For references to publications on Italian silks see note 21 above. 44 See Molinier reference in note 7 above. 45 Ibid., see nos. (825, 898, 932). 37 38

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and bordered by a tartarici cloth bearing gold medallions’ (no 932).45 The Papal inventory lists an astounding array of silks and reveals a marked tendency towards conspicuous consumption, a symbol of cultural wealth. Magnificent tartaricic silks with eagles were even further elaborated by the addition of pearls and precious stones (nos. 946, 947).46 Mix and match of precious types was common: one set of vestments utilised Eastern Islamic, Spanish and English embroidered silks (no 972).47 One interesting ‘antique Tartarici’ cloth is noted as being a violet silk with golden beasts’ (no 1017).48 It was not surprising that Canterbury revealed itself to be close to Rome in its ‘silk taste’, but it is interesting to note the differences between acquisition patterns, for example, at St Paul’s or at Westminster, and at Canterbury. The predominance of Opus Anglicanum and of Italian rather than Near Eastern pieces may have reflected political as well as economic stances in centres like St. Paul’s in London.49 Interestingly, Peterborough Cathedral included amongst its treasures, ‘a case of Tartarici cloth embroidered with golden moons and stars’, and also, ‘a chasuble of Tartaricic cloth with an added golden ophrey bearing various shields and black eagles.’ A further cape of Tartarici cloth was embroidered with ‘lions and fleur de lys motifs’ (no 3507).50 It would be fruitful to undertake a regional survey of treasuries to determine how far choice might have been governed by intent. After all, the silks were on public display. The Cult of St. Thomas Becket at Canterbury At Canterbury the cult of St. Thomas Becket was rapidly promoted with

Ibid., see nos. (946, 947). Ibid., see no. (972). 48 Ibid., see no. (1017). 49 For St. Pauls, London, documented silks see, Lehmann Brockhaus, Lateinische Schriftquellen, 123–186, for nos., (2732, 2739, 2740–2748). 50 Ibid., 340, see no. (3507), for Peterborough Cathedral documented silks. 51 J. Butler, The Quest for Beckett’s Bones. London 1995. Nilson, Cathedral Shrines, has too numerous references to cite in full, see 274 with all relevant page numbers given under the heading of, ‘Thomas Becket, St’. 46 47

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the construction of a shrine, the organisation of a pilgrimage and the ‘publication’ of miracle collections.51 The cult was also promulgated abroad, not least at Sens.52 The pilgrimage that arose and which provided much income to the Cathedral, served many purposes. At Canterbury in particular it: i. Regulated the relationship between Church and State following the murder of the Archbishop by members of the King’s court. ii. Enabled expression of both courtly and popular piety, and it provided a focus for faith-healing miracles. iii. The shrine was also a source of regulation of public life. Processions involved the laity. Sometimes these were coincident with times for payment of taxes to the monastery, often in the form of tithes of agricultural produce.53 The cult with its elaborate use of precious cloths and richly vested processions, not only defined ecclesiastical power in relation to the court, but it also established a pattern for the relation of civic to ecclesiastical authority. Pilgrimage The seal bags in particular were intricately tied into the process of legitimisation of both secular and religious authority.54 They protected the ‘seal’ or legitimisation of the acts of authority expressed within the charters; some royal; others noble or landowning and yet others ecclesiastical. It should not be forgotten too, that the cathedrals had jurisdiction over not only their 52 At Sens St. Thomas Becket was exiled shortly before his death. Vestments of the saint remain in the Cathedral treasury. See Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, M190, M291, M775. M292 known as the shoes of the saint date much later. 53 Nilson, Cathedral Shrines, 92–93, 97, 99, 106–107, 111–113. 54 For instance, Canterbury silk N5, Robinson and Urquhart, Seal Bags, 175–176, was used as the covering for a charter sent from Messina, Sicily, by Richard I, to the prior and monks of Christ Church, Canterbury, to provide them authority to revoke sales of land made without the consent of the Church. 55 Not only great Cathedrals such as Durham, but also much smaller abbeys and priories were involved with land ownership. On the landowning aspects of such smaller ecclesiastical foundations in Anglo-Norman England see, E. Cownie, Religious Patronage in Anglo-Norman England 1066–1135. Woodbridge 1998, especially analysis on 151–206. There was an intricate relationship between retaining patronage and land, in cases where aristocratic and knightly patronage was involved.

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own cathedral complexes, but also over vast tracts of land.55 Many peoples lives were entirely regulated by the Church. Canterbury was well sited as far as pilgrimage was concerned. It lay on the routes to London, Rochester, Canterbury, Dover, Paris and Santiago.56 Travel to and from Rome was frequent if not always easy. In 959 the unfortunate Archbishop Aelfsige of Canterbury froze to death in the Alps on his way to Rome.57 The monk John of Canterbury found the St. Bernard’s pass very slippery in 1188.58 Five monks of Christchurch Canterbury actually perished of malaria during the same year, whilst on pilgrimage to Rome.59 Archbishop Sigeric of Canterbury succeeded in completing a visit to Pope John XV around 990, as did Richard, Archbishop elect, who visited Rome later, in 1174. Around 1097, St. Anselm of Canterbury had also been in Rome.60 Pope Innocent III insisted on the attendance of a Canterbury party, (in spite of the dangers posed by bandits operating on the route), at the Fourth Lateran Council in 1213.61 The Cathedral Complex Economic, political and legal aspects were inextricably linked in the run56 For Santiago see, A. Shaver-Crandell, P. Gerson, The Pilgrim’s Guide to Santiago de Compostela. London 1995. Pilgrimage routes, which crossed through France and N. Spain and on to Santiago de Compostela were recorded by a French writer in the 1130s. This guide is translated into English, 65–95, with a gazetteer that provides information on all the pilgrimage sites mentioned in the mediaeval source. 57 For pilgrimage to Rome see D. J. Birch, Pilgrimage to Rome in the Middle Ages. Woodbridge 2000 edition. For Aelfsige see 55–56, with source, Florence of Worcester, Chronicon (B. Thorpe ed.) I–II, London1848–1849, I, 138, cited on page 56 in note 138. 58 Birch, Pilgrimage, 56, with source, Epistolae Cantuarienses, in: Chronicles and Memorials of the Reign of Richard I (W. Stubbs ed.) I–II, R. S. 38. London 1864–1865, II, 181, cited on page 56 in note 143. 59 Birch, Pilgrimage, 57, with source, Epistolae Cantuarienses, II, 254, cited on page 57 in note 150. 60 For Archbishop Sigeric see V. Ortenberg, ‘Archbishop Sigeric’s journey to Rome in 990’. Anglo Saxon England 19 (1990) 197–246. For Archbishop Richard consult, Birch, Pilgrimage, 50 and note 84 with source, Ralph de Dicento, Ymagines Historiarum (W. Stubbs ed) I–II. R. S. 68, London 1876, I, 388. On St. Anselm of Canterbury in Rome see, Birch, Pilgrimage, 57 with source in note 148, St. Anselm, Epistolae, PL 159, 9–272, especially cols. 113, 216–217. 61 Birch, Pilgrimage, 68–69 and note 240 with source, Selected Letters of Pope Innocent III concerning England (1198–1216), (C. R. Cheney, W. H. Semple ed.). London 1953, 144–147.

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ning of the Cathedral complex. As far as the acquisition of precious silks was concerned, a number were certainly royal or aristocratic gifts, but many came as items of trade. Without the rise of the Italian super companies, and the growth of international commerce after the opening up of the Eastern Islamic and the silk routes to China, Canterbury amongst other centres, could not have acquired the most exotic silks.62 The Papacy was heavily involved in so far as it banked with the super companies. The Papacy also enjoyed, through them, the opportunity of purchasing the exquisite products of the silk roads across which the Italians traded.63 The rise of the Mongol Empire further opened up the East to European traders, so that many Italian merchants came to trade in China, itself.64 Whilst Jewish Rhadanite merchants had traversed Central Asia to China as early as the eighth to ninth centuries65 the developments of the thirteenth to fourteenth century gave scope for the establishment of inter-cultural contact on a much vaster scale. The silks as symbols of inter-cultural discourse Byzantine, Islamic, Near and Far Eastern silk weaving, and later Italian silk weaving, were channels through which to arouse inter-cultural discourse. Both before and after 1204, motifs passed between the different cultures through the medium of silk weaving and export. The Canterbury seal bags include Byzantine and Islamic Eastern Mediterranean silks, and also Near Eastern examples.66 Greek and Islamic motifs were inter-mingled on On the Italian super companies see E. S. Hunt, The medieval super-companies. A study of the Peruzzi Company of Florence. Cambridge 1994. 63 Hunt, Super-companies, 61–2, 187, 217–218, 221, 225. 64 L. Petech, ‘Les marchands italiens dans l’empire mongol’. Journal Asiatique, 250 (1962) 549–574. Also see, The Book of Ser Marco Polo (H. Yule tr. and ed.) third edition, I–II, revised by H. Cordier. London 1921; Marco Polo. The Travels. Harmondsworth 1958, reprint 1986, and P. Pelliot, Notes on Marco Polo. I–II, Paris 1959–1963. 65 L. I. Rabinowitz, Jewish Merchant Adventurers. The study of the Radanites. London 1948. 66 Compare silks inv. 22 and inv. nos. 1, 2 and 14. Robinson and Urquhart, Seal Bags, 171–175, 185–187. 67 For example, Victoria and Albert Museum inv. 2150–1900, belongs to a group of figured silks of the eighth to ninth century from Egypt or Syria, which display either Greek/ Coptic or Arabic script. The seventh-century Arab conquests of Egypt and Syria would have provided an opportunity for inter-cultural adoption of motifs. See The Arts of Islam exhibition. Hayward Gallery, London 8 April –4 July 1976. Arts Council of Great Britain 1976, 73, silk number 2. 62

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silks, such as on certain examples at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London.67 Byzantine influences are visible on Central Asian silks between the eighth and the eleventh centuries (motifs, dyes, techniques) and Near and Far Eastern influences appear on Italian silks of the fourteenth and the fifteenth centuries.68 Increasingly, Chinese contacts with the west were felt. As early as the tenth century at the time of the Song dynasty, Chinese maritime trading routes were reaching out to the Persian Gulf (Qais), Persia (Mesopotamia and Mosul), Almoravi in Spain, Egypt, India, Korea and 68 The Central Asian school of textile design was affected by contact with the Eastern Mediterranean silk weaving schools. The Central Asian weaves, palette of dyes, and repertoire of motifs were all affected by this cross-cultural contact. See, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 10, 94–100, (eighth to ninth centuries) and chapter 5, 44–45 (tenth to eleventh centuries). Also for Byzantine influence in Central Asia (tenth to eleventh centuries) see, D. King, ‘The textiles found near Rayy about 1925’. C. I. E. T. A. Bulletin 65 (1987) 34–59, esp. 41–47. For the Italian silks affected by contact with the Near and Far Eastern silk weaving motifs see Wardwell references in note 22 above. 69 On Song dynasty trade see, H. R. Clark, Community, trade, and networks. Southern Fujian Province from the third to the thirteenth century. Cambridge 1991, chapter 6, 120–137. Also, P. Wheatley, Geographical notes on some commodities involved in Sung maritime trade. Journal of the Malayan branch of the Royal Asiatic Society. 32/2, no. 186 (1961) 1–140. On east west trade contacts and inter-cultural influences see, J. Needham, Science and Civilisation in China. Volume I. Cambridge 1979 ed., chapter 7, Conditions of Travel of Scientific Ideas and Techniques between China and Europe, on pages 150 –248, with discussion on east-west trade routes on page 170ff. Also see diverse papers on inter-cultural exchange in the proceedings of, Cultural and Commercial Exchanges between the Orient and the Greek World. Symposium, Athens 25–28 October, 1990. Centre for Neo-Hellenic Research, Athens 1991, especially 23–29, 85–96, 111–122, 173–188. 70 The Rhadanite Jewish traders reached China and traded across both Byzantium and the west in the period before the fall of Constantinople to the Latins. See reference in note 65 above. For the Italians involved in commerce in Constantinople before 1204 see, D. Jacoby, ‘Italian privileges and trade in Byzantium before the fourth crusade: a reconsideration’, in: D. Jacoby, Trade, Commodities and Shipping in the Medieval Mediterranean. Aldershot 1997, chapter 2, 349–369. For the Franks and their involvement with silk in the Peloponnese between 1330–1380 see, D. Jacoby, ‘Silk production in the Frankish Peloponnese: the evidence of fourteenth century surveys and reports’, in: D. Jacoby, Trade and Commodities, chapter 8, 41–61. For Venetian and Genoese traders attested in China in the 1330s see, R. H. Bautier, Les relations economiques des Occidentaux avec les pays d’Orient au moyen age, in: Societes et companies de commerce en Orient et dans l’Ocean indien (M. Mollat ed.) Paris 1970, 280–292. D. Jacoby, ‘Silk crosses the Mediterranean’, in: Byzantium, Latin Romania and the Mediterranean. Aldershot 2001, chapter 10, 55–79, deals with the role of the Italian maritime trade in distribution of imported Byzantine and Islamic textiles and raw silk both before and after 1204. The Italians were active in import of raw silk from the Levant and from Central Asian, see Jacoby pages 74–75. Also, they imported

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Japan amongst other centres.69 After the fall of Constantinople to the Latins in 1204, the Italians continued to trade from there.70 An inter-cultural fusion was inevitable in regions where political boundaries were constantly changing. Asia Minor had acquired a Byzantine, a Seldjuk and an Ottoman history by the fifteenth century.71 In Asia Minor, Egypt and Syria textiles were being exchanged between East and West via Italian intermediaries. Conclusion To conclude, in answer to the first question, it is evident that official documents of both secular and religious content at Canterbury Cathedral, were sealed in wax and protected by silk. If silk had not enjoyed a whole labyrinth of inter-cultural status and power symbolism, there would have been no point in doing so. Less expensive linens were available to do the ‘job’. The fact that the smallest scraps were utilised, perhaps tailor’s off-cuts, suggests the pleasure that the striking visual effects of the most exotic silks might have engendered. The second question concerning the degree of inter-cultural discourse indicated by the textiles has also been answered in the course of discussion in the paper. A final thought on the subject might be added here, with reference to recent scholarship. Dimitri Gutas in his recent book entitled Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, Chinese raw silk, and a cargo of this silk was transported to Genoa (via Lesser Armenia) in 1256/7, see Jacoby pages 78–79. Raw silk from the Caucasus arrived at the Black Sea ports, and this was then transported via Constantinople to Genoa, see Jacoby 79. 71 Bursa continued as a silk centre after the fall of the Byzantine Empire to the Turks in 1453. See, H. Inalcik, An Economic and Social History of the Ottoman Empire 1300–1914. Cambridge 1994, section D part 10, ‘Bursa and the silk trade’, on pages 218–255. An Ottoman state silk weaving factory in Istanbul (Constantinople), from the fifteenth century onwards wove silks for use in the Ottoman court. The Ottomans gifted some of these silks to the monastery of St. Catherine, Sinai. The present author is publishing these previously unknown Ottoman silks in her forthcoming book on the silk treasury of the monastery. For the Ottoman production in general, most recently see, N. Atasoy, W. B. Denny, L. W. Mackie, H. Tezcan, Ipek. The Crescent and the Rose. Imperial Ottoman Silks and Velvets. London 2001. See also, E. A. Zachariadou, ‘The Presents of the Emirs’, in: Cultural and Commercial Exchanges, 79–84. The author illustrates the inter-cultural and economic exchange system centred activities, that existed between Italian merchants and Turks in Egypt and Syria, and they also discuss Tartar based Black Sea region trade controlled by the Genoese. 72 D. Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture. London 1998, see especially 23, 29–33, 61–69, 166–174, 175–186, with concluding remarks on 187–192.

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describes the Graeco-Arabic translation movement in Baghdad in relation to early Abbasid society (eighth to tenth centuries).72 Gutas demonstrates that the most detailed study of the Greek sources was undertaken by the Arabs and that Muslim-Christian dialogue did exist. Of course this material might have been exploited for anti-Byzantine propaganda, but an appreciation of Aristotelian rationalism did act as a bridge between the two cultures. Similarly, there was cross-fertilisation between the Greek and Arab worlds in the fields of philosophy and science. According to Gutas, the Abbasid attacks on Greek philosophy and science in the early thirteenth century, significantly, were preceded by the Mongol conquests of their territories in the mid-century. Similarly the attacks on Greek philosophy and science true in the late Ayyubid and early Mamluk period in Damascus (thirteenth to fourteenth century), must be seen in the wake of Islamic attempts to counter both Crusader and Mongol threats. Nevertheless, Near Eastern astronomy of the same period took pains to encompass the fruits not only of the ancient Greek but also of Byzantine astronomy. Similarly, Byzantine astronomy and medicine were influenced by Arab scholarship in those fields. Scholarship has tended to ignore aspects of cross-cultural enrichment between east and west. The deeper significance of the Canterbury silks, including the exotic Eastern Islamic pieces, must lie in the fact that they might have symbolised universal human aspirations intelligible across diverse cultures. This in turn raises the question, to what extent were medieval cultural boundaries largely political constructs? In our age of merciless deconstruction of myths, this is perhaps worth asking.

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Byzantine Silks in the Latin West: Economic and Artistic Exchange or Political Ploy? Introduction

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HE survival of several hundred splendid early mediaeval Byzantine silks in ecclesiastical treasuries of Western Europe raises many questions. How did these precious Byzantine artistic artifacts reach the Latin West? What motivated their dispatch and how were they viewed and used by the Latins who received them? Might they be regarded as having arrived mainly as easily transportable objects of trade, and as having been impartial transmitters of cultural influence? Or should their arrival be viewed in a more stringent light, as largely politically charged, and as an intricate element of a silk-trade linked diplomacy? If politically charged, how far might such a silken strategy have been designed to weave a web not only across the Latin West, but further afield beyond the Mediterranean through to the Near East? The question is to distinguish ‘How far were Byzantine silks merely the product of a culturally refined exploitation of an essential economic asset?’ and ‘How far were they politically charged symbols, exploited abroad as important ‘ammunition’, and significant to the stability of the Empire?1

1 For economic aspects see, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 1, 5–18, chapter 13, 113–118. Also consult by the present author: ‘A practical approach to the history of Byzantine Silk Weaving’; ‘From Seed to Samite: Aspects of Byzantine Silk Production’; ‘Crossing Traditional Boundaries: Grub to Glamour in Byzantine Silk Weaving’, and ‘The Byzantine Silk Industry: Lopez and Beyond’, in: A. Muthesius, Studies in Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving, London 1995, chapters 4, 7, 11 and 17 respectively, on pages 55–76,

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Silks as vehicles for cultural exchange In general terms, the significance of the Byzantine silk industry lay in its ability to penetrate Byzantine domestic and foreign affairs from many directions and at varied levels. As vehicles for the emphasis of Imperial grandeur and at the same time as transmitters of cultural influence, Byzantine silks played a remarkable role. In Byzantium between the fourth and the tenth centuries four important principals were increasingly applied: 1. Specially produced and tailored murex purple silks acted as a sign of Imperial authority.2 119–134, 173–200 and 315–335. Also by the same author see, ‘Silk Industry: Processes, Looms, Techniques’, in: A. Muthesius, Studies in Silk in Byzantium, London 2004, chapter 3. 37–66. For political implications see, ‘Silken Diplomacy’; ‘The Role of Byzantine Silks in the Ottonian Empire’; ‘Politics, Piety and the Silken Cult of Relics: Aachen Münster Treasury Silks in Historical Context’, and ‘Silk, Power and Diplomacy in Byzantium’, in: Muthesius, Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving, chapters 10, 13, and 14 respectively, on pages 165–172, 217–230 and 231–244. Also by the same author, ‘Silk in Byzantium: Cultural Imperialism, Identity and Value’ and ‘The Byzantine Eagle’, in: Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, chapters 1 and 13 respectively, on pages 1–22 and 227–236. For the use of silk standards in the Byzantine army refer to, G. T. Dennis, ‘Byzantine Battle Flags’. Byzantinische Forschungen 8 (1982) 50–59. The articles of the present author as cited above, combine the historical and technical aspects of Byzantine silk weaving, with close reference to the surviving silks, and they consider the impact of the influence of Byzantine silk weaving on the West. 2 Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 3, 27–33, with special bibliography on purple and other dyes. See especially, G. Steigerwald, Das kaiserliche Purpurprivileg in spätrömischer und frühbyzantinischer Zeit. Jahrbuch für Antike und Christentum 33 (1990) 209–239. The purples of special cut reserved for Imperial use are detailed in the regulations of the Book of the Prefect, see J. Koder, Das Eparchenbuch Leons des Weisen. Wien 1991, 8.1, 8.2, 8.4 on 102–105. Compare 4.1 on 90–91; 4.3 on 92–93. Evidently, not all purples were reserved for Imperial use. The combination of the tailoring used and the type of purple dye were significant in distinguishing the forbidden Imperial purple silks. Also consult, D. D. Poli, ‘La porpora presso Bizantini, Copti e Cristiani’, in: La Porpora. Realta e Immaginario di un Colore Simbolico. Atti del Convegno di Studio. Venezia 24–25 Ottobre 1996, Venezia 1998, 407–412. The silks referred to in this article have not undergone dye analysis. The problems of defining the chemical composition of purples is compounded by the fact that little scientific analysis of purple dyed silks has yet taken place. For examples of dye analysis of purples see, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, 29–31 and references in notes 33–37. Hofenk de Graf analysed the Sitten Griffin silk dye as murex see, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, 29, 50, 179 (M48), and illustration on the cover, and plate 15A. A sample of Imperial lion silk (M615) was analysed for the research of the present author. This Imperial Lion silk was dyed with a mixture of indigo and madder rather than with murex. See

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2. Elaborate silken courtly ceremonial underlined the power and status of the Emperor. A hierarchy of silken dress was established. The dispatch of diplomatic silks to the west in this context, appears to have been prevalent especially in relation to political marriage negotiations.3 3. Elaborate ecclesiastical furnishings and vestments of silks were rendered essential both to the celebration of the Orthodox Faith and to the proclamation of the ‘Divine Right’ of the Emperor to rule.4 Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, 30, 220. An Islamic copy of an Imperial Byzantine Lion silk (M102) used a mixture of indigo and a lichen dye for its purple dye, see Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, 29–30, 44–45. Further analysis of samples of Byzantine silks is required before the various terms used for purples in Byzantine documents can be fully understood. The most comprehensive publication on natural dyestuffs is that of, J. H. Hofenk de Graff, The Colourful Past. London 2004. There is a section on Tyrian purple, which features only a small handful of historical textiles with the Sion Griffin silk amongst other silks, on pages 264–273. The bibliography presented on pages 365–373 provides an up to date and comprehensive list of publications dealing with the scientific analysis of natural dyes on historical textiles. Many of these titles date after the time of the writing of the Byzantine Silk Weaving monograph, and they should be added to the list of publications given there on pages 32–33. 3 By the present author refer to, ‘The Cult of Imperial and Ecclesiastical Silks in Byzantium’, and ‘Textiles and Dress in Byzantium’, in: Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, chapters 2, and 4 respectively, on pages 23–35, and 67–84. For the Byzantine documentary references to court costumes see, Le Klètorologion de Philothée (N. Oikonomides ed.), in: Les listes de préséance byzantins des IX et X siècles. Paris 1972. I. I. Reiske, Constantini Porphyrogentii imperatoris, De ceremoniis aulae byzantinae. Bonn 1829–1830, and Constantine VII Porpyrogenete, Le Livre des Ceremonies, (A. Vogt ed.) I–II, Paris 1935, 1939. For discussion in relation to the Book of Ceremonies see, E. Piltz, ‘Middle Byzantine Court Costume’, in: Byzantine Court Culture from 829–1204. (H. Maguire ed.). Washington 1997, section II, 39–51, and by the same author note, ‘Le costume official des dignitaries byzantins à l’époque Paléologue’, Figura, n.s. 26, Uppsala 1994. Earlier see, J. Ebersolt, ‘Les vêtements impériaux dans le cérémonial’. Mélanges d’histoire et d’archeologie Byzantine. Paris 1951, part 2, chapter 6, 50–69. Further, as background to the court use of silks see, A. P. Kazhdan, M. McCormick, ‘The Social World of the Byzantine Court’, in: Byzantine Court Culture, section V, 167–197. 4 For the vestments see, T. Papas, Geschichte der Messgewänder. Miscellanea Byzantina Monacensia 3. Munich 1965. In relation to the Imperial and the ‘divine’ status of the Emperor see, L. Bréhier, Les institutions de l’empire byzantin. Paris 1970, especially 79–137; L. Bréhier, P. Battifol, Les survivances du culte impérial romain. Paris 1920, especially 36–73, and O. Treitinger, Die oströmische Kaiser und reichsidee nach ihrer Gestaltung im höfischen Zeremoniell. Jena 1938, 214–218. Compare, A. Alföldi, Die Ausgestaltung des monarchischen Zeremoniells am römischen Kaiserhof. Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts. Römische Abteilung 49–50 (1934–1935). G. Dagron, Empereur et prêtre. Étude sur le ‘césaropapisme’ byzantin. Paris 1996.

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4. Silk was economically and diplomatically exploited abroad, not least as a means of attracting political allies, and/or of sealing peace treatises and of pacifying potentially hostile enemies.5 In effect, a silken Imperial presence, resided over a silken court and a silk-laden ecclesiastical establishment. To foreign eyes this must have seemed a splendid sight and indeed, Byzantium was anxious to portray her authority through the exploitation of her silken magnificence. Not only were a profusion of silk diplomatic gifts sent to foreign courts, but great numbers of silks were used to seal peace treatises or to ransom captured Byzantine prisoners of war from the Arabs.6 Magnificent silks were sent as diplomatic gifts to the Fatimid court, and furthermore, they are known to have exerted a profound and intimate influence on Islamic court ceremonial. For example, in 1045, one thousand silk costumes were amongst the gifts sent to Caliph Al Mustensir from the Byzantine Emperor Constantine IX, and these were intended to seal a peace treaty and to effect the ransom of prisoners of war.7 On an economic level, hefty silk trade concessions were granted to Venice, and lesser concessions were also granted to other Italian cities, an aspect of Byzantine silk trade policy, which will be discussed further below.8 See A. Vasiliev, ‘Harun ibn Yahya and his description of Constantinople.’ Seminarium Kondakovum 5 (1932) 149–163, especially 155–156, 158–159, 161. The Arabic source describes the costume of the Emperor (silks with jewels) during a triumphal parade. It also describes the captured prisoners, who were paraded in ‘robes of honour’. 6 For diplomatic gifts of silk see, A. Muthesius, ‘Silken Diplomacy’, in: Byzantine Diplomacy (J. Shepard, S. Franklin ed.). Cambridge 1992, chapter 15, 237–248. The extensive use of silks in the Byzantine and the Islamic courts helps to explain why silks and silk costumes particularly, should have featured so prominently in diplomacy between the Byzantines and the Arabs. It is clear that there was a rivalry in the use of splendid textiles in Byzantine and Islamic courts, see, P. Canard, ‘Le cérémonial Fatimite et le cérémonial Byzantin. Byzantion 21 (1951) 355–420. 7 See, M. Hamidullah, ‘Nouveaux documents sur les rapports de l’Europe avec l’Orient Musulman au Moyen Age’, Arabica 7 (1960) 281–300. 8 For commercial privileges offered by Byzantium to the West consider for instance, the chrysobull issued in 992 by Basil II and Constantine VIII to Venice, A. Pertusi ed., Venezia e Bisanzio nel secolo XI, in: La Venezia del Mille. (Storia della civilta venezia X), Firenze 1965, 155–160, especially 157. New edition, M. Pozza, G. Ravegnani ed., Pacta veneta, IV, I tratti con Bisanzio, Venezia 1994, 23, and review by D. Jacoby, in Mediterranean Historical Review 9 (1994). Discussed by D. Jacoby in two articles, ‘Silk crosses the Mediterranean’, and ‘Jews and the Silk Industry’, in: D. Jacoby, Byzantium, Latin Romania and the 5

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Silks in Byzantium To gain an understanding of how Byzantine silks might have been viewed in the Latin West before the introduction of large-scale indigenous Latin silk weaving from the thirteenth century onwards, it is necessary first to understand more closely the role of silk in Byzantium itself. Central to this discussion is the question of silk as builder of Imperial image. It is clear that by the tenth century, Byzantine silks served as an indispensable symbol both of Imperial authority and might and of Imperial religious piety. There were two types of Imperial silk storehouse. The vestiarion held the private wardrobe of the Emperors. The public silks were housed in the eidikon.9 The Emperors wore numerous types of silk outfits, some deeply symbolic and intended for specific ceremonies. Precise descriptions of the magnificence of these wardrobes are given. For example, the Emperor Nicephoros, as described by Constantine Manasses, is detailed as having removed his ‘garments glittering with gold’ and specifically, ‘his gold woven pearl bearing garment, brilliant with purple-dyed blossoms and gold’.10 In 1176 Manuel is recorded as having gathered his ‘yellowish surcoat embroidered with purple and gold’. The Emperor Andronikos, was acknowledged by Nicetas Choniates as the ‘king of dandies’. Andronikos wore ‘a violet coloured garment of Iberian weave, open at the sides and reaching down the Mediterranean. Aldershot 2001, chapter 10, 57–58, with note 18, and chapter 11, 5–7, with note 14, respectively. More generally see, D. Jacoby, ‘Italian privileges and trade in Byzantium before the Fourth Crusade: a reconsideration’, and ‘Silk production in the Frankish Peloponnese: the evidence of fourteenth century surveys and reports’, in: D. Jacoby, Trade Commodities and Shipping in the Medieval Mediterranean, chapter 2, 349–369, and chapter 8, 41–61, respectively. Also see, J. Chrysostomides, ‘Venetian commercial privileges under the Palaeologi’. Studi Veneziani 12 (1970) 267–356. 9 For renovation of Imperial garments and for silk garment storehouses respectively, refer to the following: (for renovations and storage under Emperor Theophilus 829–842) and Constantine VII (913–959), Leonis Grammatici chronographia, (Bekker ed.) 215, and Theophanes Continuatus (Bekker ed.) 447; (for the Imperial Eidikon as storehouse), The Book of Ceremonies (Reiske ed.) II, I, 518–519. In addition, see, F. Dölger, Beitrage zur Geschichte der byzantinischen Finanzverwaltung. Leipzig 1927, 35–39. Further, J. Haldon, Byzantine Praetorians. Bonn 1984, 318–323, and M. F. Hendy, Studies in the Byzantine Monetary Economy 300–1450. Cambridge 1985, 275 with note 124, 410 and 414. Earlier refer to, J. B. Bury, The Imperial Administration System in the Ninth Century. London 1911, 95–96. 10 Constantine Manasses, Breviorium Historiae (Bekker ed.) 285, translated by J. Hendy, Studies, 577–78.

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knees and buttocks, and covering the elbows. On his head he wore a greyish black head dress shaped like a pyramid’.11 Certainly, more solemn ceremonial dress was representative of what was worn for coronations, for great receptions and for official secular and religious parades. An impression of this form of ceremonial garb is given by the costume worn by the Emperor Alexius V at the beginning of the thirteenth century.12 The close alliance of a silken image to the Imperial person created in Byzantium, made all the more poignant the act of the distribution of Imperial silks by the Emperors. Whether at home or abroad; in effect the gifting of Imperial silks afforded the recipient a form of Imperial recognition. There were several distinct levels at which such disbursement of silks operated, and this can be illustrated using different documented examples. Amongst the silks carried by the Emperor Constantine VII into battle in the tenth century, as described in the Imperial Baggage Train account appended to the Book of Ceremonies (quite apart from the Emperor’s personal silk bed sheets), were special full length silk military costumes. A number of these skaramagia were dyed with Imperial purple and they were decorated with lions, griffins, eagles and other Imperial motifs.13 These tunics were presented to the Emperor’s generals as ‘robes of honor’ following military successes on the battlefield. They acted as a special sign of Imperial recognition of outstanding valor; as a symbol of Imperial approval. Subsequently, such prized Imperial military dress might be donated to favored ecclesiastical foundations for re-use as altar cloths. Amongst members of the military aristocracy who left Imperial garments to religious foundations detailed in their wills, were the Symbatius Gregorios Pacourianos and his wife Kale,14 Niketas Choniates, Historia, (van Dieten) 252, (Magoulis, 141). See, A. Grabar, Byzantium. London 1966 edition, 21 coloured plate 2, for the portrait of Emperor Alexius V Murtzuphlus. National Library, Vienna (Cod. Hist. GR. 53) c. 1200. For court costume references see note 3 above. 13 For skaramangia patterned with lions, eagles or griffins see, The Book of Ceremonies (Reiske ed.) 578, 1–6. On skaramangia and other costumes in general consult, E. Manara, Gli abiti di corte dal De Cerimoniis, in: Aspettie problemi degli studi sci tessili antichi (G. Chesne, D. Griffo ed.) Firenze 1981, 107–115. Hendy, Studies, 307–309 discusses the textiles carried in the baggage train of Constantine Porphyrogenitus, which include skaramangia. 14 P. Gautier, Le typikon du Sébaste Grégoire Pakourianos. Revue des études Byzantines 42 (1984) 5–145, with list of gifts on pages 35–44. P. Lemerle, ‘Le typikon de Grégoire Pakourianos’, in: Cinq études sur le XIe siècle byzantin. Paris 1977, III, 113–191. L. Petit, Typikon de Grégoire Pacourianos pour le monastère de Pétritzes (Bacˇkovo) en Bulgarie. Vizantijskij Vremennik 53 (1904) 24–63. 11 12

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and the Hypatos Eustathios Boilas.15 In the typikon of 1083, of Gregory Pacourianos, many silk vestments were listed alongside silk ecclesiastical furnishings, including an altar cloth of white silk with a portrait of the Virgin in pearl embroidery.16 As Megas Domestikos of the West, Gregory also received several Imperial tunics from the Emperor Alexius and his brother Isaac. These were described in his will as ‘four purple epilorika one with gold, blattia’ (i.e. purple silks), and ‘skaramangia of great value’.17 The Latin envoy, Luidprand of Cremona in the tenth century, unsuccessfully attempted illegally to export restricted Imperial purple silk.18 From a practical point of view one must remark that the Byzantine army, which according to the Baggage Train account appended to the Book of Ceremonies, fought wearing silks, did so as much as anything, on practical grounds.19 Besides the ease with which fellow Byzantine soldiers might be recognised through the adoption of distinctively patterned and coloured silk Imperial uniforms, these military costumes offered special protection. Once arrows had penetrated human flesh, they could be withdrawn from the wound by pulling at the silk, which entered the flesh with the arrow. Silk with the tensile strength of steel, did not easily tear and for this reason it entered the wound with the arrow head. It is interesting to note in this context, that not only the Byzantine, but also the Islamic and the Chinese armies made extensive military use of silk. Silk might also be padded with cotton to act as a body shield.20 The Byzantine silks sent to Islamic courts to ransom captured Byzantine prisoners in effect, themselves, might well have been recycled for use on the battlefield. In a military context, silk evidently acted as a sign of office and of miliJ. Lemerle, ‘ Le Testament d’Eustathios Boilas (1059)’, in: Cinq études, I, 15–66. Gautier, Le typikon, 122–123, Petit, Typikon, 53, lines 27–29. 17 Gautier, Le typikon, 122–123, Petit, Typikon, 53, lines 20–23. 18 For Luitprand of Cremona’s dealings with Byzantine silk and the use of purple see, Liutprand of Cremona, Legatio, in: Opera (J. Becker ed.) Leipzig, Hanover, 1915, 54. Luitprand of Cremona, Antapodosis, in: Opera (J. Becker ed.) Leipzig, Hanover 1915, 10. Discussed in C. M. F. Schummer, ‘Luitprand of Cremona — a diplomat?’, in: Byzantine Diplomacy (J. Shepard, S. Franklin ed.). Papers from the twenty-fourth Spring Symposium of Byzantine Studies, Cambridge March 1990, Cambridge 1992, chapter 12, 197–201. 19 See note 13 above. 20 For the Islamic army see M. M. Ahsan, Social Life Under the Abbasids. London, 1979, ‘Dress of the Soldiers’, 59–61, especially 60 and note 274 for military ‘tunics of royal atlas (satin)’. For Chinese sources including military dress see for example, ‘The monograph on carriages and dress’, in: D. Twitchett, The Writing of Official History under the T’ang. Cambridge 1992, 231. 15 16

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tary dignity. Also as such, silks were used to costume the captured prisoners in victory parades celebrated in Constantinople.21 In this way, the glory of the Emperor was magnified in the eyes of the populace and the vanquished were at the same time accorded a degree of dignity. It is particularly poignant to note here, that according to the Baggage Train account appended to the Book of Ceremonies, not only Imperial skaramangia were taken into battle for distribution to victorious Byzantine generals, but also lesser silken military tunics which had been purchased in Egypt. These lower value tunics were intended for presentation to enemy generals captured upon the battlefield.22 A typically silk laden ceremonial followed important battles. For instance, when the Emperor Basil I returned from victory in Tephrike and Germanikeia his triumphal entry route followed a path strewn with flowers by the Prefect of Constantinople. This was further adorned by silk hangings and skaramangia. Initially Basil appeared dressed in his military skaramangion, but this he changed for a military gold breasted tunic decorated with pearls. Subsequently, he donned civil garb; a long tunic with elaborate borders and a gold embroidered mantle, prior to his partaking of the victory feast.23 Such triumphal processions were common. Choniates describing another instance wrote that ‘every purple bordered and gold speckled cloth’ was hung out to mark the return of the Emperor Manuel to Constantinople after his defeat of the Hungarians.24 Such scenes were depicted on silks distributed to Islamic rulers as diplomatic gifts, for instance under Romanos I in the early tenth century.25 Robes of honour were presented to victorious military leaders by both Byzantine and Arab rulers. For the concept of the robe of honour see, S. Gordon, Robes and Honor. The Medieval Practice of Investiture. Basingstoke 2001. For prisoners clothed in robes of honour during victory parades through Constantinople see note 5 above. 22 For silk military tunics see by the present author, ‘Courtly and aristocratic silk patronage’, in: A. Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium. London 2004, 85–108, especially 90–91, and plate 79 depicting two military saints wearing what appears to show silk military costumes. Also, for silk military tunics see, J. F. Haldon, Constantine Porphyrogenitus, Three Treatises on Imperial Military Expeditions (CFHB 28) Wien 1990, 239–244. Cf. 247, 256, 300–301 for transport of silks in special purple leather pouches of the baggage train. 23 Haldon, Three Treatises, see text and commentary on 55.14 – 60.16. Haldon discusses the defeat of the Paulicians and the dating of the fall of Tephrike and of Germanikeia respectively. Also note the comments in, M. McCormick, Eternal Victory. Cambridge 1987, 70–72 and 154–157. 24 Niketas Choniates, Historia, (J. L. van Dieten ed., Berlin 1975) 157. (Magoulis 89.) 25 Hamidullah, Nouveaux documents, 287. 21

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An impression of the elaborate costumes worn on such occasions may be gained from the Byzantine silk tapestry burial shroud of the envoy Bishop Gunther (d. 1067) who died on route whilst returning from a combined pilgrimage and diplomatic journey to the Holy Land and to Constantinople (Plates 99–100).26 In Byzantium, it is evident that there was no clear distinction between the Imperial use of splendid silk garments in secular and in religious contexts. Similar elaborate, silk garments, to those described in a military context, were worn by the imperial retinue during religious parades across churches of the Capital.27 The special association of silk with the Imperial person overrode specific context.28 The numerous decrees issued against imitation and use of certain types of Imperial purples between the fourth and the twelfth centuries, underlines how seriously this association was regarded.29 The authority, social status, and air of refinement that silks afforded, also did not go unnoticed in Byzantine aristocratic circles.30 By the twelfth century secular silk garments appear to have been quite widely available to those wealthy enough to purchase a silk wardrobe. A commentator remarked upon the fine silk dresses from Thebes and Corinth, which were worn by women of fashion.31 Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 11, 101–103. G. Prinzing, Das Bamberger Gunthertuch in neuer Sicht. Byzantinoslavica 54/1 (1993) 218–231. 27 On such Imperial display see, A. Cameron, ‘The construction of court ritual: the Book of Ceremonies’, in: Power and Ceremonial in Traditional Societies (D. Cannandine, S. Price ed.). Cambridge 1992, 106–136. Display in Byzantium will be considered at the forthcoming 21st International Congress of Byzantine Studies, London 21–26 August, 2006. 28 For silk as identity and value not only in relation to the Emperor and the court but also lower down across Byzantine society see by the present author, ‘Silk in Byzantium: Cultural Imperialism, Identity and Value’, in: Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, chapter 1, 1–22. 29 Fully discussed in Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, 27–28, with source references (late Roman and early Byzantine) in notes 4–24. Cf. by the present author, ‘The Byzantine Silk Industry: Lopez and Beyond’, in: A. Muthesius, Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving. London 1995, chapter 16, 255–314, and on terminology for purples see especially, 291–297. 30 By the present author refer to, ‘Textiles and Dress in Byzantium’, in: Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, chapter 4, 67–84. 31 Michael Choniates, Epistolai (Lampros ed.), L, II, 83, lines 18–19, reports on silk dress from Thebes and Corinth worn in Constantinople. For silk supplied by Thebes to Emperor Alexios Angelos see, Niketas Choniates, Historia (van Dieten) 461, (Magoulias 253). For weavers of gold decorated robes of Thebes and Corinth, taken captive to work in Sicily see, Niketas Choniates, Historia (van Dieten) 98, (Magoulias 57). In Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, 88, for the misprint ‘Nicetas Choniates’ read ‘Michael Choniates’. 26

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Silks in the Latin West The splendid uses of silks in Byzantium were observed by Western envoys such as Luidprand of Cremona.32 Through accounts written by envoys and travelers, the Latin West must have built up a clear picture of the role of silk in Byzantium. Certainly, the Latin West from an early date, was able to closely parallel Byzantine uses of precious silks. Not only were Byzantine silks reaching the Latin West, but once there they were used in secular and religious contexts, in a manner close to Byzantine practice. The Aachen Elephant silk, which eventually was used to envelope the relics of Charlemagne (d. 814) in Aachen Cathedral, is a product of the Byzantine Imperial weaving factory of the eleventh century (Plate 10). Its use, follows the Byzantine practice of enveloping relics in silks; a practice documented from the fourth century onwards.33 Charlemagne decreed that all Latin church altars should contain relics, and from the early ninth century onwards there was great demand for imported silks in which to envelope holy remains. Charlemagne himself presented many relics to Sens Cathedral and numerous silk scraps taken from surviving relics at Sens were also most probably presented by the Emperor (Plates 1, 156).34 In the eighth to ninth centuries, it was the Papacy,35 who activated the adaptation of Byzantine silken liturgical practices in the Latin Church. More than one thousand patterned silks were presented to churches of Rome by the Papacy in the eighth to the ninth century, as was described in the Liber Pontificalis. These silk textiles included: hangings to set between nave arcades; door curtains, ciboria hangings; altar cloths; cushions either in reliquaries or to support Gospels on altars; manuscript bindings; podea Constantine Porphyrogenitus considered that the display of Imperial power through ceremony and costumes was beneficial for attracting admiration from foreigners and useful for impressing and for commanding respect from his subjects at home. See, Reiske, De Cerimoniis, preface 5, (Vogt, I, 2). On Imperial ceremonies see further, M. McCormick, ‘Analysing imperial ceremonies’. Jahrbuch der österreichischen Byzantinistik 35 (1985) 1–20. 33 Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 4, 34–43, especially 38–39. In Byzantium in the fourth century, the relics of Saint Athanasias were enveloped in silk see, Vita S. Athanasiae AA SS Aug. iii, 170–175. BMG 186, page 174, section B. 34 For Charlemagne and the early Sens silks see reference in chapter 7 note 22 above. 35 F. Dvornik, Byzantium and the Roman Primacy. Fordham 1979 ed., chapters 5 and 6, 85–123, deal with contacts in the period under discussion. Further see Nerhlich reference in note 38 below. 32

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or small curtains hung under icons, and so on (Plates 160, 162–163).36 This major silken furnishing of the Latin Church was accompanied by an equally elaborate, Byzantine influenced, adoption of silk liturgical vestments.37 Thus, the process of acquisition of Byzantine silks was closely shadowed by the infiltration of Byzantine cultural and ceremonial influence. The Latin West not only sought after Byzantine silks but it gloried in the images of power, authority, piety and splendor that Byzantine silks afforded. It was Byzantium’s task and intention to maintain her silken image not only at home as a power base for Imperial authority, but also abroad as a lever with which to influence ally and foe alike. To the Latin West Byzantium ensured the dispatch of numerous silks, either as diplomatic gifts at times of political unrest, or as items of trade and fuelled by silk trade concessions to those who carried silks to the West. The Mozac Imperial Byzantine Hunter silk, most plausibly was a diplomatic gift sent from Byzantium to Pepin in the 760s, during a period of proposed East/West marriage negotiations (Plate 8). This was at a time when both Byzantium and Rome were petitioning for a political alliance.38 36 For examples of Papal donations of Byzantine silks to Basilicas of Rome see, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, 125. Several hundred silks are variously described in the Liber Pontificalis as Papal gifts, some of which are discussed in, S. Beissel, Gestickte und gewebte Vorhänge der römischen Kirchen in der zweiten Hälfte des 8. Jahrhunderts und ersten Hälfte des 9. Jahrhunderts. Zeitschrift für Christliche Kunst 7–9 (1894–1896) 358ff. For silk bindings see Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, 127–132, and notes 164–187 inclusive. 37 Consult, J. Braun, Die Liturgische Gewandung im Occident und Orient nach Ursprung, Entwicklung, Verwendung und Symbolik. Darmstadt 1964 edition. 38 Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, 68–69 (M34, plate 24B for the Mozac Hunter silk). I suggested that the Mozac Hunter silk, originally a diplomatic gift, and perhaps sent to Pepin in connection with marriage negotiations, was later, in 764, presented by him to envelope the relics of St. Austremoine. For discussion of this translation and references to the relevant source material see, L. Duchesne, Sur la translation de S. Austremoine’. Analecta Bollandiana 24 (1905) 106–114. See further, R. de Micheaux, ‘Le tissu dit de Mozac, fragment du suaire de saint-Austremoine’. C.I.E.T.A. Bulletin 17 (1963) 14–16. For east/west marriage negotiations and diplomatic gifts of silk see, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, 37–38 and notes 31–33. On diplomatic embassies between Byzantium and the West see, D. Nerlich, Diplomatische Gesandschaften zwischen Ost- and Westkaisern 756–1002. Bern 1999, with list of embassies and source references on 248–305. In that publication, for diplomacy between Byzantine Emperors, Patriarchs, the Papacy and Western Rulers, refer to chapter 6, 193–245. Also see, T. C. Lounghis, Les ambassades Byzantines en occident depuis la fondation des états barbares jusqu’aux Croisades (407–1096). Athen 1980. Cf. T. C. Lounghis, ‘Die byzantinischen Gesandten als Vermittler materieller Kultur vom 4. bis ins 11. Jahrhundert,’ Medium Aevum Quotidianum 27 (1992) 113–115.

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Byzantine silk trade On an economic level Byzantine silk-trade functioned on two levels. At home with the growth of private manufacture by the ninth to tenth centuries, the industry provided considerable employment for specialised workers and it ensured silk production for a Byzantine domestic market (Plate 164).39 Non-Imperial guilds were also obliged to weave some special Imperial category silks for storage in the Palace.40 Abroad, Byzantine silk trade and specifically that with the Latin West, was effected through Italian intermediaries, most particularly Venice. Here again, there were strong political overtones. Between 992 and 1198 Venice acted as far more than a mercantile carrier for Byzantium. No fewer than eight major treatises eventually led to the exemption of Venice from a 10% Byzantine trade tax.41 Pisa and Genoa in the twelfth century were also drawn into silk trade pacts with Byzantium.42 In effect, for two centuries 39 See D. Jacoby, ‘Silk in Western Byzantium before the fourth Crusade’, in: D. Jacoby, Trade, Commodities and Shipping in the Medieval Mediterranean. Aldershot 1997, chapter 7, 452–500. The study is useful for drawing attention to the scarcity of early sources pertaining to the silk industry of Thebes. There is insufficient documentary evidence dating before the fourteenth century, to reconstruct a detailed picture of the early industry. Jacoby nevertheless, attempts to provide an overall thesis concerning the industry. In examining this thesis, it is important to note that Jacoby’s knowledge of sericulture, of silk weaving techniques, of dye methods, and of loom technology is non-specialised. Expertise in these areas properly belongs to the specialist textile historian. Jacoby refers to some early suggestions in these areas as fact and he does attest to all the modern literature in these technical fields. The field of purple dye study is vast and involves scientific analysis. Similarly, the areas of weave analysis and loom technology as associated with surviving silks and in relation to documented sources are vast fields of study, beyond the scope of economic history. Generalisations in these areas are not helpful. 40 Koder, Eparchenbuch, 102–105, 8.2, and cf. 8.1 and 8.4. 41 See references in note 8 above, and for the Alexius I Comnenus source documentation see (G. L. Fr. Tafel, G. M. Thomas ed.) Urkunden zur alteren Handels und Staatsgeschichte der Republik Venedig, 1–3. Wien 1856–1857, 1: 43–54. 42 For Venice, Pisa and Genoa see, R. J. Lilie, Handel und Politik zwischen den byzantinischen Reich und den italienischen kommunen Venedig, Pisa und Genua in der Epoche der Komnenen und der Angeloi (1081–1204). Amsterdam 1984. Concerning the 1111 agreement between Pisa and Byzantium see, Lilie, Handel 69–76. The 1111 agreement is given in, F. Dölger, Regesten der Kaiserurkunden des oströmischen Reiches von 565–1453. Hildesheim 1976 reprint, no. 1255. In relation to Pisa also refer to, R. J. Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusader States. Oxford 1998, in particular ‘The Alliance of Byzantium and Pisa’, on pages 87–91n. In the same publication see, ‘The interests of the Italians in Syria and Byzantium’ on pages 171–174, for the agreement of 1155, between Genoa and Byzantium, The agreement is

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Byzantium plied the Italians with silk trade concessions. These trade concessions acted to secure allies, and on one occasion, Latin allies were even drawn into an offensive against the Crusader Kingdoms of Syria and Palestine.43 Of course, such alliances could prove fickle and were subject to change. Nevertheless, Latin traders stationed in quarters of Constantinople in the late twelfth century, undoubtedly were aware of their vunerability.44 Byzantium’s foreign silk trade policy must be viewed against silk trade in the Mediterranean in general. Byzantium’s greatest silk trade rivals were dispersed across centres of the Islamic Mediterranean and Islamic silk trade was particularly active between Arab Sicily and Spain.45 Byzantium encouraged trade with the Islamic world through Constantinople and Trebizond, although trade with Egypt is documented.46 In the tenth century, according to the Book of the Prefect, in Constantinople strict control was kept over Byzantine raw silk supply and export. Free export of Byzantine raw silk was banned.47 The Cairo Geniza reproduced in, Imperiale di Sant’ angelo. Codice diplomatico della republica de Genova I, number 271 on pages 327–330. In addition, concerning Genoa consult, G. W. Day, Genoa’s Response to Byzantium 1155–1204. Commercial Expansion and Factionalism in a Medieval City. Urbana and Chicago 1988, and especially chapters 1 and 2. Amalfi was also involved in sea borne trade with Byzanium from an early date. See, M. Balard, ‘Amalfi et Byzance (10–12 siecles)’ in: Travaux et Mémoires 6 (1976) 87–92. See also, V. von Falkenhausen, ‘Il commercio di Amalfi con Constantinopoli e il Levante nel secolo XII’, in: (O. Banti ed.) Amalfi, Genova, Pisa e Venezia. Il commercio con Constantinopoli e il Vicino Oriente nel secolo XII. Biblioteca del Bollettino Storico Pisano, Collana storica 46. Pisa 1998, 19–24. In general see, ‘Byzantine trade with Egypt from the mid-tenth century to the fourth Crusade’, in: D. Jacoby, Commercial Exchange across the Mediterranean. Byzantium, the Crusader Levant, Egypt and Italy. Aldershot 2005, chapter 1, 25–77, and for silks, especially 61–74. 43 For discussion of the nature of the early support offered by Pisa and Genoa see, Lilie, Crusader States, 172. 44 In 1157 Manuel withdrew from Pisa the annual payment of money and the silk robes due to her, in the light of a Treaty enacted between Pisa and the Kingdom of Jerusalem, see Lilie, Crusader States, 173, with source references in note 126. Lilie, 174 concluded that maritime help from the Italians against Syria and Palestine in 1156–1157 could not be relied upon. 45 This silk trade is documented in the Cairo Geniza documents as published by S. D. Goitein, A Mediterranean Society. I–IV; see I, Economic Foundations, and IV, Daily Life. London 1967 and 1983 respectively. Especially useful are the following sections: I, 99–108, 153–154, 209, 222–224, and IV, 105–136, 150–200, 297–309 and 310–334. 46 D. Jacoby, ‘Byzantine trade with Egypt’, chapter 1, 39–42. 47 On possible developments in Byzantine raw silk supply up to the thirteenth century, see by the present author, ‘Constantinople and its Hinterland: Issues of Raw Silk Supply’, in: Muthesius, Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving, chapter 17, 315–335. Note however, comments in note 49 below.

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record of twelve raw silks traded at Fustat in the tenth to eleventh centuries, does not include mention of Byzantine raw silk, but there is a single mention of Byzantine raw silk in the Geniza records.48 By the twelfth century demand for silk had increased and provincial silk weaving was developed alongside raw silk cultivation.49 Byzantine silk trade concessions beyond the Latin West To return to the question posed at the beginning of the paper concerning the relationship between cultural, economic and political impact of Byzantine silks, it would be difficult to ignore the impression that Byzantium used her politically charged economic asset as a tool for ‘manipulating’ the Latin West. Byzantium did not specifically single out the Latin West for this treatment. It is only the chance survival of so many Byzantine silks in the Latin West, which first indicated this line of

48 See Goitein, Mediterranean Society, volume 1, 222 and note 53 on page 454, for the twelve types of raw silk. Goitein noted the single reference to Byzantine raw silk on page 103, with source reference in note 21 on page 417. Cf. Jacoby, ‘Byzantine trade with Egypt’, chapter 1, 41 and notes 67–69. 49 There are insufficient source documents on raw silk production up to the thirteenth century to create a full picture of the nature and the extent of Byzantine raw silk production. The Book of the Prefect clearly forbids authorised Byzantine handlers of Byzantine raw silk to sell to unauthorised individuals (Jews or merchants) in Constantinople in the early tenth century, see Koder, Eparchenbuch, 100–101, 6.16. The eleventh century Reggio Brebion, notes taxation of mulberry trees in Calabria. See A. Guillou, Le Brebion de la metropole Byzantine de Region (vers 1050). Corpus des actes grecs d’Italie du sud et de Sicile. Recherches d’histoire et de geographie, 4. Vaticano 1974. However, Guillou inadvertently vastly over-estimated the volume of potential raw silk production. See correction in, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 13, 113–118. The expansion of silk weaving in western Byzantium in the eleventh to twelfth centuries, nevertheless, would have demanded adequate supplies of raw silk. There is substantial documentary evidence only for later production of raw silk in the Peloponnese, see Jacoby, ‘Silk production in the Frankish Peloponnese: the Evidence of Fourteenth Century Surveys and Reports’, in: D. Jacoby, Trade, Commodities and Shipping in the Medieval Mediterranean. Aldershot 1997, chapter 8, 41–61. In the same publication see D. Jacoby, ‘Italian privileges and trade in Byzantium before the fourth crusade: a reconsideration’, chapter 2, 349–369, especially 367, where he suggests that Cypriot raw silk reached Constantinople shortly before 1201. Cf. Jacoby, ‘Silk in western Byzantium’, chapter 7, 496–497. Jacoby also suggests the possibility of raw silk of southern Italy and of Thessaly reaching western Byzantium and/or Constantinople, see chapter 7, 478–479.

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research.50 It is clear from the documents that Byzantium also used silk as a diplomatic weapon and as a decoy in her dealings with the Moslem world. With regard to Byzantium and the West in the period up to the thirteenth century, Byzantine silks featured as essential economic as well as diplomatic tool. Take for instance, the situation following Russ attacks on Constantinople in 907 and 941. Byzantium chose to effect two trade treatises with the Russ in 911 and in 944.51 These treatises saw the exchange of Russ furs and slaves for Byzantine silks. Silks valued at five times the cost of those generally permitted to Byzantine citizens appear to have been made available to the Russ. The Russ even demanded silk mantlings for their ships in imitation of Byzantine sails, but they settled for canvas when their newly acquired silk sails tore in the wind. (This account could be considered a myth were it not for the fact that other documented records illustrate the use of silk sails in Byzantium.)52 The trade agreements indicate too, that the loss of a Russ slave on Byzantine territory was accounted for by the payment of two pieces of silk.53 In fact here as elsewhere in documentation concerning silk trade, gold and silk were considered synonymous. Silk acted as a form of currency.54 On a political rather than an economic note, it should 50 The first and indeed the only survey of surviving Byzantine and related silks in western European ecclesiastical treasuries was made by the present author. The research took a period of ten years and involved analysis of the silks in situ in over 120 locations. The results were published in, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving. 51 S. H. Cross, O. P. Sherbowitz-Wetzor, The Russian Primary Chronicle. Laurentian Text 51. Cambridge Mass. 1953, 65ff.. In addition, see, I. Sorlin, Les traites de Byzance avec la Russie aux Xe siècle. Cahiers du monde russe et soviétique 2 (1961) 313–360, 447-475. M. Stein-Wilkeshuis, ‘A Viking-Age treaty between Constantinople and northern merchants, with its provisions on the effect of robbery.’ Scando-Slavica 37 (1991) 39–46. J. Malingoudi, Die russisch-byzantinischen Verträge des 10. Jahrhunderts aus diplomatischer Sucht. Thessaloniki 1994. 52 Cross and Sherbowitz-Wetzor, Primary Chronicle, 65, number 32. Silk mantlings on war ships are mentioned in 769–770 in relation to a ceremonious sea passage undertaken between Hierreia and Constantinople, by Irene, bride to be of Leo, son of Constantine V. Theophanis Chronographia (De Boor ed.) Leipzig 1883, 1885, reprinted Hildesheim 1963. Annus Mundi 6261 (Sept. 1 769 – Aug. 31, 770) 29.15.3.4ff.. H. Turtledove, The Chronicle of Theophanes. Philadelphia 1982, 132, provides an English translation of the relevant passage. 53 Cross and Sherbowitz-Wetzor, Primary Chronicle, add. Note also, Stein-Wilkenhuis reference in note 51 above. For more recent comments about the Primary Chronicle and Rus trade, see, S. Franklin, J. Shepard, The Emergence of the Rus 750–1200. Cambridge 1996, 106–109, 115–117, 134–136, 141–147. 54 For example, under Romanus IV, rhogai were paid both in terms of coin and of silk, see, John Scylitzes, (Scylitzes Continuatus), (Bekker ed.) Bonn 1839, 688–689.

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not be forgotten also, that the Emperor Alexius chose to be guarded by valiant Russ Varangian guards, rather than by Byzantine soldiers. These were the Varangian guards highly praised by Anna Comnena in her Alexiad55 for their courage, strength and legendary loyalty to the Imperial house.56 Conclusion In conclusion, one might suggest that so great and so powerful was the penetration of Byzantium’s silken image, that by the eighth to ninth centuries, even remote northern Caucasian peoples were moved to wear part Byzantine silk, fur-lined garments.57 These remarkable dresses, coats and hats were locally made of Byzantine, Central Asian and Chinese scraps of silks, most plausibly given to the mountain peoples in exchange for safe passage across the Caucasus to the lands of the Silk route (Plates 105–108). The Caucasian route was designed to by pass the troublesome Persian Empire. The Caucasian silks represent the epitome of cross-cultural influence at a distance. The chieftan’s kaftan in particular, fashioned from a very large size Byzantine Senmurv design silk, was intended to serve as a visible sign of authority and strength. These silk garments are living testimony to the power of long distance silk trade. They also act as a non-documented record of how Byzantium was able to forge a link with the trade routes of Central Asia proper. And what greater testimony could there be to the impact of Byzantine silks than the survival of Central Asian textiles, woven in imitation of Byzantine silks. The British Museum Hunter silk, and the Maastricht, St. Servatius Lion silks, represent no more and no less than Central Asian homage to a silken Byzantine image that reached out right across the mediaeval world.58

55 For the Varangian guard of Alexius see, Anna Comnena, Alexiad (Leib ed.) I–III, Paris 1937–1945, IX. Ix.2; II, 181.11–28 and XIV.iii.8; III, 158.5–13. 56 On the significance of foreign guards at court see, D. C. Smythe, ‘Why do barbarians stand round the emperor at diplomatic receptions?’, in: Byzantine Diplomacy (J. Shepard, S. Franklin ed.). Cambridge 1992, chapter 20, 305–312. 57 A. Ierusalimskaja, Die Gräber der Mosˇˇcevaja Balka. Frühmittelalterliche Funde an der Norkaukasischen Seidenstrasse. München 1996, 233–295. 58 Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 10, 94–100, especially 97 and chapter 5, 44–45.

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Mediterranean Silks in the Caucasus Introduction

M

EDITERRANEAN silks were prestigious artifacts; light and easily transportable items capable of generating a tremendous cultural, economic and political impact.1 At varying times between the fourth and the twelfth centuries, Byzantine and Islamic silk weaving establishments sprang up across the Mediterranean, manufacturing a wide range of costly textiles.2

1 The three volumes by the present author Byzantine and Islamic silk Weaving. London 1995, Silk in Byzantium, London 2004, and Byzantine, Islamic and Near Eastern Silk Weaving, London 2008) bring together these three aspects. Earlier, A. Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, Vienna 1998, published the surviving Byzantine and related silks datable up to the thirteenth century, and she emphasised the impact the use of such Byzantine silks had upon the Latin West. An extensive bibliography was given in the Vienna publication, with more recent literature being cited in the footnotes of the present author’s three volumes of collected studies. 2 For silk weaving in Byzantium and its development between the fourth and the thirteenth century consult, ‘The Byzantine Silk Industry: Lopez and Beyond’, and ‘Constantinople and its Hinterland: Issues of Raw Silk Supply’, both in: Muthesius, Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving, see chapter 16, 255–314, and chapter 17, 315–335, respectively. For the growth of provincial silk weaving from the eleventh century on and concerning Frankish over-lordship and involvement with sericulture, see ‘Silk in Western Byzantium before the Fourth Crusade’, and ‘Silk production in the Frankish Peloponnese: the evidence of the Fourteenth Century Surveys and Reports’, both in: D. Jacoby, Trade, Commodities and Shipping in the Medieval Mediterranean. Aldershot 1997, see chapter 7, 452–500, and chapter 8, 41–61, respectively. Many documentary references to Islamic silk production and silk trade, are gathered together in R. B. Serjeant, ‘Materials for a history of Islamic Textiles up to the Mogul conquests.’ Ars Islamica 9 (1942) 54–92; 10 (1943) 71–104; 11–12 (1944–46) 98–145; 15–16 (1951) 29–85.

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Essentially, the two silk industries dominated different markets, Byzantium traded with the Arabs in Constantinople, Trebizond, Syria and Egypt but her silks in large numbers also were directed towards the Latin West. Islamic silk manufacturers alongside their trade with Byzantium, commandeered a Moslem silk trade most active between Sicily and Spain.3 A multi-pronged, Mediterranean silk trade is evident from documentary evidence, but the sources remain silent about the fact that between the seventh and the

There is evidence that merchants from Byzantium and from the Latin West engaged in silk trade in Egypt, as discussed in chapter nine and its note 46 above, but Jacoby, ‘Byzantine trade with Egypt’, 29, admits there is ‘only scanty and scattered information regarding the Empire’s trade with Egypt from the mid-tenth century to the Fourth Crusade’. Far more source material was available to R. D. Goitein, A Mediterranean Society. I, London 1967, where based on a vast documentation, he concluded that most Islamic trade moved between Spain and Sicily. He found only scant reference to Byzantine or to Italian merchants in the Ciro Geniza documents to which he had access in America. There are additional read and unread Cairo Geniza source materials in the Library of the University of Cambridge. The documents so far analysed have not been combed for references to textiles or to the silk industry, unfortunately. The subject of silk weaving in the Byzantine, the Islamic and the Near Eastern worlds, is vast, particularly if the economic, political and cultural aspects are considered. Up to the present time, the immense ramifications of silk across the medieval globe have been insufficiently appreciated. Economic historians also lack first hand knowledge of surviving silks, of technical analysis of weaves and of loom technology, so that they are inaccurate in their findings concerning these specialised aspects. Textile historians are proficient in the technical aspects and most tend to concentrate on technique, technology and motifs. They do not always consider political, economic and social implications in sufficient depth. Publications tend to fall into three groups: historical studies without references to extant textiles; archaeological reports, which present a descriptive analysis of excavated finds, but which often fail to relate these to historical context, and textile history studies, which provide a full analysis of extant textiles, but which generally have only restricted references to historical context (economic, political and social). Social anthropologists traditionally have looked at ethnic costume but they are only recently recognising the importance of textiles as economic, and political as well as social documents. For textile students of these different disciplines, recourse to many types of evidence is necessary to provide a balanced picture. Textiles demand an integrated and interdisciplinary method of study, which draws upon, textile history (technique and technology); history (economic, political and social); art history (visual analysis, style, iconography, iconology) archaeology and anthropology (scientific investigation, object retrieval and conservation issues, social systems and role of textiles in society). In addition, specifically for religious subject matter, it is also necessary to consider theological history and the development of ecclesiastical doctrine. Special training is necessary and these courses still have to be made available. 3

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twelfth centuries, a sizeable number of Mediterranean silks also found their way into burial sites of the north west Caucasus.4 The present paper will explore this area of Mediterranean silk trade under the guise of two questions: ‘How far are specifically related economic and political concerns mirrored in the arrival of Mediterranean silks in the north west Caucasus?’ and ‘What was the role of these imported Mediterranean silks within such remote hill tribe culture?’

Summary historical background: raw silk supply It is important to note from the outset, that Byzantium was ever short of raw silk and her sericulture operations were moved from region to region as the political situation demanded.5 Given the need for a steady supply of raw silk in the face of ever-changing political circumstances, it is not surprising that Byzantium from an early date, was anxious to maintain a contact with the Silk Road.6 In this respect The Caucasian silk finds have been housed in the Hermitage Museum, St. Petersburg, since the time of their excavation. They have been exhibited most recently in Munich see, Von China nach Byzanz, München 25 Oktober 1996–26 Januar 1997, catalogue, München 1996. The finds were published by Anna Ierusalimskaja, see full reference given above in chapter 7, note 39. By the present author see, ‘Byzantine Influences along the Silk Route: Central Asian Silks Transformed’, in: Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, chapter 16, 277–287. 5 The present author, Muthesius, ‘Constantinople and its Hinterland’, 315–335, sets out a theory of how distinct periods of Byzantine raw silk production might be tied to the varying political fortunes of the Empire. See also, Muthesius, ‘Lopez and Beyond’, 267–269, 280–285. Byzantine production was not sufficient to exclude importation of foreign raw silk and finished garments. For early Byzantine raw silk cultivation in Syria see, Muthesius, ‘Seed to Samite’, 120–122 and in connection with Byzantium’s later silk trade dealings in relation to Syria see, W. Farag, ‘The Aleppo question’. Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies 14 (1990) 44–60. 6 A Turco-Sogdian embassy reached Constantinople in 568, see, K. Wada, Prokops Rätselwort Serinda und die Verpflänzung des Seidenbaus von China nach dem oströmischen reich. Ph.D. thesis, Cologne University, 76–77 and note 3. Cf. Muthesius, ‘Lopez and Beyond’, 272. There is no proof that the raw silk involved was Sogdian, but there are surviving woven Sogdian silks datable to the seventh to eighth centuries, see, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 10, 94–100. On earlier trade between China and the West in relation to the Silk Route see, J. Needham, Science and Civilisation in China, volume I, Cambridge 1979 edition, 181ff., and trade route map in fig. 32. In general on the Silk Route see, I. M. Franck, D. M. Brownstone, The Silk Road. New York 1986. Further, see the references given in note 7 below. 4

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it is important to note one particular Chinese source, ‘The Report on the Western lands’, dated 606 A.D., which identified three main silk trade routes that linked China to the West:7 a. The northern route accessed through the Caucasian mountain passes;8 b. The central route across Sogdian territory, and c. The southern route via India to the Indian Ocean.9 Certainly, the sixth century Byzantine alliances with Ethiopians (530s, 550s and later), and Sogdians and Turks (568–581), represented an attempt to bypass Persian domination of these three Silk routes.10 But such alliances provided only temporary relief. For a time, on the central route, Byzantium was able to trade with Sogdian merchants carrying Chinese wares from the western Chinese border. The northern silk route was blocked when war broke between Persia and Byzantium from 572–591 A.D. But what of the 7 On the historical links between China and Byzantium and/or for the Central Asian trade routes see, H. W. Haussig, Die Geschichte Zentralasiens und der Seidenstrasse in vorislamischer Zeit. Darmstadt 1983. K. Hannestand, Les relations de Byzance avec la Transcaucasie et l’Asie Centrale aux 5e et 6e siecles. Byzantion 25–27 (1955–1957) 421–456. H. Miyakawa, A. Kollautz, Ein document zum fernhandel zwischen Byzanz und China zur zeit Theophylakts, Byzantinische Zeitschrift 77 (1984) 6–19. Also relevant are, P. Pelliot, La chat cheou fou t’ou king, et la colonie Sogdienne de la région du Lob Nor, Journal Asiatique 7 (1916) 111–123. M. A. Stein, Serindia. Oxford 1921, 671ff. W. B. Henning, ‘The date of the Sogdian Ancient Letters’. Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 12 (1948) 601ff., and E. G. Pullyblank, A Sogdian Colony in Inner Mongolia. T’oung Pao 41 (1953) 137ff. 8 The northern route was evidently still in use in the later period as witnessed by the excavated silks at Moscevaja Balka, published by Ierusalimskaja. 9 For Indian trade links see, N. Pigulewskaja, Byzanz auf den Wegen nach Indien. Amsterdam 1969, 150–171. 10 Discussed in M. Whitby, The Emperor Maurice and his Historian. Theophylact Simocatta on Persian and Balkan Warfare. Oxford 1988, 202–221, especially 215–221 For Byzantine embassies to the Axumites in Ethiopia and the Homerites in the Yemen in 530/1,and an embassy from the Axumites to Constantinople in 550/1 see (Procopius, Wars, i.20 9–11; Malalas, Chronographia, 456. 24ff., Theophanes, Chronographia, 244. 14ff., and Malalas, Chronographia, 477. 7–8), cited by Whitby on 215 with note 33. On the Sogdians and Turks see, G. Widengren, ‘Xosrau Anosurvan, les Hephthalites et les peoples turcs’. Orientalia Suecana 1 (1952) 69–94 referred to by Whitby on page 217 in note 37. The Hephthalites were defeated in 558–560 following the alliance made by Khusro with the Turks, see Whitby page 218 and note 38. The Turkish Chargan had promised not to receive Byzantine ambassadors, but he did not keep his promise. Byzantine and Persian envoys met either at the Chagan’s court or at the time of a Turkish raid into Persia, on which occasion the Byzantine ambassador Zemarchus was involved (Menander Protector, Blockley ed. 10.3. 64–89) as cited by Whitby on page 218.

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period after the fall of the Persian Empire? This question will be tackled in two parts. First, I will consider the fate of the central silk routes across Sogdian territory. Secondly, I will turn to consider what happened to the northern route across the Causcasus. The evidence of the silks i. Mediterranean influence on Central Asian silks (7–10 centuries) Byzantine scholarship rightly places great dependence upon minute analysis of documentary sources, but survival of written economic testament concerning Mediterranean contacts with the three Silk Routes from the seventh to the twelfth centuries is haphazard. One valuable Islamic source, the ‘Book of the Routes and the Kingdoms’, does indicate that between the seventh and the ninth centuries, Rhadanite Jewish traders, using the central silk route were able to carry Chinese and Central Asian goods across to Byzantium and into western Europe.11 But generally speaking, in the face of inadequate documentation, it is the surviving silks in west European church treasuries, which as evidence, assume overwhelming importance. The Central Asian silks carried by the Rhadanite Jewish traders across the central silk route were reaching the Rhine-Maas area of western Europe in considerable numbers (Plates 101–103).12 Some were carried into France and Italy, where they were used to shroud important saints’ relics.13 A close analysis of over 100 of these Central Asian silks which reached western Europe between the seventh and the ninth centuries, indicates that they fall into two technical groups.14 Silks of the second, later technical group, reflect clear Mediterranean influences.15 The earlier, traditional Central Asian silk designs, with toothed medallions enclosing paired lions, succumb to and are replaced by Mediterranean hunter themes. The native L. I. Rabinowitz, Jewish Merchant Adventurers. London 1948. M. Gil, The Rhadanite merchants and the land of Radhan. Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 17 (1974) 299–328. 12 See ‘Byzantine and Islamic Silks in the Rhine-Maaslands before 1200’, in: Muthesius, Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving, chapter 6, 105–118, especially table on page 107, 109–111, 112. Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 10, 94–100. 13 For example, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, 94–96, M1136, M104, M106, M107, M1152, M1180b. 14 Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, 94. 15 Ibid., 97–98, M1169a, M1157 cf. M1166. 11

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Central Asian, predominantly ferrous based, green, tan, brown and pink dye palette, gives way to the more riotous, reds and blues of the madder and indigo based preferences of Mediterranean workshops.16 16 Distinct shades of tan, perhaps faded from chartreuse, rose-pink, orange and white, were distinguished on Zandaniji group one silks see, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, 94–95 with reference to D. G. Shepherd and W. B. Henning, Zandaniji Identified? in: Festschrift für Ernst Kühnel. Berlin 1959, 15–40, especially 26. Cf. D. G. Shepherd, Zandaniji Revisited, in: Documenta Textilia. Festschrift für S. Müller-Christensen. München 1980, 105–122. The group one Central Asian silks largely were using green and tan (mainly ferrous-based dyes). A brighter red and blue-based palette was characteristic of Mediterranean silks. Group two Central Asian silks take on these brighter colour palettes as well as hunter motifs characteristic of the Mediterranean silk weaving centres of the eighth to ninth century, see Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, 97. Limited dye analysis has been undertaken since the time of Shepherd and Henning. Most recently J. Hofenk de Graff, The Colourful Past. Origins, chemistry and identification of natural dyestuffs. London 2004, has tested some samples to illustrate the key medieval dyes. On eastern Central Asia and west China textiles of the period 3 B.C. and 4 A.D. she suggests kermes and cochineal can be detected, see page 73–74. On another piece (Abegg, Riggisbrg Inv. 4921) without provenance, but which has a Central Asian palmette and pearl arch motif, she records red and blue dyes of lac, chay root, brazilwood and a coccid. The technical analysis of this weave is not included but it might belong to the later Zandaniji group with red and blue dyes. Chay root red is found on Chinese silks, see pages 116–120. Brazilwood is detected on a Central Asian silk she suggests has faded from a red into a yellowish orange (Abegg, Riggisberg inv. 4876) see page 153. The comparison with Abegg, Riggisberg inv. 4901 is made, where lac, a trace of indigo and brazilwood are detected. She notes there is no typical fading of brazilwood. This silk does not give the impression of great age characteristic of other surviving Central Asian silks under discussion. On page 201 she refers to Central Asian silks at the Abegg, which carbon dating has placed to A.D. 600–900 (the scientific results have not been published). She notes red and yellow dyes on the silks (inventory numbers not specified), and states that many yellows were of unknown dye. In a green sample (Abegg, Riggisberg inv. 1992–11) she detected, ‘a rhamnetin-like compound, kaempferol and quercin.’ Also, alizarin and purpurin (madder) were identified and indigotin and indirubin (indigo). Hofenk de Graff concludes that complicated mixtures of dyes were involved to achieve the subtle colours of the Central Asian silks. Unfortunately, the dye analysis is not set out in sufficient detail and it does not contain links to detailed technical analysis of the silks, to test whether or not Central Asian dye palettes were influenced by the Mediterranean silk dyeing workshops from the eighth to ninth century onwards. For further scattered reference to dyes on Central Asian silks see, Hofenk de Graff page 219, where she illustrates a Central Asian silk saddle cloth (Abegg, Riggisberg inv. 4866/4870/4906/4922) under a discussion of weld, but there is no direct reference to this silk in her text. The Maastricht Lion silk, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 5, 44–57, M102, appears in Hofenk de Graff on page 227 as yielding weld, woad and a gallotannin dyestuff. Gallotannin she considers may have been used as a weighting agent rather than as a dye. Whiting for Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, 29–30, detected indigotin and a lichen dye in relation to the Maastricht Lion silk

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It is evident too, that the Sogdian weavers struggled to adopt figurative Mediterranean motifs in the face of inadequate pattern making devices on their traditional Central Asian looms.17 The Central Asian looms had simple pattern-making devices designed only to weave coarsely outlined, symmetrical animal motifs. The Mediterranean motifs such as the mounted hunters were irregular in shape and smoothly contoured. These designs had finely gradated outlines calling for the presence of a sophisticated pattern producing mechanism on the loom. To try to compensate for inadequate technology, the Central Asian weavers began to modify their own workshop traditions in order to mimic Byzantine techniques and practices. Thus, it appears that they replaced their coarse, tripled, twisted thread warps, with paired, finer, gummed silk warp yarn, more closely to be able to imitate fine Byzantine contouring.18 The surviving silks tell a story about which the documents remain silent: namely, that Byzantine technology as well as Byzantine taste had a marked impact on Central Asian silk weaving workshops between the eighth to the tenth centuries. The Byzantine influences are evident right down to, and also beyond the tenth century, in motifs and weaving structures of the Central Asian silks, and also in colour preferences. Byzantine activity is indicated along the central Silk route for a period of four centuries. The

(M102), which contrasted with indigotin and madder detected on an inscribed Imperial Lion silk (M615). Hofenk de Graff, page 252–253, found indigotin and indirubin on a skirt fragment carbon dated between 265 B.C. and A.D. 40, which she termed as ‘from the desert sands’. Hofenk de Graff evidently has insufficient samples from Central Asian and Mediterranean silks to be able to include case-studies of both under all the different colours of dyes she deals with. Nevertheless, her book is valuable for setting out the scientific methods for dye analysis and for gathering together the names of the main dyes, which might be thoroughly analysed on medieval samples in the future. 17 Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 2, 19–26. For smooth outlines of curved motifs the gradation of the design had to be very fine and closely controlled by a complex pattern-making device. The so-called ‘figure harness’ had a great number of draw cords operated by draw boys to allow for fine control of outlines. The marked steps of the outlines of Central Asian Zandaniji group one and two silks, indicate that the pattern making device of the Central Asian looms, in what ever form it might have existed, did not allow for fine contouring of motifs. 18 Zandaniji group one silks display interior warps grouped in threes and untwisted, an arrangement, which did not lend itself to fine contouring. The group two Zandaniji silks used paired and twisted inner warps, which represented an arrangement more suited to fine contouring of motifs.

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Central Asian Lion silk at St. Servatius, Maastricht, clearly attempted to imitate a contemporary Imperial Byzantine Lion silk (Plate 104).19 ii. The Mediterranean silks of the north west Caucasus burial sites: Moščevaja Balka and related finds Moving on from this discussion of the central silk route, to an exploration of its northerly neighbour, the Caucasian silk route, it is evident here, that material remains, rather than documentary sources, hold the key. The evidence comes in the form of silks, found in burial sites of the north west Caucasus, and variously datable to periods between the eighth and the twelfth centuries.20 In this paper analysis will be made of the finds of one particular site: the eighth to ninth century burial complex of Moščevaja Balka. This site is strategically situated directly across the Caucasian mountain passes leading to the northern silk route.21 The remarkable burial finds at Moščevaja Balka were excavated by Russian teams at different times across the last century.22 Concerning the people buried at the site, their cranial characteristics and the skeletal evidence indicates an indigenous Caucasian hill tribe population rather than an immigrant foreign settlement. The burial site is datable eighth to ninth century.23 The site reveals the presence of a combination of Mediterranean, Central Asian and Chinese silk fragments. These scraps were painstakingly sewn together to provide fashionable wardrobes for men, women and children. Some of the items were fur lined (Plates 105–108). Amongst the silks, Central Asian examples predominate, many with

Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, M102. Muthesius, Byzantine and Islamic Silks, 109–110. The small scale of the Maastricht Lion motifs (23 cm.) and the fact that, despite their small scale, they were woven down and not across the loom, points to the fact that the technology involved was not advanced. In addition the use of triple, untwisted, inner warps (main warps), adds to the difficulty of obtaining the smoothly curved outlines of the Imperial Lion silks. The Imperial Lion silks have paired, twisted inner warps. 20 Ierusalimskaja, Mosˇˇcevaja Balka, 237–238, catalogue numbers 35–166 on pages 252–287. 21 For the relation of the burial ground to the silk route see, Ierusalimskaja, Mosˇˇcevaja Balka, 115–132. 22 See, Ierusalimskaja, Mosˇˇcevaja Balka, 17–20 and references in notes 1–10. 23 Ibid., 317–322, for contribution by, W. P. Alexejev, Zur kraniologischen Charakteristik der Population. 19

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magical axe motif decoration.24 Chinese fragments are rarer, more delicate and with geometric or foliate ornament.25 Some are printed, others are woven. Mediterranean silks found at Moščevaja Balka, are representative of Byzantine production of the eighth to ninth centuries and they include a variety of foliate, animal and figurative motifs (Plate 109).26 The typical hunter silk type of Byzantium manufacture, is represented by a blue ground example, and this finds an almost exact parallel on two silks: a Byzantine Hunter silk of St. Ambrogio, Milan, and another of St. Cunibert, Cologne (Plate 110).27 Important amongst the finds is a Byzantine tablet woven braid with an inscription naming the military official Ivan, the spelling of whose name indicates his Bulgarian origin.28 This find documents the presence of Byzantine officials in the region in the eighth to ninth centuries, and the belt carries an inscription invoking blessings for its wearer. Another silk fragment has a woven Kufic inscription which reads, ‘Blessings come from God. There is no other God but Allah.’ But in general Islamic silks are rare amongst the finds.29 Local cultural identity is reflected in some traditional head-dresses, and also in traditional Kaftan tailoring practices.30 Only female fashions were markedly affected by contact with Mediterranean dress codes and styles.31 The native Kaftan (either linen or leather based and silk covered), took its inspiration from the earlier

24 Ierusalimskaja, Mosˇˇcevaja Balka, 237 for silks with the symbolic double axe motif, namely numbers 86–92 inclusive on pages 267–269, and numbers 96–97, and 99–124 on pages 271–277. 25 Ibid., 287–295, numbers 167–208. 26 Ibid., 239–252, numbers 1–34. This includes both Islamic and Byzantine silks. 27 Ibid., 240, numbers 3–4. Several silks are extant with the same design, as discussed by Ierusalimskaja, 239. For three silks with the same design, which are illustrated see, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, (M31), Milan, St. Ambrogio, (M347), Cologne, St. Cunibert now Diocesanmuseum, and (M350C), St. Calais, Sarthe, on plates 25A, 25B and 79B respectively. 28 Ierusalimskaja, Mosˇˇcevaja Balka, 251–252, number 34. 29 Ibid., 242–243, number 12. A pseudo-Kufic inscription appears on number 13. 30 Ibid., 143–148, numbers 1a–75. For kaftans tailored in silk see, 151–154, numbers 139–194. 31 See, ‘Roman and Byzantine Dress in Egypt’, in: D. King, Collected Textile Studies, chapter 16, 246–267.

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Sassanian tailored type. But the women evidently wore Mediterranean type tunics with attached clavi.32 Evidently, the greatest status was attached to the Byzantine silks, as witnessed by the use of the Byzantine senmurv silk for the kaftan of the chief of the tribe, an individual who was more than two metres tall (Plate 111).33 Overall, the site on the hill side of Moščevaja Balka, reflects the absorption both of elements of ancient Sassanian culture, (with an emphasis on magical religious ritual, and the influence of later Alan burial customs).34 It is interesting that indigenously pressed brachea worn alongside protective amulets are either of a metallic mixture of bronze, copper and zinc, or of lead.35 These display locally stamped designs which have copied Byzantine coin types of the seventh to eighth centuries.36 Some brachea with higher zinc content (up to 20%) have been made using materials imported from the Mediterranean region.37 It is also worth noting that Mediterranean glass is found amongst the grave goods.38 Conclusion The discussion above points towards a number of conclusions. In answer to the first questions posed at the beginning of the paper, one may say that the presence of Mediterranean silks in the north west Caucasus indeed did mirror a combination of on-going Byzantine political and economic initiatives. The main aim was to open up the northern silk route, which functioned alongside the central silk route throughout the period from the seventh to the eleventh/twelfth centuries. The survival of the Byzantine silks, in spite of the existence of documented Byzantine influThe Central Asian type of tailored kaftan is illustrated in colour in conjunction with catalogue number 1 see, Ierusalimskaja, Mosˇˇcevaja Balka, 151, number 139 and plate LXXIII, and for the cut see 158, figure 9. The Roman and Byzantine style tunics with clavi, at Mosˇˇcevaja Balka, are shown on plates XVII (fig. 38), and XX (fig.45), for example. Dress is discussed by Ierusalimskaja on pages 33–58. 33 Ierusalimskaja, Mosˇˇcevaja Balka, 151. Von China nach Byzanz, Munich 1996 exhibition, catalogue number 1, pages 18–21. The length of the kaftan is 140cm. The kaftan was cut from a silk possibly 120 cm in width and over 4 metres long. 34 Ibid., 23–31. 35 Ibid., 81,199–200 and numbers 11–23 inclusive. 36 Ibid., plate XLVI, figure 109. 37 Ibid., 81. 38 Ibid., 79, and 196–197, numbers 1–8. 32

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ences indicated along both northern and central silk routes, acts as powerful material evidence which moves beyond the written sources. In answer to the second question, one can say that on the northern silk route, at Moščevaja Balka the role of the imported Mediterranean fabrics, alongside those obtained from Central Asia and China, was essentially to add luster to, rather than to swamp, the local Caucasian traditions of the region. The apparent lack of Caucasian silks at Moščevaja Balka in the eighth to ninth century burials is notable. This paper has not so far mentioned raw silk from Central Asia. It is evident from tenth to eleventh century documents of the Cairo Geniza, that Khorasan produced Ibrisim raw silk and that this was traded via Aleppo, at Fustat. The same term was used for raw silk from Iraq, whilst a lower quality raw silk from there was termed lasin.39 For the later period Jacoby has suggested that Khorasan raw silk reached Genoa in 1191, and that it was handled by merchants of Lucca.40 By 1230 silk from Inner Asia was reaching Lucca according to Jacoby.41 He also mentions a ‘seta iurea’ from Georgia, recorded in Lucca in 1256.42 Thus, by the twelfth to thirteenth centuries, and following the fall of Constantinople to the Latins (1204–1261), the ‘Mediterranean/Caucasian’ silk wheel had moved full circle. By that time, there was need to assess the impact on both the Mediterranean and the west, of silk trade via the Caucasus.

See Goitein, Mediterranean Society, I, 222, with note 53 on page 454, for a raw silk from Khorasan termed ‘Ibrisim’, and which reached Egypt via Aleppo. The same type of silk is named in relation also to S.W. Iran. Goitein cites the Cairo Geniza source document (TS 13 J25, f.18, 1.12) in this connection. He mentions that an inferior type of raw silk known as ‘lasin’ arrived mainly from Sicily, but also that it came from Iraq. 40 Jacoby, ‘Silk crosses the Mediterranean’, 75 and note 131. 41 Ibid., 76, note 141. 42 Ibid., 79, note 165. Georgian woven silks are preserved in the state museums of Tbilisi, but a technically detailed history of the Georgian silk industry allied to a thorough analysis of the historical documentation, does not appear yet to have been published. 39

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Byzantine Orthodoxy and the Silken Cult of St. Cuthbert

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RECIOUS cloth has maintained an intimate connection with the Orthodox faith from Byzantine into Post Byzantine times. Splendid silks and gold embroideries have long acted as the hallmark of Orthodox Faith. Their presence was and continues to be essential to the proper celebration of the liturgy and to the fitting remembrance of the saints (Plates 7, 11–12, 14, 29, 31–43, 46–47, 51, 53–55, 62–65, 99–100, 137–155, 173–174).1 The use of splendid silken fabrics in the Latin Church was also

The largest surviving collections of precious silks are in the monasteries on Mount Athos, and in the monasteries of St. John, Patmos, St. Catherine, Sinai, and the Meteora. The Patmos and the Sinai silks have been analysed and catalogued by the present author and are under publication by her. A number of publications are useful, but they lack weave analysis and details of embroidery techniques, so important for dating of embroideries and silks. P. Johnstone, Byzantine Tradition in Church Embroidery. London 1967, presented an introduction to some key pieces in monastic treasuries and ecclesiastical and state museums, including pieces such as the Vatican saccos in Rome, plates 1–6; and the greater saccos of Photius, in the Kremlin museum, Moscow, plates 7–10 (with a related lesser saccos, considered Russian rather than Byzantine embroidery). For further extensive references to surviving pieces, see also, T. Papas, Studien zur Geschichte der Messgewänder im Byzantinischen Ritus. München 1965. Papas, writes as a historian of vestments and furnishings. Further consult, G. Millet, Broderies religieuses de style byzantin. Paris 1947. Millet provides a valuable, illustrated, non-technical catalogue of embroidered vestments in many of the Athos monasteries. By the same author see also, La Dalmatique du Vatican. Paris 1945. For the link between Byzantine and Russian embroidery see, B. Rothemund, Byzantinische und russische kirchliche Stickerein. Slavisches Institut München. München 1961. G. Sotirou and M. Theocharis published individual embroideries surviving in Greece and O. Tafrali amongst others published collections from Romania, see references cited by Johnstone, Byzantine 1

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widespread, although prior to the thirteenth century, this was reliant upon the importation of Byzantine, Islamic and Near Eastern silks.2 In Durham, the presence of Byzantine and other silk fabrics, variously datable between the seventh and the twelfth centuries, raises special questions about the relationship of Northumbrian silken cults to those of the wider mediaeval world (Plates 112–124).3 This paper will ask two questions, ‘What part did precious cloths play in the development of the cult of St.

Tradition, in the bibliography on pages 132–135. More recently coloured plates of impressive embroidered vestments have appeared in Athos and in other monastic treasury and exhibition catalogues including, Amphia, Vestments of the Eastern Orthodox Church. Benaki Museum, 1–30 September 1999. Athens 1999, which presents post-Byzantine pieces mainly, and this indicates the strong survival of Byzantine ecclesiastical gold embroidery techniques into post Byzantine and into Neo-Hellenic times. A publication like, The Holy and Great Monastery of Vatopedi. I–II, Mount Athos 1998, includes a section on gold embroideries, see M. Theocharis, ‘Gold Embroidered ornaments’, II, 421–456, but as the author writes in the capacity of an historian, there are no technical details of weaves or techniques for each piece. A description of weaves for the silk grounds as well as an analysis of embroidery techniques needs to be added to each piece catalogued or exhibited so that an overall chronology can be established. Additionally, scientific analysis of metal threads would help with assigning date and provenance to embroidered silk vestments and furnishings, only some of which bear datable inscriptions. The on-going difficulty of access to unpublished materials, the lack of technical training amongst researchers and the high costs of necessary scientific analysis of threads and dyes, have hampered studies in the field. A growing awareness of the importance of textile studies that combine all these elements with historical, art historical, archaeological and anthropological analysis, calls for the establishment of proper training centres for future doctoral students in the field. 2 Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapters 4–15 inclusive, illustrates the survival of the imported silks in over 120 treasuries of Western Europe. This publication provides weave analysis for 1391 surviving silks, and it presents a chronology of technical types. It is the only publication to provide a technical overview of the surviving Byzantine and related silks datable before 1200 A.D. Both Islamic and Near Eastern silks are further discussed in Muthesius, Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving, chapters 1, 3, 5, and 6, and in Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, chapter 16. In addition, in the present volume see chapters 8, 10 and 14. 3 For the cult of St. Cuthbert see, J. Campbell, ‘Elements in the background to the Life of St. Cuthbert and his early Cult’, and A. Thacker, ‘Lindisfarne and the origins of the Cult of St. Cuthbert’, in: St. Cuthbert, his Cult and his Community (G. Bonner, D. Rollason, C. Stancliffe ed.) Woodbridge 1989, 3–19, and 103–122, respectively. In the same publication see, V. Tudor, ‘The Cult of St. Cuthbert in the twelfth century: the evidence of Reginald of Durham’, on 447–467. In the same publication a variety of contributions on pages 231 forwards, deal with material objects. They include textiles connected to the cult of St. Cuthbert, on pages 303–366. For the use of textiles in relation to a variety of further saints’ cults see chapter 7 above and references in notes 3 and 21.

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Cuthbert?’ and, ‘What was the broader significance of the presence of these textiles at Durham?’ The paper is divided into two sections. It will trace the development of the cult of St. Cuthbert between the seventh and twelfth centuries, and his transformation from local monastic saint to powerful Episcopal authority. The first section of the paper will explore the cult in relation to three areas: i. the use of precious cloths in the Anglo-Saxon church; ii. the exercise of Royal patronage; and iii. the growth of the Episcopal tomb cults in Gaul. The second part of the paper will provide a detailed analysis of the surviving silks and it will consider more closely, how the later cult of the saint functioned, and also how it related to important contemporary silken cults on the Continent. Both sections of the paper will make reference to Byzantine cults of relics and to their association with precious silk cloths. Section one: St. Cuthbert St. Cuthbert, born around 635, led a pious life divided between the need for quiet contemplation and the demands of pastoral duty. In 651 he entered the monastic community at Melrose and he was ordained priest, and subsequently he became prior there.4 In 664 he took up office as prior of 4 For analysis of the literary sources see, C. Stancliffe, ‘Cuthbert and the Polarity between Pastor and Solitary’, in: St. Cuthbert, His Cult and His Community, 21–42, and for Melrose 30–31. The main primary source material for the life of St. Cuthbert and the history and miracles of the saint is as follows: Vita sancti Cuthberti auctore anonymo, in: Two lives of St. Cuthbert (B. Colgrave ed. and transl.) Cambridge reprint 1985, 59–139; Vita sancti Cuthberti auctore Beda, in: Two Lives (Colgrave ed.) 141–307; Bedas metrische Vita sancti Cuthberti (W. Jaager ed.) Leipzig 1935, and note M. Lapidge, ‘Bede’s Metrical Vita S. Cuthberti’, and W. Berschin, Opus deliberatum ac perfectum: Why did the Venerable Bede Write a Second Prose Life of St. Cuthbert?’ both in: St. Cuthbert, His Cult and His Community, 77–93 and 95–102 respectively; Symeonis monachi Opera omnia (T. Arnold ed.) 1–2, Rolls Society 75 (1882–85), (for Historia de sancto Cuthberto, the History of St. Cuthbert, see I, 196–214, for Capitula de miraculis et translationibus sancti Cuthberti, Chapters concerning the Miracles and Translations of St. Cuthbert, see I, 229–261, for Historia Dunelmensis ecclesiae, the History of the Church of Durham, see I, 3–169, for Historia regum, the History of the Kings, see II, 3–283); cf. Reginald of Durham’s ‘Little Book’ about the Wonderful Miracles of Blessed Cuthbert which were Performed in Recent Times (J. Raine ed.), Reginaldi monachi Dunelmensis Libellus de admirandis beati Cuthberti virtutibus quae novellis patratae sunt temporibus. Surtees Society, 1, Durham 1835; Annales Lindisfarnenses et Dunelmenses (G. H. Pertz ed.), Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Scriptores,

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Lindisfarne, but in 667 he adopted a life of prayer as a hermit on Farne island.5 This tranquil phase was short-lived, for in 685 he was called upon to become Bishop of Lindisfarne, by no less a figure than King Ecgrifth (672–85), and by Archbishop Theodore of Canterbury (c. 612–90).6 This office, he did not hold for long, as ill health drove him back to Farne in 687, where he died on March 20.7 Cuthbert was buried in 687 at Lindisfarne. The cult of the saint developed rapidly after his death, particularly 698, when a recognition for the purpose of re-vesting, found his body to be incorrupt.8 Originally buried at Lindisfarne, the body of the saint had to be temporarily moved during a Viking raid in 793, and the relics of the saint were again moved from Lindisfarne between 875 and 882, when they were processed around a succession of local monasteries.9 From 883–995 the relics came to rest at Chester-le-Street, at which point they were translated to Durham.10 After the conquest, in 1083, Bishop William of St. Calais (1089–1096), established a Benedictine monastic community at Durham and the lay community had to relinquish care of the saint.11 The body of the 19 (1866) 502–508, and as edited by W. Levison, ‘Die Annales Lindisfarnenses et Dunelmenses, kritisch untersucht und neu herausgegeben’, Deutsches Archiv für Erforschung des Mittelalters 17 (1961) 447–506. Secondary literature of relevance includes: J. Raine, St. Cuthbert, with an Account of the State in which his Remains were found upon the Opening of his Tomb in Durham Cathedral, in the year 1827. Durham 1828; Symeon of Durham. Historian of Durham and the North (D. Rollason ed.), Stamford 1998; Anglo-Norman Durham 1093–1193 (D. Rollason, M. Harvey, M. Prestwich ed.), Woodbridge 1998 edition; W. M. Aird, St. Cuthbert and the Normans. Woodbridge 1998. For a medieval illustrated Life of St. Cuthbert by Bede see, D. Marner, St. Cuthbert. His Life and Cult in Medieval Durham. London 2000. 5 Discussed by Stancliffe, Cuthbert, 32–33. 6 Ibid., 35–36. 7 Bede’s prose Life of St. Cuthbert, 37–38, B. Colgrave, Two Lives, 278–81. Berschin, Opus, in the appendix on page 102, concludes that Herefrith witnessed Cuthbert’s death and that his original text was reproduced in Bede’s prose Life of St. Cuthbert. 8 Reginald, Libellus 41. 9 See, B. Colgrave, The Post-Bedan Miracles and Translations of St. Cuthbert, in: The Early Culture of North West Europe: H. M. Chadwick Memorial Studies (C. Fox, B. Dickins ed.), Cambridge 1950, 307–332. 10 On this period see, E. Cambridge, Why did the Community of St. Cuthbert settle at Chester-le-Street?’ in: St Cuthbert, His Cult and His Community, 367–395. 11 For this Episcopal figure consult, H. S. Offler, ‘William of Saint-Calais, first Norman Bishop of Durham’. Transactions of the Architectural and Archaeological Society of Durham and Northumberland 10 (1950) 258–279. See also, M. Aird, ‘Absent friend: the career of Bishop William of St. Calais’, in: Anglo-Norman Durham (Rollason et al. ed.) 283–297.

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saint was placed into a new shrine at the east end of the Cathedral begun in 1093, at the time of a translation in 1104.12 The Normans gave credence to their role through adoption of the Northumbrian cult. The translation brought this socio-political element into relation with the patron saint. Appropriation of existing ritual set the scene for addition of civic ceremony to the cult. Although St. Cuthbert was known to have shunned precious garments and to have reserved a precious cloth he received as a gift to act as his burial shroud, the Anglo-Saxon Church on the whole welcomed the lavish royal patronage, which introduced silks, silver, gold and jewels into Christian worship. The silken secular habits of the nobility came to filter through to the monastic world, but soon there was concern that this process had progressed too far.13 Accounts abound about the use and the misuse of this silken privilege. This paper can present only a few examples. Boniface, missionary to the Saxons and the Frisians on the Continent, complained of clerics wearing opulent garb, and he favoured not pure silk cloaks, but those made of silk mixed with goat’s hair.14 Amongst surviving silks, several silk 12 Reginald, Libellus, (Raine ed.) chapters 40–43, pages 84–90. For a discussion see, Tudor, ‘The Cult of St. Cuthbert’, 448 and note 8, and 452–453 with notes 32–42. Cf., Historia translationum Sancti Cuthberti auctore anonymo, in: Symeonis Dunelmensis. Opera et Collectanea (I. Hodgson-Hinde ed.) Rolls Series 51, London 1868, 188–197, and, Symeonis Monachi Opera Omnia, Rolls Series 1. London 1882, 196–214. For discussion and English translation see, The Relics of St. Cuthbert. (C. F. Battiscombe ed.) Oxford 1956, appendix 1, 99–112. 13 For costumes see, G. R. Owen-Crocker, Dress in Anglo-Saxon England. Manchester 1986. The author suggests that silks were imported in Anglo Saxon times for use as ecclesiastical vestments, and that silk relics were buried in secular graves, see page 187, and note 50. A small silk fragment was found in a seventh-century reliquary in a child’s grave at Updown, Kent. Also, a seventh–eighth century, silk covered button was found in a grave at Tattersall Thorpe, Lincolnshire. Silks were presented to English churches in the same period. For example, silks were presented silk to York and to Ripon. See, S. Bonifatii et Lulli Epistolae, MGH, Epistolae 4, Epistolae Selectae I (M. Tangl ed.) Berlin 1916, no. 125, page 263, lines 5–6, and Eddius Life of St. Wilfrid. The Life of Bishop Wilfrid by Eddius Stephanus. Cambridge 1927, 120, as cited by Owen Crocker in note 55 on page 224. For the political and economic aspects in general see, D. Rollason, Saints and Relics in Anglo-Saxon England. Oxford 1989. Also, P. Thacker, The Social and Continental background to Early Anglo-Saxon Haghiography. Ph.D. thesis, Oxford University, 1976. 14 St. Boniface wrote to Cuthbert, Archbishop of Canterbury in the early eighth century advocating reform of ostentatious dress amongst the Servants of God. See, Councils and Ecclesiastical Documents relating to Great Britain and Ireland I–III, (A. W. Haddan, W. Stubbs ed.), Oxford 1869–1878, III, 378. The Council of Clofeshoe of 747 forbade the use of

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and goat’s hair examples of which I know, come from excavation sites in Israel. These sites represent settlements of working communities, so that the silk and goat’s hair mixture can be taken to represent a non-luxury fabric.15 Much richer cloth is described in other accounts. Upon the occasion of his baptism, King Edwin of Northumbria (616–32), is reported to have received from Pope Benedict, ‘a tunic with golden ornament and a cloak from Ancyra’.16 The lavish artistic patronage to York by King Oswald (633–41) included the gift of brocaded silk wall hangings, and by King Ecgberht (732–766) a donation of figured silk wall hangings.17 Similarly, precious silks were documented at Ripon, Hexham and Lindisfarne. The value of secular silk clothing was sometimes measured in terms of land. King Aldfrith, for instance, obtained ‘three hides of land’ in exchange for two silk cloaks.18 The association of St. Cuthbert with royalty, both during his life time and after his death, has been noted by historians. It has also been suggested that his cult operated as a vehicle for affirmation of the royal power, and ostentatious dress of secular custom and the adoption of simple habits fit for purpose. See, Haddan and Stubbs, Councils, III, 369. Alcuin who was at work on the Continent also warned against use of bright garments, see Haddan and Stubbs, III, 520. 15 It is evident that, goat-hair and also wool and goat-hair, or silk and goat-hair textiles were used by the Byzantines. See F. Koukoules, Byzantinon Bios kai Politismos, 2 part 2, Athens 1949, 24 for literary references to such cloths. Examples of early goat-hair fabrics from excavations in Israel are discussed in O. Shamir, ‘Byzantine and Early Islamic Textiles excavated in Israel’, in: Textile History 32.i (2001) 93–105, see especially, 96, 98, 103. This was a special edition of the Journal of Textile History (A. Muthesius ed.), which was devoted to the proceedings of the Early Textiles Study Group symposium, ‘A Millennium of Mediterranean Textiles’, Manchester University 1998, organiser A. Muthesius. For goats-hair finds see further, A. Sheffer and A. Tidhar, ‘The Textiles from the ‘En-Boqeq Excavation in Israel’, Textile History, 32 (1991) 3–46. 16 For the gift see, Bede, a History of the English Church and People (Plummer ed. as transl. L. Shirley-Price, revision R. E. Latham). Middlesex 1968 ed., chapter 10, 120. On Edwin consult, H. Mayr-Harting, The Coming of Christianity to Anglo-Saxon England. London 1972, 66–68. N. K. Chadwick, ‘The conversion of Northumbria’, in: Celt and Saxon (N. K. Chadwick ed.) Cambridge 1964, 138–166. D. P. Kirby, ‘Bede and Northumbrian Chronology’, English Historical Review 78 (1963) 514–527. 17 For the gift of King Oswald see, Alcuin, The Bishops, Kings and Saints of York (P. Goodman ed.) Oxford 1982, lines 275–283. For the gift of King Ecgberht see, Alcuin, The Bishops, Lines 1266–1288. On Oswald as political and religious figure see, Oswald. Northumbrian King to European Saint. (C. Stancliffe, E. Cambridge ed.). Stamford 1996 edition. 18 Bede. Lives of the Abbots of Wearmouth and Jarrow. (Plummer ed.) I, 373. Cf. Bede. Lives (Farmer ed. and transl.) London 1985, 195. Also note, K. B. Macfarlane, The Nobility of later Medieval England. Oxford 1973, 96–98.

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particularly the power of the Northumbrian ruling house.19 This idea may be borne out by the fact that ten of his forty miracles are reported to have occurred in the presence of royalty.20 Also, it is clear that by the twelfth century, Cuthbert, whose silk standard led in battles against the Scots, had taken over the role of National saint of the Kingdom of Northumbria.21 Indeed, the relics of the saintly King Oswald were placed into the coffin of St. Cuthbert by this date. In this respect the cult of St. Cuthbert at Durham acted in much the same way as the Royal Anglo-Saxon Ruler cults in relation to the West Saxon royal dynasty. West Saxon dominance over the Fenlands, for instance, was cultivated through the promulgation of the cult of the Royal Saint Etheldreda at Ely.22 Similarly, St. Edburga’s cult at Winchester and at Pershore strengthened the credibility of the West Saxon Royal house; most especially as this particular saint boasted West Saxon royal ancestory.23 It was the tomb cult of St. Edburga, which transformed her from ‘royal patron’ to ‘patron saint’.24 19 See, S. Ridyard, ‘Condigna venerato’ Post-Conquest attitudes to the saints of the Anglo-Saxons’, Anglo Norman Studies 9 (1987) 179–206. Also consult the work of D. Rollason, Saints and Relics in Anglo-Saxon England. Oxford 1989, chapters 5 and 6, on pages 105–129 and 133–163. By the same author earlier note, D. Rollason, ‘The cults of murdered royal saints in Anglo-Saxon England’, Anglo-Saxon England 11 (1983) 1–22. In addition see, D. Rollason, ‘Relic cults as an instrument of royal policy c. 900–c. 1050’, AngloSaxon England 15 (1986) 91–103, and D. Rollason, ‘The shrines and saints in later AngloSaxon England, distribution and significance’, in: The Anglo-Saxon Church; papers on history, architecture and archaeology in honour of Dr. H. M. Taylor (R. Morris ed.). Council for British Archaeology, Research report 60. London 1986, 32–43. 20 Colgrave, Two Lives, 10, 15, 23, 24, 25, 27, 29, 31, discussed by Campbell, ‘Elements in the background to the Life of St. Cuthbert’, 11. 21 A description or breife declaration of all the Ancient Monuments, Rites and Customes belonginge or beinge within the Monastical Church of Durham before the Suppression written in 1593. Surtees Society edition 1842, facsimile reprint, Felinach 1998, chapter 2, ‘In Saint Cuthbert’s Feritorye’, 3–6, see especially 5–6. The insignia of the King of the Scots, his banner, and a banner of Lord Neville are amongst items described at the feretory of St. Cuthbert. These objects were amongst items presented after the battle of Neville’s Cross (17 October 1346). Note Battiscombe, Relics, 68 and discussion in note 5. Battiscombe traces the banner back to 1097 from a mid-fourteenth-century reference and he suggests it may have existed as early as the tenth century. 22 Ridyard, Royal Saints, chapter 6, 176–210. On precious cloths at Ely, Liber Eliensis. A history of the Isle of Ely from the seventh century to the twelfth (J. Fairweather ed. with transl.) Woodbridge 2005, see index 567–568, for examples of soft furnishings and vestments. 23 Ridyard, Royal Saints, 17–37, 96–139, 253–310. 24 Ibid., 103–139.

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The Episcopal tomb cults of Gaul A third strand of influence in the early development of the cult of St. Cuthbert should be mentioned here, and this is the impact of episcopal tomb cults of Gaul.25 The fourth-century St. Martin was translated into a shrine at the east end of the apse of a new Basilica at Tours in the late fifth century, under Bishop Perperus.26 From this vantage point there grew up a powerful tomb cult of the saint, and the life of St. Martin was one of the texts which influenced Bede’s prose life of St. Cuthbert.27 Tomb cults of Gaul included that of Abbess Theodechildis of Jouarre, who was buried in a Merovingian stone sarcophagus, and she was vested in a purple silk dalmatic.28 The sarcophagus used for Theodechildis can be compared to that used to translate the re-vested body of St. Aethelthryth, Abbess of Ely (d. 679), in 695.29 Important sixth- to seventh-century tomb cults in Gaul included those of St. Leodegar (d. 678) of Autun, who was buried in a silk dalmatic; of St. Audoenur (d. 684) at Rouen, and of Bonitos (d. 709) at Clermont.30 The use of precious silks within ritual enactment of cults was part of the process involved in the acknowledgement of the saints. Individual cult practices on the Continent, find parallels at Durham. For example, one can compare the removal of hair and teeth relics from the uncorrupted head of St. Quentin at Noyon in 641, to the removal of hair from the head of St. Cuthbert in 698.31 The missionary activity of the Hiberno-Northumbrian saints upon the Continent, provided a medium for direct influence from the Continent. There were Northumbrian monks resident in Continental monasteries, and English saints founded monas25 As noted by A. Thacker, ‘Lindisfarne and the origins of the Cult of St. Cuthbert’, in: St. Cuthbert, His Cult and His Community, 103–122, especially 106–107. 26 Gregory of Tours, Historia Francorum X, 31. Monumenta Germaniae Historica. Scriptores Rerum Merovingicarum 1 (1951) 529, as discussed by Thacker, ‘Lindisfarne’, 107. 27 Thacker, ‘Lindisfarne’, 110 and note 56, and 110–111 with notes 58–66. 28 Marquise de Maille de la Tour-Landry, Les Cryptes de Jouarre. Paris 1971, 77, 201–215, 221–238. 29 Baedae Historia ecclesiastica gentis Anglorum, book 4, chapter 19 (17), Oxford Medieval Texts 5 (B. Colgrave, R. Mynors ed.) Oxford 1969. 30 Passio S. Leodegarii I, 33–44; II, 20–32, (MGH, SRM 5, 315–322, 342–356); Vita Audoeni I, 17–18; II, 43 (MGH, SRM 5, 565–567); Vita S. Boniti 30–44 (MGH, SRM 6, 133–139, as cited by Thacker, ‘Lindisfarne, 107 and note 36. 31 Baedae Historia, book 4, 32 (30). Vita Eligii II, 6, 697–696, as cited by Thacker, ‘Lindisfarne’ 108, note 39.

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teries on the Continent. The missionary St. Willibrord of Echternach, consecrated Harlindis as Abbess of Maayseck, and she and her sister Relindis were eventually the subjects of a cult following at Maayseck. The relics of these two saints were enveloped in an Anglo-Saxon silk embroidery, and also in a second mysterious silk shroud with the in-woven figure of David.32 The cult of St. Cuthbert appears to have owed more to this Continental, tomb cult, tradition, than to the desert Father, recluse, cult tradition, upon which the cult of St. Columba at Iona rested.33 In the Life of St. Columba it is clear that the saint distributes his clothing upon his deathbed and then it is the relics of cloth which are taken to locations of need where miracles are performed.34 In the case of St. Cuthbert, the miracles are grounded in location to Durham Cathedral and tied to the tomb cult. In addition, celebrations of the saint at popular level incorporated regulation of economies, as tithes were extracted through payments on the saint’s feast day. Cult and precious cloth in Byzantium Although it would be easier to see Byzantine influence arriving in Durham via the Continent, it is not impossible that some direct influence might have been felt. This is particularly true as some Anglo-Saxon soldiers were in the service of the Byzantine army by the eleventh century, and certainly, there were diplomatic exchanges between England and Byzantium as early as the seventh century.35 M. Budny, ‘The Anglo-Saxon Embroideries at Maaseik: Their Historical and Art Historical Context’, Academiae Analecta 45 (1984). The present author made a technical examination of these silks in the late 1980s. The David silk technically and stylistically would appear to be much later than the embroideries in date. Its design has a strange angularity alien to technically comparable Byzantine and related Eastern Mediterranean Islamic silks. 33 Thacker, ‘Lindisfarne’, 112–115, speaks only of an ambiguous relationship between the anonymous Life of St. Cuthbert and Adomnan’s Life of Columba. 34 For St. Columba’s cloth and book relics and their distribution see, Adoman, Life of Columba (A. O. and M. O. Anderson ed.). London 1961, V, col. II, 44–45. On the grave which was not easily accessible to the public see, The Life of St. Columba by Adamnan (W. Reeves ed.). Dublin 1857, 312–17. 35 A. A. Vasiliev, The opening stages of the Anglo-Saxon immigration to Byzantium in the eleventh century. Annales de l’inscription Kondakov 9 (1937) 39ff. J. Shepard, The English and Byzantium: a study of their role in the Byzantine army in the later eleventh century. Traditio 29 (1973) 53–92. The Byzantine Nature Goddess silk (datable eighth to ninth 32

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In Byzantium relics were widely distributed and each small relic of the individual saint stood in the place of the whole metaphorically ‘indivisible’ saint. The relic also recreated historical past as ‘present reality’.36 Not only human remains but also symbolic entities, cloths and objects in contact with the body of the holy figure, assumed the air of sanctity. Thus, the robes and girdle of the Virgin; the swaddling clothes of Christ; the instruments of Christ’s passion, and the very earth upon which he had stood on the Mount of Olives might come to be regarded as relics.37 The Imperial Byzantine house was active in the gathering of such relics from an early date; take for example, the acquisition of the relics of St. Stephen under Emperor Theodosius II and his sister Pulcheria, and an Adventus ceremony (saint unknown) celebrated upon the Trier ivory.38 In Byzantium the relics of saints were wrapped in silk from an early century) at Durham, was used to cover the body of St. Cuthbert. This silk has been linked with either the presentation of cloths by King Athelstan in 934, or with the presentation of cloths, including two Greek pallia, by his brother Edmund, in 944–947. It is feasible that this silk arrived as an undocumented diplomatic gift. See A. Muthesius, ‘The role of Byzantine silks in the British Isles before AD 1200’, in: A. Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium. London 2004, chapter 15, 257–275. I am indebted to Dr. Harris for a copy of, J. Harris, ‘Wars and Rumours of Wars: England and the Byzantine World in the eighth and ninth centuries’. Mediterranean Historical Review 14 no. 2 (Dec. 1999), 29–46. 36 See, H. Maguire, The Icons and their Bodies. Saints and their images in Byzantium. Princeton 1996, 93, for the idea of a hierarchy of intercession from relics to images of the saints. Compare, C. Barber, Figure and Likeness. On the limits of representation in Byzantine Iconoclasm. Princeton 2002, where the nature of symbolic representation is explored in relation to both relics and images. Further see, L. Hunt, ‘The traffic in relics: some Late Roman evidence’, in: The Byzantine Saint, University of Birmingham fourteenth Spring Symposium of Byzantine Studies (S. Hackel ed.). Sobornost incorporating Eastern Churches Review. Studies supplementary to Sobornost 5 (1981), 171–180. 37 For the promulgation of cults in relation to acquisition of relics, including cloth relics of the Virgin see, V. Limberis, Divine heiress. The Virgin Mary and the creation of Christian Constantinople. London 1994, 52–61. A. Cameron, ‘The Virgin’s Robe: An episode in the history of Early Seventh Century Constantinople. Byzantion 49 (1979) 2–56, discusses the movements of the cloth relic robe of the Virgin for purposes of safe keeping during times of political danger. 38 See K. G. Holum and G. Vikan, ‘The Trier Ivory, Adventus Ceremonial, and the Relics of St. Stephen’, in: G. Vikan, Sacred Images and Sacred Power in Byzantium. Aldershot 2003, chapter 14, 115–133 with plates 1–11. Cf. V. Grumel, ‘À propos de la plaque d’ ivoire du trésor de Trèves’, Revue des Études Byzantines 12 (1954) 187–190. Also, J. Wortley, ‘The Trier ivory reconsidered’, Greek Roman and Byzantine Studies 21 (1980) 381–394. L. Brubaker, ‘The Chalke Gate, the construction of the past and the Trier ivory’, Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies 23 (1999) 258–285.

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date.39 Silks are also frequently documented in relation to relics venerated in mediaeval England. Consider for example, St. Sexburga at Ely,40 or the relics of various saints at Glastonbury.41 The extensive number of small silk fragments which survive at Sens Cathedral treasury, are thought to have been used originally, to wrap relics presented by the Emperor Charlemagne (Plates 1, 156, 158).42 Some individuals took extreme measures to acquire relics. In this regard, the exploits of Bishop Hugh of Lincoln (1186–1200) simply cannot be ignored. Adam of Eynsham’s Magna Vita of the Bishop recounts that, ‘when he was at the celebrated monastary of Fecamp, he extracted by biting, two small fragments of the bones of the most blessed lover of Christ Mary Magdalene. This bone had never been seen divested of its wrappings by the abbot or any of the monks who were present on that occasion, for it was sewn very tightly into three cloths, two of silk and one of ordinary linen’. ‘The Bishop took a knife, secretly uncut the wrappings, kissed the relics and tried to break it. Then he bit, first with his incisors and finally with his molars. By this means, he broke off two fragments. Later when caught, he brushed it off ’.43 Conclusion to section one To conclude the first section of this paper, one most add that apart from the promotion of royal authority, and the encouragement of a tomb cult 39 For example, in the fourth century, the relics of St. Athanasius were enveloped in a silk see, Vita S. Athanasiae AA SS Aug. III, 170–175. BMG 186, page 174 section B. The cult of relics was widespread in the Orthodox Church. Consult O. Meinardus, ‘A study of the relics of saints of the Greek Orthodox Church’, Oriens Christianus 54 (1970) 130–278. J. Durand, ‘A propos des reliques du monastere du prodrome de Petra a Constantinople’. Cahiers Archéologiques 46 (1998) 151–167. 40 O. Lehmann Brockhaus, Lateinische Schriftquellen zur Kunst in England, Wales und Schottland vom Jahre 901 bis zum Jahre 1307. München 1955, no. 1562. 41 Ibid., no. 1878. 42 For the silk fragments at Sens Cathedral Treasury see, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 14, 119, silks M449–535 inclusive. The relics presented by Charlemagne, after the Emperors death in 804, in 809 under archbishop Magnus, were placed into a silver shrine, which was further documented at St. Pierre, Sens, in 1106. Additionally, the relics of St. Pierre, Sens were listed in a thirteenth-century inventory. For source references see Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, notes 6 and 8 on page 132. 43 See, Adam, Abbot of Eynsham, Magna Vita S. Hugonis (D. L. Douie, H. Farmer ed.) 1–2, London 1961–1962, 2, 167–171.

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culture, the veneration of St. Cuthbert at Durham in its early phase, also served two further purposes. Firstly it helped to restore the fortunes of Lindisfarne sacked by the Vikings in 793,44 for the Episcopal tomb cult developed there would have included not only Cuthbert but also other Bishops of Lindisfarne, who were venerated there up to 875 and beyond.45 Secondly, the development of the cult of St. Cuthbert, provided an opportunity for Bede to express his ideas of spiritual reform, in the two Lives of the Saint, which he composed in the first two decades of the eighth century.46 In the first Lindisfarne life written around 700, the saint is depicted as the predestined intercessor, and as a miracle worker in the Irish static hagiographical tradition. In the work of Bede, especially in the prose life of the saint of c. 710–720, Cuthbert’s pastoral role as prior and then as bishop, is developed as well as his intervening contrasting period of withdrawal as a hermit on Farne. Time does not allow for any detailed further discussion of the development of the identity of the saint, but mention should be made of the twelfth century work of Reginald of Durham. Between 1166–74, Reginald recorded over one hundred miracles of the saint, probably in response to events at Canterbury, where St. Thomas met his martyrdom in 1170.47 The emphasis on St. Cuthbert as miracle worker par excellence, would have helped strengthen the cult in times of competition. The performance of the cult was enacted by the clergy moving from altar to altar, culminating with a stop at the patron’s shrine. There the pilgrims would assemble individually or collectively, either spontaneously or through enforcement; both local pilgrims and those who would have come from afar. The purpose of their visit was primarily to ask the saint for interOn Lindisfarne in relation to St. Cuthbert see, St. Cuthbert, His Cult and His Community, part 2, 125–228. 45 Ibid., passim. For Bishop Aethelwold see, 152, 154, 204, 223–225, 228; on Bishop Aidan’s cult refer to 11, 22, 106, 113, 121, 439, 443; see 214 for Bishop Cynewulf; consult 30–33, 35, 104, 115 for Bishop Eata; see 42, 120–121 for Bishop Eadberht; and as follows for Bishops Eadfrith 24, 96, 121, 150–154, 204; Eardwulf 389, 430, 440–441; Ecgred 215, 371, 416; Finan 4; Higbald 161, 214 and Tuda 30, 115, 279. 46 See Colgrave and Jaager references in note 4 above. 47 See Raine reference in note 4 above. On St. Thomas of Canterbury see, J. C. Robertson, Materials for the History of Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury, Rolls Series 67. London 1876. More recently, J. Butler, The Quest for Becket’s Bones. The Mystery of the relics of St. Thomas Becket of Canterbury. London 1995, with further bibliography in the notes on 170–175. 44

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cession and to venerate the saint as protector, arbitrator, and healer. Obedience to the saint helped to define urban subject status for the citizen; for the ruler it symbolised their public power. Section two There are a mass of silk fragments which survive in the care of the cathedral authorities (Plate 118). Only passing reference to lesser pieces is made in this paper. The purpose of this section is to document what is reported in written sources in relation to the larger pieces which survive, and where possible to indicate correspondence between documented and extant silks (Plates 112–115, 119–124). The earliest mention of a textile concerns Bede’s report of the gift of a cloth to Cuthbert by Abbess Verca, a textile which he chose to adopt as his burial shroud. This does not appear as one of the textiles displayed in the Cathedral. It is possible that fragments of the linen shroud are amongst the tiny fragments that are presently stored there. The Anonymous Life records a variety of priestly garments, a head cloth, an obley and shoes as being present at the time of the burial of the saint. At the recognition eleven years later in 698, the head cloth was unwound and new shoes were provided. Similarly, Bede detailed priestly vestments, of which at the recognition in 698, the outermost layers and the sandals were removed and replaced.48 Another list of textiles in contact with St. Cuthbert’s relics was made by Reginald of Durham in the twelfth century, and a further list of 1383 was the work of Richard de Segbruck.49 Of the large scale surviving textiles, a number chronologically speaking, may be identified with the textiles used for the re-vesting of the body of the saint in 698. These textiles are:

Colgrave, Two Lives, Bede’s life of St. Cuthbert, chapter 37, 272–272 mentioned Verca’s winding sheet. 49 Colgrave, Two Lives, Anonymous Life, chapter 13, 130–131 A record of a head cloth and an obley on the breast of the saint, his priestly garments and his shoes, was made at the time of burial. In the same source, chapter 14, 131–132, eleven years later during a recognition ceremony of the Saint, it was recorded that the limbs were still pliable and that none of the vestments had worn away. The brethren unwound the saint’s head cloth and new shoes were provided. Colgrave, Two Lives, Bede’s Life of St. Cuthbert, chapter 42, records the recognition of St. Cuthbert eleven years after his burial, when part of the outer garments were reported removed. The body was wrapped in a new garment according to this account. 48

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i. Two off-white silks, which have foliate designs made by floating wefts over a tabby weave ground;50 (Plates 116–118) ii. Three fragments of coloured twill weave silks with remains of designs too small to be seen;51 iii. Some silk edging twills, also polychrome but too small to detect their designs;52 and iv. Two elaborate braids in Soumak technique.53 (Plates 117–118) Technically all of these silks belong to groups, which are datable seventh to eighth centuries. The off-white silks, possibly the remains of a sewn tunic, may be Byzantine. Comparable silks were reaching the Continent in the seventh century. Similar silks survive in Ravenna, at the Vatican, and in a number of Swiss Church treasuries.54 The three fragments of coloured silks with indecipherable designs, technically still can be recognised as Central Asian silk twills, whose internal warp threads are grouped in 3s to 4s, and are made from silk which has not been degummed.55 The two Soumak braids are also Central Asian, whilst the silk twill edgings may be Byzantine. What is remarkable about this mixture of Byzantine and of other Eastern Mediterranean, and Central Asian silks, is that it mirrors exactly the same fashion trend as existed on the Continent. Tabby weaves with weft floats, twills of Byzantine type, and twills (of Central Asian construction, are characteristic of the kinds of silks used to envelope the remains of the saints of the seventh to the eighth centuries right across Europe.56 They are prevalent in the Lowlands and in France, where the Hiberno-Northumbrian missionaries were active. It is almost as if the saints in their silken shrouds beckon one another in a silent gesture of silken solidarity. It would be difficult indeed, to think that Durham did not have intimate knowledge of the Continental silken cult practices current already 50 H. Granger-Taylor, ‘The weft-patterned silks and their braid: the remains of an AngloSaxon dalmatic of c. 800?’, in: St. Cuthbert, His Cult and His Community, 303–327, see silk a) on 303 and 303–310. 51 Ibid., 311–312. 52 Ibid., 324. 53 Ibid., 312–323 and note a further fragment of braid , 323–324. 54 Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 12, 104–108. 55 Ibid., chapter 10, 94–100. 56 At St. Servatius, Maastricht; Sens, Cathedral treasury; The Vatican, Rome; St. Ambrogio, Milan and elsewhere. See Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, appendix 4, 204–219, and 236–242, for handlists of surviving silks arranged according to these various early technical types.

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during the time of the saint. An examination of the later silks at Durham points to exactly the same conclusion, and this in turn leads to the question of how far the cult of St. Cuthbert may have been consciously imitating its Continental contemporaries. A further recognition and re-vesting of the body of St. Cuthbert took place in 875, but there are no details of what was added at that time. It is possible technically, that the Nature Goddess silk, an eighth to ninth century textile with woven Byzantine inscription, was added then, but there is no record of its arrival at Durham (Plates 119–120).57 A high quality silk of this kind, perhaps woven in the Imperial Byzantine workshop, would usually have arrived as a diplomatic gift to a ruler, who would then subsequently present it to the Church. Often these Imperial Byzantine silks were already old when sent to the west, so that one need not rule out the presentation of this silk at a date far later than that at which it was woven. More easy to place are the magnificent English embroideries today in the treasury. These items, a stole, a maniple and a girdle, are datable mainly on the grounds of the inscription on the first piece (Plates 121–124). This records the name of Queen Aelfflaed and of Bishop Frithestan of Winchester; two names that yield the date 909–16. The embroidery was the gift of the Queen to the Bishop of Winchester.58 These are magnificent examples of English couching and they show an usual technique for the west (over-side couching). The English ecclesiastical embroideries dating later reveal a different tradition. The large-scale couching of ecclesiastical vestments of Opus Anglicanum in the thirteenth to fourteenth centuries, prominent examples of which survive in the Victoria and Albert Museum in London, all use under side couching technique.59 The technique of over J. F. Flanagan, ‘The Figured Silks’, in: Battiscombe, The Relics, 448–525, especially 505ff. and figure 1. Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 6, 59–62. Also, H. GrangerTaylor, ‘The inscription on the Nature Goddess silk’, in: St. Cuthbert, His Cult and His Community, 339–341. 58 Illustrated in colour in J. Ivy, Embroideries at Durham Cathedral. Durham 1997. The reverse of an end panel of the stole bears the inscription ‘AELFFLAED FIERI PRECEPIT’ and the reverse of an end panel of the maniple has the inscription ‘PIO EPISCOPO FRIDESTANO’, see figures 4 and 5 on page 9. These inscriptions can be translated, ‘ Made at the command of Queen Aelfflaed (d. 916) for Frithestan, Bishop of Winchester (909–931)’. 59 For Opus Anglican see D. King, Opus Anglicanum. Arts Council Exhibition. Victoria and Albert Museum 26 September–24 November, 1963. London 1963. K. Staniland, Embroiderers. London 1991, includes examples of Opus Anglicanum. 57

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side gold couching is known in Byzantium from surviving examples of the fourteenth to fifteenth centuries. The later Byzantine and English couching techniques differ, but one wonders whether the Imperial Byzantine gold embroideries of the fourth to sixth centuries used over side or under side or indeed, both types of the couching technique. Perhaps two traditions of couching existed in early Byzantine gold embroidery workshops? How far might the Cuthbert embroideries reflect a lost Byzantine couching technique? The work is certainly extremely fine and very skilled. One wonders where the English may have developed such a technique. In 944–997 precious cloths were again presented to the relics of St. Cuthbert. King Edmund’s gifts in particular, included textiles of ‘Grecian workmanship’. Some suggest that the Nature Goddess silk was presented by King Edmund.60 The piece itself, a twill with paired internal warps, acts as a celebration of fertility. The central figure, whose head has been lost, can be ‘envisaged’ by comparison with similar figures on Coptic cloths. The figure holds a cloth of fruits and she is bathed in a sea full of fish, upon whose waters birds swim. The borders of the medallions are filled with foliate and fruit motifs. The design appears to have been popular on mosaics, and it decorated one of the mosaics of an Imperial palace of the Capital.61 By the time of the major translation of the saint’s relics in 1104, the original wooden coffin with its Mediterranean inspired Virgin and Child had been encased in a further two wooden chests. The growing elaboration of the cult was mirrored in the multiplication of the number of textiles with which it was seen fit to shroud the relics of the saint.62 According to the Historia de sancto Cuthberto, chapter 28, 212. H. Granger-Taylor, The Inscription, 341. Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, 59–62. H. Maguire, Earth and Ocean. The Terrestrial World in Early Byzantine Art. London 1987, 74. 62 Battiscombe, The Relics, 98–114, in ‘Appendixes to the Introduction’, includes an English translation of the Anonymous Life, from J. Raine, St. Cuthbert, 75–85, which is reedited by R. A. B. Mynors. This version of, The Anonymous Account of the Translation of St. Cuthbert, 29 August 1104, is based on the Latin account published in Acta Sanctorum Martii, volume 3, 138E. This Acta Sanctorum Latin text differs from that used in, Symeonis Dunelmensis Opera et Collectanea (I. Hodgson-Hinde ed.) I (1869) 188–197. It also differs from the Latin text used in Symeonis Monachi Historiae Dunelmensis Auctarium (T. Arnold ed.) II, 247–261. The Acta Sanctorum account includes the information that the brethren opened the coffin prior to the translation and that a linen cloth enveloped the coffin. Also, a linen cloth covered the sacred relics. The body of St. Cuthbert once removed from the coffin was placed on robes and a tapestry spread upon the pavement in the middle of the choir. The body of St. Cuthbert had an outer covering of a costly robe, with purple dalmatic worn below, and underneath this vestment, linen. The original chasuble worn by St. 60 61

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account of Reginald of Durham, at the time of the translation in 1104, the linen shroud of the Abbess Verca is still present, and the body lies upon a precious pillow. The face of the saint is described as being covered by a thin cloth, and in this account the Episcopal nature of the tomb cult is emphasized, by the report of the presence of a mitre, set upon the head of the saint. What sounds like an elaborate hair net appears across the forehead of the saint, and this is called a ‘fillet of gold’, not ‘of woven work, but of gold externally, with precious stones.’63 The piece is reminiscent of Byzantine hair-nets popular in the eleventh to twelfth century. In the west sprang hairnets of silk survive, but these do not have precious stones. The Byzantine hairnets did have pearls and other jewels on occasion.64 The purple of the vestments described by Reginald of Durham must surely have had regal connotations. The Imperial Byzantine purples were well recognised in the west; also in the twelfth century an account of the birth of St. Cuthbert appeared, and this attributed royal ancestry to the saint.65 The possibility of Cuthbert for his burial, the report states, was removed at the recognition eleven years later and it was still in the church (i.e. in 1104). The brethren in 1104 prior to the translation ceremony, added to the outer costly robe and the purple dalmatic, the most costly pall, which could be found in the church. The coffin was recovered with linen dipped in wax in 1104. 63 Battiscombe, The Relics, 107–112, has an English translation by E. G. Pace of Reginald of Durham, Libellus de Admirandis Beati Cuthberti Virtutibus, chapters 40–43. Cf. the Latin text in, Raine, St. Cuthbert, Appendix, 1–6, with his English translation on pages 85–92. Pace reports in chapter 40 of Reginald of Durham, a description of a splendid silk that served as underlay for St. Cuthbert’s body. According to Pace, chapter 41 describes an innermost shroud of the finest linen, the gift of Abbess Verca, with a priestly alb and an amice on the neck and shoulders of the saint. Pace records a very finely woven cloth covered and veiled St. Cuthbert’s face and cheeks and his head. A purple kerchief covered this inner fine cloth, and it also hid the mitre on St. Cuthbert’s head. Pace speaks of a plate of gemstudded gold across the saint’s brow. Raine, on the other hand terms this a ‘fillet of gold’. Pace adds a stole and maniple to the vestments described in chapter 41. Raine speaks of stole and fanon. 64 For Byzantine hairnets see, M. Emmanuel, ‘Some notes on the externalo appearance of ordinary women in Byzantium (Hairstyles, headdresses: Texts and Iconography) Byzantino-Slavica 56 (1995) 769–778. By the same author see, ‘Hairstyles and Headdresses of empresses, princesses and ladies of the aristocracy in Byzantium’ Deltion tis Chris. Arch. Het. 17 (1993–1994) 113–120. 65 For discussion of types of Imperial Byzantine purple silks see literature cited in chapter 1 note 3, and in chapter 9, note 2, above. Certain categories and tailored types of purples were reserved for Imperial use. The western diplomatic envoy Luitprand of Cremona tried to export a forbidden type of Imperial Byzantine purple silk without success, Liudprand of Cremona, Legatio, in: Opera (J. Becker ed.) Leipzig, Hanover 1915, chapter

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these silks being Byzantine is significant, especially as Reginald goes on to remark of the dalmatic that it was red-purple with a citron tinge. True murex Imperial Byzantine purples range in colour from citron through to red-purple, and the appearance of these subtle nuances on the cloth may relate to this. The dalmatic in any event was costly and it bore designs of birds and animals. One may envisage this as being a tenth- to eleventhcentury Byzantine silk with medallions bearing quadrupeds, and with small birds in the spandrels. The Imperial Byzantine murex griffin silk from Sitten provides an idea of what Byzantine purple silks of this period looked like (Plate 123). The mention of gold borders on the sleeves and hems of some of the St. Cuthbert purple vestments, makes it tempting to think that they might have been (or at least resembled) Imperial Byzantine costumes. Military tunics of purple silk, for example, had been decorated with gold borders and these borders were certainly characteristic on silk clothing of the nobility, as well as upon Imperial costumes.66 So far, no trace of these purple silks has been found, but again given time, a closer examination of the minute pieces of unpublished silks stored at the Cathedral, might yield important results. Of the linen shrouds, which in 1104 were removed from the body and kept in the church as relics, one was costly and decorated with 54. Cf., The Works of Liudprand of Cremona (F. A. Wright transl.). London 1930, 266–267. J. Sutherland, ‘The mission to Constantinople in 968 and Luidprand of Cremona’, Traditio 31 (1975), 69, 74. Also, see chapter 9, note 18 above. With regard to Reginald of Durham, note that his Libellus, recorded events from 875 to the third quarter of the twelfth century, and the work has been dated pre 1167 for chapters 1–111, and between 1172–1174 for the remainder of the work. See, Marner, St. Cuthbert, chapter 2, 20–36 and chapter 3, 36–53. Battiscombe, The Relics, 110, has Pace’s English translation of chapter 42 of Reginald of Durham. Here, in 1104, the tunic and dalmatic are described as of rich purple colour, the dalmatic in particular is termed reddish purple with variegated yellow. The dalmatic is embroidered with flowers and small animals and it has a gold border along all its outer edges, and a broader gold border for the neck opening, Similarly, a gold border also adorns the sleeve edges of the tunic. An amice belonging to the dalmatic is described and the Episcopal shoes. A large fringed linen winding sheet with in-woven foliate, bird and animal border decoration is detailed, (removed in 1104 and kept as a relic). A thicker cloth is placed above this. A third cloth impregnated with wax covers the other two cloths. The Pace English translation relates that these three cloths were removed in 1104. A fine silk cloth replaced the innermost of the three earlier cloths, a very valuable purple cloth came second, and lastly there was a very fine linen wrapping. Both Pace and Raine translate Reginald of Durham as recording other silk vestments above the dalmatic, but these could not be easily distinguished. Raine translates the dalmatic as costly but not specifically of purple. 66 On purple and other military tunics consult the references given in notes 13 and 22 of chapter 9 above.

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birds and beasts. This might be compared with linen shrouds at St. Servatius, Maastricht and with other linen shrouds known to have ‘enveloped’ relics of saints on the Continent. It is difficult to assign these linen textiles a provenance. Some were probably woven in the Eastern Mediterranean, but others may have been woven in western Europe.67 Of St. Cuthbert’s shrouds, the third, an uppermost linen shroud was sealed with wax. In 1104, two additional silk shrouds were added, as well as a further linen shroud. The two added silk shrouds may correspond to the two silks presently in the Monks Dormitory, one of which has a peacock design (Plates 114–115), and the other of which has a stamped gold design of mounted falconers in medallions (Plates 112–113).68 These are both twill weave silks, the Peacock silk has a pseudo-Kufic inscription and it was woven in an Islamic workshop in Spain in the eleventh to twelfth century. The other silk with mounted Falconer is a tenth- to eleventh-century Spanish silk, whose printed technique is extremely rare amongst surviving examples.69 The presence of these two silks confirms that the promulgation of the cult of St. Cuthbert included acquisition of desirable Islamic as well as highly regarded Byzantine silks. The quality and range of the 1104 translation silks can compete with the best on the Continent, and there can be little doubt that this was intentional. Reginald of Durham describes the vestments at such length, and with such accuracy that at once one can attempt to relate them to silks which survive. This paper does not attempt further detailed analysis of the descriptions of pieces scattered in the nineteenth century. Neither does it examine the descriptions of the silks found by Raine in 1827. These exercises belong to another paper.70 Here it is more important to go on to consider the significance of the cult of St. Cuthbert in relation to other cults.

67 Linen manufacture in Constantinople is documented in the regulations of the Book of the Eparch, see, Koder, Eparchenbuch, 106–111. There are several linens at Maastricht, St. Servatius. See A. Stauffer, Die mittelalterlichen Textilien von St. Servatius in Maastricht. Riggisberg 1991, no. 4, 58–60, for the patterned linen and silk shroud; no. 7A–7F inclusive, 67–70 for a linen alb, humeral, kerchief and linen shrouds. Cf. no. 5, 61–64 for a linen shroud of St. Martin of Tongern, which may have been woven in the west. 68 Published by the present author, ‘Silks Rider and Peacock silks from the relics of St. Cuthbert’, in: Muthesius, Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving, chapter 5, 77–104. 69 Ibid., 81–89. 70 See below chapter thirteen where the various fragments are listed.

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The cult of St. Cuthbert in relation to the cults of St. Denis, St. Edward the Confessor and Charlemagne In an earlier paper I set out in detail the parallels which can be drawn between the silken cults of St. Denis at Paris, of St. Edward the Confessor at Westminster, and of Charlemagne at Aachen. In this paper, the silken cult of St. Cuthbert is drawn into the same discussion, in order to suggest that the cult of St. Cuthbert at Durham stood alongside the most important silken cults of Europe.71 The very rich silk vestiture described by Reginald of Durham at the translation of 1104, suggests that Durham had the intention of promoting their saint on a grand scale. In addition, the fact that the Lives of St. Cuthbert manuscripts which survive, are housed in Continental monasteries is significant. These monasteries were important between the ninth and the twelfth centuries. The fact that the saint was widely celebrated abroad, firmly testifies to the significance of the cult of St. Cuthbert outside England. Thus, the cult of St. Cuthbert cannot be viewed as an isolated entity. The cult and its rich silken practices are firmly tied to the broader European cult of saints tradition. This has to be considered in the light both of Byzantine precedent and of Byzantine influence upon the west. Conclusion to section two The chief points of similarity between the cult of St. Cuthbert and the Continental cults may be briefly stated here: i. The Anglo-Saxon Ruler cults, the Continental Ruler cults, and the cults of Episcopal authorities and of local civic saints abroad, all tended to dominate the religious establishments charged with their support. ii. The cults also held in common the need for royal patronage, so that the artistic accoutrements essential to the enactment of the cults could be set in place. iii. In turn the royal patrons found that the cults provided an outlet for the expression of their allegiance to traditional royal lines, whilst they also provided an opportunity for expression of the fact that the established order could be supplanted by the new ruler. See below, Schiffers and Petersohn references in notes 73 and 74 respectively. For further comprehensive bibliography on the subject refer to B. Abou El Hay, The Medieval Cult of Saints. Formations and Transformations. Cambridge 1997, reference lists on 285–305. 71

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iv. The cults also enabled Church and State to grow more closely together and it was important for the Church to receive this support. The cult of Charlemagne at Aachen was built upon the traditions of a magnificent, Byzantine influenced, silken, Carolingian court.72 Charlemagne’s acquisitions of relics and their encasement in silks is wellattested by surviving examples at Sens, Aachen and elsewhere.73 The Northumbrian Renaissance and the Carolingian Renaissance occurred side by side, and perhaps it is no co-incidence that the reliquary cults of that period also developed in parallel. Both at Durham and at Aachen the great revival of the cults belonged to the twelfth century. For the cult of St. Cuthbert the spur was the martyrdom of Thomas Beckett in 1170. For the cult of Charlemagne at Aachen, the impetus came from the threat of competition posed by the growth of the cult of St. Denis in Paris.74 Apart from this the cult of Edward the Confessor at Westminster, also had to be considered.75 The canonisation process in relation to this saint, too, involved silken patronage. The emergence of a strengthened cult after 1163, again posed a threat to rival cults, whose income partly was dependant on the lucrative growth of pilgrimage.76 The ostentatious silken displays of the twelfth century might be viewed in several ways. Certainly they ennobled the saint, and they offered a focus for civic ritual. They also re-authenticated the cults and they defended individual cults against encroachment. The cults in all cases, through the public enactment of ritual, placed these saints at the heart of civic identity, and they could help to provide economic and political stability, as well as to cement social hierarchies. Both at Durham and abroad, the cult required a space in which to oper72 On Charlemagne’s court treasures see, P. Lasko, Ars Sacra. Middlesex 1972, chapter 2, 14–32, plates 15–28. 73 On the enduring cult of Charlemagne in Aachen, see by the present author, ‘Politics, piety and the silken cult of relics’, in: Muthesius, Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving, chapter 12, 217–230, especially 220–223. Also, A. Schiffers, Der Reliquienschatz Karl des Grosse und die Anfänge der Aachenfahrt. Aachen 1951. For Carolingian reliquaries in particular see, 1–86. 74 For the cult of St. Denis note, J. Petersohn, ‘S. Denis-Westminster-Aachen, Die Karls Translation von 1165 und ihre Vorbilder’. Deutsche Archiv für Erforschung des Mittelalters 31 (1975) 420–454. 75 On the cult of St. Edward the Confessor in relation to silk see by the present author, ‘Politics, piety and the silken cult’, 225–226. 76 Concerning the financial aspects of pilgrimage see, B. Nilson, Cathedral Shrines of Medieval England. Woodbridge 1998, chapter 6, 144–166 and chapter 7, 168–182.

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ate. At Durham this space had to serve the monastic community as well as the secular pilgrims. In line with the wish of St. Cuthbert himself, the pilgrims were granted less direct access to the saint than were the pilgrims. Contrary to the case of other cults, at Durham a circulatory pilgrim route close to the relics was never established.77 The importance of the Durham cult in the twelfth century, nevertheless, was heightened through the use of magnificent silk wardrobes by the attendant Bishops at Durham, in line with practice on the Continent. To cite one important example, Bishop Hugh of Durham enjoyed the use of no less than nine silk chasubles of various colours.78 One of these was ‘red’ and ‘nobley embroidered with gold and precious stones and pearls’. He also possessed, ‘a black silk chasuble with griffins, gold stars and precious gems’. Bishop Philip of Durham enjoyed the use of gold embroidered silks bearing impressive lion, griffin and bicephal eagle motifs. These sound as if they were either Byzantine or Byzantine inspired Opus Anglicanum embroidered vestments. Bishop Hugh, who built a chapel with an altar to the Virgin, adorned the church with a silk wardrobe of such value, that he had to lock up the stuffs in two armouries.79 This indicates the pious power, and the wealth of the Durham Bishops at the time, and it reflects that ecclesiastical concerns were tempered by a land-owning interest. The cult of St. Cuthbert was the ‘jewel in the crown’ of a powerful, land-owning, spiritual community. It is impossible to detach the cult of St. Cuthbert from its complex ecclesiastical context, and it is not difficult to appreciate just how much the cult must have meant to so many at different levels of society.80 General Conclusion To conclude one can say that the part played by the precious cloths was significant. Not only did they acknowledge the sanctity of the saint, but Ibid., chapter 3, 63–91 for circulatory and other pilgrimage routes in architectural settings. 78 See references below in chapter twelve, notes 78 and 79. 79 Refer to chapter twelve note 81 below. 80 For the popular cult of St. Cuthbert consider, D. W. Rollason, ‘Why was St. Cuthbert so popular?’, in: Cuthbert, Saint and Patron (M. Harvey, M. Prestwich ed.). Durham 1987, 9–22. Also see, J. Shinners, Medieval Popular Religion 1000–1500. Ontario 1997, chapter 4, section 32, on ‘Relics at Durham in 1383’. Regarding popular religion and saintly cults in the later period see, E. Duffy, The Stripping of the Altars. Traditional Religion in England 1400–1580. London 1992, chapter 5, 155–205. 77

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they proclaimed his authority at home and abroad. The textiles provided the correct level of status to the saint at varying stages in the development of the cult. Their provision also allowed a relationship to be built up between Church and State. At the same time, the enactment of silken ritual provided a focus for civic allegiance and for civic pride, and it developed urban identity. The emphasis on urban Episcopal tomb cult at Durham, allowed for the emergence of the concept of powerful Bishops, whose silk vestments were symbols not only of their spiritual authority, but also of their powerful overlord status. One has the feeling that at Durham St. Cuthbert would have ‘hardly recognised himself ’ by the twelfth century. At the same time, one feels, he might have had a premonition of what was to come, despite the reports that he reserved the precious textile given by Abbess Verca for use as his burial shroud, only not to cause her offence. The broader significance of the silken heritage at Durham is that it allowed for enactment of a tomb cult on a scale grand enough to rank with cults on the Continent. The cult of relics on the Continent, in turn, was part of the wider world of commemoration of the saints, and in this respect, it was perhaps through Rome, that influences from the Holy Land and from Byzantium, initially were felt in the British Isles.

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The Silk Heritage of Durham Cathedral

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RECIOUS silk cloths were long considered to be a fitting material for wrapping sacred relics.1 From Early Christian times onwards, their ritual use and ceremonial display throughout the mediaeval world, played an important part in the development of both national and local cults of relics. The silks served as a lynch-pin acting to fuse liturgical ritual and public ceremonial display. The purpose of this paper is to place the precious silks used at Durham into broader historical context.2 How far did piety, silken cult ritual and public ceremony at Durham reflect specific historical circumstances? And what was the significance of such magnificent silken display down the ages at Durham? Byzantine roots and Papal influences Both Byzantine and Papal influences can be observed in the adoption of precious cloths for wrapping sacred relics at Durham in connection with the cult of St. Cuthbert.3 The earliest recorded report of a silk-enveloped relic

For the general situation in the West from Late Antiquity into Early Christian times see, P. Brown, The Cult of the Saints. Chicago 1981, passim, with use of precious textiles in particular discussed in chapter 5, 86–105. The earliest documentary reference to the use of silk around holy remains in Byzantium, occurs in connection with the relics of St. Athanasius. See note 4 below. 2 For a literary and historical bibliography consult the titles cited above in chapter 11, notes 4, 19, 32, 37, 38, 47. 3 On east west parallels for the use of silks in promoting the cult of relics note in particular two articles by the present author. These are: ‘Silks and saints: The Rider and Peacock silks from the relics of St. Cuthbert’, and ‘Politics, piety and the silken cult of relics: Aachen 1

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concerns the fourth century Byzantine saint, Athanasius.4 The oldest example of the use of silk to wrap relics in western Europe, involves the sacred remains of St. Paulinus, who was buried at Trier in the fourth century.5 The association of cloth with sacred remains, and the idea of the sanctification of textiles through their close proximity with relics, reaches back to the era of the early Christian martyrs. At that time, cloth ‘brandea’ served as portable relics after they had come into close contact with the bodies of the martyrs. The ‘brandea’ imbibed sanctity and rendered the holy charisma amenable, and above all transportable.6 In the mediaeval period the use of ‘brandea’ continued on a lesser scale. Precious silk wrappings for relics were usual and increasingly the relics were enclosed in shrines. When relics were re-vested the originally textiles in contact with the sacred remains, might be displayed as relics.

Munster treasury silks in historical context’, in: A. Muthesius, Studies in Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving. London 1995, chapter 5, 77–104, and chapter 13, 217–230, respectively. The role of the Papacy in promoting the use of silks in the basilicas of Rome is discussed in A. Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, Vienna 1997, chapter 14, 124–125. Brubaker in, L. Brubaker, J. Haldon, Byzantium in the Iconoclast Era (c. 680–850): The Sources, chapter 5, 80–108, refers extensively to the author’s 1997 publication but without specialist knowledge of textiles and of weaving techniques and technology. Brubaker misinterprets the technical information given by the author in several places and she also appropriates without permission, twelve copyright images from the author’s 1997 publication. The Brubaker chapter will be reviewed in detail by the present author, elsewhere. The sweeping dating conclusions reached by Brubaker are not based on any first hand technical analysis of the material involved and her chapter 5 unfortunately, was not subject to editing either by the present author or by any other textile specialist. The misappropriation of the images and the misquotation of technical text in several places, indicates Brubaker has attempted to cover a specialist subject, in which she totally lacks technical training, research experience and academic expertise. Access to the widely scattered Byzantine textile materials is strictly protected. Brubacker’s unfortunate actions will endanger the granting of future access for real textile specialists. Brubaker’s second-hand pastiche of textile data, marred as it is by misunderstanding and misinterpretation should not be taken to represent serious textile scholarship. 4 The source reference for the use of silks around the relics of St. Athanasius, is cited above, see chapter 4, note 13. 5 For the Trier silks see Kempf and Reusch reference cited above in chapter 4, note 13. 6 Brown, The Cult, chapter 3, 50–68, discusses the saints as ‘invisible companions’ and as a link between man and God. The textile ‘brandea’ formed a visible sign of this link. Note on page 62, ‘The cult of the saints in late antiquity, therefore, did more than dress the ancient dead in contemporary upper-class costume’. Also see chapter 5, 87–89 on the significance of ‘brandea’ as ‘contact relics’.

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Origins of the cult of St. Cuthbert and the earliest cloths mentioned During his life-time, Cuthbert received a precious linen cloth to be used as a burial shroud, from the Abess Verca.7 Cuthbert upon his death bed sent for the cloth to be used as his shroud. It is interesting to observe that even today, Russian Orthodox monks on Mount Sinai, obtain from Jerusalem specially blessed linen shrouds, which they reserve for the time of their burial in the monastery of St. Catherine.8 Apart from this linen cloth, Cuthbert appears to have possessed no precious textiles. Bede on the other hand is reported to have owned some precious linen and this he kept in a container.9 At the time of his death he sought to present these as gifts to priests of his monastery.10 Clearly Cuthbert on his death-bed in 687, could not have envisaged the mass silken spectacle of his translation in 1104.11 What had occurred 7 Vita sancti Cuthberti auctore Beda, 37. Two Lives of St. Cuthbert, Text, translation and notes (B. Colgrave ed. and trans.). Cambridge 1985, 272–273. Cf. Simeon’s History of the Church of England (J. Stevenson trans.), Felinfach 1993, 781. 8 The present author has recorded several examples at the Monastery of St. Catherine, Sinai. 9 Reported in the letter of Cuthbert, one of the scholars of Bede, (later Abbot of Wearmouth and Jarrow), to his friend Cuthwin, The manuscript, Royal Library of the Hague Ms. 70. H. 7, of the early tenth century, includes a copy of this letter, and this copy was published by N. R. Ker, in: Medium Aevum 8 (1939) 40–44. An English translation of the letter by L. Sherley-Price, appears in: Bede. A History of the English Church and People (R. E. Latham revision). London, 1968 edition, 18–21. Elsewhere, it has been suggested that Bede viewed healing power as a form of miracle and as ‘virtus’. This divine attribute belonged to individuals whose sanctity has been demonstrated during their lifetime, and it was transferable through their relics and through objects, including cloths, which had been in contact with the individuals. See C. Thomas, Bede, archaeology and the Cult of Relics. Jarrow Lecture Durham, 1973, 1–20, especially 4–7. 10 Sherley-Price, Bede, 20. 11 For the translation of 1104, see Capitula de miraculis et translationibus sancti Cuthberti, Chapters concerning the Miracles and Translations of St. Cuthbert. Symeonis monachi Opera omnia (T. Arnold ed.) RS I–II, London 1882–1885, I, 229–261, De Miraculis 7. Cf. Reginald of Durham’s ‘Little Book’ about the Wonderful Miracles of Blessed Cuthbert which were Performed in Recent Times (J. Raine ed.), Reginaldi monachi Dunelmensis Libellus de admirandis beati Cuthberti virtutibus quae novellis patratae sunt temporibus (SS I) Durham 1835, Libellus 40–43, pages 84–90, see discussion by A. J. Piper, ‘The First generation of Durham Monks and the Cult of St. Cuthbert; in, St. Cuthbert, His Cult, His Community, 437–446, especially 437–438. Note also, V. Tudor, ‘The Cult of St. Cuthbert in the Twelfth Century: The evidence of Reginald of Durham’, in: St. Cuthbert, His Cult and his Community, 447–467, especially page 452.

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between the seventh and the twelfth centuries? One might postulate that the development of silken ritual and public ceremony described at Durham in 1104, had been necessary to promote Cuthbert from local, monastic, saint, to urban, Episcopal authority of national significance. But where might precedents have been sought to inspire such developments?12 Cult as urban phenomenon From the fourth century onwards, cult as urban phenomenon was well developed in Byzantium and in Italy (in Rome as well as in Milan).13 The cult of the Virgin was especially promulgated in Constantinople in the fifth century, under Pulcheria, sister of the Byzantine Emperor.14 The Virgin’s robes, veil and girdle, and her painted portrait, in different ways all acted as civic relics, and as such they were publicly, ceremonially processed around Constantinople, to protect against threats of foreign attack.15 This was the 12 On the power of the Saint and the multiplication of his miracle stories in the twelfth century see, Tudor, ‘The Cult of St. Cuthbert’, 451–454. 13 On the subject of cult and pilgrimage both in the East and in the West consider for example, P. Maraval, Lieux saints et pèlerinages d’orient. Histoire et geographie des origins a la conquête arabe. Paris 1985. E. K. Fowden, The Barbarian Plain. Saint Sergius between Rome and Iran. London 1999. V. Limberis, Divine Heiress. The Virgin Mary and the Creation of Christian Constantinople. London 1994. C. L. Urlichs, Codex Topographicus Urbis Romae. Würzburg 1870. R. Valentini and G. Zucchetti, Codice topografico della citta di Roma. Rome 1940–1953. R. Stopani, La Via Francigena: Una strada europea nell’ Italia del Medioevo. Florence 1988. D. J. Birch, Pilgrimage to Rome in the Middle Ages. Continuity and Change. Woodbridge 2000 ed. T. E. A. Dale, Relics, Prayer and Politics in Medieval Venetia. Princeton, New Jersey 1997. D. Webb, Patrons and defenders. The Saints in the Italian City States. London/New York 1996. Note also, A. Shaver-Crandell, P. Gerson, The Pilgrims’ Guide to Santiago de Composterla. London 1995. On the Cult of the Holy Blood, consult N. Vincent, The Holy Blood. King Henry II and the Westminster Blood relic. Cambridge 2001. On shrines and pilgrimage in England, see B. Nilson, Cathedral Shrines of Medieval England. Woodbridge 1998. 14 Limberis, Divine Heiress, chapter 2, 41–43; chapter 3, 47–61; chapter 4, 62–92. 15 N. H. Baynes, ‘The supernatural Defenders of Constantinople’, in: Byzantine Studies and Other Essays, London 1955, drew attention to the prophylactic power of such relics. More recently see, Limberis, Divine Heiress, 57–58. (Cf. for the girdle, 101–107, 117–120, 128, 145–146 and for the icon of the Virgin and for her shroud, 128). On the subject of pictorial depictions of the translation of the Virgin’s robe and girdle, see C. Walter, Art and Ritual of the Byzantine Church. London 1982, section 6, 144–158, and in particular 147 and references in notes 169, 170, and also 152 with reference in note 197. S. der Nersessian, ‘The Illustration of the Metaphrasian Menologium’, in: Late Classical and Medieval Studies in Honor of A. M. Friend Jr. (K. Weitzmann ed.) Princeton 1955, 222–231, includes discussion on the mantle of the Virgin.

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case in the tenth century at the time the Russ were advancing on Constantinople.16 In Milan, the fourth century St. Ambrogio soon assumed the role of civic patron saint.17 In Rome St. Peter alongside the apostles, the Virgin and a host of saints gave their name to the principal Basilicas, all of which served as civic focal points.18 On the Continent, local as well as ‘universal’ Christian saints began to flourish from the fourth century onwards. Alongside the ‘universal’ Holy Family, Apostolic, and Early Christian martyr saints (eg. St. Martin of Tours), local cults were developed in honour of saints such as: St. Amand, St. Aubin, St. Omer (in France); St. Servatius, (in Holland), and St. Maurice (in Switzerland).19 By the eighth to ninth centuries, the Papacy were lavishing hundreds of silks (vestments and furnishings) to support cult ritual and public ceremony in the setting of the Roman Basilicas. In the Papal treasury, the Sancta Sanctorum, set within precious reliquaries, hundreds of relics were clad in silk.20 Charlemagne drew relics as well as inspiration from Rome, but he also 16 In this connection see, I Kalavarezou, ‘Helping hands for the Empire. Imperial ceremonies and the cult of relics at the Byzantine court’, in: Byzantine Court Culture, 8239–1204 (H. Maguire ed.), Washington 1997, 53–79. On another later occasion, in 1089, the maphorion of the Virgin was reportedly carried like a standard, at a time of conflict, see Anna Comnena Alexiad (Leib ed.), II 98. 23–29. For an English translation refer to The Alexiad of Anna Comnena (A. Sewter transl.), Bungay 1969, Book 7, 225 and 227. 17 See A. de Capitani d’ Arzago, Antichi tessuti della Basilica Ambrosiana, L. Arte 43. Milan 1941. 18 For precious silks used as part of cult and ceremony in these basilicas as well as in other western churches, refer to Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 14, 119–126. On the cult and the civic roles of precious images used in the early Church of Rome, a related subject, see D. James, God and Gold in Late Antiquity. Cambridge 1998, especially chapters 2 and 4. 19 As discussed by B. Abou-El-Haj, The Medieval Cult of Saints. Formations and Transformations. Cambridge 1997 ed., passim. On St. Amand in particular, see Part II, chapters 4 and 5, 85–130. For the historical setting of the cult of St. Servatius at Maastricht see, A. J. A. Flament, Chroniek van Maastricht. Maastricht 1915. For the St. Servatius cult and the associated silks consult, A. Stauffer, Die mittelalterlichen Textilien von St. Servatius in Maastricht. Riggisberg 1991. Further refer to the literature she cited in her bibliography on pages 226–233 under: Bock/Willemsen 1872, and 1873; Boeren 1962 and 1972; Eversen 1870; Koldeweij 1985; Kroos, Schrein 1985 and Muthesius 1974. For the cult of St. Maurice and cults of other saints in Switzerland in relation to the use of precious silks see, B. Schmedding, Mittelalterliche Textilien in Kirchen und Klöstern der Schweiz. Bern 1978. 20 For silks of the Vatican’s Museo Sacro see, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, M numbers 35, 38–40, 132–155, 271–279, 306–311, 332e, 369, 433–448, 766–768, 1095, 1120–1121, 1142–1143, 1180b. Earlier note, W. F. Volbach, Catalogo del Museo Sacro della Biblioteca apostolica Vaticana. Fasc. 1, Tessuti. Vatican 1942.

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looked to Byzantium and to Gaul in his lavish development of silken reliquary cult ritual and ceremonial display.21 Aachen and Sens Cathedrals contain many relics and silks donated by Charlemagne.22 Charlemagne’s relics were clad in Byzantine silks, and a Ruler cult was developed, especially following Charlemagne’s canonization, from the twelfth century onwards.23 King Athelstan is known to have amassed many relics in the manner of Charlemagne, and a third of these relics were eventually passed on to Exeter Cathedral.24 The promoters of the Anglo-Saxon ruler cults cannot have been ignorant of the status afforded to figures such as Charlemagne through their association with the promulgation of relic cults, and their public display of devotion and piety.25 The cults of Edward the Confessor in Westminster, of St. Denis in Paris, and of Charlemagne at Aachen, share common characteristics, which are more than co-incidental.26 Elsewhere I have discussed this issue in detail; in this paper it is appropriate only to note the silken ritual and public ceremony that surrounded all three cults.27 21 For the cult of relics in the Carolingian Empire, note P. J. Geary, Furta Sacra. Thefts of relics in the central Middle Ages. Chichester 1990 ed., chapter 2, 28–43. For Charlemagne as patron of art see, P. Lasko, Ars Sacra. London 1972, chapter 2, pages 14–32. Silks are not included here. For the silks datable to the time of Charlemagne see note 22 below. 22 Refer to Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, M numbers, 4–6, 16–18, 23, 43–44, 63, 78, 85, 96, 104, 106–108, 112, 156–195, 255–262, 280–294, 312–317, 370, 449–535, 770–787c, 911, 933, 1026–1032, 1096–1100, 1144–1149, 1181a–1197, 1231–1233c (for Sens Cathedral treasury silks); and M numbers, 28–29, 46, 58, 374–378a, 617–623b, 1116 (for Aachen, Münster treasury silks). Not all of these silks belong to the time of Charlemagne as the catalogue entry for each silk confirms. For the entire metalwork collection of treasures at Aachen Münster and including some of the silks there, see E. G. Grimme, ‘Der Aachener Domschatz’, Aachener Kunstblätter 42 (1972). Consider also, by the present author, ‘Politics, piety and the silken cult of relics: Aachen Münster treasury silks in historical context’, in: A. Muthesius, Studies in Byzantine and Islamic silk Weaving. London 1995, chapter 13, pages 217–230. 23 Muthesius, Aachen Münster treasury silks, 221–226. Note also, J. Petersohn, ‘S. DenisWestminster-Aachen, Die Karls-Translation von 1165 und ihre Vorbilder”. Deutsche archiv für Erforschung des Mittelalters 31 (1975) 420–454. 24 For the cult of relics in England in general see, I. G. Thomas, The cult of saints’ relics in medieval England. Ph.D. thesis, University of London, 1974. In relation to Athelstan’s collection of relics, see, J. Armitage Robinson, The Times of St. Dunstan. Oxford 1923, 51–80. 25 See, S. J. Ridyard, The Royal saints of Anglo Saxon England. Cambridge 1988. 26 Discussed in Muthesius, ‘Politics, piety and the silken cult of relics’, 225–226. 27 See reference in note 26 above, 217–230. In a variety of articles included in the three volumes of her collected studies, the present author has added to the general historical discussion by emphasising the role of the silks in ritual and public ceremony. The difficulty of

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Durham, in promulgating the cult of St. Cuthbert, could not have stood completely apart from what was going on in Byzantium and upon the Continent. Whether deliberately or merely through force of circumstance, Durham stood in the mainstream of silken cult promotion by the early twelfth century. Cult as business Cults were financially profitable and as such they can be seen as a form of business. At Durham even in the later fourteenth century, offerings to the shrine of St. Cuthbert, amounted to thousands of pounds a year.28 Jewels of immense value were hung upon the shrine of St. Cuthbert and elaborate public silk clad rituals were celebrated about the relics of the saint.29 A recent study has suggested that shrine revenue declined across England in the twelfth to thirteenth centuries, but this seems not to have held for the

access to the surviving silks and the lack of documentation about the great numbers of silks which existed and were used, has meant that the key historical role of textiles in these developments, previously had not been recognised. 28 See for example, Medieval Popular Religion 1000–1500. A Reader. (J. Shinners ed.), 195–200. The 1383 account of Dom Richard de Segbruck, custodian of the shrine of St. Cuthbert at Durham Cathedral, details relics at the shrine of the saint. A later custodian, Dom Thomas de Lythe, in 1401 presented a description of, and an account of the value of, precious metalwork and jewellery offerings attached to the shrine. The total value of the offerings amounted to £503 3s. 4d. For non-monetary offerings including precious textiles at Durham and elsewhere see, B. Nilson, Cathedral Shrines Of Medieval England. Woodbridge 1998, chapter 4, pages 92–105. For monetary offerings at English Cathedral shrines, see also, chapter 4, 105–110. Monetary offerings increased dramatically on special feast days. Nilson, 113–117, calculated that the average daily offering at Durham was about 1s. At the time of special feasts this sum escalated to £4. a day. Cults clearly brought in much needed revenue for the running and the staffing of Cathedral shrines. They had a marked effect too, on the architecture of great cathedrals such as Durham. On this aspect consult, J. Crook, ‘The architectural setting of the Cult of St. Cuthbert in Durham cathedral (1093–1200)’, in: Anglo-Norman Durham (D. Rollason, M. Harvey, M. Prestwich ed.). Woodbridge 1998 edition. 29 See, Shinners, Medieval Popular Religion, 195–198. For the silks see Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 6, 58–64, and catalogue numbers M42, M122a–122d, M266–267, and M673. On a variety of silks from Durham see further, the separate contributions of H. Granger-Taylor, C. Higgins, and A. Muthesius, in: St. Cuthbert, His Cult, His Community to AD 1200. (G. Bonner, D. Rollason, C. Stancliffe ed.), 303–327; 329–337; 339–341 and 343–366 respectively.

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fourteenth century.30 At Durham as elsewhere, there were a mixture of pilgrims: locals and visitors from afar; rich and poor; noble and undistinguished individuals. The pilgrims represented a wide socio-political cross-section, but the public silken ritual and the pious ceremonies were there for rich and poor alike to enjoy. Special silk vestments and silk furnishings accompanied the promulgation of the cult of St. Cuthbert, and public displays of devotion (including processions and special feast day celebrations), abounded.31 Miracles too, took place in public before the shrines of the saints. At Durham most recorded miracles appear with reference to local figures.32 Cult as National symbol In spite of the undoubtedly genuine pious and ritual nature of the cult of St. Cuthbert, nevertheless, there were also, strong political reason for the promulgation of the cult of St. Cuthbert. It has been suggested that the cult of St. Cuthbert was encouraged as a foil to the development of the cult of St.

Nilson, Cathedral Shrines, chapter 7, 168–190, uses the evidence of the shrine offerings of St. Thomas at Canterbury, which act as the most accurate documentation available, starting from the end of the twelfth century. Cf. table 2, pages 211–215 for a list of the value of money offerings (oblations) to the four stations connected to the cult of St. Thomas at Canterbury. The Durham Feretrar’s Accounts for the Shrine of St. Cuthbert, from 1376–1538, and a sample receipt indenture for the shrine of St. Cuthbert in 1375/6 are presented on tables 8 and 9, on pages 226–228. At Durham in the fourteenth century pence presented each day varied widely from 5.7 to 290.2 according to the time of the year and presumably on days of high revenue, the special feast being celebrated. The pyx income at Durham reached a high of £63 17s. 8p., in 1385/6, although in 1408/9, for example, it fell to only £4 7s. 10.5p. In addition, note the graphs on pages 234–242, which indicate rise and fall in income at various Cathedral shrines. 31 On translations of saints including St. Cuthbert of Durham, and the elaborate preparations that were made to ensure these were publicised and that they were spectacular public events, see Nilson, Cathedral Shrines, 15–33. The English Cathedral translations occurred mainly between the twelfth and the thirteenth centuries. For a cross section of types of pilgrims who visited shrines, consult, Shimmers, Medieval Popular Religion, chapter 4, pages 149–201. Note also, P. J. Geary, Furta Sacra. Thefts of relics in the central Middle Ages. Chichester 1999 edition, 9–15 on the subject of translations. 32 For accounts of the miracles see, Two Lives of Saint Cuthbert, (B. Colgrave transl.). Cambridge 1985 ed., Anonymous Life chapters 3 to 7, 12, 15, 17, and 18 for miracles that occurred during and after the time of the life of the Saint. Also, similarly see, Bede’s Life of St. Cuthbert, chapters 13–14, 15, 23, 25, 29–33, 38, 44–46. 30

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Wilfrid.33 Also both King Athelstan in 934 and King Edmund in 945 prayed at the shrine of St. Cuthbert in Chester-le-Street before commencing battle with the Scots.34 Athelstan offered up to St. Cuthbert’s shrine, 96 lbs in silver. King Edmund presented gold and precious vestments. Both were invoking the protection of St. Cuthbert, much in the manner of a Byzantine military saint. Indeed, this idea was developed in later times, and a standard of St. Cuthbert was actually reported at the battle of Flodden.35 The reported banner of St. Cuthbert, was made of red velvet, and it had a central white velvet square marked by red crosses, which was sewn over the relic of the ‘holy corporax cloth’ of St. Cuthbert. The banner was regularly carried on festival and feast days, otherwise it was attached to the shrine of the saint. According to the account of the pre-Reformation Rites at Durham, the ‘intent and purpose’ of the banner, was that it ‘should always be carried to any battel’, and that by the, ‘especiall grace of God Almightie and the mediacione of holie Saint Cuthbert’, it should bring ‘home the victorie’.36 Relating socio-political groups to the patron saint In two distinct descriptions of the translation of St. Cuthbert in 1104, many precious cloths are detailed.37 The presence of a great number of dif33 See, A Thacker, Lindisfarne and the origins of the cult of St. Cuthbert’, in: St. Cuthbert, His Cult and his Community, 116–117. There was a deliberate attempt to link the name of St. Cuthbert with leading figures of the Northumbrian political and ecclesiastical hierarchy in the Anonymous life. Such political backing did not exist and was not sought for St. Wilfrid. 34 Historia. Simon’s History of the Church of Durham. Felinfach 1993 reprint, chapter 33, 669–670. G. Bonner, ‘St. Cuthbert at Chester le Street’, in: St. Cuthbert, His Cult and His Community, 405–406. 35 Rites and Monuments of the Cathedral Church of Durham (J. Raine ed.). Surtees Society 1842, 20–23, 79, 80, 89, 190. It is evident that a banner of St. Cuthbert was later processed at the time of great feasts (including at Easter, on Ascension day, for Corpus Christi, and on the saint’s own feast day). Also see, The Relics of St. Cuthbert, (C. F. B. Battiscombe ed.), Durham 1956, 68–72 and note 5, for extensive information about the earlier history of the banner. The existence of the banner may be traced back to 1097, according to an account of the second half of the fourteenth century. For this source see, Johannis de Fordun’s Chronica gentis Scottorum, book 5, chapter 25, pages 224–225, in: The Historians of Scotland (W. F. Skene ed.). Edinburgh 1871. 36 Rites and Monuments, 23. 37 For source references see chapter 11, note 4 above, Symeonis monachi Opera omnia (Arnold ed,) I, 247–261, and Reginald of Durham’s ‘Little Book’ (Raine ed.). In 1827 Raine wrote an account of the opening of St. Cuthbert’s tomb at Durham, which provides

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ferent socio-political groups are also recorded. Private authentication was carried out by the monks, but public authentication of the relics demanded the presence of high clergy alongside the laity, both rich and poor. Here Reginald’s account of c. 1170 is chiefly used as the source for details of the precious cloths used to support the cult of St. Cuthbert at different periods from the time of the first recognition in 698 up to the translation of 1104.38 The garments nearest the body of St. Cuthbert were not visible, but the extant weft patterned tabbies in the treasury (Plates 116–118), together with the Soumak braid and traces of a Central Asian silk lining represent an early addition to the body.39 These seventh- to eighth-century silks may have been introduced in 698, at the time of the first re-vesting. The weft patterned tabbies relate to a large group of silks

valuable details about the silks in which the saint’s body was dressed, see further, chapter 11 note 4 above, Raine reference, ‘St. Cuthbert, with an Account of the State in which his Remains were found’. 38 Battiscombe, Relics of St. Cuthbert, 107–112, provides an English translation by E. G. Pace, of the account of Reginald of Durham, in his Libellus, chapters 40–43. J. Raine, St. Cuthbert, Durham 1828, appendix pages 1–6, includes a transcript of the earliest Latin manuscript text, taken from Ms. Hunter 101, of Durham Cathedral Chapter’s library. Raine, St. Cuthbert, 85–92, also printed the first English translation of this text. The account of Symeon of Durham is less rich in detail than that of Reginald of Durham. Both accounts can be compared with Raine’s findings in 1827. There is a remarkable correlation between the historic textiles that survived in 1827, and those, which had been described more than six hundred and fifty years earlier; and in particular, by Reginald of Durham. 39 The evidence of the historic written accounts, (see note 38 above), of the nineteenth century written account by Raine, (the latter reproduced in Batticombe, Relics of St. Cuthbert, 98–114), and of the surviving historic textiles at Durham Cathedral, provides a detailed picture of the care with which the saint’s body was wrapped in linen shrouds and precious silks through time. The historic accounts appear mostly to reveal what could be seen at the translation of 1104, and they probably do not include the silk layers nearest the body, as these would have been hidden by the silk pall added in1104. It is likely that the weft patterned tabbies and the Soumak braid, as well as the Central Asian silk, datable to the seventh to eighth centuries, were in place before the translation of 1104. For these silks see, H. Granger-Taylor, ‘The weft-patterned silks and their braid: The remains of an AngloSaxon Dalmatic of c. 800?’, in: St. Cuthbert, His Cult, His Community, 303–328. Earlier, see, J. Flanagan, ‘The figured silks and the design of the Soumak braid’, in: Battiscombe, Relics of St. Cuthbert, 484–525. The present author had earlier discovered the remains of an unknown silk dalmatic of tabby weave with extra pattern wefts at St. Apollinaire in Classe, see Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 12, 104–112. Granger-Taylor, referred the St. Apollinaire in Classe dalmatic to the Durham dalmatic.

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distributed across various relic sites.40 An important piece was found in the Three Kings shrine of Cologne Cathedral where it enveloped the relics of the Magi.41 Raine’s account of 1827 makes reference to ‘an underlay of splendid silken stuff ’, placed under the body. This pillow recalls to mind two silk pillows used for the relics of St. Remi at Reims.42 One had an incised senmurv design and it is a Byzantine silk of the tenth to eleventh century. Reginald details the thin linen shroud presented by Abess Verca as well as a thin face cloth that had become tightly attached to the skin of the saint. On Cuthbert’s head there was a mitre, and this too, was covered with a face cloth of singular thread.43 On the forehead ‘a fillet of gold, not of woven work, but of gold externally, which sparkles of most precious stones of different kind, scattered all over its surface’, is described.44 This sounds like a gem decorated sprang technique hairnet. Byzantine ladies were known to favour this sort of elaborate head-dress and they also wore silk scarves.45 Viking copies of these Byzantine head-scarves have been found in York, Dublin and Lincoln.46

For a list of surviving tabby weaves with added wefts see, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, M266–M303b and for later examples cf., M1227–M1234. The technique of weaving such textiles is explained in J. Becker, Pattern and Loom. Copenhagen 1987, 83–104. Detailed technical analysis of the technique is made in D. DE Jonghe, M. Tavernier, ‘Met selectieroeden geweven Koptische Weefsels’, Bulletin van de Koninklijike Musea voor Kunst en Geschiedenis 50 (1978) 75–105. Later, the same author with Verhecken-Lammas, adds a further contributory note in Archaeological Textiles Newsletter, (spring 2006), 6–20. 41 For this silk see, W. Schulten, P. M. Zieleskiewicz, H. Wagner, Der Kölner Dreikonigenstoff. Bayer-Berichte 47 (1982) 14–29. 42 Reginald, Libellus, chapter 40, Battiscombe, Relics of St. Cuthbert, 108. For the silk cushion of St. Remi, see Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 9, 85, and note 3 with bibliographical references. The St. Remi, silk cushion, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, 188–189, catalogue M77b, belongs with the saint’s shroud of the same weave, cf., catalogue M77a. 43 Reginald, Libellus, chapter 41, Battiscombe, Relics of St. Cuthbert, 109. 44 Raine in Battiscombe, Relics of St. Cuthbert, 98–114 provides the description. 45 See chapter 11, note 64 above second reference to work of M. Emmanuel. 46 In 1982 the present author first suggested that silk remains at York and Lincoln belonged to silk head wear, see ‘The silk fragment from Coppergate, York,’ in: A. Muthesius, Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving, London 1995, chapter 19, 341–348. Subsequently, a series of silk caps and scarves, from Dublin were excavated and published. Most recently consult, E. Wincott Heckett, Viking Age Head-coverings from Dublin. Medieval Dublin Excavations 1962–1981. Royal Irish Academy, ser. B, volume 6. Dublin 2003. 40

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An alb,47 and amice, tunic and dalmatic were also present in 1104.48 The red purple dalmatic was said to be solid and the thread was described as stiff and crackly to the touch. The fabric was also described as tinged with a citron shade and decorated with woven birds and animals. The sleeves and hem of the dalmatic were bordered with gold, which was not pliable and which crackled when bent. These sound like tablet woven bands.49 Gold braids decorate the extant maniple, stole and girdle of St. Cuthbert, and these are datable 909–916. They were the gift of Queen Aelfflaed to Bishop Frithestan of Winchester. It is most probable that in 934 they were presented to the relics of St. Cuthbert, by King Athelstan (Plates 121–124).50 The maniple, stole and girdle themselves, are worked in gold couched embroidery, but the stole and the maniple are also edged with red silk and gold tablet woven braids. The neck of the Durham dalmatic had broader gold ornaments. One can compare these with the neck bands of the St. Vitalis chasuble at Riggisberg (Plate 19, left).51 The Vitalis chasuble is made from a tenth to eleventh century, Byzantine, ground silk, and it has various Latin, tablet woven, neck border ornaments. Judging by such comparisons one suspects that by the twelfth century, Durham was ‘high up in terms of understanding use of costly ecclesiastical fashions’. Gold couching in Byzantium and in the Latin West was used to ornament precious vestments of the time. Examples survive at Bamberg, and these belonged to the German Emperor

Reginald, Libellus, chapter 41, Battiscombe, Relics of St. Cuthbert, 109. Reginald, Libellus, chapter 42, Battiscombe, Relics of St. Cuthbert, 110. 49 Reginald, Libellus, chapter 42, Battiscombe, Relics of St. Cuthbert, 110. Gold borders were made in both Byzantium and Western Europe. These could be loom woven or tablet woven. The woven gold borders used brocading or couching techniques to introduce the gold threads. Large numbers of gold borders remain unpublished. These belong to vestments worn by Bishops and Archbishops buried in prominent Cathedrals such as Sens Cathedral. 50 See J. Ivy reference in chapter 11, note 58 above. Raine, St. Cuthbert, excavated and first published these pieces. Flanagan, in: Battiscombe, Relics of St. Cuthbert, provided further study of the textiles. 51 For the St. Vitalis chasuble see, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, catalogue M72. The chasuble was conserved at the Abegg Stiftung, Riggisberg, and the conservators published details in: M. Fleury Lemberg, Textile Conservation and Research. Riggisberg 1988, 158–175, catalogue number 15, 465–466. 47 48

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Henry II (d. 1024) and to his consort Cunigunde (Plates 22–26).52 Gisela, the sister of Henry II, who married King Stephen of Hungary in the early eleventh century, also received a gold-couched vestment, most plausibly as a wedding gift from her brother.53 A Byzantine gold couched medallion of Christ was attached to the silk vestment of Philip of Swabia, and this is now also in Bamberg (Plate 125).54 Bamberg and Basle Cathedrals both founded by Henry II, each possess extensive collections of precious, imported Byzantine silks, which were presented by this Emperor for liturgical use, and for local saint cult promulgation.55 Gold couching was also found elsewhere, for example on Anglo-Saxon embroideries such as the silks enveloping the relics of St. Harlindus and Relindus at Maaseyck.56 Apart from the linen of Abess Verca, Reginald also mentions a costly linen shroud used in 1104.57 This had upon it, ‘the shapes of birds and beasts’, so arranged that ‘between two pairs of birds and beasts there appears a woven figure like a tree in full leaf ’.58 This shroud accords with contemporary Continental linen shrouds decorated with animals under arcades. One example is extant at Maastricht and this came from the relics of Saint Martin, Bishop of Tongern, although it was kept in the twelfth century

See in the present book, the references cited above, in chapter 4, notes 46–47, 50–52, and 54. 53 Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, catalogue M81, and also note the literature reference given above, in chapter 4, note 47. 54 For the mantle of Philip of Swabia refer to, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, catalogue number M537, and plate 127B. For the Bamberg silks see in the same publication, chapter 9, 85–87 and chapter 11, 101–103. Some relevant publications on the Bamberg silks are cited above in, chapter 4, notes 12, 14, 46–47, 50–52 and 54. For the Basle silk consult, A. Muthesius, ‘The silk over the spine of the Mondsee Gospel Lectionary’. Journal of the Walters Art Gallery 26 (1978) 50–73, esp. 60ff. with diagram on page 61. For the report written at the time the silk was discovered under the pavement of Basle Cathedral see, E. A. Stuckleberg, ‘Die Bischofsgräber der hinteren krypta des Basler Münsters.’ Basler Zeitschrift für Geschichte und Altertumskunde 7–8 (1908/9), 287ff.. 55 Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 15, 140. Also note the literature of relevance provided above, in chapter 4, notes 26–29, 48 and 58. 56 See M. Budny, ‘The Anglo-Saxon embroideries at Maaseik: their historical and art historical context’, in: Academiae Analecta, Mededelingnen van de koninklijke Academie voor Wetenschappen, Letterenen Schone Kunsten van belgie, Klasse der Schone Kunsten, 45 number 2 (1984), 55–133. M. Budny and D. Tweddle, ‘The early medieval textiles at Maaseik, Belgium’, The Society of Antiquaries Journal, 65 part 2 (1985), 353–389. 57 Reginald, Libellus, chapter 41, Battiscombe, Relics of St. Cuthbert, 109 and 111. 58 Battiscombe, Relics of St. Cuthbert, 111. 52

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golden shrine of St. Servatius of Maastricht (d. 384).59 The ‘bird and beast’ decorated linen shroud of St. Cuthbert, was removed in 1104, and it was kept as a secondary relic in the church. Two more silk shrouds and one of linen were added to the relics in 1104. A linen shroud placed around the wooden coffin itself, was sealed with wax.60 It was also reported that ‘the most costly pall’ available in the treasury was added in 1104.61 It has been suggested that this might refer to the Nature-Goddess silk (Plates 119–120).62 This is an eighth- to ninth-century Byzantine piece with inscription.63 It seems to be of Imperial manufacture and to echo Nature-Goddess iconography popular in the Byzantine court at the time of Iconoclasm, when religious scenes were banned.64 At what date it arrived in England is uncertain. Diplomatic gifts of silks from Byzantium to the West were common, and some were already centuries old went dispatched.65 The Nature-Goddess silk may have been one of the ‘two Grecian

59 A. Stauffer, Die mittelalterlichen Textilien von St. Servatius in Maastricht. Riggisberg 1991, 61–64, with references to further comparable linen shrouds. 60 For the references to the waxed linen coffin covering in the two historical sources describing the translation of 1104 see, Battiscombe, Relics of St. Cuthbert, 103 and 111. Reginald’s description of ‘the winding sheet of 9 cubits’ decorated with ‘bird and beasts’, occurs in his Libellus chapter 42, see Battiscombe, Relics of St. Cuthbert, 111. Both historical accounts also refer to the fact that the original burial chasuble was removed eleven years after the burial of St. Cuthbert, see Battiscombe, Relics of St. Cuthbert, 103 and 110. Reginald reports that two silks and one linen textile were added in 1104. The first silk was a fine and delicate fabric. The second silk was a very valuable purple-dyed silk. The linen textile is also described as fine. See Reginald, Libellus chapter 42, Battiscombe, Relics of St. Cuthbert, 111. 61 This is described in the Anonymous account, see Battiscombe, Relics of St. Cuthbert, 103. 62 Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, catalogue number M42, and chapter 6, 59–60, with accompanying references in notes 23–27. Earlier see, J. Flanagan, ‘The Nature Goddess Silk’, in: Battiscombe, Relics of St. Cuthbert, 505ff. Further note, C. Higgins, ‘Some new thoughts on the Nature Goddess Silk’, in: St. Cuthbert, His Cult, His Community, 329–337. Also, M. and C. Picard, ‘Observations sur la soierie de Durham trouvee dans le cercueil de Saint Cuthbert’, Revue Archéologique 40 (1952), 23–41. 63 See H. Granger-Taylor reference given above in the present book, in chapter 11 note 57. 64 The theme of ‘nature goddess’ in Byzantium at this time has been discussed in, H. Maguire, Earth and Ocean. The Terrestrial World in Early Byzantine Art. London 1987, 74–76 and figure 85. 65 See, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 4, section 1.2, 37–38. A. Muthesius, ‘Silken diplomacy’, in: Byzantine Diplomacy (J. Shepard, S. Franklin ed.), Cambridge 1992, 237–248.

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palls’ added to the relics by King Edmund.66 The eleventh- to twelfthcentury Spanish, Islamic Rider and bicephalous peacock silks in the Treasury, also from the relics of St. Cuthbert, may have been added at the time of the translation in 1104 (Plates 112–115).67 The role of silken spectacle at Durham What was the role of all these precious silks in connection with the saint’s cult at Durham? In the first place they served to en-noble the body of the saint. Secondly, they were part of civic ceremony to act as testimony to the authenticity of the cult.68 The lengthy bending of limbs would not have been half so impressive without the multiple layers of precious vestments, that were on view. The cult was as richly ornamented as those of Continental and Byzantine saints, which also lent the cult power and authority. For the keepers of the relics, this served to assist in their power struggles against encroaching ecclesiastical or secular potentates. From the time of the replacement of secular canons by Benedictine monks at Durham in 1083, consolidation of monastic estate holdings became ever more significant.69 The newly installed monks were using the cult of St. Cuthbert to reinforce their social and economic position. There was tremendous Continental precedent to follow in this respect. On a much more powerful scale, Charlemagne, for example, invoked the cult of relics surrounded by a lavish artistic patronage, to add prestige and a sense of

66 Historia de Sancto Cuthberto, History of St. Cuthbert, Sym. Op. (Arnold ed.) R. S., London 1882–1885, chapter 28, 212. 67 Refer to Muthesius, ‘Silks and Saints. The Rider and Peacock silks from the relics of St. Cuthbert’, in: St. Cuthbert, His Cult, His Community, 343–366. 68 The origins and development of the Cult of St. Cuthbert may be studied across a series of articles as follows: J. Campbell, ‘Elements in the background to the Life of St. Cuthbert and his Early Cult’; A. Thacker, ‘Lindisfarne and the origins of the Cult of St. Cuthbert’; A. J. Piper, ‘The first generations of Durham Monks and the Cult of St. Cuthbert’, and V. Tudor, ‘The Cult of St. Cuthbert in the Twelfth Century: the evidence of Reginald of Durham’, all in: St. Cuthbert, His Cult, His Community, on pages 3–20; 103–122; 437–446 and 447–468, respectively. 69 W. M. Aird, St. Cuthbert and the Normans. The Church of Durham 1071–1153, chapter 3. M. Foster, Custodians of St. Cuthbert. The Durham Monks’ views of their Predecessors 1083–c. 1200’, in: Anglo Norman Durham (D. Rollason, M. Harvey, M. Prestwick ed.), Durham 1998 edition, 53–65.

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legitimacy to his claim of Imperial power, and thus, indirectly to steady the political and economic framework supporting his Empire.70 Like many monastic communities of Greek Orthodoxy today, the mediaeval Durham community served at once as secular land-holder and as spiritual body.71 To preserve the status-quo they needed to be flexible and to ally themselves accordingly. They needed first and foremost to maintain pious devotion in an atmosphere of economic and social stability, most particularly following the murder of the first Norman Bishop and the destruction of the Cathedral.72 The lesson of the pictorial lives of St. Cuthbert In the eleventh to twelfth centuries pictorial lives of the saints appeared. Different aspects of the cult of St. Cuthbert were highlighted in two lives of the saint in particular, which pinpointed different needs of the monastic community.73 The British Museum ‘Life’ suggests that the monks wished to play down Episcopal authority, and on folio 53v, Cuthbert appears at a synod with the monks. It is the monks and not the Bishop, who compel him to take on the role of Bishop.74 After they had gained the power to elect their own Bishop, it appears to have been included. A study of several Continental saints lives indicates that the various miracle and narrative scenes of the different St. Cuthbert pictorial cycles closely follow a familiar

70 Charlemagne’s cultural and artistic patronage was most strongly expressed through his foundation of Aachen Münster, and his court patronage involved the creation of magnificent manuscripts, metalwork and ivory works of art. He acquired many relics, which judging by the relics donated to Sens Cathedral by Charlemagne, were all wrapped in contemporary imported silks. See Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 15, 140. The artistic patronage of Charlemagne has been analysed in, P. Lasko, Ars Sacra. Harmondsworth 1972, chapter 2, 14–32. 71 For example, at St. John’s monastery on Patmos, and at St. Catherine’s monastery at Sinai. 72 Aird, St. Cuthbert and the Normans, 97–98 and references in notes 162, 164 and 165. 73 These are British Library, London, Yates Thompson manuscript 26 (Add. Ms. 39943), a late twelfth-century illuminated Life of St. Cuthbert, and Oxford University College Ms. 165, an early twelfth-century illuminated Life of St. Cuthbert. See D. Marner, St. Cuthbert, His Life and Cult in Medieval Durham. British Library, London, 2000, chapter 3, 37–53 and colour plates 1–46 on pages 58–103. 74 Marner, St. Cuthbert, 50–51, and colour plate 29 on page 86.

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pattern.75 Again the pictorial evidence shows that Durham was part of mainstream cult development at this time. Patronage and civic cult ceremonial In general, reformed Benedictine monasteries appear to have recognised the development of civic cult ceremony, as a powerful tool for engaging all sociopolitical groups with the cult of their saint.76 Through times of vicissitude, the cult figure could also stand as a symbol of the continuity of civic identity. Existing liturgical rituals were allied to civic piety, to tie the urban population to the cult. And in all this, silken processions, recognitions, translations and offerings played a prominent part.77 Lavish patronage was called for, and in Durham this was forthcoming from royalty, the nobility, and from the ecclesiastical establishment itself. The gifts of Kings and Queens have been mentioned earlier. To turn to the patronage of Bishops one has only to consider Bishop Hugh of Durham.78 He was clad in silk vestments, and he acted as a silk patron; also he was a 75 On the subject of the formation of pictorial hagiography, see B. Abou-El-Haj, The Medieval Cult of Saints. Cambridge 1997, chapter 2, 33–60 and especially 51–55, 57–58. 76 Refer to, Abou-El-Haj, Appendix 1, ‘Cult development for Saints whose lives were illustrated’, 137–146. 77 Abou-El-Haj, Cult development, 137ff., compares the Cult of St. Cuthbert with the Cults of 13 other English and Continental Saints; (Adalbert of Gniezno and Prague; Agatha of Sicily; Albinus of Mainz; Amand of Elnone; Ambrose of Milan; Anno of Cologne; Aubin of Angers; Thomas Becket of Canterbury; Benedict of Nursia and Fleuryt; Edmund of Bury St. Edmund, Guthlac of Croyland, Hadelin of Liege and Heribert of Cologne). Silks have survived from the relics of most of these named Saints. On the silks associated with the four Archbishops named for example, see Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, 58 (Ambrose); 34 and 119 (Anno); 35 and 119 (Heribert) and 87 Thomas Becket). The silks preserved in connection with the Cults of Saints varied from precious large vestments, to shrouds, or to tiny silk scraps used to envelope individual relics. The reason that so many tiny scraps of silk survive is perhaps because from 800 onwards, on the order of the Emperor Charlemagne, all Latin altars had to contain relics. 78 English Cathedrals abounded in precious silk vestments and furnishings before the time of the Dissolution. These silks are described in many different inventories of the individual Cathedrals, which have been published in, O. Lehmann-Brockhaus, Lateinische Schriftquellen zur Kunst in England, Wales und Schottland vom Jahre 901 bis zum Jahre 1307. München 1955. For Bishop Hugh of Durham’s silk vestment references see, note 79 below. On Bishop Hugh (1153–1195), see G. V. Scammell, Hugh du Puiset, Bishop of Durham. Oxford, 1956. By the present author note, ‘The role of Byzantine silks in the British Isles before 1200’, in: Silk in Byzantium, chapter 15, 257–275.

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builder of cult spaces in which the silken cult operated. Bishop Hugh’s silk wardrobe included ‘9 silk chasubles of various colours’. The two most notable of these were a chasuble of red silk, ‘nobly embroidered with gold and precious stones and pearls’, and a ‘black silk chasuble with griffins, gold stars and precious gems’. Of his silk capes the most impressive were those embroidered with either flowers and stars, or with griffin motifs and stars. Stoles, maniples and capes were not described in detail but one of the ten silk albs, from its description, evidently was quite exquisite. This alb was of red silk with double-headed, gold-embroidered eagle motifs.79 Bishop Philip of Durham, Hugh’s successor had equally magnificent vestiture. His gold embroidered silks included, lion, griffin and bi-cephal eagle motifs. All these sound quite as splendid as their Byzantine counterparts. The gold-embroidery was probably of ‘Opus Anglicanum’, copying Byzantine motifs.80 Bishop Hugh erected the chapel of St. Mary with the altar of ‘Our Lady’ which he endowed with a silk wardrobe of such value that the vestments and furnishings had to be locked up for safe keeping, in two attached armories.81 It was the same Bishop Hugh, who also arranged to have constructed, the shrine for the relics of St. Bede.82 Evidently he was an ardent supporter of silken ceremonial and of the promulgation of reliquary cults at Durham. Indeed, in his lavish and up-to-date patronage, Bishop Hugh has to be ranked against his Continental ecclesiastical, silk vested peers of Cologne, Trier and Mainz, (Archbishop-electors of the German Emperor).83 79 Lehmann-Brockhaus, Lateinische Schriftquellen, no. 1444. The bi-cephal eagle was used as an Imperial and as an Ecclesiastical symbol in Byzantium, and Byzantine silk Imperial vestments with gold eagle motifs are documented. See Muthesius, ‘The Byzantine Eagle’, in: Studies in Silk in Byzantium. London, 2004, 227–236, esp. 228–229. The use of the bi-cephal eagle motif in Byzantium can be traced back to at least the early eleventh century, see 230 and note 30. 80 Lehmann-Brockhaus, Lateinische Schriftquellen, 1446. This assumes that the silks were imported but that the embroidery upon them was local. Opus Anglicanum did decorate silk vestments of the eleventh to twelfth centuries and later, some of which were exported to the Continent. See for instance, Opus Anglicanum. Arts Council exhibition, Victoria and Albert Museum, 26 September to 24 November 1963, 13–16, catalogue numbers 1 to16. 81 For what can be seen today, note S. A. Harrison, ‘Observations on the Architecture of the Galilee Chapel’, in: Anglo-Norman Durham, 213–234, especially 223, plate 57 and 224. 82 Historiae Dunelmensis scriptores tres: Gaudridus de Coldingham, Robertus de Graystanes, et Willielmus de Chambre (J. Raine ed.) S.S. 9 (1839), 7, pages 11–12. 83 Consider for instance, Archbishop Heribert of Cologne (d. 1002) and Archbishop Willigis of Mainz (d. 1011) whose silk vestments and shrouds survive to this day. See,

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Conclusion: popular piety within civic ceremonial Both on the Continent and in England there was civil unrest on occasion, whether over the appointment of Bishops, or over the extensive toil and cost of construction of elaborate ‘cult encompassing’ cathedrals. In general though pilgrims flocked to cult shrines both in England and abroad. On occasion, they were crushed to death in the throng. To some extent festival attendance at shrines was regulated by the simultaneous demand for the tithe payment. But it is noticeable that the cult shrines were principally the sites for scenes of miracles. At Durham these miracles were of a ‘local’ nature. The effect of the silken costly splendour of the shrine sites and their magnificent surrounds, was noted by Abbot Suger of St. Denis in Paris. He justified the lavish patronage there in the 1140s by saying that the increased visual spectacle raised the minds of the laity towards a recognition of the splendour of God. This Neo-Platonic reasoning had its roots in earlier Byzantine thinking. To some extent it was probably in the mind of Durham patrons like Bishop Hugh. The ceremonial as later reflected in the Durham Rites; with processions from altar to altar, and liturgical rituals before the shrine of St. Cuthbert, cannot have failed to make a deep visual impression upon the simple pilgrim or the local pious folk. The trade guilds too, as in Byzantium, were probably tied into the civic rituals, including passion plays, and celebrations of special feasts. The cult of St. Cuthbert would have been truly all-embracing. At Durham the lavish use of precious cloth to promulgate and to promote the cult of St. Cuthbert, particularly from the eleventh century onwards, was set around contemporary and earlier Continental, and also Byzantine precedent. There can be no doubt that Durham from earliest times, stood not in splendid isolation but indeed at the very heart of the development of cult ritual and public ceremony, which focused around the use of precious cloth. The traditional associations of power and authority, both secular and ecclesiastical, afforded to precious cloths by Byzantium, the Carolingian and Ottonian Emperors, and also by the Papacy, came to find their reflection in Durham practices. Durham was not isolated in this respect within England. Vast silk treasuries, of urban and provincial English Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, 35 and 119 for first St. Heribert silk M53, with the four plates 4A, 4B, 73A and 73B, and for the second St. Heribert silk, see M65, with plate 79A. For St. Willigis silk chasuble M68, see, 49, 86, and 140 with plate 88A.

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churches were fully documented in inventories. Silken ritual and ceremony abounded in England. It is only the loss of the objects, of the spiritual material culture, that has obscured this fact for so long. This makes what survives in Durham all the more significant and indeed, all the more worthy of continued careful preservation.

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Durham Mediaeval Silks: Problems of Research and Conservation Introduction

H

ISTORICAL, ecclesiastical, silk treasuries exist in number abroad, but in Great Britain they are rare cultural entities, which deserve greater protection. Dispersal of precious silks over the years, is a major problem that affects all ecclesiastical silk treasuries. At Durham there is copious mediaeval and later documentary evidence for the existence of precious cloths, but the question is how many survive and how should what survives be best recorded? Furthermore, what are the alternatives for conserving the silken heritage of the Cathedral? This paper is intended simply to outline what is documented in relation to what remains and to suggest a variety of ways in which the materials could be treated with an eye to posterity (Plate 126). The documented textiles in relation to what remains

On at least ten occasions precious textiles might have been placed upon the relics of St. Cuthbert. It is simplest to list these as follows: i. Time of burial-linen of Abbess Verca (687). Bede mentioned also head-cloth, priestly vestments, obley across breast, sandals and a waxed linen cloth.1 1 St. Cuthbert was born c. 634 and died on 20 March, 687. There are two Lives, an Anonymous Life of 698–705 and Bede’s Prose Life of 721. For the burial of St. Cuthbert see, Colgrave, Anonymous Life, chapter 13, 130–131. Bede reports that outer garments were removed from the body of St. Cuthbert, and that these were replaced by fresh garments,

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ii. First recognition eleven years after burial. Sandals removed and outer-most wrappings. Body re-vested in fresh garments. Head-cloth unwrapped. But question is, was it removed (698)? Addition of a second light wooden chest in 698. Could the dalmatic fragments (Plates 116–117), one with soumak braid, belong to this recognition?2 iii. Revesting in 875.3 eleven years after the burial, Colgrave, Bede’s Life, chapter 42, 292–293. The shoes of St. Cuthbert must also have been removed at some point, for they were taken into the presence of a paralytic youth, who was then cured, see Colgrave, Bede’s Life, chapter 45, 298–301. For the same incident in the Anonymous Life of St. Cuthbert, cf. chapter17, 136–139. The Anonymous Life reported that the shoes in which Saint Cuthbert had been laid to rest, were removed and preserved in the church eleven years after the burial, see Colgrave, Bede’s Life, chapter 14, 130–133. At the same time the Anonymous Life described the white head cloth that was unwound eleven years after the burial, see chapter 14, 132–133. The full source references, and secondary literature references to the Two Lives, are given above in chapter 10, note 4, under, Colgrave, Jaager, Lapidge and Berschin, respectively. On the dating of the Two Lives, on the surviving manuscripts, and on the early editions and the translations of the two Lives of St. Cuthbert, see Colgrave, Two Lives, 11–16, 17–50 and 51–57. Bede also wrote about the death of St. Cuthbert and about the re-vesting in 698 in his, History of the English Church and People, see chapters 29 and 30 of ‘Baedae Historia ecclesiastica gentis Anglorum’, in: Venerabilis Baedae Opera historica (C. Plummer ed.) I–II, Oxford 1896, and Bede’s Ecclesiastical History of the English People (B. Colgrave, R. A. B. Mynors ed.) Oxford, 1969. Cf. Sherley-Price translation in, Bede. A History, chapters 29–30, 263–267. Also note earlier, B. Colgrave, ‘The Post-Bedan Miracles and Translations of St. Cuthbert’, in: The Early Culture of North-West Europe. H. M. Chadwick Memorial Studies (C. Fox, B. Dickins ed.), Cambridge 1950, 304–322. There was a re-examination of St. Cuthbert’s remains in 1899, see, J. T. Fowler, ‘On an examination of the grave of St. Cuthbert in Durham Cathedral Church, in March 1899’, Archaeologia 57 (1900) 11–28,when more fragments of the coffin reliquary were found. See also, Bailey as in note 10 below, 235–236. 2 Colgrave, Two Lives, Anonymous Life, chapter 14, 130–133, and Bede’s Life, chapter 42, 290–295. For the weft-patterned silks, probably the remains of a dalmatic, and for the Soumak braid see, H. Granger-Taylor and J. Flanagan references, cited above in chapter 12, note 39. 3 For possible re-vesting in 875, see Battiscombe, Relics of St. Cuthbert, 12. Certainly, in 793 the monastic community at Lindisfarne suffered Viking raids, and it was forced to flee temporarily, but the monks returned to Lindisfarne and remained there up to 875. Under Bishop Eardwulf (d. 899), the community once more fled Lindisfarne under Viking threat, and they travelled around Northumbria with the relics of St. Cuthbert, over the next seven years. This is reported by Symeon of Durham in his, ‘Historia Dunelmensis ecclesiae’, see Symeonis monachi Opera omnia (Arnold ed.) I, 3–169, chapter 21. Cf. J. Stevenson, English translation, Symeon’s History of the Church of Durham. Facsimile edition, Felinfach, 1993, 654–657.

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In 1827, Raine noted the existence of a so-called ‘monster or animal twill’, in conjunction with this recognition.4 iv. Visit King Athelstan (925–939). King Atherlstan in c. 934, on his way to fight the Scots, presented precious cloths.5 Were the embroidered stole, maniple and girdle of Bishop Frithestan (Plates 121–124), presented at that time? v. Visit King Edmund c. 945.6 Textiles of Grecian workmanship were presented. Did they include the Nature Goddess silk (Plates 119–120)? vi. St. Cuthbert’s translation in 1104.7 Many vestments were described as lying above others that could not be seen. Was the Nature-Goddess silk given on this occasion and not earlier? Did the Peacock and Rider silks find their way to the relics at this point (Plates 114–115; 112–113)?8

4 See Battiscombe, Relics of St. Cuthbert, 12, and H. Granger-Taylor, The weft patterned silks, 311–312. Here reference is made to three fragments of Central Asian twill silks datable eighth to ninth centuries. These three fragments are used as binding strips for the seams of the dalmatic, as facing of the Soumak braid, and as an independent piece, respectively. The independent piece of silk Granger Taylor relates to the ‘monster twill’, see Battiscombe, Relics of St. Cuthbert, 12, textile f. 5 Between 883 and 995 the Community of St. Cuthbert were at Chester-le-Street. Battiscombe, Relics of St. Cuthbert, 30–35. Historia de sancto Cuthberto, the History of St. Cuthbert, Symeonis monachi Opera omnia (T. Arnold ed.), I–II, London 1882–1885, I, 196–214, see sections 26–27. 6 Historia de sancto Cuthberto, Sym. Op. I, section 28. 7 Bishop William of St. Calais drew his chapter of monks from the re-founded houses of Jarrow and Wearmouth. Only one of the secular canons of the existing Community of St. Cuthbert took monastic vows and remained at Durham. The monk Symeon joined the chapter of monks in 1090. For the account of the 1104 translation by Symeon see, Capitula de miraculis et translationibus sancti Cuthberti, Chapters concerning the Miracles and Translations of St. Cuthbert, Sym. Op. I, 229–61, section 7. In English see, Battiscombe, Relics of St. Cuthbert, 99–107. For the account of the 1104 translation by Reginald see, Reginaldi monachi Dunelmensis Libellus de admirandis beati Cuthberti virtutibus quae novellis patratae sunt temporibus, Reginald of Durham’s ‘Little Book’ about the Wonderful Miracles of Blessed Cuthbert which were Performed in Recent Times (J. Raine ed.) Surtees Society I, Durham 1835. In English see, Raine, St. Cuthbert, 85–92. For a later English translation by G. Pace, see, Batticombe, Relics of St. Cuthbert, 107–112. 8 For these silks see references given above in chapter 12, notes 62, 63, and 67.

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The two earlier wooden chests were enclosed in a third wooden chest in 1104. Also, one has to note that, the Liber de Reliquiis of Richard de Segbruk (1383) claims that a chasuble was removed in 698 and a winding sheet in 1104, and that these were kept as secondary relics in the church.9 vii. Was there an undocumented recognition in the thirteenth century?10 When was the thirteenth century ring added, that was discovered in 1827? viii. Talk of a satin added in the 1542 recognition?11 ix. 1827 examination of remains.12 Raine details eleven different textiles: a. Outer linen shroud b. Thin amber silks (weft patterned tabbies) c. Robe of thick soft silk (Nature-Goddess) d. Robe of silk with thick damask pattern (Peacock silk) e. Thin silk covered in leaf gold (Rider silk) f. Silk robe of purple and crimson with cross g. Byzantine twill with monster An inventory of Durham relics and treasures was compiled in 1383 by Richard de Segbruk. (Bound in Chapter Library Durham Ms. B. II.35). Durham Account Rolls, volume 2, Surtees Society, 1899, 425–40. English translation in Raine, Saint Cuthbert, 120–130. 10 Battiscombe, Relics of St. Cuthbert, 73 note 6, asks if there could have been an unrecorded recognition after 1104, at which time not only the ring but also gloves, girdle and sandals of the saint might have been added. Battiscombe, Relics of St. Cuthbert, 525ff., provides a brief note on the ring. The ring does not appear to have been removed from the finger of Saint Cuthbert, by the Commissioners when the elevated shrine of St. Cuthbert was destroyed in 1539. The exact number of recognitions and of genuinely related objects and textile relics, has still to be determined, see; Battiscombe, Relics of St. Cuthbert, sections 10 to 11, 59–74, which deals with the two accounts of the translation and the different textiles and objects described in them. Section 12, 74ff., discusses the contents of the twelfthcentury reliquary list (printed on pages 112–114), and presents a preliminary cursory list of widely distributed relics of St. Cuthbert. For additional information on the 1827 opening of St. Cuthbert’s tomb and the even wider, nineteenth century informal dispersal of relics see, R. N. Bailey, ‘St. Cuthbert’s Relics: Some neglected evidence’, in St. Cuthbert, His Cult, His Community, 231–246. 11 Battiscombe, Relics of St. Cuthbert, introduction. The body of St. Cuthbert and those relics considered to be without monetary value, were buried beneath the floor of Durham Cathedral in 1542, following the destruction of the shrine of St. Cuthbert in 1539. For the satin see note 12 below. Raine suggested it was added in 1542. 12 Raine, St. Cuthbert, deals with eleven textiles, of which one was a satin; as detailed in Battiscombe, Relics of St. Cuthbert, 524ff. 9

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h. Other figured twill fragments i. Plain Byzantine twill strip, 3 inches wide. From back of Rider silk. j. 7 heald satin silk added 1542, child size. k. Small linen bag. x. Body exhumed 1899.13 Twentieth-century dispersal of textiles The question is how many textiles were left in place? The problem exists, that in the twentieth century there was dispersal of precious cloths from Durham Cathedral, for use as secondary relics. A minimum of five centres received cloth relics from Durham Cathedral: A. Ushaw College (21 July 1858).14 Eight different textiles, (thirteen separate fragments) were given to Ushaw College as follows: 1 Stole with inscription fragment 2,3,4 Stole braid, three fragments 5 Maniple fringe, four silk threads 6 Fragment of Soumak braid 7 Fragment of weft patterned silk 8 Maniple fragment 9,10,11 Rider silk, three fragments 12,13 Nature-Goddess silk, two fragments B. Alnmouth Society of St. Francis15 Nature Goddess fragment C. Durham, Roman Catholic Church of St. Cuthbert16 (Fragments including some of the Nature Goddess silk, now lost? The label was written in the hand of Father William Brown, priest 1874–1924. The silk was still there in the 1960s. Do any survive now?)

See literature cited above at the end of note 1. Bailey, St. Cuthbert’s Relics, 245–246. 15 Ibid., 244. It is unclear exactly how this fragment of Nature-Goddess silk arrived at Alnmouth. 16 Ibid., 244. 13 14

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D. British Museum samples.17 Seven fragments catalogued under (Acc. No. 1896, 5–1, 9b) These include fragments of the dalmatic, the Rider, and the NatureGoddess silks. Two Central Asian lining silk fragments, and 2 fragments of a brick red tabby silk. A written note on an old envelope in the archive at Durham, records what was sent to Pfister in 1939, and this list can be compared with what is recorded above. I. Fragments of Soumak braid from earliest textile II. a. Fragment found with amber silk II. b. Fragment of amber silk (Both from blue tin box) III. Fragment of Stole braid IV. Fragments of Peacock textile V. Fragment of stole (gold and red silk) E. The Church of St. Cuthbert and St. Matthias, Philbeach Gardens, London SW5. In the 1920s, this church was given two fragments of the Nature Goddess silk, and a silk cord, from the maniple?18 F. Gilly Lingard received 2 unspecified fragments.19 Conclusion This represents a sizeable sample of the surviving silks. At some stage they should all be photographed and properly catalogued.20

17 Ibid., 244. These silks had been in a sale, and they were purchased by a man named Greenwell, and then presented to the British Museum. 18 Ibid., 245. One silk was said to have been presented in 1847 by the Dean of Durham to Baron Alderson, and then was said in the 1920s to have reached the church of St. Matthias. The other silk was thought to have been presented in the 1920s, by the grandson of one of those present at the time of the 1827 opening of St. Cuthbert’s tomb. 19 Ibid., 243 Appendix. Recorded in a letter from Gilly (2 November 1841) to J. G. Rokewood, see Cambridge University Library, Hengrave Hall deposit 21 (13). Gilly sent out different pieces of silk vestment for inspection to a number of individuals. These included. ‘a red silk with a black glory cross’ and ‘a drab silk’. These fragments appear lost. 20 The present author has photographed and recorded only what remains at Durham Cathedral’s Chapter House.

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Recording what exists at Durham Cathedral: the earlier packing and storage envelopes and containers 1. The first requirement has been to photograph and record all of the surviving storage boxes and packages, whether empty or not. Three empty black boxes exist labeled A, B, and D. The words, ‘Tissued taffetta, figured silk, horseman silk’, respectively, are noted on the lids of these three boxes. 2. All messages need to be recorded. There are many on empty envelopes.21 For example, ‘Flanagan Dec 7th 1948. Bit of pearled band of saddle of Rider silk’. One can observe that this fragment is not missing from either of the two surviving roundels of Rider silk. Was there a third roundel that has disappeared? 3. Other messages indicate that work took place in the 1950s and the 1970s centred on the contents of twenty two envelopes (now empty) and also on the contents of numerous plastic packets.22 For example, one such message reads: ‘Jan 1953. Various envelopes placed in this envelope. J. Flanagan’. Then a later note adds,’ Repacked 1975’. A message on one plastic packet records: ‘June 1975. All items removed from old envelopes and repacked in polythene bags.’ The message on another large plastic envelope reads ‘5/16a’. ‘Fragments of a garment found with the Durham pieces, but it is so surely of a later date. Some of the braids I think belong to this too! Sept 1952 JM.’ 4. The plastic packages contain sand, charcoal, and bone, and hair from the bottom of the coffin, alongside gold couching threads, and wood and nail remains from the coffin, as well as fragments of a later garment.

21 The envelopes with messages clearly once contained silk fragments. Where these are today is unknown. In 1948, perhaps samples were sent for analysis from Durham to other unrecorded places. Clearly some envelopes stem back to the time of the work carried out by Flanagan. 22 It seems most likely that the twenty-two, paper envelopes contained samples, some of which were grouped and placed into new paper envelopes, and that in 1975 further repacking took place into plastic envelopes.

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Preliminary catalogue A preliminary catalogue of the stored items detailed above, has been started by the present author.23 Eighteen items are recorded. Some retain numbers, others do not. Fragments without numbers are as follows: 1. Nature Goddess silk, 30 fragments 2. Weft patterned tabby, 100 fragments (only 59 were counted by the author) 3. Peacock silk, over 100 fragments Top right, yellow, plain, fine twill Numbered fragments are listed below: 4. NEMS 75–107 QC BOX F Braid fragments, cf. stole NEMS 75–107 Braid, 7 fragments. 5 and 7 and 11. All braid fragments (These have to be related to the braid published in Brett and in GrangerTaylor. A strong microscope is required to make possible close examination of the pieces, which should be recorded as macro-graph images). 6. Fine twill 7. See above 8. Maniple? 9. Nature Goddess silk fragment 10. Net with turquoise loops. Hairnet? 11. See above 12. Two silks 1 twill, 1 tabby 13. Gold thread, No 2, Box 6? 14. Canon Raine, stole lining 15. Stole 16. Material in envelope 17. Tassel 18. Mass loose threads

23

Unpublished manuscript and archive photos in the possession of the author.

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The question of conservation and further storage There is an urgent need to photograph and to technically analyse all the surviving material. Textile conservation might involve decisions that affect both these stored items, and the displayed textiles. Conservators are divided: does one advocate low or high intervention?24 All agree that a dust free environment with controlled humidity and lighting are essential.25 Conservators and textile historians can work closely to ensure the best results. Conservation A thorough examination requires microscopic examination (x1000) Electron microscopy produces higher resolutions. Magnification shows up brittle threads. Attaching brittle threads is dangerous work. Additional stitching causes differing tensions and further loss.26 Infestation with fungi or spore has to be considered (15–18 centigrade temperature and 50–55% relative humidity reduce risk of micro-biological deterioration).27 Metal threads need to be examined by scanning electron microscope (up to x100,000) to determine composition of gold alloy. Similarly this technique can be used for dye analysis and for determining comparative thread densities.28 There are different approaches to conservation, storage and display of textile relics in particular. Some advocate the ‘painting in’ of missing sections of textiles’, in order to allow the public a better view of the original overall design on pieces. Others do not agree with such reconstructions. 25 M. Fleury-Lemberg, Textile Conservation and Research, Berne 1988, 19–68, sets out the working methods used at the Abegg Stiftung in Berne, with 56–68 on storage and display. 26 Ibid., 38–47. 27 A more detailed and scientific volume, A. Timar-Balazsy, D. Eastop, Chemical Principals of Textile Conservation, Oxford 1998, sets out a very detailed analysis of conservation methods under four main headings: Materials (fibres; dyes; finishes, binding media on printed and painted textiles and metal threads); Cleaning (soiling; solvents, wet cleaning and chemical cleaning); Other treatments (humidification; air dying/freezing; disinfestations; adhesives; storage, display and case histories) and Material investigations (methods; metal thread and the Hungarian Coronation Mantle). Part three, section 18, pages 290–299 deal with disinfestations and disinfection. 28 Ibid., Part one, section 5, pages 128–135 and Part three, section 23, pages 406–409. 24

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Where silk fibres have lost their order, humidification, wet cleaning, or bathing in de-ionised water may be necessary. These techniques relax the fibres so they can be re-arranged.29 Storage Storage containers may prove dangerous because of the materials from which they are made.30 Plasticisers used in PVCs migrate to cause deposit of oily stains. Formic and acetic acids occur in woods such as oak, cherry, elm, sweet chestnut and lime, and are released. These should not be used for storage or display purposes Acid free paper must not contain alkaline buffers. Sodium formate can be released from glue in cardboard. Formaldehyde can be oxidised into formic acid and combine with sulphur from glass surrounds to form a reducing agent that changes dyes. Supports and boxes should have acid free cards. Adhesive coated crepeline is available with reversible adhesion properties for aligning many small fragments. Conclusion This paper acts solely as a brief outline. The storage and packaging of the non-displayed fragments requires urgent attention, to avoid further erosion through chemical and fungal attack. The card used in conjunction with the glass may be causing damage and colour changes to textiles in storIbid., Part 2, sections 10 and 11, pages 185–210. Ibid., Part 3, section 20, pages 332–346. The use of cardboard backing and of glass frames at Durham in past years was inadvisable. All major ecclesiastical collections in Europe have either experienced or still face similar problems. The silks mounted in the late nineteenth or early twentieth centuries used glues, cardboard and glass frames. For example, in the 1970s, at St. Servatius, Maastricht, the present author made a preliminary catalogue of over 400 pieces mounted in this way originally. At Sens Cathedral treasury, similarly the author worked with over four hundred fragments, originally mounted in this way. A further centre with the same type of problem where the author also worked in the 1970s is the National Museum of Ravenna. The conservation and display of ecclesiastical silks is a major issue across the Catholic, the Anglican and the Greek Orthodox faiths. This problem has received little attention so far. A centralised and unified international initiative is required to preserve this important heritage for future generations, and for further academic researchers. 29 30

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age as well as to some displayed. To a certain extent this could already have caused effects that are irreversible. The large fragments of the four principal silks in the treasury have suffered major fading. Their cleaning history is unclear. The tension exerted on all displayed textiles in their mounts, also needs to be considered. The importance of the Durham silks is such that a definite plan of recording, of consolidation and conservation of all the available evidence, together with careful attention to future storage and display issues remains desirable.31

31 The present author in conjunction with the Durham Dean and Chapter, would hope to initiate a project for the publication and conservation of the textiles in due course.

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Two Unknown Tapestry Weave Silks from Croatia Introduction

T

HE purpose of this paper is to present my preliminary findings on two unpublished tapestry weave silks from Croatia, under the auspices of the Croatian Ministry for Culture.1 The two silks under discussion were found amongst a total of fourteen textiles, in an eighteenth-century reliquary bust of St. Anastasius (m.304) in the Cathedral treasury of Split.2 This paper makes no attempt to relate the two tapestry silks to the other twelve textiles, although the author will prepare another paper for final publication, which will include all fourteen textiles, as well as some other relevant mediaeval silk finds from Croatia. The present paper seeks to present evidence to answer two questions: i. When and where were the two tapestry weave silks produced? and ii. How might they have reached Split? It also attempts to place the silks into their religious cult context and to indicate how far Central European ecclesiastical cult traditions and those of western Europe can be paralleled in regard to their silken cult practices. In December 2000, the author was approached by Dr. Belamaric, Director of the Split Conservation Department, (Ministry of Culture for Croatia), to write upon the textiles. Subsequently, in August 2002, the author examined the textiles. The textiles had been briefly technically analysed earlier, in 1993, by S. Biedermann of the Kunsthistorische Museum, Wien. The textiles up to the present time have remained unpublished. 2 The reliquary dates from 1705, and the textile fragments were removed from the reliquary during conservation work in the 1990s. Some Croatian ecclesiastical treasures, but not the Anastasius reliquary, were shown in the published exhibition, Tesori della Croazia. Restaurati da ‘Venetian Heritage incorporated’. St. Barnaba, Venice, July 2001. Venice 2001. 1

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The cults of St. Anastasius and St. Domnius St. Anastasius was a native of Aquileia, a dyer, who was martyred for his faith, in Salona (outside Split) in 304 A.D., under the Galerian persecution. Already in the fourth century a cult of the saint grew up in Salona, centred round the martyrium, where his body had been placed by Ascletia. The mausoleum built by Ascletia, had two stories and included a chapel, and this arrangement subsequently, was to set the style for church building in the area. The saint was important for the establishment of Thessalonican Christianity and the cult of St. Anastasius was widely developed outside Thessalonica during the mediaeval period, not least at Split. A flourishing cult of the saint, alongside the cult of the fourth century martyr, St. Domitian, is documented at Split by the thirteenth century. Both saint Domitian and St. Anastasius are celebrated in May, within the ecclesiastical calendar of Split Cathedral.3 A technical description of the two tapestries The foliate tapestry (Plates 127–130) The first tapestry piece to be described measures 97 cm. in length by 20 cm. in width. It is a long vertical strip, with foliate motifs set in medallions that slightly vary in length, between 18.5 and 19.5 cm. Five medallions set one above the other, survive, the outermost two of them top and bottom, only partially. The medallions contain a total of three different designs. Two of the three are foliate variations of the Sassanian palmette,

3 St. Domnius serves as the patron saint of Split. Domnius, originally from Antioch, in the second half of the third century, served as Bishop of Salona, capital of Roman Dalmatia (5 km. from Split). He was martyred on the orders of the Emperor Diocletian, on April 10, A.D. 304. His feast day is celebrated on May 7.There is an annual ceremonial procession with the relics of St. Domitian in Split, at which time the relics are carried from their resting place in the Cathedral, around the city centre. The contemporary civic ceremony is described with photographic illustrations in, A. Travirka, Split. History, culture, heritage. Zadar 2000, 41–42. Details of the life and cult of St. Domnius are given in M. Matijaca, The Cult of St. Domnius through the centuries. Split 1962. Research on the martyr cults of both St. Anastasius, and St. Domnius has been undertaken by the French school in Rome, see Salona Christiana, in the French School in Rome, Salona series.

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whilst the third is a circular design with peacock feathers.4 Counting from the top downwards, medallions two and four contain the peacock motif, whilst medallions one and five enclose a variation of the Sassanian palmette. The third medallion shows a different version of Sassanian palmette ornament. The centre of the design with peacock feathers has a small pearled medallion with ‘axe’ motif, a feature to which I will return (Plate 130).5 In the spandrel areas of the tapestry are scrolling tendrils with foliate heads, to which I will also return later (Plate 129). The colours on the tapestry are striking: a brilliant red-purple ground supports off-white, red, deep-blue, golden yellow and dark green areas of pattern. The lighter blue areas may in fact, be faded from the darker blue. Samples have been collected for dye analysis, to establish the source of the colours, and the results of dye analysis will be included in the final publication.6 The silk is in a dry condition and it suffers from a white powdery film across parts of the surface, although conservation to flatten the silk, was carried out some years ago. The slit-tapestry weave used has a tapestry binding in which the warps are paired.7 Warp threads of yellow-red, Z twisted silk, number 24 pairs per cm. The wefts have a slight S twist and they are taken in pairs, with 80 up to 120 passes per cm. 4 The Sassanian palmette was a symmetrical foliate motif that was taken up mainly as medallion border ornament on Byzantine silks between the eighth and the eleventh centuries. The palmette was also used as ornament on the bodies of birds and animals on the silks. See Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, M58, plates 5A, 7A, 9A; M48, plate 15A; M40, plate 19A; M39, plate 19B, M35, plates 20A, 20B; M34, plate 24B; M85, plate 42A, M374, plate 66B. Peacock motifs were used both on Byzantine and on Islamic silks. Examples are in Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, M375, plate 34A, M109, plate 50A; M108, plate 51A; M654a, plate 114B. The peacock silk of St. Sernin, Toulouse, in the Cleveland Museum of Art, appears in colour in P. L. Baker, Islamic Textiles. London 1995, plate on page 43 with caption on page 45. In relation to one possible source of the peacock motif in Islamic art consider, for example, a silver-gilt Persian drinking vessel with peacock motifs, (wrongly called hens), that may date to the Sassanian period. See 7000 Jahre Kunst in Iran. Villa Hügel, Essen 1962, cat. no. 399 with plate. The ‘axe’ motif is best known from silks excavated in the burial mounds of Moscava Balka, see A. Ierusalimskaja, Die Gräber der Mosˇˇcevaja Balka. München 1996, cat. No. 33, plates 46, 63, 64; cat. No. 103, plates 154, 178; cat. nos. 104 and 107, plates 180, 156. 5 The dye analysis was carried out by Dr. Jan Wouters at the Koninklijk Instituut voor Het Kunstpatrimonium, Brussels. 6 C.I.E.T.A. Vocabulary of Technical Terms. Lyon 1964, 49. Slit tapestry is the term given to tapestry in which the two weft threads are turned back around adjacent ends (individual warp threads). 7 For Central Asian silks see, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 10, 94–100.

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The animal tapestry (Plates 131-134) The second tapestry measures 50.8 cm. in width and 13.5 cm. in height. It has a design of animal and bird motifs enclosed in elongated hexagonal frames. It uses a slit-tapestry weave with gold across two of the stripes, and in the ground area of the pattern band. The gold of the stripes is bound in a sequence of 1.5.1.1. Five elongated hexagonal medallions survive, either in their entirety or in part. The third of these across from the left side has paired birds shown in profile, and set about a central tree motif (Plate 132). The other elongated hexagons enclose quadrupeds with prominent eye features (Plate 133). The frames of the elongated hexagons and the areas between these shapes have geometric motifs. The tapestry section forms the focus of a very fine tabby weave silk of pale yellow colour. The natural silk warp is single in the body of the silk and doubled in the tapestry section. It is z twisted and taken in pairs (sometimes in threes). The strong twist gives a crepe effect and there are 54 warps per cm. The weft of the silk ground is a thin natural silk with strong Z twist. The wefts of the tapestry are untwisted. The design is in blue-grey, dark blue, cherry red, golden yellow, light olive-green, off-white and pale yellow. The wefts of the body of the silk number some 30 per cm., whilst the tapestry section wefts number 60 per cm. The brocading wefts use gilded leather, twisted Z on a yellow silk core, and these number c. 60 per cm. Date and provenance for the silks Where and when were these two distinctive tapestry weave silks woven? The foliate tapestry on red purple ground exhibits several Central Asian design motifs: the two forms of Sassanian ‘palmette’ as well as the ‘axe’ motif.8 The latter is an unusual motif, which perhaps is best known from the Central Asian silks described by Anna Ierusalimskaja, from Moščavaja Balka in the Caucasian burials (Plate 135).9 These silks she dated eighth to ninth century and she called them Sogdian. The peacock eye motifs can be likened to those of the Byzantine Gunther tapestry of the eleventh century,

See note 5 above for the ‘axe’ motif. Consult, Ierusalimskaja, Die Gräber, cat. 86 on 267–268; cat. nos. 88–89 on 268–269; cat. nos. 90–92 on 269; cat. no. 97 on 270–272, cat. nos. 99–100 on 271–272; cat. nos. 101 to 124 inclusive, on 272–277. 8 9

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but these are used in the Islamic as well as the Byzantine Mediterranean.10 The curled foliate motif spandrel design, is more distinctly an Islamic feature. It is this type of foliate motif ornament that is found in Iran before the ninth century, and in Iraq in the ninth century. Also, it occurs in Fatimid Egypt in the tenth to eleventh centuries.11 Thus, the tapestry uses an amalgamation of design elements ranging in date between the sixth to seventh (Sassanian period) and the tenth to eleventh centuries. The appearance of the axe motif in particular, in conjunction with the other elements, suggests a Central Asian milieu. No directly parallel silk tapestry exists, as far as I am aware. The recent Abegg Foundation exhibition of Central Asian silk tapestries, I was unable to attend, but further investigation of that material will be undertaken.12 Anna Ierusalimskaja published an impressive tapestry with bird design from Hassaut, which she suggested might be Central Asian (Plate 136).13 Ackermann, in her articles for the Survey of Persian textiles, lamented the lack of surviving tapestry weave textiles of the region.14 The Croatian silk tapestry, therefore, may fill an important gap in our knowledge of Central Asian silk tapestry production, from around the tenth to eleventh centuries. Further discussion on the provenance of this tapestry will occur below. The second tapestry with its lavish use of gold both for the ground and for the pattern areas of the tapestry, would point to a non-trade textile. The piece would seem most closely to tie in with Fatimid Tiraz production of For the Gunther tapestry and for further literature references see, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 11, M90, plates 52B, 53A and101–103, with notes 1, 2, and 5 on page 102. For peacock silks see note 4 above. 11 For Fatimid examples see, Arts of Islam catalogue, no. 275 on 221, Fatimid bowl; no. 276 on 222, Fatimid bowl where the motif appears as decoration on a dress worn by a seated female. For a Persian example see, 7000 Jahre Kunst in Iran, cat. no. 395, silver ewer. Also see, Arts of Islam, cat. no. 333 on 240, Persian glazed bowl, on which the motif appears as part of a running scroll arrangement around the vessel; cat. no. 349, on 245, Persian lustre bowl, which has only a single motif outlined by the circular lip of the bowl. 12 Caution has to be exercised with finds that have no fully documented archaeological contexts, and/or site reports. Forged Persian textiles have been exposed not only at the Abegg, but also in other major museum collections. See, C. M. Kessler, ‘Gefalschte persische Textilien im Stile des 10. –12. Jahrhunderts’, in: Otavsky and Muhammad ‘Abbas Muhammad Salim, Mittelalterliche Textilien. Abegg Stiftung, Riggisberg 1995, 251–270. 13 A. Ierusalimskaja, B. Borkopp, Von China nach Byzanz. München 1996 exhibition catalogue, cat. no. 71, 62–63, with colour plate. 14 The textiles are included within, A Survey of Persian Art (P. Ackermann ed.). London/New York, 1938. 10

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the eleventh to twelfth centuries. Muhammad ‘Abbas Muhammad Salim, in an article on Fatimid Tiraz of the Abegg Stiftung, suggested convincingly, that four phases of stylistic development can be discerned on surviving Fatimid Tiraz pieces between 969 and 1171.15 The first phase from 969–1021, under Caliphs al-Mu’izz, Al-‘Aziz and al-Hakim, used a tabby tapestry with Calligraphic bands.16 Phase two from 1021–1094, under the caliph al-Zahir and his son Caliph al-Mustansir (1021–1094), saw the introduction of decorative design bands, which came to equal the Calligraphic bands in prominence.17 The third phase of Fatimid tapestry Tiraz, from 1094-1130 under Caliph al-Musta ‘li and al-Amir, witnessed the demise of the Calligraphic stripes, and the Calligraphy became nothing more than complimentary to the decorative ornament bands.18 Phase four overlapped somewhat with phase three, from 1100–1171 under the Caliphs al-Hafiz, al-Fa ‘iz and al-‘Adid. In this period the whole of the textiles came to be covered with decorative bands, and the Calligraphy serves no separate decorative role.19 Under the Ayyubid and the Mamluk rulers from 1171–1517, Tiraz of the type described succumbs completely to new stylistic influences that introduce the covering of the textiles with flat decorative motifs gleaned from a number of different sources; Mongol, Kurdish-based Ayyubid and Turk routed Mamluk.20 Following this stylistic analysis, the animal and bird tapestry from Split, would seem most comfortably to fit in with the third to fourth periods of Fatimid Tiraz production, that is between 1094 and 1171. The Split tapestry compares for example, in its use of gold for both ground and pattern areas, with Abegg Stiftung inventory number 494, woven in Egypt under the Vizier Abu-l-Farag (1058–1060) active under Caliph al-Mustansir Refer to Muhammad ‘Abbas Muhammad Salim, ‘The inscriptions on Islamic Fabrics in the Abegg Foundation’, in: Islamische Textilkunst des Mittelalters: Aktuelle Probleme. Riggisberger Berichte 5 (1997) 123–128, and by the same author, ‘Textilien mit gewirktem und gesticktem Dekor aus Ägypten’, in: K. Otavsky, Muhammad ‘Abbas Muhammad Salim, Mittelalterliche Textilien, 21–107. In the latter publication see for example, cat. nos. 7, 9, 12 to 21, 27, 36, 38, 49, 59. These textiles variously date from the first half of the tenth century to the third quarter of the twelfth century and they illustrate the main changes of Fatimid Tiraz production during that period. 16 Muhammad ‘Abbas Muhammad Salim, The inscriptions, 128, 1a–c. 17 Ibid., 128, 2a–c. 18 Ibid., 128, 3. 19 Ibid., 128, 4a–b. 20 Baker, Islamic Textiles, 53–62 and 65–81. 15

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(1035–1094).21 The Abegg piece also indicates how both inscribed and non-inscribed tapestry panels were used in conjunction with one another at that date. The Abegg tapestry bound in tabby and with a linen thread and not a silk thread ground, uses a gold-leaf lammelle, which is wound Z around a white z twisted silk core. The Abegg bands of tapestry in height measure only 1.5 cm and 5 cm respectively. The Split tapestry band by way of contrast, in height measures 13.5 cm. Both the use of an all-silk ground textile as opposed to a linen, and the use of a much taller band of tapestry on the Split textile, are significant for the dating of the piece. The use of all silk clothing for men in Egypt in the pre-Mamluk period appears to have been forbidden under religious regulations.22 Prophet Muhammad forbade such clothing. However, Woven or embroidered silk bands of modest width, were permissible. Such silk bands intitially used by the Fatimids, were around 3 cm. high, but in the late Fatimid period such bands might measure 10 or more cm. in height. The placement of whole series of these wider and narrower silk bands, upon Tiraz textiles, was usual by the late Fatimid period, before the fall of the Fatimids in 1171. This can be seen, for example, on Abegg Stiftung Tiraz inv. Number 747 already mentioned as a phase four Fatimid textile.23 The use of silk for men was tolerated more under the shi-ite Fatimids of the late phase than under their strict Hadith obedient contemporaries. This fact, alongside the fact that the Split tapestry band in height measures 13.5 cm., points towards a later rather than an earlier date for the piece. If correctly identified as a Fatimid Tiraz, the Split tapestry would seem best to fit in with a late eleventh to a twelfth century dating. The fineness of the ground silk, might suggest that the Split tapestry was used for a turban, rather than for a garment. A miniature in the Maqamar al-Hariri of 1237, thought to be from Iraq, indicates the use of gold bands on both turbans and garments, and descriptions of the dress of Caliphs refers to such bands on their costumes in both contexts.24 21 Otavsky and Muhammad ‘Abbas Muhammad Salim, Mittelalterliche Textilien, cat. no. 27, 64–65. 22 Quran, sura 76 v.21, quoted by Baker, Islamic Textiles 16. Silk was not for use in this life; it was only to be worn by angels in Paradise. 23 Otavsky and Muhammad ‘Abba Muhammad Salim, Mittelalterliche Textilien, cat. no. 59, 98–99. 24 On the form of and the use of the turban, see M. M. Ahsan, Social Life under the Abbasids. London 1979, 30–31.

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No study so far, has analysed the relationship between gold tapestry production of Fatimid Egypt, and that of contemporary Spain and Sicily.25 In addition, Syrian and Mesopotamian gold tapestry textiles have not been clearly identified and systematically published.26 It is not possible to distinguish between the different workshops involved, simply on grounds of the gold threads used it appears. For instance, leather and gold leaf, as well as gold membrane seem to have been use both in Fatimid Egypt and in Spain, and leather occurs too in Sicilian production. Finer methods of scientific analysis of the primary materials and of the composition of the gold itself, might yield valuable new clues for distinguishing between centres of production. Thus far, it is more the design elements, than the technical factors, which have been used by authors. At this point, my preliminary investigations suggest that the foliate tapestry comes from a Central Asian centre and that stylistically it might be dated tenth to eleventh century. The animal and bird tapestry I would suggest is a late Fatimid piece of the eleventh to twelfth century. How did the two tapestries reach Split? Political as well as economic considerations must be borne in mind in any discussion about how these two tapestries might have reached Split. Neither of the two tapestries, gives the impression of being a typical trade piece. This is true particularly in relation to other textiles from the reliquary, which are far more representative of some of the kinds of silks that might have reached the Adriatic ports as the result of links with the Arab traders. Arab traders were documented in ports such as Dubrovnik, in the medi-

25 For silk and gold tapestry, as well as brocaded silks of Spain see, F. L. May, Silk Textiles of Spain. New York 1957, 6–7, 14, 23, 64–75, 158, 2333. For Sicily see, R. Grönwoldt, ‘Kaisergewänder und Paramente’, in: Die Zeit der Stauffer, Stuttgart 1977, volume 1, 607–611, plates on 612–613, cat. no. 781 on 622–623, plate 572; cat. no. 782 on 623–624, plates 573 and 574; cat. no. 783 on 624, plate 575; cat. no. 784 on 625, plate 577. There are also gold brocade silks and gold tablet woven bands, cf. cat. no. 786 on 626, plate 579 and cat. no. 788 on 626–627, plate 583. 26 A preliminary list of Syrian and Mesopotamian brocaded silks too, would prove useful. In general few Syrian silks have been fully recognised and analysed. Only a handful of Syrian silks so far have been identified for example, within the stored Victoria and Albert Museum, London collections.

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aeval period.27 Indeed, Jewish as well as Arab traders later active in this region, may have carried many types of Islamic textiles to the Adriatic ports.28 Dubrovnik had established trade routes, which linked the Adriatic not only to Egypt, but also to Syria and Palestine, and to the Central Asian regions. On a political front, there were strong links with Byzantium right up to 1170, and here it is interesting to note, that both Abbasid and later, Fatimid rulers of Egypt were in close diplomatic contact with Byzantium.29 Indeed the exchange of precious silk and gold textiles between the Caliphs and the Byzantine rulers is documented,30 right from the ninth up to the eleventh centuries.31 The Byzantines went as far as to produce silk turbans for the Fatimid court.32 Might it then be possible that the Fatimid tapestry reached Split at second hand, as a gift from the Byzantine court, rather than as a direct gift from the Fatimids, themselves? In the case of the first tapestry with foliate motifs, one might also ask whether this reached Split from Central Asia first hand, or whether it might have been a second hand gift sent from Byzantium. This tapestry is a sturdy silk, which would appear to be a furnishing rather than a dress fabric. In this context it is interesting to note that the Fatimid court obtained curtain furnishings from the Tabaristan region, situated below the south Caspian Sea. Thinking back to the ‘axe’ motif incorporated on the Split foliate tapestry, it might be appropriate here, also to recall that Tabaristan itself, was linked 27 On the economic activities see, B. Krekic, Dubrovnik: a Mediterranean Urban Society, 1300–1600. Aldershot 1997, chapters 1, 11 to 15 inclusive. 28 Ibid., chapter 10 and chapter 13 respectively. 29 See section one, ‘Phases of Byzantine Diplomacy (300–1453)’, papers 2,3, and 4, three individual contributions by E. Chrysos, J. Shepard and N. Oikonomides respectively, in: Byzantine Diplomacy (J. Shepard, S. Franklin ed.). Aldershot 1992, on pages 25–39, 41–71, and 73–88. Also in the same publication see, section 3, ‘Byzantium and Others’, Paper 7, H. Kennedy, ‘Byzantine-Arab diplomacy in the Near east from the Islamic conquests to the mid eleventh century’, on pages 133–143. 30 Refer to M. Canard, Le cérémonial fatimite et le cérémonial byzantin. Byzantion 21/2 (1951) 355–420. 31 See A. Tibi, ‘Byzantine-Fatimid relations in the reign of Al-Mu’izz Li-Din Allah (953–975 A.D.) as reflected in primary Arabic sources’. Graeco-Arabica 4 (1991) 91–107. 32 ‘High turbans embroidered with gold’ were sent in 1046 by Constantine IX Monomachos to the Fatimid Caliph al-Mustansir. See account 82 in: The Book of Treasures and Gifts. Kitab al-Dhakha’ir wa al-Tuhaf (M. Hamidullah ed.). Kuwait 1959. The passage is translated by O. Grabar, ‘Shared culture of objects’, in: Byzantine Court Culture (H. Maguire ed.). Washington 1997, 115–129, see 121.

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to the Caucasian regions, through the existence of a trade route, via the Caspian sea. Conclusion Time does not allow for a full discussion of the links between the Croatian court and its Carolingian and Ottonian counterparts. Clearly, the use of lavish silks to honour the relics of a fourth-century local saint at Split, occurred in conjunction with the use of silks at the Croatian court, and their use also, for splendid vestments for Archbishops of the Cathedral at Split and elsewhere. The silken political, ecclesiastical and economic web, woven with Byzantine and Islamic threads and so clearly documented in existence in western Europe, must now be enlarged to include the Adriatic lands of Central European Croatia. Only time will tell how many more singular silks might emerge from this so-far largely unexplored source.

XV Material Culture and Well-being in Byzantium Aims and Structure of the Conference

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HE International Conference entitled ‘Material Culture and WellBeing in Byzantium’ (Cambridge University, 8–10 September, 2001) explored some key aspects of the relationship between material conditions and states of being in Byzantium between the fourth and the fifteenth centuries. Studies on Material culture so far have concentrated upon the exploration of living conditions, occupations, nutrition, clothing, health and housing in Byzantium. The body/mind debate about physical and spiritual needs and desires, resulting, if accomplished, in well-being, has not previously been aired in the context of material culture. By relating the two branches of thought (material and philosophical), the conference probed the idea that ‘well-being’ was a largely ‘unspoken’ aspect of existence in Byzantium, one that the texts would not necessarily highlight. The five part thematic divisions of the Conference • Living Conditions and Work • Byzantine Medicine • Byzantine Diet • Material Culture and Identity • The Cultural Artefact was intended to broadly cover key areas of debate in material culture studies. The sections incorporated material artefacts, and/or examined processes and

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use bases, whilst also exploring philosophical and theological issues related to ‘well-being’ as the situation demanded. Individual topics within these five themes included: architecture and city planning; home building regulations and issues of neighbourliness; nutrition and diet; issues of supply and rural economy; health, hospitals, surgery, medicine and medical saints; gender; textiles, dress, and identity; ecclesiastical ritual in urban space; ceremonial display, mass spectacle, and the belief in the supernatural; monastic life and dedication; pilgrimage and its impacts abroad, and remnants of the ‘hidden’ cultural, diplomatic and trade exchanges between Byzantium and the West. The conference looked at the relationship of the material and the immaterial within states of being, and to do so it advocated the amalgamation of object/ picture/text based analysis through application of crossdisciplinary approaches. It was clear too, that the skills of different types of researchers were relevant. Some speakers were professional practitioners (doctors, town planners, senior clergy, senior churchmen and brothers of monastic foundations). Other speakers came from the world of the theoretically based academics (including historians, art historians, history of law specialists, archaeologists, philologists and literary scholars). Yet other speakers represented those trained to house and interpret the cultural artefacts of Byzantine civilisation, (Museum Directors and Keepers, Church leaders and the Greek Orthodox monastic community). The conference emphasised that the study of Byzantine material culture depends upon close co-operation between these different elements. A list of Institutions represented at the Conference is given below: • Archbishopric of Sinai • Greek and Russian Orthodox Church, Cambridge • Greek Orthodox Archbishopric of Great Britain • Synod of the Greek Orthodox Church, Athens • Israeli Exploration Society, Jerusalem • Byzantine and Christian Museum, Athens • Museum of London, London • Institute of Balkan Studies, Bulgarian Academy of Arts and Sciences, Sofia • Wellcome Trust Centre for the History of Medicine, University of London, University College, London • Surrey Institute of Art and Design, University College • Universities of: Athens, Birmingham, Cambridge, Cyprus, London,

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Madrid, Moscow, Munich, Naples, Newcastle, Oxford, Patras, Paris, Sussex, Stuttgart, Vienna, Zurich. Methods and approaches were wide-ranging and they reflected the different background occupations of the speakers. The professions (town planning and surgery) demanded a combination of textual and empirical approaches. Those who were practitioners could lend their practical knowledge to the interpretation of the textual evidence. They also made use of pictorial sources and of surviving artefacts to reference historical continuity in processes within their own professions. In a related way, the ‘practising’ theologians, (senior clergy or monks) expressed living Orthodox beliefs in the light of textual evidence, and where appropriate they used pictorial evidence too. The Byzantinists tended to combine textual analysis with visual analysis and to consider the historical context of their source materials. Of those scholars reliant solely upon documentary sources, a number made significant strides. By giving special thought to how ‘well-being’ might have played a part in the creation of those sources, in the context of Byzantine domestic building laws and their impact on neighbourliness, for example, some fascinating details emerged. This kind of much closer and applied reading of textual sources also yielded unexpected new knowledge about attitudes to food and drink and valuable re-assessment of text based production and market analysis techniques. All the speakers, who adopted the medium of textual analysis in the context of material culture studies, appreciated this need for deeper and more broadly contextual interpretation, and there were important new insights into areas not traditionally approached. These areas included questions of perception, aesthetic experience, sensory response, use of language as communication across cultures with problems inherent in translation, and issues of creation of popular vocabularies. Different speakers demonstrated the possible benefits and pitfalls of using pictorial sources. Here it was clear that where an established religious iconography existed, iconological interpretation was possible. However, where secular artefacts were illustrated in miniatures or in paintings there was no way of assessing accuracy, other than through cross-referencing these illustrations with the evidence found on dated and securely documented surviving Byzantine objects. Some of those speakers charged with the archiving and exhibition of Byzantine material culture, indicated the role of typology and the need for

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analysis of materials and techniques. In the context of academic research, which involves the assignment of date and provenance to material objects, as also in the context of conservation within museums, the scientific analysis of the objects of Byzantine material culture plays an important part. Thus, empirical and non-empirical approaches, textual and non-textual analysis are important in material culture studies. Visual analysis and object-based research fall on the empirical side of the divide, whilst textual interpretation remains a valuable non-empirical tool. The Cambridge meeting contributed to the field on the level of trying to understand both physical and symbolic identities of a variety of objects and social structures central to daily life as experienced at different social levels. The chosen themes threw light on the quality of life (element of well-being) that might have been enjoyed at any one social level. Some of the papers also dispelled earlier set ideas about disadvantages suffered by lower social ranks in Byzantium. The conference illustrated that first hand knowledge of geographical terrain, processes of healing, processes of manufacture, systems of city planning, etc. could act as useful tools for assessing the physical reality of Byzantine living. The conference equally showed the importance of the understanding of the symbolic function of elements of material culture, for lending identity to individuals and institutions, meaning to their actions, and value to the contexts and situations in which they found themselves: all key aspects of Byzantine daily existence. Acknowledgements There are numerous institutions and individuals who need to be mentioned in connection with the success of the conference at different levels. I would like to thank Prof. Kislinger from the Vienna “Institut für Byzantinistik und Neogräzistik” for his debates on the organisation of the conference and for suggestions for key speakers, in particular across the sections “Living Conditions and Work” and “Byzantine Diet”. The director of the Byzantine and Christian Museum in Athens, Prof. Konstantios and the keeper of textiles at that Museum, Dr. H. Papastavrou joined us in the presentation of the section devoted to the “Cultural Artefact”. Prof. Hohlweg (University of Munich) organised the section on “Byzantine Medicine” and provided inspiration on the theme of well-being as a physical concept in the context of Byzantine ‘dasein’, itself the theme for a future conference. Many thanks to the following individuals who provided funds:

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Professor Thomas, (Formerly director of the Surrey Institute of Art and Design); Alpha Bank; the Greek Orthodox Archbishop of London; Dr. E. Constantinides (for student bursaries). Directors of those International Universities, Institutes and Museums, who covered some travel expenses of certain speakers, must also be acknowledged here. A debt of gratitude falls also, to the Dean and Chapter of Ely Cathedral, for hosting the conference delegates to a tour of the Cathedral and to participation in the choral celebration of the Founders day memorial service. The opening address was graciously prepared by his reverence Archbishop Damianos. He has done much to communicate across the world, the nature of and the role of the rich Byzantine cultural heritage at Sinai, by exhibition and publication of the monastery’s incomparable treasures. Father Justin kindly read out the paper of Archbishop Damianos as well as his own contribution to the conference. I wish to sincerely thank all the speakers, who so generously gave of their time not only to prepare papers for the conference itself, but also later to further enhance these papers for publication in many ways. A solid and stimulating contribution to Byzantine material culture study has been published here, under the auspices of the Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, to which authority I extend my sincere gratitude. Last but not least, I would like to thank my Ph.D. student M.J. House and her husband for their great assistance in running the slide projection element of the Conference and for their general helpful advice to the speakers on related matters. To the bursars of the two Cambridge Colleges, (Lucy Cavendish and St. Catharine’s) both of whom ensured the domestic comfort of the delegates, I offer my sincere thanks. Anna Muthesius

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Proceedings of the Conference A. Introduction Studies on Material Culture — some general Considerations * Anna Muthesius / Cambridge The question of the definition of the term ‘(Byzantine) Material Culture’ is central to the development of material culture studies in the Byzantine field. Up to the present time, there is no all-round and comprehensive agreement about precisely what this general term covers, or about which research methods might best serve this new discipline. Outside the field of Byzantine studies, there has been earlier extensive discussion about approaches to the ‘everyday or to daily life’ as manifested in studies such as ‘Realienkunde’, or ‘Sachkultur’ and other specialised areas of investigation occupied with object based analysis. This paper presents below, a summary overview of some of the key discussions, for consideration in relation to the development of Byzantine Material Culture studies. What do some earlier discussions point to? In medieval material culture studies most of the discussion has been amongst scholars of western civilisation. The key issue has been to determine what is meant by ‘material culture’ as a generic term across disciplines, and to define ‘daily life’ in regard to the term. A number of centres of study (including Warsaw, Krems, Vienna, Cambridge), have engendered useful debate around major issues important to the development of material culture studies in general. By 1969 the Krems Institut für Mittelalterliche Realienkunde Österreichs, had been founded and Kühnel became its first director. This institute was engaged with folk-narrative research and with object centred

* The author is indebted to E. Kislinger / Vienna for reading her manuscript and for suggestions regarding bibliography and for providing some additional details (up to the Material Culture: key issues chart selection) about the exchange of ideas between institutions in Krems, Vienna and Berlin.

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studies as allied to a variety of disciplines including archaeology, social and economic history and historical anthropology  1. Kühnel, writing in 1976, traced the history of ‘Realienkunde’ in Austria back to the eighteenth century. He outlined the contribution of archaeologists, cultural historians, art historians, philologists and museum directors to the field. 2 He also noted the importance from the nineteenth century onwards, of exhibitions which displayed objects in their spiritual as well as their cultural contexts. Kühnel advocated the writing of inventories of surviving objects and the collation of visual and of written source materials. In the late 1970s Krems scholars joined with scholars from the universities of Munich, Göttingen and Munster amongst other places, to debate and publish papers on the theme of ‘Geschichte der Alltagskultur’. 3 This collection of studies highlighted some important issues around the definitions of ‘Sachkultur’, ‘Volkskunde als Alltagswissenschaft’, and ‘materielle Kultur’. The symposium also indicated the complex interdisciplinary methods that were emerging around this area of study. The different disciplines accorded on the fact that object based, visual and written source evidence analysis were necessary. Wiegelmann pointed out that the parallel study of word and image had been in operation as early as the second half of the nineteenth century. 4 In 1909 the inter-disciplinary periodical for ‘historische Sachforschung’, entitled Wörter und Sachen, already had appeared. Folklore studies influenced narrative, object-based studies, were used to promote a discipline called an, ‘archaeology of the Middle Ages’. Another factor that was to play a part in the material culture discussions involved the French Annales school, whereby the history of civilisations 1 H. Appelt, Mittelalterliche Realienkunde als Forschungsaufgabe, in: Europäische Sachkultur des Mittelalters (Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften. PhilosophischHistorische Klasse, Sitzungsberichte 374 = Veröffentlichungen des Instituts für Mittelalterliche Realienkunde Österreichs 4). Wien 1980, 7–12. On the activities of the institute now see http://www.imareal.oeaw.ac.at. 2 H. Kühnel, Realienkunde des Mittelalters und der frühen Neuzeit. Versuch einer Darstellung. Erfordernis der Gegenwart, in: Festschrift zum 70. Geburtstag von K. Lechner. (= Jahrbuch für Landeskunde von Niederösterreich N.F. XXXVII 1965–1967). Wien 1967, 215–47. 3 Geschichte der Alltagskultur, ed. G.W. Wiegelmann (Beiträge zur Volkskultur in Nordwestdeutschland herausgegeben von der Volkskundlichen Kommission für Westfalen, Landschaftsverband Westfalen–Lippe. Heft 21). Münster 1980. 4 Wiegelmann, Einführung, in: Geschichte der Alltagskultur 11–20.

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was viewed as an exploration of social and economic themes in relation to processes of cultural development. This school was occupied with the problem of how representative were the sources used as evidence. It was not sufficient merely to enquire were there sufficient sources. It was necessary to gain an impression of ‘medieval mentalities’ to avoid misinterpretation of the sources. This ‘new historical’ approach lent itself to inter-disciplinary study of daily life, with recourse also both to related philosophical and sociological discourses. 5 Wiegelmann noted the contributions of social science and of historical anthropology to the early debates on material culture. He further stressed that archival research and a thorough study of inventories would provide rich ground for the assembly of object inventories, and that interdisciplinary exploration of the assembled objects would follow. Jaritz from the Krems Insitute looked at problems surrounding the quality of sources used as evidence in material culture studies. He broached the thorny issue of the interpretation of sources. 6 Written sources presented problems of the use of literary conventions and problems of determination of the relationship between person-/object. With pictorial sources questions of authenticity: that is of ‘reality as against imagined reality’, were highlighted. In object centred analysis, lack of source material occurred and there was an imbalance for instance, in the source availability for analysis of the poorer as against the richer sections of society. Even in the case of objects listed in inventories, there remained the problem of relating the named objects to their everyday uses. It was not easy to determine what was an everyday use, nor to recognise which practices might reflect social norms. Everyday history demanded its own methods of research; it moved beyond the usual histories as related to states of being, and it aimed towards a ‘total’ picture. This demanded a new historical approach, which amalgamated socio-economics, technology, and the history of mentalities. Earlier structural and narrative historical approaches were inadequate to encompass the ‘everyday’, which needed to be seen rather as a ‘representative sample’ history. There would never be sufficient sources to cover all aspects of daily life and it would be important to look out for the ‘unusual’ rather than Cf. La nouvelle histoire, ed. J. Le Goff – R. Chartier – J. Revel. Paris 1978, including amongst others the papers of J. Le Goff, L´histoire nouvelle (210–41) and J.-M. Pesez, L´histoire de la culture materielle (98–130). 6 G. Jaritz, Die spätmittelalterliche Stadt in der Sachkulturforschung. ProblematikMöglichkeiten-Grenzen, in: Geschichte der Alltagskultur (as note 3) 53–68. 5

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for the ‘exceptional and the individual’ within the available evidence. The historian of ‘daily life’ had to seek out ‘types representative of their time’ but usually this was possible only where sources abounded. There was also the problem of establishing what topics were relevant under the heading of ‘daily life’ and here Jaritz suggested: status; occupation; background; education; mentality; age; gender; and religious leanings, as possible examples. The study demanded a consideration of what stood as a social norm and of whether different levels of social reality were possible. For example, how did the individual reality compare to what was considered the norm, and how far did either one or both of these states compare with the perceived reality of the society as a whole? Documented norms were not necessarily realities: both written and visual sources could engage with fiction and with idealisation. Even if fiction and idealisation were evident, it would be possible to seek a method for their analysis, towards the appreciation of social reality. Material culture was clearly a type of history but where did it belong in regard to specific economic or social histories, or in relation to political history, each of which had their own particular emphasis. A fresh approach to the written sources was needed; an approach that took into consideration what was the intention of the writer of the source. It was also necessary to seek out unusual sources such as receipts, ledgers and so on, which might act as a counter-balance to the evidence of the usually cited sources. Writing in 1980, Brockmann explored the relationship between ‘cultural history’, ‘daily life history’ and the ‘history of material culture’. 7 He distinguished between the approaches of the historical anthropologist and the historian of mentalities and he contemplated what contribution the folklorist might make. He also briefly outlined the distinct approaches of the Warsaw School and of the Krems School of material culture studies. 8 He outlined how the Warsaw school initially emphasised production and consumption issues (1950s–1960s), only later exploring material culture as the ‘handmaiden of living’. Essentially this approach looked at problems of the integration of material objects into life patterns, from economic and business points of view. The Krems school from the 1970s, applied research H. Brockmann, ‘Dreimal Kulturgeschichte, Alltagsgeschichte, Geschichte der Materiellen Kultur’. Zeitschrift für historische Forschung 13 (1986) 201–15. 8 Brockmann, Dreimal Kulturgeschichte 202. 7

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approaches from the discipline of Folk narrative studies, and it explored relationships with historical anthropology, history, sociology, art and literary scholarship. The author also noted how Baxandall of the Warburg Institute in London, from the 1970s on, pioneered the amalgamation of historical and of art historical approaches, including a consideration of techniques and technologies, within his own branch of material culture studies. 9 Baxandall explored cultural artefacts in relation to technological processes and social settings, whilst also defining the political boundaries which existed within cultural landscapes. Brockmann concluded that material culture studies of whatever kind belonged to the discipline of ‘History’ and that it was perhaps secondary whether they style themselves as ‘Realienkunde’ or as ‘Kulturgeschichte’. In 1982 an International Round table was held at Krems entitled “Die Erforschung von Alltag und Sachkultur des Mittelalters (Methode-ZielVerwirklichung)”. The proceedings (published in 1984) 10 are very useful for consideration of the relative contributions of a wide variety of disciplines to the field of material culture. Archaeology as well as Social and Economic History 11 were considered to be of central importance. Meyer thought of archaeology as a research method and of ‘Realienkunde’ as an academic discipline, which is an interesting comment upon research of his time. 12 Archaeology needed to set itself the right questions to answer if it was to be of service to material culture studies. Olsen’s paper asked about what terminology the archaeologists should adopt to record finds. 13 Von Brockmann, Dreimal Kulturgeschichte 210–12. M. Baxandall, Painting and experience in fifteenth century Italy. Oxford 1972; Idem, The Limewood sculptors of Renaissance Germany. New Haven 1980. 10 Die Erforschung von Alltag und Sachkultur des Mittelalters. Methode-ZielVerwirklichung. Internationales round-Table Gespräch. Krems an der Donau 20. September 1982. (Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften. Philosophisch-Historische Klasse, Sitzungsberichte 433 = Veröffentlichungen des Instituts für Mittelalterliche Realienkunde Österreichs 6). Wien 1984. 11 W. Rösener, ‘Sozialgeschichte und mittelalterliche Realienkunde’, in: Erforschung von Alltag und Sachkultur 88–98. 12 W. Meyer, ‘Der Beitrag der Archäologie zur mittelalterlichen Realienkunde’, in: Erforschung von Alltag und Sachkultur 53–9. 13 R.A. Olsen, ‘Terminologie und Registrierung mittelalterlicher Sachgüter in Skandinavien’, in: Erforschung von alltag und Sachkultur 68–74. 9

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Stromer emphasised the immense significance of technical recording from the surviving objects themselves. 14 With reference to the French Annalists, Piponnier saw strength in the alliance between archaeology and history in its broadest sense. An alliance between these disciplines and ethnography was also desirable, primarily in the sense in which Levi-Strauss approached the field of ‘understanding mentalities’. 15 Ethnographers were not generally sufficiently engaged with the source evidence housed in museums, she felt. Dirlmeier noted the attempts of scholars to synthesise historical and archaeological approaches. 16 The study of manufacture, products and processes belonged to historical archaeology, as did the areas of nutrition and housing. Specific types of historians might contribute to specialised areas: for instance, economic historians to the question of taxation in relation to urban and rural social structures, or in relation to housing and comfort, weights and measures etc. In the case of metrology the written evidence analysed by the economic historian might be cross-referenced to the archaeological evidence of surviving weights and measures. Dirlmeier considered economic history a sister discipline of material culture studies. Bentzien presented a picture of the relationship between ‘Realienkunde’ and Folklore studies.17 Both were concerned with the relationship between objects and people. However, Folklore studies were primarily concerned with contemporary themes: they did not employ ‘period’ techniques (divisions into early, middle and later phases of historical development) in the way that historians tended to do. Folklore was not firmly categorised into historical periods. Albeit that literary style including rhetorical devices, stylisation, caricature, parody and use of topos, might obscure fact, written sources did yield evidence of social reality. Schüppert 18 considered that written sources

14 W. Von Stromer, ‘Technikgeschichte und Realienkunde des Mittelalters und der frühen Neuzeit’, in: Erforschung von Alltag und Sachkultur 129–39. 15 F. Piponnier, ‘Les sources de l´histoire de la culture materielle à la lumière des recherches récentes’, in: Erforschuing von Alltag und Sachkultur 23–32. 16 U. Dirlmeier, ‘Realienkunde und mittelalterliche Wirtschaftsgeschichte Deutschlands’, in: Erforschung von Alltag und Sachkultur 122–8. 17 U. Bentzien, ‘Volkskundliche Geräteforschung und mittelalterliche Realienkunde’, in: Erforschung von Alltag und Sachkultur 140–6. 18 H. Schüppert, ‘Der Beitrag der Literaturwissenschaft für die mittelalterliche Realienkunde’, in: Erforschung von Alltag und Sachkultur 158–67.

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not only listed objects, and linked objects to owners, but that they also described the functions of the objects, and outlined behaviours used in their presence. Written evidence allows for the association of medieval mentalities to material culture. A variety of historians also raised their voices to indicate the place of legal history and of economic and of social history to the development of material culture studies. 19 The legal historian for example, might look for reflection of sumptuary laws or of building regulations in visual records of dress or of housing, whilst from the 1970s onwards Schwarz and others had looked at the relationship between material goods and life styles. 20 Kubinyi drew attention to the immense field covered by material culture studies. 21 He saw a problem in that scholars exploring the field could not at once be trained as historians, archaeologists, art historians, ethnographers, literary analysts and philologists. The sources belonging to the study of material culture were the sources of many disciplines, each with specialised methods of analysis. Cross-disciplinary Symposia involving close collaboration between individual specialists would be the only answer. He advocated the setting of single themes upon which these different specialists might work in common. Inter-disciplinary study by single scholars was more problematic; these scholars he felt, could function across only a limited number of disciplines. 22 Such methodological discussions centred in the Krems Institute in the course of time set the standard across medieval studies and beyond that also influenced the Byzantine field. In this context it should be noted that after the completition of the monumental work of Ph. Kukules, Byzantinon bios kai politismos (Vie et civilisations byzantines), I–VI. Athen 1948–1955, no other all-encompassing study in Byzantine material culture appeared. 23 For G. Kocher, ‘Rechtsgeschichte und mittelalterliche Realienkunde’, in: Erforschung von Alltag und Sachkultur 99–121. 20 See D.W.H. Schwarz, Sachgüter und Lebensformen. Einführung in die materielle Kulturgeschichte des Mittelalters und der Neuzeit. Berlin 1970. 21 A. Kubinyi, ‘Die Rolle interdisziplinärer Forschung für die mittelalterliche Realienkunde’, in: Erforschung von Alltag und Sachkultur 45–52. 22 Kubinyi, op. cit. 45. 23 For a general publication based on older research concepts see G. Walter, La vie quotidienne à Byzance au siècle des Comnènes (1081–1180). Paris 1966 and by T. Talbot Rice, Everyday Life in Byzantium. London–New York 1967. Kulturhistorische 19

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the first time at the 16. Internationalen Kongreß für Byzantinistik 1981 in Vienna, an independent section „Realienkunde — Materielle Kultur“ (6.1–2.) was included. Most of the papers drew out few questions,25 but a significant main paper by H. Köpstein (Zentralinstitut für Alte Geschichte und Archäologie der Akademie der Wissenschaften der DDR) as well as a notable smaller communication by E. Kislinger (Institut für Byzantinistik der Universität Wien) set out the position of, the future direction of, and the inherent problems involved in this type of study . In 1986, these two Byzantinists followed up their discussions at a day session held between Krems and Vienna, under the organisation of H. Hundsbichler. Köpstein 26 looked at daily life in relation to cultural history and she considered this to be a part of historical studies in general. Object based material remains analysis was emphasised. The object, she argued, went far beyond physical reality; it was a philosophical mirror of intellectual and moral stances. Material Culture included appreciation of mentalities alongside study of the relationship of the Byzantines to their natural environment, and exploration of their social organisation, and occupational settings. Objects were both physical and symbolic aspects of material culture, and they related to people, who existed on both a material and a spiritual level. She envisaged a discipline, which explored both material and spiritual endeavour as part of the creative activity of human beings. This would be a multi-disciplinary field of study, which would engage with history, philosophy, political theory, literary studies, philology, artistic production and aesthetics, and archaeology.

Gesamtdarstellungen von Byzanz berücksichtigten seinen Alltag übersichtsartig in eigenen Kapiteln, see H. Hunger, Reich der Neuen Mitte. Graz–Wien–Köln 1965. 24 For example the main paper of C. Mango, ‘Daily life in Byzantium’. JÖB 31/1 (1981) 337–53, mainly about baths and circus games or the communications of L. Bouras, ‘Byzantine Lighting Devices’. JÖB 32/3 (1982) 479–91, G. Vikan, ‘Security in Byzantium: Keys’. JÖB 32/3 (1982) 503–8 and J.-M. Spieser, ‘Ceramique byzantine de Pergame’. JÖB 32/3 (1982) 561–76. 25 H. Köpstein, ‘Gebrauchsgegenständen des Alltags in archäologischen und literarischen Quellen’. JÖB 31/1 (1981) 355–75; E. Kislinger, ‘Aspekte der realienkundlichen Quellenauswertung’. JÖB 32/3 (1982) 469–78. 26 H. Köpstein, ‘Realienkunde — materielle Kultur — Alltagsleben in Byzanz. Zu Termini und Forschungsgegenstand’. Medium Aevum Quotidianum. Newsletter 9 (1987) 6–25.

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Kislinger in total agreement with this approach, produced a graphic tree-ring model diagram to encompass Kopstein‘s ideas. 27 The innermost circle represented research on the surviving object. The next circular ring set the object into human context (primarily the production, consumption, life support triangle). The outermost circular ring included spiritual aspects in order to encompass the theme of being as tied up in human involvement with material goods. This tree-ring arrangement 28 demands unity not division. Hundsbichler in the same publication, 29 demonstrated the development of the understanding of the word “Realien” across the years at Krems. Originally (with reference to D.H.W. Schwarz) they were likened to “Sachgütern”, which “Encompasses all material objects, across the multitude of human needs and the endeavors of human occupation”. The material components in this way spoke in opposition to spiritual requirements, but through them both, a total-culture‘ was forged. Realienkunde has to be more broadly understood than as merely “the examination of human ways of life, based upon material uses and forms”. 30 Konstitutiv für das (materielle) Living involves repetition, which leads to overall well-being and provides structure. Conventions of communal life such as laws and family living. These are not self sufficient but they are shaped through factors of communication (passing on of knowledge, adoption and imitation, and normalisation). Essentially, both Hundsbichler and Kislinger suggested, that the elements of importance are the object and its qualities in relation to people and their human context. 31 Objects stand at the centre of material culture study, but

E. Kislinger, ‘Notizen zur Realienkunde aus byzantinistischer Sicht’. Medium Aevum Quotidianum, op. cit. 26–33. 28 Developed by H. Hundsbichler, ‘Perspektiven für die Archäologie des Mittelalters im Rahmen einer Alltagsgeschichte des Mittelalters’, in: Methoden und Perspektiven der Archäologie des Mittelalters, published by J. Tauber. Liestal 1991, 85–99, esp. 91–3. Cf. G. Jaritz, Zwischen Augenblick und Ewigkeit. Einführung in die Alltagsgeschichte des Mittelalters. Wien–Köln 1989, 13–26. 29 H. Hundsbichler, ‘Realienkunde zwischen ‘Kulturgeschichte’ und ‘Geschichte des Alltags’. Medium Aevum Quotidianum, op. cit. 34–42. 30 See previously, H. Hundsbichler, ‘Wege zum Alltag des Mittelalters. Arbeitsweise und Forschungsziele des Instituts für mittelalterliche Realienkunde Österreichs’. Medium Aevum Quotidianum. Newsletter 1 (1982) 11–8. 31 Hundsbichler, Perspektiven 87 and 90; Kislinger, Notizen 28–9. 27

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they cannot function alone. The object is at once bound up with individual human inter-action and the need to sustain daily life, and with the creation of a ‘living world’ upon which institutional structures act and within which human ‘mentalities’ are formed. How and why were the objects used, and what were the qualities and values attached to those objects, were important questions to be asked. These were separate questions to those asking about the physical qualities of those objects (form, materials, colours etc.). The object-centred material culture of daily life belongs to the wider ‘Lebenswelt’ and it impacts upon the material and the non-material experiences involved in the business of living. Inter-disciplinary methods should be applied to the analysis of inter-disciplinary source materials, and archaeological records should be revisited for possible re-readings, in Hundsbichler’s view. He also advocated the study of topics such as daily life and its life forms, the material basis of social and economic phenomena, and the significance of daily life for the creation of generic historical phenomena. 32 Hundsbichler recommended for the archaeologist, a firm grounding in historical method, and critical competence in handling sources, materials and research methods in general. He saw the need for creation of typologies and for an analysis of terminology found in written sources as daily life patterns often were communicated in a ‘hidden form’. It was important to recognise the unusual before any grasp of the ‘norm’ could occur. How ‘realistic’ a picture could be painted of daily life depended upon all these factors. The archaeologist and the art historian also needed to co-operate. In addition, it should be recognised that: spectacular finds did little to increase understanding of daily life; some objects would always remain a mystery and that conversely, other objects could be recognised as earlier forms of items still in daily use. The sense of continuity yielded in the latter case, lent a timeless dimension to the study of material culture, he concluded. At the same period of time as these German theories were being developed, 33 amongst British Byzantinists Magdalino was suggesting that there was a ‘literary perception’ of everyday existence in Byzantium. 34 He wrote about Hundsbichler, Perspektiven 91–3. For a recent overview see H.-W. Goetz, Moderne Mediäivistik. Stand und Perspktiven der Mittelalterforschung. Darmstadt 1999, 299–318. 34 P. Magdalino, ‘The Literary Perception of Everyday Life in Byzantium’. BSl 48 (1987) 28–38. 32 33

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Apokaukos, the almost singular observer of and writer on daily life. This individual, Magdalino felt, in an exceptional manner managed to integrate popular and classical literary trends. A study of the work of this writer led Magdalino to propose that it would be useful to categorise Byzantine literary perception according to author and period. In this system it would be possible for example, to class seventh century hagiographers and twelfth century literati as excellent communicators of their own medieval world. Broader trends could also be categorised across periods. For instance, the twelfth century it could be said was characterised by a closer treatment of human nature (physical and psychological). Magdalino suggested that the court entertainments and public celebrations set the tone for the greater communication of human experience, and that this perhaps opened the way for the inclusion of popular language within formal literary output. In the discussions surrounding the study of western and of Byzantine material culture mainly qualitative methods of research were outlined, but it is important also to consider the value of quantitative analysis. In a paper of 1988 Jaritz, for example, illustrated how statistics could provide evidence towards the creation of an ‘over-all picture’ of certain every day situations. He used a structural history approach in combination with qualitative analysis to detect tendencies and patterns of consumption of food during periods of fasting and of non-fasting at Klosterneuburg, based on the evidence from registers of expenses of the monastery. 35 In 1992, a Festschrift for Kühnel was published under the title of ‘Symbols of daily life and daily life as Symbol’ 36 but surprisingly, no further developments of Byzantine material culture theory were published. Quite unrelated to and uninfluenced by the German developments, in 1996, the McDonald Institute for archaeological research at Cambridge University, held a conference entitled, ‘Cognition and Material Culture: the Archaeology of Symbolic Storage’. (Proceedings edited by C. Renfrew, C. Scare. Oxford 1998). The inspiration for the conference came from a publication of 1991 by Merlin Donald, entitled, ‘Origins of the Modern

G. Jaritz, ‘Quantitative Methoden in der Alltagsgeschichte des Mittelalters’, in: ‘Qualitat und Quantitat’. Zur Praxis der Methoden der Historischen Sozialwissenschaft (Studien zur Historischen Sozialwissenschaft 10). Frankfurt – New York 1988, 85–108. 36 ‘Symbole des Alltags. Alltag der Symbole’. Festschrift für Harry Kühnel zum 65. Geburtstag. Graz 1992. 35

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Mind’. The conference was concerned with ‘the archaeology of external symbolic storage: the dialectic between artefact and cognition.’ The aim was to explore what it meant to ‘be human’ as revealed by the records of material culture. The conference emphasised analysis of material objects within pre-literate and non-literate societies and the use of non-literate symbols within literate societies. This moved the emphasis from the more usual concentration upon the uses of writing within literate societies. The symbols explored, (objects of material culture), either were functional in nature, (eg. weights and measures) and allied to the assignment of status (e.g. price, quality), or they were symbolic adjuncts of domestic and nondomestic life. The concept of symbolic storage operated across time and space and it was applicable to historical and to contemporary living. The impact of the symbolically charged object as catalyst for changes in human behaviour was a core theme of the conference. Social context and human communication, and the meaning and value embedded into the object as carrier of information were explored. The relationship between man and object, (more broadly, between humans and material culture), was recognised as reflexive. 37 Symbolic meaning was acknowledged as socially situated, so that the emphasis of necessity fell upon the processes of interaction between humans and objects and upon the changing meanings that might be attached to these artefacts over time. Objects (artefacts) were seen as belonging to different categories of daily life so that their symbolism was ‘stored’ in different ways, some visual, others through ritual enactment. The conference concluded that material culture within social existence presents new cognitive opportunities, and these can affect how humans, (either individually or as a group) think of and represent ‘reality’. 38 Lord Renfrew emphasised the active role of material culture: historically it was pro-active in forming social relations, but at the same time, it was reflective of those social relations and their cognitive categories. 39 Artefacts, linguistic terms and concepts were integrally related. Both artefacts and

Cf. already Hundsbichler, Perspektiven and Jaritz, Augenblick und Ewigkeit (as note 28), both unknown to the Cambridge conference contributors. 38 ‘Reality’ as used here refers collectively to social, institutional, mental and physical reality. 39 C. Renfrew, ‘Mind and matter: Cognitive Archaeology and External Symbolic Storage’, in: Cognition and Material Culture 1–6. 37

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linguistic terms played a part in the creation of ‘institutional reality’, to which humans, alongside their physical reality, were subject. It was suggested that in human evolution cognitive development passed from a linguistic (mythic) culture, through a phase of symbolic storage culture, prior to the rise of theoretic culture, which relied upon systems such as writing. 40 As a sociologist speaking at the Cambridge conference, Halle illustrated how very similar questions regarding the relation between material artefact, symbol and cognition, could be asked in both historical and in modern contexts. 41 He advocated ‘uncovering the symbolism of particular types of artefacts in particular types of social setting’. Halle defined ‘symbolism’ as ‘something which stands for or represents something else’. 42 Thus, a symbol needs to be assigned a meaning. Artefacts as symbols function beyond their physical attributes and both ‘locals’ and ‘non-locals’ attach meanings to them. This allows for different meanings to be attached to the same artefact. 43 At the same conference, Lake considered the relationship between ideas and material objects. 44 Evolutionary biology, anthropology, archaeology and philosophy were the important disciplines for exploring questions about how the content of culture changes and how culturally acquired ideas are transmitted from individual to individual. He was also concerned with the intervention of memory in the process of storage of culturally acquired ideas, and with the possibility of ‘transformation’ through processes of ‘cultural imitation’. 45 The system of symbolic structures inherent in material culture operated on a level more complex than that of simple replication. The stored ideas had to be decoded using a retrieval system. Before meaning could be acquired the stored ideas (symbolic structures) had to generate non-symbolic structures. Speaking in the context of material objects and the role they played in the promotion of cultural change, Lake made three points: objects carry cultural ideas, they stand for coded cultural ideas, they function both to store and to express those ideas. 46 Renfrew, Mind and Matter 3. D. Halle, ‘Material Artefacts, Symbolism, Sociologists and Archaeologists’, in: Cognition and Material Culture 51–60. 42 Halle, Material artefacts 52. 43 Halle, op. cit. 51. 44 M. Lake, ‘Digging for Memes: the role of Material Objects in Cultural Evolution’, in: Cognition and Material Culture 77–88. 45 Lake, Digging for Memes 80–2. 46 Lake, op. cit. 83–5. 40 41

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For replication to occur within this system, both the physical characteristics of the object and the symbolic coding system have to be transmitted across time. Lowe added to the debate in his paper, through the observation that ‘only a concept-user can regard an object as symbolic of another object’. 47 The storage systems under discussion entailed the existence of humans with the capacity for conceptual thought. Human artefacts with either a representative or a symbolic function or with both, involved the use of visual symbolism and external memory, he concluded. Another speaker at the Cambridge conference explored the role of material symbols in the transmission of religious ideas. 48 Mithen suggested that both material symbols and ritual enactment anchored the immaterial (the unworldly) in the mind. The early human mind needed to develop the capacity for cognitive fluidity, so that ideas could be transmitted, which were not reflected in the physical reality of the world. Religious ideas were inherently difficult to comprehend and they were re-enforced through ritual enactment, which also served to prevent dissipation and corruption of the ideas. Visual images too, helped to anchor abstract ideas in the mind. Strathern finally emphasised how far cultural artefacts could at once embody ‘virtues and powers of a particular office’, and in turn, ‘bestow virtue and power on the person of the office holder’. 49 The transformed status of the office holder was then put on display to the world. Thus, it was suggested, that the artefact embodied extra-personal power. These discussions outside the field of Byzantine studies provide interesting food for thought. Widening the horizon — examples of interdisciplinary approaches Byzantine Material Culture is only just beginning to be recognised as a self-standing area of Byzantine studies. Inter-disciplinary material culture studies outside the Byzantine field have long been recognised. For this

47 E. Lowe, ‘Personal experience and belief: the significance of external symbolic storage for the emergence of modern human cognition’, in: Cognition and Material Culture 89–96. 48 S. Mithen, ‘The supernatural beings of Prehistory and the external storage of religious ideas’, in: Cognition and Material Culture 97–106. 49 M. Strathern, ‘Social relations and the idea of externality’, in: Cognition and Material Culture 135–47.

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reason Byzantinists need to refer to the publications across material culture studies outside their own specialisation. There are numerous publications of relevance only a sample of which might be mentioned here. Technology, science, economy and trade are important aspects of material culture and these aspects are covered in various ways by authors such as Langdon (mills); Constable (trade, lodging and travel); Jones (city state and popular power); Kaye (money in relation to scientific thought). 50 These books combine a knowledge of technology with research approaches from political and social science and they use written, visual and material remains evidence. The subject of the city is linked to the themes of public display and spectacle. The city is also viewed in relation to occupational and consumer issues. 51 Gilchrist examines the place of religion within material culture. 52 Binski explores social, cultural and theological issues surrounding the rite of death in the Latin west. 53 All the cited books offer inter-disciplinary avenues into the greater understanding of material culture issues, which are equally applicable to Byzantium and the west. If Byzantine studies are to offer an equally vibrant series of publications on material culture issues, the time has come for a re-evaluation of training of future Byzantinists in this branch of study. A greater degree of interdisciplinary research will be called for and training in technical as well as in written and visual source analysis will be essential. A combination of research approaches primarily drawn from the disciplines of history, art and design history, archaeology and anthropology, religious, philosophical and literary studies, has somehow to be encompassed.

50 J. Langdon, Mills in the Medieval Economy. England 1300–1540. Oxford 2004; O. Constable, Housing the stranger in the Mediterranean world. Cambridge 2003; P. Jones, The Italian City State. Oxford 1997; J. Kayes, Economy and Nature in the fourteenth century. Cambridge 1998. 51 City and Spectacle in Medieval Europe, ed. B. Hanawalt, K. Rayerson. Minneapolis 1994; A. Hunt, Governance of the consuming passions. A history of sumptuary law. Basingstoke 1996; C. M. Woolgar, The Great Household in Late Medieval England. Manchester 1999; C. Dyer, Making a Living in the Middle Ages. Guildford 2002. 52 R. Gilchrist, Gender and Material Culture. The Archaeology of religious women. London and New York 1997. 53 P. Binski, Medieval Death. London 1996.

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Objects (cultural artefacts) — physical and symbolic identity Some scholars see material culture as purely the study of materials, skills and functions; an approach that may be termed ‘material essentialism’. 54 This approach is favoured in a situation where it is necessary first of all to draw together an inventory of the available evidence, whether object based, visual or written. This approach, however, does not concern itself with the relationship of ‘materiality’ to ‘material expression’ an aspect that cannot be ignored by Byzantine scholars. Materiality is central to cultural production but cultural production involves creation of meaning and value, and these cannot be explored through material essentialism’ alone. It is clear that there are different levels at which the field of Byzantine material culture studies will need to operate. Contemporary disciplines including social science, philosophy, psychology, archaeology, ‘Sachkultur’, and anthropology have been involved in an examination of ‘materiality’ not only in a physical capacity but also as it encompasses non-material domains. These disciplines have considered how, in the relationship between object and man, symbolic values become attached to objects. They have suggested that it is the non-material values attached to objects that create meaning and value in daily life, (taken here to mean as it is lived at all social levels). Thus, the object (cultural artefact) can serve to attract ‘cultural capital’, through the application of status functions to itself, which subsequently will enhance the identity of the user. In this system special cultural languages (object-based,/visual and/written) are used to encode information and to store it in the cultural artefact. This stored information (either institutionally or informally generated), is transmitted through communication between people, and a sense of the ‘reality of daily life’ as it is lived in its broadest sense, is built up. This way of understanding the role of objects (cultural artefacts) in relation to the creation of social reality, I would suggest, is relevant to the development of Byzantine material culture studies. It is an approach, which crosses time and space and in hindsight it can be seen to work with Byzantine cultural artefacts such as textiles.

See M. Grünbart, D. Stathakopoulos, ‘Sticks and Stones: Byzantine Material Culture’. BMGS 26 (2002) 298–327, especially the definition on page 299 with footnote 5. 54

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The ‘materiality’ of ‘cultural artefacts’ provides a medium for the expression of political and of socio-economic power, both within and beyond institutions. It also acts as the medium of storage and for the embedding of memory as the basis of discourse and the formation of narratives around the artefact. Whilst the physical side of ‘materiality’ concerns itself with the study of a hierarchy of materials and of uses on a practical level, the symbolic side of the subject looks at the ideology behind the uses of the materials, and with the resultant status implications. The non-material aspect of study looks at the sign language (semiotics) of materials. 55 Here, the physical forms of cultural artefacts may be looked upon as ‘idea types’ with meaning anchored in their ‘materiality’. For the purposes of Byzantine Material Culture, one may discern two fields of related study along these lines: Materials, practice and practical functions. Cultural imagery and language and symbolic functions The artefacts of material culture are viewed as capable of a physical and of a symbolic identity. Further, it is possible, to explore how the physical impinges upon the symbolic identity of objects, and vice-versa, how their symbolic identity impinges upon their materials based identity. The cultural artefact in this system can be read as a monitor of interaction and change and as a mirror of socially relevant topics and of socioeconomic issues. It can also be viewed as a means to explore the formation and the display of identity, the creation of meaning, and the assignment of value in society. This can be expressed in a simplified diagram as shown below. FUNCTIONAL analysis Cultural artefact as practice



SYMBOLIC analysis Cultural artefact as social construct

CULTURAL LANGUAGE AND IMAGERY (object-based, visual and written) PRODUCTION



RECEPTION

CONSUMPTION

MATERIAL CULTURE, MEANING, and VALUE Semiotics was developed as part of contemporary literary theory from where it passed into design theory. It is entailed with communication systems reliant on visual signs. For the many branches of semiotics consult P. Bouissac, Encyclopaedia of Semiotics. Oxford 1998. 55

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The role of object analysis in relation to image and text criticism The earlier discussions touched upon the need to balance material, visual and written evidence within the study of material culture. All three types of systems acted to carry information, from which meaning could be sought. Value was given to meaning, in the contexts of products, and practices and categorisations of people, involved in the creation of that meaning. Material evidence in the tri-partite system outlined above, operates upon a physical and a symbolic level. Materials, processes and practices are important on a physical plane. On a symbolic level, the material object assumes nonphysical characteristics and takes on symbolic meaning created in the light of institutional and informal influences. This process has been termed ‘taking on a status function’. 56 The objects of material culture might be seen as both physical and as symbolic entities. A study of the objects of material culture might be viewed as the analysis of modes of existence of the entities, and an exploration of their role in creation of social reality. The processes of assigning conceptual as well as social status to the objects of material culture, is involved. It is also important in this system of analysis to examine the use of the objects to initiate, to maintain and\or to revive social institutions. The assignment of ‘social function’ to the object might be formal (institutionally driven) or informal (consensus based). A formally assigned status function is allocated meaning using rules to which the object is subject. 57 An informally assigned status function has no written rules, but there may be involved, unwritten rules and here it will be necessary for people to embrace each others intention. These two situations produce two types of reality: institutional reality and informal reality. In order for these ‘realities’ to exist, the object is subject to both social and to psychological conditioning. It is subject to 56 Materialism and the Mind Body Problem, ed. D. M. Rosenthal. Indianapolis 2000, looks at philosophical aspects of materialism. The book, John Searle’s ideas about social reality. Extensions, criticisms and reconstructions, ed. D. Koepsell, L. S. Moss. Oxford 2003, examines the work of Searle. He is concerned with the social framework underpinning the development of material culture in society and with the analysis of ‘status function’, ‘collective intentionality’ and ‘institutional and informal reality’. 57 For example, see B. Smith, J. Searle, The Construction of Social Reality. An exchange, in: John Searle’s ideas about social reality 258–309.

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mentalities grouped around the physical evidence of the object and to the evidence based on mental processes (consciousness, perception, intention, and communication). This allows for transmission, understanding and acceptance of the information, which the object stores, to take place. Throughout these processes, the object is subject to the power structures and to the circumstances of its existence and operation, as its role both as material and social entity demands. 58 These ideas based on a reading of artefacts in their social context, can be expressed as a diagram as below. MATERIAL ENTITY





SOCIAL ENTITY

OBJECT Social and psychological conditioning OCCURENT









AVAILABLE

MENTAL STATES MATERIAL





and

MENTAL PROCESSES

BEHAVIOUR PHYSICAL STRUCTURE

STATUS FUNCTION

Diagram to show objects of material culture in social context (Power structures, circumstances of existence and operation)

These ideas are explored as follows: D. Fitzpatrick, ‘Searle and collective intentionality’, R. Tuomela, ‘Collective acceptance, social institutions and social reality’, F. A. Hindriks, ‘The new role of the constitutive rule’, L. A. Zaibert, ‘Collective intentions and collective intentionality’, N. Miscevic, ‘Explaining collective intentionality’, all in: John Searle’s ideas about social reality, see 45–66, 123–65, 185–208, 209–32 and 257–67 respectively for these articles. 58

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The role of object analysis in relation to image and text criticism is crucial. The object analysis allows for the physical circumstances of the object to be fully appreciated. The object in its physical reality might act as a corrective to the visual or the written evidence of the object. Both visual and written evidence is subject to internal conventions of presentation and to idealisation, and to other potential pitfalls of qualitative analysis. Balanced research on Byzantine material culture involves first-hand recourse to surviving objects combined with the evidence of the visual and the written evidence external to the material remains. The impact of museums: storage; conservation; display; exhibition, and interpretation issues The value of archaeological excavations is undoubted, but finances for full excavation of all possible sites of Byzantine material culture, will never become a reality. It is necessary, therefore, to explore museum collections and to carefully note major exhibitions, which bring together objects from many different locations. The era of grand Byzantine exhibitions has dawned. Large exhibitions of the Metropolitan Museum, New York, have brought together vast numbers of Byzantine works of art. 59 Also, in Munich within a few years two Byzantine exhibitions took place. 60 The Greek ‘Daily Life in Byzantium’ exhibition of 2001–2002, also presented daily life objects. 61 Only scarcely, however, does an exhibition deal with both the physical and the symbolic identity of objects. In 2003, an exhibition of ceramics was held at the Byzantine Museum, Athens. This presented a chronology of

The Glory of Byzantium. Art and Culture of the Middle Byzantine Era A.D. 843–1261, (ed. H. C. Evans), W. D. Wixom. Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, 11 March – 6 July 1997. New York 1997; Byzantium. Faith and Power (1261–1557), ed. M. C. Evans. Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 23 March – 4 July 2004. New York 2004. 60 Rom und Byzanz. Archäologische Kostbarkeiten aus Bayern, ed. L. Wamser – G. Zahlhaas. München 1998 and Die Welt von Byzanz — Europas östliches Erbe, ed. L. Wamser. München 2004 (both including liturgical artefacts pilgrim’s tokens, ceramics, bread stamps, weights, jewellery, belt buckles). 61 Byzantine Hours. Works and Days in Byzantium. Daily Life in Byzantium, (ed. D. Papanikola-Bakirtzi). Thessaloniki, October 2001–January 2002. Thessaloniki 2002. 59

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techniques and of processes as linked to a study of social criteria, including changes in dietary habits and life-style. 62 The exhibition catalogues are expensive to produce and they provide a perfect opportunity for the transmission of information important to material culture studies. It is to be hoped that these catalogues in future will contain more data on materials, processes, uses, symbolic content and social impact, so that the role of the objects in creation of social realities, might be better appreciated. Cross-referencing in an inter-disciplinary manner between the contributors to the different sections of such catalogues, would also prove useful. The individual contributors to the catalogues, who have not been trained in the physical analysis and recording of artefacts of material culture, might usefully team up with conservation and other specialists, to bring the required information to publication. Increasingly, it will also be necessary to train future generations of Byzantine scholars in archaeological and in museum based object and technique analysis, if material culture studies are to progress. A systematic bibliography within the Byzantine cultural material field is required. Categories of bibliographical references in the Byzantinische Zeitschrift over the last fifty years have changed and developed and the size of the bibliographical sections has vastly increased. However, there are the same entries under different headings and new headings such as ‘material culture’ in reality represent many separated headings as they occurred earlier. To search these valuable bibliographies is an immensely difficult and time-consuming task. 63 The range of literature published across disciplines on aspects of Byzantine material culture is enormous. This point can be appreciated by 62 Byzantine Glazed Ceramics. The Art of Sgraffito, (ed. D. Papanikola-Bakirtzi). Byzantine and Early Christian Museum Athens, July–August 1999. Athens 1999. Compare the archaeological publication, J. Vroom, After Antiquity. Ceramics and society in the Aegean from the seventh to the twentieth century. A case study from Boeotia, Central Greece (Archaeological Studies 10). Leiden 2003. 63 The Byzantinische Zeitschrift bibliographies offer an astounding range of titles, but these are difficult to scan in a time efficient manner in their printed form. A re-ordered electronic version of these bibliographies would provide a most useful tool for research. In 2004 Michael Grünbart / Vienna started an online bibliography on this subject, which will be accessible at www.univie.ac.at/MatCult.htm. This ‘Bibliography on Byzantine Material Culture and Daily Life’ comprises publications concerning various aspects of ‘Alltagsleben’ covering the period from about 300 until 1500. Each entry includes a classification and a short description of the contents.

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considering the bibliographical range of the Byzantine daily life exhibition, mentioned above. 64 The cited bibliography is taken mainly from exhibition catalogues, archaeological excavation reports, social and economic history monographs, congress proceedings, and specialised periodical publications. The disciplines encompassed within the bibliography include: history in its broadest sense (materials and technology based, economic, social, political, legal, ecclesiastical, architectural and military); art history; archaeology; museum studies; numismatics; theology; literary studies and philology. Close co-operation between academic and museum sectors involved in the study of and in the conservation and the presentation of Byzantine material culture will be necessary. The stages of preparation towards a comprehensive material culture method of analysis The discussion so far suggests that ‘Byzantine material culture’ as a discipline demands the application of a well worked out inter-disciplinary method. In essence, this method embraces both physical and non-physical domains of research. To reveal the physical identity of the objects of material culture, materials and processes based object analysis is required. In the symbolic identity domain, a complex level of inter-disciplinary academic theoretical research is called for. This paper has presented a brief impression of key material culture themes, which have earlier attracted the attention of scholars from a wide body of disciplines. How far all these disciplines might be regarded in their broadest sense as part of historical studies, is open to debate. The discussion certainly has highlighted the need for the integration of material essentialism with theoretical analysis. The question is, how and where should this training be provided? The study of physical characteristics of objects has been usual in archaeology and in museum studies, but techniques and processes outside painting, (for example, in textile production) have not formed part of academic art historical or historical training of the past. Increasingly archaeology has involved itself with approaches from other disciplines. For the purposes of Byzantine material culture studies, an amalgamation of approaches as outlined above, would prove useful. This 64

See note 61 above.

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would demand fresh methods of training for Byzantine scholars, and for integration of research method training across disciplines. Already visual and written evidence has played an important part in Byzantine studies, but so far few Byzantine scholars have been trained in materials, techniques and technologies analysis. This area of study needs to be encompassed so that analysis from objects of material culture can be integrated into the system. The scholar of Byzantine material culture needs to be competent in the handling of material remains, visual and written source evidence and to be familiar with approaches across a wide range of disciplines. The training in object analysis is distinct from that of training in visual or in written source evidence. i. Materials based object analysis Handling of objects has become more rare today for students, than it was in the past, (with the advent of greater numbers of students, with stricter conservation regulations in operation and with availability of facsimiles and simulation technology packages). Some museums have bridged the gap by having small groups of students of material culture observe the analysis of objects by specialist teachers. 65 This training is essential for those students who later wish to make first hand analysis of unpublished objects part of doctoral research. First hand access to and handling of the objects of material culture, either through museum sessions or as part of archaeological fieldwork is essential in the training of Byzantine material culture specialists. Special archive and catalogue record techniques must be taught to the students, to store relevant data in a standard format. 66 The detail of record making of physical characteristics of the objects of material culture is not yet standard across different areas of study. Some fields, such as pigment analysis, although sophisticated, suffer from an absence of sufficient samples 65 Amongst the centres in London where student seminars are held in museums, are: the British Museum, the Museum of London, The Victoria and Albert Museum and the Museum of Mankind. Special facilities also exist to accommodate student visits to exhibitions. 66 E.g. the Centre International d’Étude des Textiles Anciens Vocabularies of Technical terms, published by the Museum of Historic Textiles, Lyons from 1964 onwards, are used by more than five hundred keepers of textiles in museums across the world. Communication of technical information across different languages is possible using these vocabularies.

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offered for analysis. The impact of selective analysis should be borne in mind. The empirical analysis should provide the basis for understanding of literary terms as they reflect for example, textile technique, fabric tailoring, and dye technology. The technical languages reflected in written sources cannot be analysed as part of literary culture, and the methods of written source based scholars are insufficient and inappropriate for analysis of these physical languages of Byzantine material culture. First hand analysis of material remains is essential as is the application of scientific methods of analysis to these remains. Manufacture of objects of material culture depended upon many factors: raw materials; established processes and skilled labour; financial backing, and a viable marketing and distribution network. The exact composition of materials yields valuable information about date, provenance, workshop practices etc. An analysis of techniques and of processes involved in making objects of material culture can reveal much. This includes information about the degree of skill required, the costs of production, and the capital outlay entailed. 67 Single literary references to a certain type of item of material culture, can neither count as evidence that manufacture of that item was local, nor that it was widespread or usual. Analysis of the material remains of the same item in its archaeological or museum context can yield far more information. Written records cannot take precedence over the evidence of the material remains and broad conclusions from written sources without reference to the evidence of surviving materials, should no longer be made. 68

An understanding of weaving and dyeing processes and of loom technology is essential in the study of Byzantine silks as material culture. The work of conservators is also relevant. See A. Timar-Balazsy, D. Eastop, Chemical principles of Textile Conservation. Oxford 1998. This provides a detailed discussion of precise techniques used in conservation, which reflect upon workshop practices. 68 Only technically trained specialists able to refer to the material remains as well as to the written evidence, are equipped to assign provenance to textiles. For the correct approach see for example, D. King, ‘Silk weaves of Lucca in 1376’, in: Collected Textile Studies of Donald King , ed. A. Muthesius, M. King. London 2004, 93–110. Economic historians working only with scant documentary evidence, for example with the term damask, and suggesting that all damask comes from Damascus, are ill advised. For the technical correction of such generalised approaches, for instance see M. Sonday, ‘Damask: Definition and Technique’. Riggisberger Berichte 7 (1999) 113–30. 67

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ii. Integration of technical with other academic methods of analysis First hand experience of techniques, technologies and processes of making, together with scientific analysis of materials (eg. metals, dyes, pigments, fibres, glazes, ceramic and stone types etc.) provides a sound basis for the further analysis of objects of material culture, through theoretical research. The types of inter-disciplinary theoretical research approaches that are relevant, have been briefly discussed above. Further interesting avenues of research are also possible, with reference to contemporary design theory, material culture studies. 69 The Journal of Design History special issue 17 (Nr. 3 / 2004) entitled, ‘Dangerous Liaisons: relationships between design, craft and art’, places emphasis on the study of ‘materiality’ within contemporary society. The issue is concerned with the role of the object in structuring social experience. The approaches are close to those of the McDonald Institute of archaeology and there are areas that have formed part of the earlier theoretical discussions as outlined above. The design theorists, archaeologists, social scientists, anthropologists and medieval material culture specialists, are all concerned with the cultural language and the imagery surrounding objects, and with the material, functional and emotional responses evoked by objects within the context of human existence. The contemporary design theorist separates the object itself, from the discourse on the elements, which impinge on the creation of the object, and this is parallel to the medieval material culture approach described above. Both historical and contemporary material culture studies also ask, ‘How far is the object conceived, made and used within the boundaries of consistent rules and principles?’ In historical as well as recent times, there can be little doubt that institutional forces have played a part in shaping objects of material culture. It could be argued that criticism and discourse

There is a sense of timelessness in the study of material culture, where the same issues occur across time and space. The approaches of folklore narrative research thus may remain useful for those engaged in historical material culture studies. A first approach in the field of Byzantine studies offers P. Schreiner, ‘Stadt und Gesetz — Dorf und Brauch. Versuch einer historischen Volkskunde von Byzanz: Methoden, Quellen, Gegenstände, Beispiele’ (Nachrichten Akad. Wiss. zu Göttingen, philolog.-hist. Kl. 9 / 2001). Göttingen 2001. 69

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today is broader, more accessible through the actions of the modern media, and more influential in shaping and forming objects of material culture. The force of popular feeling in medieval times, was most certainly felt; not least through public demonstration such as riots. It was felt also through the powers invested in bodies such as the trade guilds. These ‘informal institutions’ could also have played a part in shaping material culture. 70 Elements such as repetition of design as bound to the familiar and the acceptable, which historically might be termed ‘tradition’ and today ‘nostalgia’ provide a sense of continuity across material culture mentalities. Across human existence, it could be stressed, that repetition as an appeal to memory, provokes emotional response, a sense of stability and a feeling of well-being. Parallels between historical and contemporary material culture studies might be listed under a series of initial points: • The objects of material culture are at once both practical and symbolic agents. • Under practical belong questions of physical ‘materiality’; materials, processes, practices and practical uses. Under symbolic is understood the object as assigned a category in the light of institutional discourse. • Objects of material culture have a symbolic identity. This relies upon the status value they have been assigned through institutional or informal discourse (i.e. through application of rules and regulations or by way of informal consensus amongst people). • To take on the role of symbol as against a purely physical entity, the symbolic information has first to be stored in the object and then it has to be communicated. This involves the operation of a cultural language (written or visual) through use of which the symbolic information can be retrieved.

70 On the social, economic and political power of the Byzantine trade guilds, for example, see S. Vryonis, ‘Byzantine ΔΗΜΟΚΡΑΤΙΑ and the Guilds in the eleventh century’. DOP 17 (1961) 289–314 (Reprint in Idem, Byzantium: its internal history and relations with the Muslim World. London 1971, III); P. Schreiner, ‘Die Organisation byzantinischer Kaufleute und Handwerker’, in: Untersuchungen zu Handel und Verkehr der vor- und frühgeschichtlichen Zeit in Mittel- und Nordeuropa, VI: Organisationsformen der Kaufmannsvereinigungen in der Spätantike und im frühen Mitelalter, ed. H. Jankuhn, E. Ebel (Abhandlungen Akad. Wiss. in Göttingen, philolog.-hist. Kl. III 183). Göttingen 1989, 44–61.

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• Repetition of information held in storage, memory and retrieval systems involve other agents, (e.g. the creation of narratives for the transmission of the information). • Repetition involves not only retrieval but also ongoing discourse, whether institutionally or informally driven. • Objects within material culture, serve to provide meaning and value to daily life activities at all levels of society. They engage mentalities and they help to shape social reality. The concept of assigning ‘value’ to daily life covers the operation of ideology, laws, religious beliefs and so on, which provide both legal and spiritual cover. It also refers to the ability of people outside institutional constraint to embrace each other’s intentions, or of groups of people to act under a collective intention. Objects within material culture have a physical and a social existence. They not only provide physical support for human existence, but they also enable meaning and value to be expressed. These meanings and values are expressed over periods of time and they reflect cultural change and cultural inter-action. This system can be illustrated in the form of a simplified diagram as set out below. FUNCTIONAL Materials, practices, processes





SYMBOLIC Mirror of social themes

OBJECT Symbolic storage, memory, retrieval, discourse Cultural language (written or spoken or visual) Material forms, practices and products Identity formation and display Physical comfort Creation of meaning and value Creation of social reality Markers of cultural change and of cultural inter-action

Diagram to demonstrate the role of objects in material culture

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Contemporary theoretical debate in the philosophy of the social sciences has also been occupied with the concept of the dual role of objects in society. Rosenthal in 2000 and Searle in 2003, stressed the importance of objects in relation to mental states. 71 They debated questions about the behaviour related by humans to objects, and the sensory stimulation generated in the presence of objects as manifestations of mental states. They were concerned also, with the imagination and memory invested into physical objects by humans. Searle suggested that objects should be considered under distinct headings in the context of their role as agents of the construction of social reality. His analysis suggested a bi-partite division as follows: Physical Objects as physical entities Objects as functional agents Objects as they operate under cognitive states or acts The circumstance under which these states or acts are able to operate Social Objects in the realm of social acts The effect of ‘collective intentionality’ 72 in respect of social objects as constituted by social act Objects as institutional realities (in the context of the expression of rights, duties and obligations) The relationship of object as social entity to power structures surrounding the object In this analysis a context is required in which the object is assigned a status function, but once this is created, the object can exist in a way that is context free. Tuomela in relation to Searle’s theories, explored the philosophy of social practices and the question of the establishment of social norms in relation to social functions as assigned to objects. 73 He defined a social

71 Consult Rosenthal, Materialism (as note 56) 1–17, especially 15–7, and J. Searle, ‘From speech acts to social reality’, in: John Searle, ed. B. Smith. Cambridge 2003, 000– 000. 72 Tuomela, ‘Collective acceptance’ (as note 58) 123–65. 73 Tuomela, op. cit. 123ff., 137ff.

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norm as that which implied the object should be treated in a certain way. The social norm could be institutionally or non-institutionally led. Where the agreement of people rather than the imposition of written rules and regulations operates, there is a ‘for groupness’, involving joint decision or collective agreement to allow roles, actions and states to exist. The ‘for groupness’ represents intentional, voluntary, common consensus, according to Tuomela. 74 This involves agreement, consensus, acceptance of belief, and some reflection of social expectations. This type of normative practice can be considered a social institution when it becomes ‘we believed’. Objective, collective commitment in the sense Tuomela presented, in public space, can act as a social norm. In the context of medieval material culture studies these ideas provide food for thought. One might argue for example, that in Byzantium silk (precious cloth) was assigned status functions and initially that these were institutionally led and governed by rules and regulations. Silk served initially as an institutional reality. Through ‘collective acceptance’, silk later came to operate outside institutions, as non-institutional reality, 75 and came to have meaning and value outside institutions. One may argue that it moved from ‘institutional reality’ to ‘social norm’, once it came to express ‘power’, status etc.’ as a context free entity. This type of theoretical discourse would further call for exploration of how far ‘collective acceptance’ as against ‘imposed institutional regulation’ might have acted to initiate, to maintain or to revive social norms. This would involve an analysis of the operation of public social space and the workings of the objects of material culture within that space. iii. The stages beyond the recording of objects With the emergence of complex inter-disciplinary research on material culture, there is a growing need for bibliographies to align themselves with theoretical discourse, so that categories of study and their attendant theoretical discourse together might be more easily accessed. Where different disciplines rather than inter-disciplinary research are involved, it would be good to set out bibliographies around common themes across Op. cit. 131, 141–48. As demonstrated in relation to the operation of the private silk guilds across broader markets from the tenth to the eleventh centuries onwards. 74

75

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disciplines. To gather together titles of widely varying approach, theme, and depth of study, is not the most useful way forward. For instance, it would be very useful to have a separate bibliography of material culture in which all the physical characteristics and scientific analysis of surviving materials have appeared. Databases of Byzantine material culture might be usefully organised as records of the physical as well as the symbolic identity of the objects in question. It would be useful to combine the evidence of the material remains, the visual and the written source evidence on a single site. The real difficulties encountered in the recognition of names and terms assigned to items of material culture, might be alleviated by cross-reference between the evidence of the different sources. In particular technique and technology recorded under material remains source evidence might prove useful for introducing the notion of the existence of technical and of brand names in Byzantium. The listing of objects from whatever type of source evidence is only a first stage. It is then necessary to pass from the physical ‘materiality’ to the symbolic identity field. For this purpose the theoretical debate centred on how objects function in society, might prove most helpful. Concepts such as institutional action, collective intention, symbolic storage, memory and retrieval systems and so on, outlined above, provide an angle from which sources might be newly approached. New readings or re-readings of the written evidence in particular, might be made. The closer analysis of visual images in relation to the newly analysed written sources might also follow. Of central concern, however, must be the full understanding of the properties and processes behind the creation of the objects of material culture, themselves, whether newly excavated or freshly discovered in museums, monastic treasuries or private collections. In the course of this paper I have tried to discuss important themes of study. A key-issues chart set out below provides my concluding visual map of the possible future direction of Byzantine Material Culture studies. This visual map sets out to record the main themes for study under three headings: physical; mental; social and institutional. The map sets out the areas for study relevant to the exploration of the relationship of materiality to material expression. The map proposes a route for the analysis of the relationship between object and human as an element of ‘Byzantine being’ as set within specific Byzantine social and institutional parameters.

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The map is to be read both vertically and horizontally. It highlights physical (left vertical column), mental (central vertical column), and social and institutional (right vertical column) themes. These are not mutually exclusive. The physical concerns are centred upon an analysis of material remains, physical properties and the application of technologies in the uses of raw materials. The physical concerns encompass creation of types useful for sustaining life and the human reactions to the practicalities of living. The mental concerns relate directly to issues of the creation of lifestyles, and the evolution of ‘realities’ across different Byzantine social strata. The social and institutional issues relate to the methods used towards the creation of meaning and value. These include issues of identity and social hierarchy, power and communication of intellectual, moral and emotional response. When read horizontally at various levels across all three columns (physical, mental, social and institutional) the map acts to emphasise the relationship between material essentialism and human cognition and response in social and in institutional context. The research approach necessary for exploration of Byzantine Material Culture is inter-disciplinary. Both scientific methods (eg. material science based and technological analysis of physical properties and structures of objects, social, anthropological and psychological science centred analysis) and non-scientific methods (eg. historical, art historical, archaeological, literary, philosophical analysis etc.) are required. Material remains, visual and documentary evidence available within the field of Byzantine Material Culture must be finely balanced before conclusions are reached. It is not sufficient to rely only on literary evidence, as many Byzantine scholars have tended to do in the past. It will also be dangerous for those untrained in one or more methods of analysis to publish results based upon only one type of evidence, without proper recourse to their fellow specialists working with the other types of evidence. This complex research field will demand close co-operation between individual specialists where it is impossible for single scholars to cross all the boundaries involved in their subject. Equally important will be the training of individual scholars as specialists within narrow fields so that they might have time to increasingly work across disciplines based upon a single medium. This has happened in certain branches of Byzantine object studies (eg. textile studies, which in a sense has pioneered the approach of linking material essentialism and material expression studies, and it is increasingly becoming evident in other branches such as, pottery studies, architecture and town planning and so on).

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‘Rethinking materiality: the engagement of mind with the material world’ Since the time of the publication of the Cambridge Conference Proceedings, Material Culture and Cognition, (C. Renfrew, C. Scarre ed.), McDonald Institute monographs, Cambridge 1998, whose themes have been discussed above, a second McDonald Institute, Material Culture conference, has taken place. This was entitled, ‘Rethinking materiality: the engagement of mind with the material world’. The Conference Proceedings were published in the series, McDonald Institute monographs, Exeter, 2004. Before considering the application of Material Culture theory and method in the context of Byzantine Textile and Dress studies, it is useful here briefly to outline the themes of this second conference. The second Cambridge conference was particularly concerned with the communication of ideas, beliefs, and concepts, in concrete form. How was ‘the symbolic rendered concrete?’ Several factors could be distinguished in this process including: i. Existing traditions ii. Human goals iii. Resources iv. Infrastructures v. Organisational capacities The enquiry centred upon the question of the processes underlying development of new concepts, symbols and social institutions, and the issue of the effect of such processes upon socio-political change. Two key strands of theoretical debate were evident: A. Humans shaped by engagement with material objects. The meaning of material things in relation to cultural practices and in context of their setting. B. Ideology and manipulation of symbols as catalyst for socio-political change. Power and authority as developed through control over material and symbolic resources. The theoretical discussions suggested that mind and matter were ‘codependent’: that information and meaning reside in both. An emotional constituent of material culture was recognised: emotional states could be evoked. Material Culture in relation to ‘Human Agency’, seen as a social

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concept, could be viewed as a means to ‘teach figured worlds’. Seen as a historical concept, Material Culture in relation to ‘Human Agency’ could be viewed as having ‘ongoing outcomes’. A distinction was drawn between Social Practice and Social Act. Exchange seen as a Social Practice involved a chain of social relations. Consumption by individuals, seen as a Social Act, on the other hand, entailed an individual relationship to and use of objects, which could serve as a base for individual future action. Moving on from ‘Human Agency’ as ‘Social Act’, there was debate upon how the State might use local knowledge and local symbols as part of strategies of persuasion and for purposes of legitimisation. The discussions suggested that the creative production, use, destruction, and/or discarding of material things, is fundamental to the creation of and the transformation of Social and Cultural Identities, and the structuring of Social Institutions, through time. The long-term dynamics of socio-political change are not simple to unravel. The simplified chart overleaf presents some important areas of discussion. The introduction to the Proceedings of the Conference ‘Rethinking Materiality’ (p. 1–7) emphasised that it was an ‘Analysis of Mind and Ideas’ in relation to ‘Material things and the World’, which was the focus of attention. De Marrais, Gosden and Renfrew, drew attention to the relationship of ‘Social Institution and Cultural Practice’ with reference to De Marrais’s 1996 discussions of the ‘Materialisation of Ideology’, and to Lord Renfrew’s 2001 presentation of ‘Engagement Theory’. These theoretical discussions were concerned with how ideas, beliefs and concepts receive concrete forms, which allow them to be broadly shared. ‘Symbolic Forms and the processes underlying development of New Concepts, Symbols, and Social Institutions’, and further, the ‘Effects of Socio-Political change’, were the two main themes involved. Reference was also made to Rapoport’s 1988 and 1990, ‘concept of the ‘Setting’ theoretical discussions, whereby the ‘Materialisation of Culture’, sees ‘Knowledge, Social Practices and Material Culture articulate to create the structures and dispositions of ‘Habitus’ .’ The various theoretical stances of the contributors to the ‘Rethinking Materiality’ Conference were briefly outlined in the introduction to the Conference Proceedings. Here, only those themes most relevant to the discussion of theory in Byzantine Textile and Dress Studies, will be included. Material Culture as ‘Emotionally Constituted’, was the area examined by Gosden (p. 33–42). Knappett’s contribution, (p. 43–52) was centred upon the idea of ‘Mind and Matter as co-dependent’: he believed that information and meaning reside at once both in the object and in the mind. He explored the relationship between ‘Mind, Cogni-

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HUMAN engagement with the MATERIAL WORLD MATTER Object Mutual co-dependence IMMEDIATE CONTEXT

MIND Human Agency

HISTORICAL SITUATION



Shared understandings Implicit memory Local Tradition

Reality of present experience ‘Habitus’

‘Memories of’. Extended intelligence (knowledge across space and time)

SOCIAL PRACTICES i.Rational thought and emotional response ii.Beliefs iii.Values

SOCIAL ACTION

Institutional agency.

Individual agency, biological/emotional basis.



Social creation of cultural emotions Materialisation/Communication, through Social Institutions and Social Relations networks using symbolic forms

Consumption and personal and communal Identity. Embodied Self and Distributed Personhood. Action as materialisation of concept.

CREATION OF SOCIAL AND CULTURAL IDENTITIES Transformation of SOCIAL REALITY through FUTURE ACTIONS (based on possibilities and constraints).

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tion and Action in the world’. He suggested that, the physical properties of materials as embodied in the mind, foster innovations in material culture, and that they also foster new forms of social and ritual interaction. Arroyo–Karlin (p. 73–84) brought forward the idea that ‘Human Agency’ was both ‘Social’ and ‘Historical’ in character. He considered ‘Materiality’ as the relationship between agents and the material world, with ‘Embodied Dispositions’ as well as ‘Ongoing Outcomes’. Gamble (p. 85–96) with reference to the earlier theoretical debates of Chapman, 2001, looked for ‘Patterns of Human Material Engagement’. He drew distinction between ‘Social Practice’ and ‘Social Act’. He emphasised the chain of social relationships involved in patterns of material engagement, involving ‘Accumulation’ and ‘Enchainment’, ‘Fragmentation’ and ‘Consumption’. The sense of the individual was fragmented in the consumption of material things. Crafted goods acted as a sign of participation in social networks mediated through material means. Within this, built structures, or ‘Space Containers’ might serve as a ‘Stimulus to new forms of Cognitive and Social Activity’. Robb (p. 131–140) looked at the ‘Extended Artefact’. He detected ‘Overlapping Networks of Social Relations’, structured by ‘Genres of Action’. He considered institutions in relation to behaviour, cultural values and materials. He saw both History and ‘Habitus’ as ‘Shapers of Social Action’. ‘Social Worlds’ were created by individual use of material culture production, in order to define possibilities and constraints for future action. Earle (p. 153–166) dealt with the effects of the expanded concept of ‘Personhood and Cultural Identity’ through ‘Material Engagement’. Jones (p. 167–178) considered the ‘Mediation of Relations between two agents through a Material Medium’, whilst Kristiansen (p. 179–196) was occupied with the analysis of Material Symbols, in Context, and through Time. Rowlands (p. 197–204) looked at the relationship of Cosmology, the Supernatural and the Sacred to Physical Objects’ using a blend of ‘Materiality’ and ‘Materialist’ approaches. He favoured re-examination of the question of Power: that is of the relationship between coercive and non-coercive power across time, and in relation to issues of the sacred, and to ‘Materiality’. Clark (p. 205–224) explored ‘Ideas reproduced by things’, to ‘prompt ideas, symbols and meanings not previously instantiated in things’. Material artefacts were considered in relation to theories of ‘Cause and Effect’. Brumfiel (p. 225–238) considered how emotional states were evoked. She considered how ‘Figured Objects’ might evoke and teach ‘Figured Worlds’. She was concerned with the ‘Materialization of Narratives through Objects and Performances’. Kus and Raharijoana

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(p. 239–248) examined the use of ‘Local Knowledge and Local Symbols’ within state strategies involving ‘Persuasion and Legitimisation’. Meskell (p. 249–260) was concerned with objects not just as ‘Contained Essence’, but also as ‘Divine in their own right’. She was engaged with the mutually constitutive relations of objects and subjects in given cultural contexts. Cowgill (p. 273) in the conclusion to the 2004 Conference Proceedings discussed the relationship between, ‘Object, Rational Thought and Emotion’. He stressed that in order to be able to penetrate the ‘Long-Term Dynamics of Socio-Political change’, both, ‘Local Agency and General Processes’, had to be taken into account. This brief resume of some important papers of the Conference reveals the distinctive nature of current debates around Material Culture analysis and its theoretical foundations. For the purposes of the present discussion, it is useful to list a number of recurrent themes as follows: i. PEOPLE and THINGS in social and political context. Creation and transformation of SOCIAL REALITY ii. CULTURE/NATURE — MIND/BODY iii. MIND — BODY — MATTER iv. OBJECTS — BODIES — EMOTIONS v. PERCEPTION — COGNITION — ACTION vi. COGNITION and EMOTION vii. BRAIN — BODY— CULTURE viii. MATERIAL CULTURE and COGNITION ix. MATERIAL CULTURE and the SOCIAL WORLD x. MATERIAL THINGS — SOCIAL PRACTICES — KNOWLEDGE xi. SHARED UNDERSTANDINGS — SYMBOLS — ACTIONS xii. EXTENDED INTELLIGENCE xiii. STRUCTURING of SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS xiv. DYNAMICS of POWER xv. AGENCY and POWER xvi. ACTION and MATERIAL ENGAGEMENT xvii. MATERIALITY — AGENCY — HISTORY xviii. CREATION and TRANSFORMATION of CULTURAL and SOCIAL IDENTITIES xix. MATERIALISATION OF CULTURE xx. CULTURE — POWER — MATERIALITY xxi. CULTURE-TRADITIONS-ACTIVITIES

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Material Culture theory in relation to medieval Christian worship The discussion so far has looked at ‘Material Culture Theory’ in a secular setting. The theory presented in the two Cambridge conferences was referenced to ancient rather than to medieval cultures, although it might be argued, that the theory presented aspects, which could transcend time and place. The theoretical debates in Vienna and elsewhere, as discussed above, did not pay detailed attention to material culture in relation to Christian worship, although the question of belief systems and medieval mentalities naturally did encompass this topic. In any consideration of the use of inter-disciplinary method in Byzantine Textile and Dress studies, it will be of great importance to consider the Christian context in which many of the fabrics were used, and this setting was one of Christian worship. The question that arises is how influential were the precious cloths in the process of formation of Christian Culture? Here the theoretical debates that surround a sociological history of Christian worship are relevant, as are the debates concerning the role of Biblical literature in shaping Christian Culture. It is beyond the scope of the present study to enter into a complete analysis of current debates, but the theoretical stances presented in two books in particular, indicate an important cross-section of theoretical debate to be considered. The first book, M. D. Stringer, A Sociological History of Christian Worship, Cambridge 2005, moves away from textually and theologically based study of Christian Worship, in order to place the theme into its social and cultural context. The second book, F. Young, Biblical Exegesis and the Formation of Christian Culture, Cambridge 1997, seeks a ‘totalising discourse’ behind the identity, morality and meaning afforded by the rise of Christian Culture in the fifth century. The author suggests that analysis of Biblical texts has to be refined and expanded and that ‘literal’, ‘typological’ and ‘allegorical’ categories assigned to Biblical exegesis in the past have to be re-examined. The method of exegesis suggested by Young allowed for earlier secular influences and for questions of context, reference and religious language to be more precisely considered. Both Young and Stringer are concerned with the broadening of earlier methods reliant upon textual analysis under three ‘traditional’ headings, ‘literal’, ‘typological’ and ‘allegorical’.

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A Sociological History of Christian Worship Stringer treats his subject in chronological sequence: 300–600 (Chapter 2, pages 58–88); 600–900 (Chapter 3, pages 89–119), 900–1200 (Chapter 4, pages 120–149), and 1200–1500 (Chapter 5, pages 150–178). The later chapters deal with the periods 1500–1800 and 1800–2000, and for the purposes of the present discussion these are not relevant here. Christian appropriation of ‘public space’ (300–600) Stringer sees the earliest period as the time of Christian appropriation of ‘public space’ and he discussed the role of Christian liturgy, processions, and architecture in relation to development of Christian culture in Jerusalem and Constantinople and Rome. The idea of the ‘Christian city’ and of ‘sacred sites’, shrines, and pilgrimage were established through use of various devices, such as ‘Stational liturgies’ and ‘Processional worship’. Imperial patronage in Constantinople, the Gospel narrative in Jerusalem and the Memorial of the Christian martyrs in Rome inspired the developments described by Stringer. Outside these cities, in distant rural and desert areas there was less central control and diversity of worship arose, under the influence of local social conditions and structures. The Worship of Empires (600–900) Stringer considers that the period 600–900 was dominated by State policy, and that rulers sought to control liturgy for political purposes. He places emphasis on Constantinople and the elaborate Imperial ceremonial developed there. Public worship and expression of ritual in the streets, was moved into the splendid churches of the Capital of the Byzantine Empire, and the Emperor took on an increasingly central role. Commentaries on the liturgy provided opportunity for debate on the Life of Christ, and for discussion of individual piety. The action of the rite and the mystical participation of the individual in the liturgy was the focus of the commentaries. In the Latin west, under Charlemagne a western rite developed, under first Irish and Anglo Saxon, then under Roman influence. Stringer saw the ‘textualisation’ of the liturgy as central to the establishment of hegemonic Christian discourse.

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Cosmological Christianity (900–1200) The third period treated by Stringer, 900–1200 was viewed as the time when Europe enjoyed a predominantly ‘Christian culture’. Within this there were a variety of distinct discourses, but across these different discourses, East and West, sacral space in Christian worship, was seen as the meeting point of heaven and earth, and rendered a reality through the celebration of the liturgy. Christianity for most of Europe and for some places beyond took on the role of providing a ‘cosmology or worldview’ for all sectors of society. Worship acted as cosmological discourse and underpinned the hierarchical structures of society, in which physical practices of individuals were involved. Individual participation, as ‘Habitus’ of social action, was expressed in the way the body was held and used. In the context of private devotion (kissing of icons, lighting of candles, prayers etc.), worship was a primary activity within cosmological Christianity as the dominant discourse, Stringer argues. The demotic discourse of devotion (1200–1500) The period from 1200–1500, Stringer views as the time of the development of lay devotional activity. He sees official and popular religion operating side by side and individuals as participants in both discourses. The relationship of dominant and demotic discourses was discussed. Where dominant liturgical discourse was placed within the context of popular local devotions, the local communities might see local devotion as the dominant discourse. On the other hand, from the point of view of those controlling the wider official and dominant discourse, this popular local devotion would be seen as demotic. Local rites and practices, Stringer suggests served to service local identity and gave rise to deep-rooted local traditions. Certain types of devotional activity linked to shrines, pilgrimages, cults, images and relics, and festivals gave rise to both local and regional identity. The devotional activity was part of the everyday life of communities, and it served to offer protection, healing and stability to the members of the community. Both demotic and official religious discourse affected all levels of society. With the rise of urban communities in the late mediaeval period, popular devotion might be manipulated for political purposes in relation to issues of ‘power’ and ‘identity’. The rise of lay Confraternities in relation to guild activity and the development of ecclesial drama with vernacular cycles based on Bibli-

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cal themes, Stringer suggests served as a type of moral education as well as entertainment for the Christian masses. This development Stringer characterised as ‘an application of power’ in the context of city streets, rather than simply as the ‘imposition of authority’. Demotic and dominant discourse was subsequently jointly expressed in the establishment of great feasts such as the western ‘Corpus Christi’, with public processions in which various hierarchical divisions within society were expressed. Moving towards the time of the Reformation, Stringer suggests that the original pious behaviour and restraint of monastic communities in the west, was carried across first into personal devotion, and then that the process was developed to encompass the entire community, so that spiritual discipline and continuous worship, were regarded as the personal responsibility of each individual: central elements of Christian life as lived on a personal level. Stringer suggests, that these ideas stemmed from the merchant classes, whilst the dominant authority, the Church, was reluctant to allow the workers and the peasants in society the power of personal salvation through such devotion. This set up a power struggle and affected the relationship of dominant to demotic discourse in Western Europe. Stringer does not deal with question of the Greek Orthodox situation at the same period, but clearly the various discourses about East-West Church Union need to be considered against the background of arguments such as Stringer’s. Within his sociological history of worship from 300–1500, Stringer highlights aspects, which clearly overlap with theoretical discussions of material culture in social context in general. Key themes include: CULTURE — RELIGION — INSTITUTIONS — VALUES — PRACTICE CHRISTIAN TEXT as ideas, practice, locality and history CHRISTIAN RITUAL and PUBLIC SPACE CHRISTIAN SPACE and SACRED POWER RITUAL CONTEXT — SPATIAL and TEMPORAL RITES — PILGRIMAGE DIVINE COMMUNICATION and POWER WORSHIP — TRADITION — MATERIAL OBJECTS WORSHIP — DEVOTION — POWER — DISPLAY OFFICIAL LITURGY — POLITICS — AUTHORITY — POWER SYSTEMS OFFICIAL LITURGY — RE-ENACTMENT — MYSTICAL UNION OFFICIALLITURGY —POPULARDEVOTION — CULT — SUPERSTITION

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POPULAR DEVOTION — POWER — IDENTITY EUCHARIST — LITURGY — PRAYER — PRIESTHOOD CHRISTIAN DEBATE — POLITICAL DISCOURSE Biblical Exegesis and the Formation of Christian Culture Frances Young in ‘The question of method’ (chapter 9. pages 186–213) aims to re-examine Patristic method and the analysis of Biblical texts. The author demonstrates that traditional methods of analysis are far too simple. The division of textual analysis into ‘literal’, ‘typological’ or ‘allegorical’ interpretation has to be refined. A more complex sub-division of ‘literal’ and of ‘allegorical’ and ‘typological’ interpretation is suggested. By ‘typological’ interpretation the author means texts that are invested with meaning by correspondence with other texts of a ‘mimetic’ or representational kind. Here it is interesting to present the broad conclusions reached by Young. Literal interpretation of Biblical Text Young (pages 187–189) sees the ‘literal’ interpretation as encompassing the ‘historical’, but also with the under sense of ‘that intended by the Spirit’. The text is analysed under five headings: i. Wording (can be normal, metaphorical or tropological) ii. Individual words iii. Meaning of sentences iv. Overall logic of argument or narrative v. With implied factual reference (carnal, earthly, historical, prophetic).

Allegorical interpretation of biblical Text Young (pages 189–192) explains allegory as ‘one thing in word and another in sense’; a turn or figure of speech. But there is also the question of an interpretation, that involves recognition of a reading that provides for the exist-

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ence of an under sense to the text. This involves the extraction of a meaning that moves beyond the ‘obvious’ reading. Young distinguishes between ‘mimesis’ that happens through genuine likeness or analogy and that which happens through symbol or token, that is something ‘unlike’ that stands for the reality. Young distinguishes eight forms of allegory: i. Rhetorical (figure of speech, ‘on a spectrum with irony and metaphor) ii. Parabolic (type in fables and riddles) iii. Prophetic (hidden as in oracles, dreams, visions, narrative signs) iv. Moral v. Natural or psychological (mythological text read as forces interact ing in the world) vi. Philosophical (transcendent world revealed in material world. Earthly language with heavenly meanings) vii. Theological (revealing of the true meaning of life, the universe and everything) viii. Figural (to provide patterns upon which people could order their lives) Young added the eighth type of allegory after extensive discussion, (chapter 11, pages 248–264) and with reference to the book of A. Cameron, Christianity and the Rhetoric of Empire. The development of Christian Discourse, California 1991. Typology and Biblical Exegesis Young, (pages 192–201), turns to a discussion of types of typology. The author concludes that ‘typology’ may be useful seen as ‘a heuristic term to distinguish interpretative or compositional strategies, which highlight correspondences, not just at the verbal level, but also at the level of mimetic sign’. Young argues that, ’Different types of ‘typology’ function through; ‘mimetic symbols; parallel narratives; corresponding characteristics; exemplary patterns; or ‘inter-textual resonances’. They vary in content between: cosmological; historical; biographical and spatial types, which are set into prophetic, eschatological, liturgical, universal and Christological Christian contexts.

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Young then proposes four broad categories or ‘types’ of Patristic exegesis: i. ii. iii. iv.

Exemplary (biographical-potentially ‘universal’) Prophetic (‘historical’-narrative pre-figuration) Spatial or geographical Recapitulative (cosmological/eschatological).

Young emphasises that these are categories to describe Patristic exegesis, but they do not apply to the New Testament, and that new suggestions are needed about how to describe the actual exegetical practices of the Early Church. The author goes on to discuss ‘ways of reading texts’ and concludes that six main approaches are relevant (paraenetic, oracular, lexical, explanatory, deductive and mimetic), of which the mimetic approach offers four types of readings according to the purpose it serves (vi–ix below): i. Paraenetic reading (plain sense of sentences, moral allegory, bibliographical ‘exemplary types’) ii. Oracular exegesis (according to the letter, rhetorical allegory- figures of speech’ prophetic allegory-oracles, and to historical ‘prophetic’/geographical-spatial/ and also to cosmological/ eschatological-recapitulative types iii. Lexical analysis (according to the letter, plain sense, rhetorical and parabolic allegory) iv. Explanatory comment (narrative logic, factual reference) v. Deductive expansion (according to the letter, plain sense, narrative logic, factual reference, and also according to rhetorical/ parabolic/prophetic/ moral/ natural/philosophical/ theological allegory, and bibliographical exemplary/ prophetic/ spatial and recapitulative types) vi. Mimetic reading for exemplary paraenesis (narrative logic, factual reference, moral allegory, exemplary ‘types’) vii. Mimetic reading to provide ‘prophetic types’ (narrative logic, prophetic allegory, historical prophetic ‘types’) viii. Ikonic Mimetic reading to discover how text mirrors reality (narrative logic, factual reference, exemplary/ prophetic/spatial and recapitulative ‘types’) ix. Mimetic reading for symbolic uncovering of the underlying truth (according to the letter, and with reference to rhetorical/parabolic/

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prophetic/moral/natural/philosophical and theological allegory, and to exemplary/prophetic/spatial and recapitulative ‘types’).

Young (page 213, figure 1) presents a table that shows how these six different types of readings come into play across all the combined fifteen kinds of literal, allegorical and typological categories the author earlier describes. Of all the types of reading deductive expansion stands out as being able in principle to go beyond the text and to cross all fifteen categories of interpretation. Symbolic mimesis is able to do the same except it disregards plain sense of sentences, narrative logic and factual reference. On the other hand, the narrowest interpretation of text is possible through explanatory comment, as this uses only narrative logic and factual reference and it ignores the other thirteen possible categories of interpretation. In this application of method it becomes clear that different readings are possible, according to the breadth or narrowness of approach that ‘the reader’ wishes to adopt. If one imagines that this method of analysis might reflect historical context it could be suggested that different levels of interpretation might have existed simultaneously to suit different types of audience, or to suit different audiences within which individual levels of interpretative ability might have varied significantly. Community Formation and Christian Identity The possibility of construction of a whole lifestyle on the basis of Scripture is another aspect emphasised by Young (page 227). Christian reading of Scripture for homiletic and for liturgical purposes involved mimesis and paraenesis, Young argues that the reading of texts in particular ways allowed a Christian identity to be formed, and that the text in some manner represented in advance the ‘reality to be fulfilled’. Young relates ‘Community Formation’ and ‘Christian Identity’ to the interpretation of Christian texts. Christian literature educated people into Christian Culture (page 243). New Testament use of Scriptures as the ‘Word of God’ indicated a ‘Way of Life’. The New Covenant promised by God through the Prophets came into effect through Christ (page 289). Christians became obliged to look beyond the letter to the moral and spiritual meaning of the Biblical text (page 293). The text was didactic; it ‘pronounced or mirrored ecclesiastical and moral truth’ (page 297). Doctrinal debate argued about the ‘mind’ of Scripture (page 298). Young broadly concludes that: ‘The Bible engaged the

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imagination as an increasingly powerful and suggestive typology developed, especially in poetry and art: for it fostered the creative correlation of narratives. And allegory remained the principal way of probing beneath the wording of Scripture to its theological reference and deeper spiritual sense in the exegetical traditions of both East and West.’ Material Culture in Christian Context Relating the analysis of Young (pages 9–185) to my earlier discussions of key themes in the present paper, it is useful to extract further important relationships that touch upon the subject of Material Culture in Christian Context, including: BIBLICAL EXEGESIS — CHRISTIAN DOCTRINE — CHRISTIAN CULTURE SCRIPTURE — CHRISTIAN LIFESTYLE — CHRISTIAN IDENTITY SCRIPTURE — SYMBOL — SPIRITUAL WORLD — ESCHATOLOGY BIBLICAL TEXT — WORD — INTERPRETATION — MEANING — MORALITY BIBLICAL TEXT — RECEPTION — APPROPRIATION — SENSE — REFERENCE BIBLICAL TEXT — IMAGE — INTERPRETATION (deductive and symbolic) BIBLICAL TEXT — CONTEXT — INTERPRETATIVE GENRE — MEANING LITURGY — LIFESTYLE — ETHICS

The important question to consider is how far this subtle type of reading of text might have applied also to the reading of Christian imagery? Studies in Material Culture: the case of Byzantine silks The purpose of this discussion is to examine the types of theoretical debates on Material Culture, the discourses in the area of the Sociology of Christianity and the Literary, and the Biblical and Theological methods of Scriptural exegesis, examined above, in relation to analysis and interpretation of specific Christian artefacts: in this case Byzantine textiles. The present author has worked at close first hand with Byzantine silks and embroideries, for more than thirty-five years. She has analysed and recorded more than ten thousand Byzantine and related Islamic and Near

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Eastern silks, variously datable between the fourth and the fifteenth centuries, and published extensively to allow public access to material generally hidden and difficult to research first hand. Reference will be made to the author’s key publications: A. B. C. D.

A. Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, Vienna 1997; A. Muthesius, Collected studies in Byzantine and Islamic silk Weaving, London 1995; A. Muthesius, Collected studies in Silk in Byzantium, London 2004; A. Muthesius, Collected studies in Byzantine, Islamic and Near Eastern Silk Weaving, London 2007.

The diagram created by the present author for her ‘Material Culture and Well-Being Conference’, Cambridge University, 2001, (Proceedings forthcoming, Vienna 2007), is reproduced above. This diagram with the title ‘Material Culture: Key Issues’, indicates the areas of ‘materiality’ and of ‘material expression’ of relevance to the establishment of the discipline of Byzantine textile studies. Below it will be useful to summarise how each of the areas contained in the boxes of the diagram operate in relation to Byzantine textile studies. Materiality a. Material remains and technology The first task of the author has been to locate the surviving materials. This has not been an easy task as most textiles were unrecorded, and therefore, not catalogued or published. The results of a decade of searching and of analysis of surviving textiles datable between 400–1200 A.D., were presented in: ‘Byzantine Silk Weaving’. This publication demonstrated the importance of technical analysis for the grouping of the textiles, and for an establishment of a chronology of weaving types. Grouping according to motifs was insufficient as the same motifs might appear over centuries. Dating according to contextual documentary, evidence only, was also insufficient, as older textiles might be used in newer contexts. The silks were valuable and easily portable

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objects, which were used and re-used rather than merely being discarded. The examination of raw materials, yarns, weaves, dyes, loom technology, technical achievement of designs, and of woven inscriptions, and tailoring, all belong to material remains and technology studies of Byzantine textiles. This is the starting point for all Byzantine textile studies. Documentary and contextual evidence then has to be considered in the light of first hand material remains and technology examination of the surviving textiles. The author published in this field, for instance, the following studies in her Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving: i. ii. iii. iv. v.

‘A Practical approach to the History of Byzantine silk Weaving’ (chapter four); ‘From seed to Samite: Aspects of Byzantine Silk Production’ (chap ter 7); ‘Crossing traditional boundaries: Grub to Glamour in Byzantine Silk Weaving’ (chapter 11); ‘The Byzantine silk Industry: Lopez and Beyond’ (chapter 16); ‘Constantinople and its Hinterland: Issues of Raw Silk Supply’ (chapter 17);

Similarly the present author published in her Silk in Byzantium the following: vi. ‘Silk Industry; processes, looms, techniques’ (chapter 3); vii. ‘The Thessaloniki Epitaphios: a technical examination’ (chapter 11). In the present volume Byzantine, Islamic and Near Eastern Silk Weaving, the following papers of the author are relevant: viii. ‘Durham mediaeval silks: problems of research and conservation’ (chapter13); ix. ‘Byzantine Material Culture: theory and Method’ (chapter 15). The author’s work sometimes involved the dating of newly uncovered archaeological textiles. For example, A. Muthesius, ‘The Silk’, in; Excavations in the Medieval Burgh of Perth 1979–1981 (P. Holdsworth ed.), Society of Antiquaries of Scotland Monograph Series Number 5, Aberdeen 1981, 168–171, provided a date and place of weaving for a newly excavated silk with bird motif. Similarly, in Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving, the author’s, ‘The Silk fragment from 5 Coppergate York’ (chapter 19) provided technical detail and dating for a non-patterned, newly excavated piece of

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silk. In this context there were also sewing marks on the fragment and the author reconstructed the piece as a headscarf. Subsequently a series of medieval silk headscarves of similar form were excavated elsewhere and related to this York find. Materiality b. Forms and types representative of their time The chronology of weaving types presented by the author in her ‘Byzantine Silk Weaving’ indicated that there were also distinct forms and types used in conjunction with the weaving types. The small scale animal and foliate motifs of the earlier period (fourth to sixth centuries) gave way to charioteer and hunter themes (eighth to ninth centuries) and then to large scale bird, animal and foliate motifs (tenth to eleventh centuries). The charioteer and hunter themes through technical, stylistic, contextual and documentary evidence could be linked to the two periods of Iconoclasm in Byzantium. The small-scale, earlier motifs were similar to those of mosaics of the same period. The large scale animal, bird and foliate motifs of the later period found parallels on sculpture, mosaics, stucco and carved wood and glass objects across the Byzantine and Islamic Mediterranean. From the point of view of technology and technique, the changes in motifs also reflected the development of looms capable of weaving larger patterns, and the changes in weaving types demonstrated not only the needs for greater technical sophistication to weave the large, asymmetrical motifs but also the need to produce them more cheaply by the eleventh to twelfth centuries. The latter point would indicate a growing demand for the textiles and a wider market outside the elite who could afford exclusive textiles. The motifs thus, not only confirm that forms and types representative of their time existed but they also suggest a growing social need for their availability by a wider section of society. This in turn would suggest that more public and private uses of the textiles were in operation, and this involves the third, fourth, fifth and sixth aspects indicated upon the ‘Material Culture: Key Issues’ diagram shown above.

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Materiality c/d/e/f Material and functional human responses, uses, habitat, living conditions, social context The studies listed above include information about practical uses, human response and social functions, in so much as there are clear indications of how silks were used and the role they played in society. It is interesting to note how documentary references provide information about the institutional response to the production, distribution and use of textiles, both on the ‘materiality’ and the ‘material expression’ side of the ‘Material Culture coin’. From the point of view of the physical processes involved in the production of the raw material, the manufacture and distribution of the silk textiles, the Byzantine state was intimately involved. Through Imperial monopoly and then guild regulation, domestic and foreign trade supervision and taxation, it is clear that the physical processes of production and distribution at home and abroad, were closely supervised by the state, particularly up to the time of the fall of Constantinople to the Latins in 1204 A.D. This state control clearly had both human and social impact. The earlier Imperial guilds protecting the Imperial silk monopoly were under strict state regulation, which impinged on living conditions, status and identity, freedom and human rights. The later non-Imperial guilds were equally regulated, although here the legislation might have been intended to protect members; to ensure fairness in working practices, and to maintain quality of production, as much as to control the industry and to ensure payment of taxes to the state. Whilst the earlier Imperial silk workers enjoyed a certain ‘state controlled prestige’, the later non-Imperial silk guild members, could on occasion build upon their guild membership prestige to achieve entry into the senate. The human response to membership of the non-Imperial guilds, and the wealth afforded to successful members was to seek power and to influence social structures, (see Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving, chapter 16). The discussion so far indicates that the physical or ‘materiality’ aspects have an important part to play in Byzantine textile studies. First hand examination of the surviving material is necessary and it is also imperative that a good working knowledge of sericulture, yarn production, weaving techniques, loom construction and operation, and dye technology is gained, (see

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Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving, chapter 11). The present author made extensive first hand studies of the non-industrialised silk industry throughout India, before attempting an interpretation of the silk guild regulations of the Book of the Prefect, (see Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving, chapter 16). There are practical considerations that govern the silk processes, which have not varied over millennia. For this reason a very good insight into the rigours of the mediaeval Byzantine silk industry can be gained by reference to contemporary practices in India. It is possible to use the Chinese written sources as a guide also. Very detailed documented practices of the ancient Chinese sericulture and silk weaving industry, survive in a number of key sericulture manuals and technological treatises, (see Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapters 1 and 2, Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving, chapters 7, 16 and 17). The present author has concluded that the documentation surrounding the Byzantine silk industry cannot be interpreted simply by lexical analysis. There was in operation both a technical and a trade ‘language’ alongside the ordinary everyday vocabulary and the official terminology operated by the state. Technical language was necessary to describe the loom and weave technology, and trade names were needed for market purposes. This explains why scholars of historical texts have found it impossible to find parallels for certain words employed in guild regulations or within descriptions such as that of the ‘Baggage Train’ account appended to the ‘Book of Ceremonies’. These aspects have been emphasised in a number of the papers by the author as cited above (see Silk in Byzantium, chapters 3 and 16). The physical or ‘material’ aspects of Byzantine Textile Studies demand the application of empirical, scientific, technological, and visual methods of analysis, and these are drawn from textile history, archaeology, historical and art historical studies, (see Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving, chapter 11, figure 21, ‘Framework for the study of Byzantine silks’). However, it is difficult to separate out ‘materiality’ from ‘material expression’ in the field of Byzantine Textile studies. ‘Material’ developments, which are recorded on an empirical, scientific and technological level include observation of silk yarn quality and composition, variety in degree of twist of silk threads, differences in groupings of silk warp and weft threads, variety of dyeing traditions, degree of complexity of loom technology and resultant developments in weave structures, and evidence of skill or lack of skill in execution of weaves, brocading and embroidery materials and techniques, sewing characteristics and evidence of tailoring techniques. All these are observed by first

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hand analysis using microscopes and linen counters (especially for weaves and loom construction), and also through use of sophisticated electronic technology (most particularly for yarn and dye analysis). For the purpose of teaching the ‘Materiality’ aspects of Byzantine Textile Studies, the student of Byzantine Textiles through very close first hand technical and scientific visual observation, written recording and then analysis of key physical characteristics, must become able to build up a ‘mind’s eye’ picture of the surface and of the interior characteristics of the textiles. A feel for ‘workshop characteristics’ and for ‘level of quality of production’ is established. In addition, observation and close analysis of motifs and colour palettes in relation to weaving types, should allow the student of Byzantine textiles to begin to view them as ‘falling into definite technical and stylistic groups’. This allows new finds to be quickly identified as members of ‘chief groups’ of silks, which themselves, through their technique, design and technology, in conjunction with surrounding contextual and documentary evidence, belong to a broader chronology of weaving types, (see Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 16, appendix 1, appendix 3, appendix 4). These aspects are crucial for the development of skills necessary to conservators and to museum keepers of Byzantine Textiles. However, increasingly museum keepers are not receiving training in these aspects and the exhibitions of Byzantine Textiles in museums give no indication of the ‘material’ aspects of the field of study. Material Expression ‘Materiality’ (means) and ‘Material Expression’ (conditions) are inextricably intertwined in Byzantine Textile Studies. The technical side of the manufacture of figured textiles cannot be divorced from issues of the development of cultural imagery and the development of symbolic functions, the expression of institutional power, the creation of social norms, and the formation and display of identity at different levels of society. The changes in manufacture of the surviving silks over time, clearly reflects the changing historical and contextual situations under which the textiles were being produced. Difficulties in raw silk supply, the loss of territories traditionally housing the sericulture and silk weaving and dyeing industries, changing economic and political situations, complex power based interaction between Church and State, and growing social awareness, all were reflected both physically and socially and institutionally. The present author in her pub-

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lished Byzantine Textile Studies, in each paper, generally moves between a ‘Material’ examination (physical, means based) and a ‘Material Expression’ (conditions, social and institutional based) analysis. This approach is demonstrated for instance, in the following two papers in Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving: i. ‘Silks and saints. The Rider and Peacocks silks from the relics of St. Cuthbert’ (chapter 5); ii. ‘The Griffin silk from St. Trond’ (chapter 9). In Silk in Byzantium see, for instance: iii. iv. v.

‘A previously unrecognised Lion silk at Canterbury Cathedral’ (chapter 6); ‘The role of Byzantine silks in the British Isles before 1200 A.D.’ (chapter 15); ‘Byzantine influences along the Silk Route: Central Asian silks transformed’ (chapter 16).

In the present volume, Byzantine, Islamic and Near Eastern Silk Weaving see: vi. ‘The silk patronage of the Emperor Henry II (d. 1024)’ (chapter 4); vii. ‘A tribute to Donald King: Orthodox faith and gold embroidery in Byzantium’ (chapter 5); viii. ‘The exotic Near Eastern silks at Canterbury Cathedral’ (chapter 8); ix. ‘Two unknown tapestry weave silks from Croatia’ (chapter 14). Between ‘Materiality’ and ‘Material Expression’ The author’s ‘Material Culture: Key Issues’ diagram (see above), has a third series of vertically assembled boxes, which sit between, but which are also horizontally joined at various points, to the boxes sited under the two main headings of, ‘Materiality’ and ‘Material Expression’. These boxes are concerned with the subject of the mental categories of being. This area concerns the relationship between man and objects as they affect lifestyle and modes of living. The question is how far might the relationship between man and object reflect mediaeval mentalities and have influenced their creation of

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‘reality’, as appreciated across different sections of society. In this type of analysis the object is seen as a vehicle for the assignment of meaning and value and as a monitor of inter-action and change. In this sense the object might be considered a mirror of socially relevant topics and of socio-economic issues. Examples of how these ideas translate in the context of Byzantine Textile and Dress studies occur in all of the papers in the author’s three volumes of collected studies. Before precise examples are discussed below, it is useful to suggest in the form of diagram, the dynamics of how ‘humans think through Material Culture’, in order to highlight the complexity of socio-cultural systems and to explore the contribution made to those systems through social interaction which involves objects. The terminology used refers back to the discussions of the Cambridge ‘Material Culture and Cognition’ conference. Material Culture and Social Interaction The creation, transformation and materialisation of Cultural and of Social Identities involved power dynamics at different levels of society. Agency involved action which could be Pragmatic or Epistemic, and which represented the materialisation of knowledge and of experience. Symbols and icons expressed shared understandings, and the production, control and manipulation of such imagery might be seen as a form of power dynamics. At the level of Social Institutions, such manipulation might be used to augment Institutional facts and Social Realities as presented by Social Institutions, as part of a system through which Society is governed. Culture, Power and Matter thus, are brought into a powerful relationship. At the same time Culture relates to Nature in so far as humans are responsible for Social Interaction, and it is Social Relations created through Material Relations (social practice in relation to materials) that underlie Socio-Cultural systems. The artefact in relation to human behaviour has to be seen on two levels: the ‘brain/body/culture’ plane and the level of mind/matter/setting and environment. On the level of ‘brain/body/culture’, issues of perception, cognition and behaviour operate. Consciousness of the object might be expressed through language or visual representation, and/or through practical knowledge and usage. The object has ‘affordances’, which are expressed and shared in Social Interaction. The ‘affordances’ of objects are understood both through evaluation and execution, and different possibilities of inter-

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pretation exist. Within this system, technology might be seen as a marker of cognitive capacities and of Social Practices; an aspect of special relevance to Byzantine textile and Dress Studies. Social aspects of technological advance and change, as well technological aspects of the social have to be considered. The object in social and cultural context might be viewed as a medium through which Culture is materialised through both independent and relational properties. Objects thus, serve both as technological entities useful in practice, and as entities, which through human action and interaction come to ‘stand for something’, to hold symbolic meaning and value, and to have a Social Reality attached to narratives. On the level of Emotions and of Extended Consciousness, through which relationships to people and things, values and social relationships are built there are several levels of operation. On the first level there is a ‘Pan Human,’ ‘Social Emotion’; on the second level there is a Cultural variability (whereby guilt, pride etc. might be differently felt in distinct Cultures); and finally, there is a Background level of Social Emotion (tone of any particular Culture). These discussions highlight the area of ‘Materiality’ in relation to ‘Material Expression’ and the ‘area in-between’, as discussed above. These ideas can be expressed as a simplified chart (see opposite page). ‘Social and Cultural Reality’: the role of Byzantine Textiles and Dress Bearing in mind the theoretical debates around ‘Material Culture’ discussed above, the question to be addressed concerns the role of Textiles and Dress in the creation, materialisation and transformation of ‘Social and Cultural Reality’ in Byzantium. ‘Materiality’ and ‘Materialist’ approaches discussed earlier, call for analysis on two levels: i. The meaning of Byzantine Textiles and Dress in relation to cultural practices and settings, (humans shaped by engagement with material objects), and ii. Power and authority as developed through control over Byzantine Textiles and Dress. (Ideology, and manipulation of symbols). The theoretical debates surrounding the Sociology of Religion, as briefly discussed above, highlight topics such as, the relationship of Christian Debate to Political Discourse and the relationship of Sacral to Temporal

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Power, which clearly overlap with ‘Material Culture’ theoretical concerns. The analysis of Byzantine Textiles and Dress inevitably, must concern itself with issues of the context and setting of the use of the fabrics and to a large extent ‘Sacral and Temporal’ issues are inter-twined. The theoretical discussions pertaining to the ‘Formation of Christian Culture’ similarly are relevant. The role of Biblical exegesis in particular, has been highlighted above. The detailed discussions above, of the different possible readings of religious texts, calls for the question to be addressed of how far different levels of interpretation were also possible for religious pictorial imagery. How were the religious images, on both secular and ecclesiastical textiles interpreted by different levels of Byzantine society? It is beyond the scope of this paper to provide detailed answers to all the questions posed here, but a series of examples will indicate the direction taken by the present author on these issues in her publications so far. As many of these examples centre on the power and authority issues of Textiles and Dress in Byzantium, it is this ‘Materialist’ approach (ii. Above) that will be considered first. Textiles and Dress in Byzantium: issues of Power and Authority There is considerable documentary evidence to suggest that Imperial power and authority was enhanced through the controlled manufacture of and the restricted use of, particular types of precious textiles in Byzantium. This documentary evidence, has been discussed by the author within a number of papers (see, Collected Studies in: ‘Byzantine and Islamic silk Weaving’, chapters 4, 7, 8, 10, 12, 13, 14, 16, 17; ‘Silk in Byzantium’, chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 13, 17; and in the present volume ‘Byzantine, Islamic and Near Eastern Silk Weaving’, chapters 1, 2, 3, and 9). From the fourth century onwards, it is clear that the Imperial house promoted the manufacture of precious silks, some dyed with murex purple, others with gold embroidery or special tailoring, that were reserved for Imperial use. In the sixth century, briefly, a number of these exclusive tailored silks were placed on public sale. To ensure an Imperial monopoly over the manufacture and use of the ‘forbidden’ silks, between the fourth and the twelfth century in particular, Imperial legislation was variously enacted, that was designed to control the manufacture and distribution of the Imperial textiles. The severe punishments for offences committed in this legislation, suggests that stringent

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measures were needed to prevent illegal manufacture of Imperial silks, and there is documentary evidence to show that such manufacture was indeed attempted. Imperial silks, Imperial Ceremonial and Diplomatic Gift donation There were two main uses of Imperial manufactured silks: Imperial Ceremonial and Diplomatic Gift giving. Precious cloth and Imperial Ceremonial On the subject of Imperial Ceremonial it is clear from the Book of Ceremonies that many different types of Imperial court costumes existed. A number of different functions were served through the use of Imperial court robes. These can be summarised as follows: a. The court ceremony with lavish use of Imperial costume served to define Imperial power: the Emperor, protected by God was appropriately dressed to symbolise the special relation between secular and divine power enjoyed by the ruler. The Imperial ceremony codified by the tenth century, was allied to Christian liturgical and processional tradition, and the result was the visual display of the Christianised conception of the Imperial ruler. With this came the idea of Christian Kingship and of Ruler Cult. The power and the authority of the Emperor thus, were rendered visible, and the precious court costumes emphasised his unique status. b. The court ceremony served to express the Ideological Union of Empire and Church and this ‘harmonious ideal’ was acted out as if upon a stage. c. The power of the Emperor was revealed in relation to the governing classes involved in court ceremonies. The court ceremonies acted to stabilise the relationship between the Emperor and his court officials. d. Court costumes, not only for the Emperor, but also for the different court ranks, made clear the court hierarchy, which existed, based upon the hierarchy of offices, also codified by the tenth century. Office was visually displayed as dress, and costumes of office reflected administrative and social structures of the Empire. e. The court ceremony provided a visual display of power systems and

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their relations, as they existed in Byzantium. f. The court ceremonies of the tenth century brought together various earlier traditions. These ceremonies as recorded in the Book of Ceremonies, represent not only the recording but also the revival of court ceremonial traditions. g. The archaising language used to describe the court ceremonies in the Book of Ceremonies, was expressive of Byzantine ‘high culture’, which embraced formal style and codification of systems. The Book of Ceremonies earlier had been interpreted as symptomatic of the existence of a static and immobile Byzantine Society, but modern scholars have taken pains to dispel this image. The Book of Ceremonies far from implying the existence of a static and rigid organisation of Society, suggests just the opposite. Court ceremony was important for its stabilising effect upon Byzantine Society. After the political and economic changes and dislocations of the seventh to ninth centuries, there was the need to restore a sense of order to Society. This was achieved by reference to earlier traditions, as well as through the reinforcement of the position of the Emperor in relation to his court of governing officials. The Book of Ceremonies reflects the ‘Reality’ of the historical time in which the document was composed, (see, A. Cameron, ‘The Construction of court ritual: the Byzantine Book of Ceremonies’, in: Rituals of Royalty. Power and Ceremonial in Traditional Societies, (D. Cannadine, S. Price ed.) Cambridge 1992 edition, pages 106–136). Not only the Book of Ceremonies, but also the Kletorologion of Philotheos and Pseudo Codinos bear witness to the existence of Court Ceremonial across the centuries in Byzantium. But apart from the documentary sources, there is material evidence that needs analysis. The close alliance of Church and State in Byzantium, at least the ‘harmonious ideal’ of such a situation, meant that Imperial garments bore a close relationship to sacral vestments. It is acceptable, therefore, to seek sumptuous vestments that survive in ecclesiastical settings to gain an impression of the splendour of Imperial vestments. One may turn to the Vatican Sakkos (dalmatic) and to the Major Sakkos of the Metropolitan Photius, as examples. Both are wide sleeved tunics with elaborate silk and gold couched embroidery. The present author has suggested that these two vestments were at different dates produced in an Imperial Palaeologian embroidery workshop (see, ‘Silk in Byzantium’, chapter 11, pages 175–206). The material evidence supplements and compliments the evidence of the written sources, but it also moves beyond the written evidence in that

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the physical characteristics of the pieces, their techniques and technology, iconography, iconology and historical and political setting can be examined. The lack of reference to surviving artefacts and the concomitant total dependence upon written source material, whether historical or literary, has been a feature of Byzantine studies across many fields, but this approach is unsatisfactory. It is unlikely that every institution, event or circumstance across all levels of Byzantine Society, (whether in literary or historical form), was recorded by Byzantine authors. In any event only a selection of written records from Byzantium have survived. Byzantine artefacts must be analysed for information, which has not survived in the written record as well as to verify or to challenge what was recorded in written form. The fact that training in the analysis of Byzantine art has failed to include comprehensive analysis of Textiles and Dress, is not surprising. Surviving Byzantine textiles are difficult to access and to analyse first hand. Byzantine Textiles and Dress also demand a different, and broader, inter-disciplinary approach than that traditionally presented to Byzantine art historians. The study of Byzantine Textiles and Dress represents a discipline with its own methods and approaches, which incorporates elements of other disciplines, but which cannot be subsumed under those disciplines. For example, the use of technical language and of brand names for textiles places the interpretation of such vocabulary beyond the means of traditional historical or literary based documentary source analysis. The unique textile and dress vocabulary ties in with the technical and technological studies of surviving Byzantine textile artefacts, (see, ‘Silk in Byzantium’, chapter 3, pages 53–55 and chapter 5, pages 95–96). Similarly the tool of ‘style’ and of other characteristic means of visual analysis, on textiles is tempered by the demands of the technical production of the motifs and of the constraints of the weaving or of the embroidery techniques. The lack of appreciation of technical constraints, on occasion, has led to the incorrect identification of provenance for textiles, so that for instance, a Central Asian Lion silk was wrongly termed (and exhibited as) a Byzantine piece, (see, ‘Studies in Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving’, chapter 4, pages 62–64). The weaving technology and technique governs the ‘style’ of woven motifs. In Byzantine Textile studies, the word ‘style’, therefore means ‘style as governed by the spacing of internal warps across the loom, number of draw cords on the loom, sequence of passage of the coloured wefts, and so forth), which is not the same as in general art historical use (see, Muthesius, ‘Byzantine Silk Weaving’, chapter 10, pages 94–100. Also see, ‘Silk in Byzantium’, chapter 16, pages 277–287).

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Interpretation of costume and dress terminology in Byzantine sources There has been some attempt by scholars such as Carolina Cupane, to distinguish between different possible interpretations (principally between literary and historical interpretations) of Byzantine source descriptions of Imperial costume, (see her, ’Der Kaiser, sein Bild und dessen Interpret’, in: Novum Millennium. Studies on Byzantine History and Culture dedicated to Paul Speck (C. Sode, S. Takiacs ed.) Aldershot 2001, 65–79.) She deals with the image of the Emperor Andronikos I, on the north door of the Church of the Forty Martyrs in the Agora, (see, Niketas Choniates, Historia (van Dieten ed.) 332, 24–30; Cupane, ‘Der Kaiser’, 66; cf. C. Mango, The Art of the Byzantine Empire 312–1453. Sources and Documents in the History of Art Series (H. W. Janson ed.), 234). Cupane arguing against Eastmond concludes that the relationship between the intention of maker and the interpretation of the image by audience, cannot be overlooked or dismissed, and that the analysis of this relationship is integral to achieving correct interpretation (see, A. Eastmond, ‘An Intentional Error/ Imperial Art and “Mis” – Interpretation under Andronikos I Komnenos’, Art Bulletin 76/3 (1994) 502–510), and Cupane, ‘Der Kaiser’, 66–68.) Cupane demonstrates that the elements of the costume described are Imperial in nature and that the Emperor was not shown in the disguise of ‘agricultural labourer’. The instrument in the Emperor’s hand she explained as a weapon rather than as an agricultural implement (the ‘curved reaping hook’ as translated by Mango). Cupane suggests that the original Imperial intention behind the image of Andronikos I in the Agora, was one of propaganda; he was depicted as ‘Emperor empowered by God’. The interpretation of the image by Niketas Choniates, critical of the Emperor Andronikos I’s deeds, then separately, has to be taken into account. Andronikos I’s propaganda image, was entirely differently interpreted by Niketas Choniates, who condemned the Emperor’s appropriation of the throne of the murdered child Emperor Alexius II and his marriage to Agnes (Anna) daughter of Louis VII of France, who had been espoused to Alexius II. Thus, Cupane demonstrates that the interpretation of Imperial costume requires attention to several factors: precise analysis of language (the individual words used and their actual meanings in terms of dress); the intention of the author/s; the historical situation, setting, and audience in relation to the intention of the author/s.

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This paper cannot enter into the finer points of contemporary developments in method within Byzantine literary and historiography studies, but it is evident that great care will be necessary to interpret the meanings behind Byzantine costume and dress as described in a variety of sources. Furthermore, all interpretations must acknowledge and encompass the evidence of the surviving Byzantine textiles and costumes, and all the elements of textile history method necessary to their analysis: most importantly the crucial and fundamental importance of understanding their technique, technology and tailoring. The recognition of the existence of a separate Byzantine ‘technical’ and ‘brand’ vocabulary in Byzantine written sources, also is a crucial factor, as the author has pointed out elsewhere (see, A. Muthesius, ‘Silk industry: processes, looms, techniques’, in: The Economic history of Byzantium (A. Laiou ed.) I, II, III, Washington 2002, I, pages 147–168, with Greek translation, National Bank of Greece, Athens 2006, I, pages 249 –278). Furthermore, a contemporary Greek Vocabulary of technical terms (weaving and loom technology), is necessary to complement the Lyons, C.I.E.T.A. Vocabularies of Technical Terms (in English, French, German, Italian, Spanish, Danish Norwegian, and Swedish.) Precious cloth and Byzantine Diplomacy Documentary evidence and also surviving textiles indicate the widespread use of precious silks for diplomatic ends. The documentary sources detail magnificent silk textiles and items of costume, that were variously sent from Byzantium to Islamic courts, to different Popes in the West, to the Russian, the English and the German courts. Surviving Byzantine silks that reached the Carolingian and the Ottonian courts, in particular served to promote the feeling of the existence of ‘a western moral ally’ for Byzantium (see, ‘Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving’, chapter 10, pages 165–172, chapter 12, pages 201–215, chapter 13, pages 217–227; ‘Silk in Byzantium’, chapter 1, pages 8–9, chapter 15, pages 257–275). The Lion silks in particular may have been diplomatic gifts sent by Byzantium in connection with proposed marriage alliances with the West (see, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving’, chapter 4). The author has discussed the eight types of embassy, with which Byzantine diplomatic silk gift exchange can be associated (see in the present book, ‘Byzantine, Islamic and Near Eastern Silk Weaving’, chapter 2 below). Examples have been cited, which draw attention to the role of the different

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types of diplomatic silks presented by Byzantium. These examples suggest four specific roles for different forms of diplomatic textiles and costumes as follows: a. Silk Imperial costume and precious inscribed silks/Imperial military uniforms/transference of power and authority/ties of Christian Kingship/reward for loyal military service b. Gold precious cloths/kinship ties with non-Christian rulers c. Silk items of public dress and bales of silks/economic substitutes for gold payments/peace treatise and ransoming of prisoners d. Christian cloth relics/substitutes for precious silk cloths/symbols of the prerogatives of the Byzantine Christian Emperor Precious Cloth and Byzantine trade Silk was a valuable economic asset in its own right and alongside the diplomatic exploitation of precious silk textiles and of valuable silk and gold costume it is necessary to consider trade textiles. Silk trade textiles fall into two groups, domestic and foreign trade silks. Several different domestic and foreign uses of Byzantine trade textiles have been discussed by the author in her publications (see, Muthesius, ‘Byzantine Silk Weaving’, chapter 14; ‘Studies in Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving’, chapters 1–3, 5, 8–10, 12–13, 18–19; ‘Silk in Byzantium’, chapters 4–7, 9, 15–17; and in the present book, ‘Studies in Byzantine, Islamic and Near Eastern Silk Weaving’, chapters 1, 3–8, 11–12, 16). The main domestic uses of the textiles with the significance of these applications is briefly summarised below: a. As items of dress (lay identity/status/morals/fashion) b. As uniforms (civil and military office/institutional identity/hierarchy of status) c. For ecclesiastical vestments and ritual furnishings, and as book covers for church service books (religious authority/Orthodox belief: communication of salvation and other doctrines and of mystical truths/liturgical re-enactment/representation of ‘heaven on earth’/communication with the Divine) d. As religious relics (cult symbols/for National and for personal levels of protection/miraculous cures, some with magical overtones) e. As monastic silks and relating to patron saints: vestments and ecclesias-

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tical furnishings (legitimisation of monastic authority/protection of the Orthodox tradition/promotion of founder saints/cult and pilgrimage/ relating socio-political groups to founder and other saints/pious patronage on various levels/social/and political ties of the monastery/economic activity) For the adornment of private religious foundations (Status/power/piety of the provincial magnates) To adorn civic ceremonies/public processions (guild identity, kinship, urban symbolism in relation to Imperial government and power systems) As largesse, or rhogai, and as part payment for military service (Imperial identity/fiscal expediency) For domestic furnishings (eg. cushions, bedcovers etc.). (Social status/ identity) For practical applications (eg. sails, ropes, battle flags). (Physical benefits of material applications/communication of military allegiance)

The principal uses of the trade silk textiles and their significance abroad were: i. For items of lay dress (eg. Caucasian tribal identity/Viking period fashionable identity/Carolingian and Ottonian court dress. (Mark of office and status/identity) ii. As ecclesiastical and monastic vestments and church furnishings and to wrap or shroud relics, and for religious book bindings/to protect documents (Church hierarchy in relation to Christian Kingship/expression of Royal, Papal and of other levels of patronage for purposes of legitimisation of authority, expression of piety, expression of institutional and personal devotion) iii. For the ‘pan european’ Promotion of Ruler and of Saintly (including Episcopal tomb) cults through recognition and translation ceremonies (legitimisation/authority and power/promotion of ‘official’ and of popular religion rituals and practices/relating saints to different sociopolitical groups/allegiance of Church and State/public recognition of ‘sacred space’/promulgation of pilgrimage/ securing of revenues) iv. For domestic furnishings (eg. bedcovers, cushions, hangings in Jewish Mediterranean bridal dowries). (Social status/identity) v. For other practical applications (eg. as battle flags, sails). (Military allegiance/status)

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vi. For special trading purposes (eg. to gain safe passage across the Caucasus to the Silk Road; to secure Italian support through trade concessions, for exchange of slaves and furs with the ‘Russ’ and in the context of political alliance) vii. As items for the transmission of technical and of cultural influences (eg. imitation of techniques, dye palettes and motifs abroad). (Economic benefits/fashion and novelty/status) viii. A s equivalents for gold currency (eg. sureties/payment of bills/bridal assets convertible into cash in times of need). (International marketing/ monetary systems/family finances) These two summary lists reveal much in common. It appears that not only the Byzantine silks, but also their primary Byzantine uses were replicated abroad, and to very similar effect. These findings suggest that Byzantine silks and silk costumes and dress played a major role in social and cultural systems at home and abroad. The importance of these artefacts is not explicitly stated in the written sources and the documentary references are scattered and represent only a random selection. The survival of thousands of silk textiles and costumes is crucial to the full appreciation of the important role of Byzantine textiles and dress in the creation, maintenance and transformation of socio-political systems in Byzantium. Their survival also aids in the analysis of the relationship between trade and political systems of the Empire. In addition, the silk laden ‘gift exchange’ practices integral to Byzantine foreign policy and diplomacy, also indicate both practical and moral aspects involved in the maintenance of and the communication of ‘Empire’. Byzantine Textiles and Dress in relation to Christian Culture In Byzantine Textile and Dress studies it is important to relate ‘materiality’ to ‘materialist’ approaches in such a way that cultural practice and setting of non-Imperial uses of textiles and dress, are distinguished from the type of ceremonial and diplomatic uses discussed above. The use of Byzantine textiles for Christian worship was widespread, both as part of ‘official’, and of ‘popular’ religious practice. The precious silk vestments and silk furnishings reflected the ‘Divine light’ and diverted the mind from the ‘temporal to the sacral’ and for the Emperor as ‘Divine ruler’, there was little distinction between sacral and temporal ceremonial and symbolic costume. The Emperor possessed both public and private wardrobes, but the socio-politi-

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cal systems built up in Byzantium under the Imperial presence, in general, would appear to have depended upon an Imperial image that exuded power and authority as expressed through use of lavish and exclusive textiles. This particularly involved the use of: symbolic/heraldic motifs; exclusive valuable dyes; gold borders and embroidery, and special tailored cuts, (see, ‘Byzantine and Islamic silk Weaving’, chapter 4, 10, 12, 14, 16 (pages 289–297); ‘Silk in Byzantium’, chapters 1–2, 3 (pages 49–51 and 53–57), 4, 12, 13; and in the present book, ‘Byzantine, Islamic and Near Eastern Silk Weaving’, chapters 1–3, 9). The Christian Imperial court of the ruler too, was garbed in silk uniform fitting to the individual official’s status and administrative duties. The military was the fighting force of the Christian Imperial ruler and it also, was uniformed in silk. The Imperial skaramangia (military tunics) presented to victorious generals were re-cycled on occasion, and they came to serve to adorn the private religious foundations of provincial magnates. Thus, the temporal was rendered sacral: although as the gift of the ‘Divine ruler’ the skaramangion, itself, might originally have been accorded a symbolic religious value. During public Imperial victory parades, even the captured prisoners were dressed in special costumes from the Imperial storehouse, so that the magnificence of the ‘Divine ruler’s’ achievement should not be lessened. Whilst all levels of Society might have witnessed some of the types of public Imperial display described, there were also Constantinopolitan ‘street life’ festivals and feasts, which indicate the nature of some non-Imperial celebrations. Some written accounts illustrate the kinds of cultural practices and settings involved in guild and merchant, public social interaction and celebration. At the Festival of ‘Agathe’, which involved a procession of female cloth workers (perhaps of female textile guild members), the women danced and sang about a series of wall paintings, which depicted the processes of cloth making (linen carding and weaving). During the festival the efficient workers were symbolically celebrated and the workers found wanting in attention or skill, were symbolically punished. The festival was a secular event with a religious celebration incorporated into it, whereby alongside the public dancing and singing, the women entered a un-named church of Constantinople and there they presented votive offerings before icons. The author, Psellos, in describing the festival is apologetic; it is a trivial festival (involving wool carders, spinners, and weavers), he writes, from out of which higher meanings have to be extracted (see, A. Laiou, ‘The Festival of ‘’Agathe’’; comments on the life of Constantinopolitan women’,

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in; A. Laiou, Gender, Society and Economic Life in Byzantium. Aldershot 1992, chapter 3, pages 111–122.) The existence of the festival and the line taken by the Ecclesiastical Institution as expressed in the account, are significant: a degree of concern against ‘pagan’ elements within Byzantine Popular Culture is suggested. To avoid all ‘pagan association’, Psellos draws out the moral that all Christian workers should be working towards ‘the greater good’. Laiou also discusses the Feast of the Holy Notaries (see, Laiou, ‘The Festival’, 121–122), which took place on October 25. The student Notaries and their teachers processed in the streets of Constantinople and some were disguised in female costume, others in precious garments including purples and wearing crowns. There was acting and miming on a stage and a religious service took place at the church of the Holy Notaries in Constantinople (Sts. Marcian and Martyrios). Here again the mixture of secular and religious celebration caused concern, and this festival was permanently banned, under the Patriarch Loukas Chrysoverges (1157–1170). These secular guild Festivals and Feasts appear to have been popular at the time of the rise in influence of the guild and merchant classes of Society, so that it might be argued they served to re-enforce the identity of these groups within Byzantine Society, during a period of rising influence. The attempts to curb the authority of these individuals by the twelfth century ties in with the actions of Patriarch Loukas, and it might be argued this also demonstrates one of the ways in which socio-political change was held in check. Textile and dress metaphors Textile and dress metaphors were featured in Byzantine Homiletics, and sermons sometimes provide an insight into public behaviours. It is known that narrative religious scenes were used on secular dress, as well as on ecclesiastical furnishings in the early period up to the sixth century, but it is not known whether this practice was continued on lay dress in later periods. In the fifth century in a homily, Saint Theodoret of Cyrrus explained the arts of weaving and of embroidery as gifts from God. He condemned the use of secular scenes alongside religious scenes on woven cloths (see, ‘Silk in Byzantium’, chapter 3, page 23.) Proclus, later Patriarch of Constantinople, in the fifth century wrote a detailed homily for the Feast of Mary’s Virginity, in which weaving metaphors abounded (see, ‘Silk in Byzantium’, chapter 3, pages 23–24.) These metaphors served the purpose of moral edification and they reflect social practices. The sermons present the views of indi-

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vidual preachers concerning the state of the world and of society at large. Interesting references occur in the sermons to textiles and dress at various levels. Gregory of Nyssa, for example, in his homily ‘On love of the Poor’ or ‘On beneficence’, and also in other homilies, directs the audience to the imitation of God, and to the rejection of secular wealth. He describes at length, the wealthy homes, food, and expensive clothing of the rich (see, Preacher and Audience. Studies in Early Christian and Byzantine Homiletics (M. B. Cunningham, P. Allen ed.), Leiden/Boston/Cologne 1998, 98–99.) As with visual depictions, there are problems of how literally such descriptions should be taken, but the extent of detail involved is significant in suggesting the level of importance of such comforts to the wealthy sectors of Byzantine society at that time. Also the contrast of this way of living, with that of the poor, suggests from an early date, the every day use of expensive artefacts as ‘cultural capital’ within Byzantine society, in order to re-enforce identity, status and power. The related subjects of the use of Byzantine textiles and dress as signifying system across different Byzantine social classes in both public and private space, as well as issues of propriety of dress, have been considered by the author in an earlier paper (see, ‘Textiles and Dress in Byzantium’, in: Proceedings of the Material Culture and Well-Being in Byzantium Conference. Cambridge 2001, (M. Grünbart, E. Kislinger, A. Muthesius, D. Stathakopoulos ed.), Vienna 2007.) Motifs on surviving Byzantine silks Byzantine silks, which survive in Western Church treasuries, were both Imperial silks and trade silks. Of these the trade silks fall into definite chronological types as far as the motifs are concerned. There exist, small-scale, secular scene, and also small-scale animal, foliate and geometric motifs, on many of the surviving silks up to the sixth century. Alongside this there are narrative Christian Old and New Testament scenes, also rather small scale, some with Coptic inscriptions. But secular hunting and charioteer themes appear to have been popular during Iconoclasm between the eighth and the ninth centuries. Following this time, it is possible that narrative Christian scenes did continue to be woven for a period, but by the tenth century, largescale animal, bird, and foliate motifs seem to have predominated. There was also a move away from multi-coloured bright palettes to monochrome or two-tone silks, according to the evidence of the surviving Byzantine textiles. Both technically and with regard to foliate and geometric motifs/an ‘Inter-

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national’ Eastern Mediterranean silk weaving ‘style’ existed across silk trade category textiles. Several workshops seem to have been weaving very similar silks. This suggests that there were ‘fashions’ in textile motifs available on the open market, perhaps reflective of public ‘taste’, much as is the case in contemporary Society. There is documentary evidence of the broadening of markets in the eleventh to twelfth century, and of the use of silks outside the narrow confines of the Court and the Ecclesiastical establishment. It is beyond the scope of the present paper to enter into the different levels of possible interpretation of the Christian narrative motifs (Old and New Testament, and of the symbolic iconography based on concepts of Liturgical Commentaries) as evidenced by the surviving textiles. This type of analysis will be included in the author’s forthcoming publications of the Patmos, St. John, and of the Sinai, St. Catherine’s monastic silk treasuries. Due regard will be given there to the methods of biblical exegesis (Young) and to those of the sociological history of worship (Stringer), as briefly introduced above. Conclusions In general terms, the evidence suggests that textiles and dress played an important role in the operation of Power Systems in relation to Social Structures across different levels of Christian Byzantine Society, (see, ‘Silk in Byzantium’, chapter 4). Dress as a signifying system, and propriety of dress, were important, although there is evidence of the attempt to subvert such signifying systems in Byzantium. These signifying systems operated equally in public and in private space. They lent power and authority to different sectors of society (from the Emperor and his court, the Patriarch and the ecclesiastical establishment, down to the provincial magnates, the guild members and the ‘lower’ sectors of society), according to their particular uses and settings. They featured as accoutrement to public mass spectacle (victory parades, the games in the Hippodrome, major feast day processions from principal church to church across the Capital). Equally they operated on a private level between liturgical celebrant and the Divine (liturgical vestments and furnishings). Further, silks on a more private devotional level, featured in the ritual between celebrant and congregation partaking of the sacred elements in urban and rural religious settings. Silk dress is also present on the streets of Byzantium by the eleventh century, enforcing individual identity on a ‘day to day’, secular level. The various messages

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that were expressed through the medium of the silks as outlined above, provided communication between different socio-political groups and helped to express the hierarchy of status inherent in Byzantine Society. Complex ceremonial, ritual and secular practices were evolved as medium for expression of these messages, both at home and abroad. Equally, there must have developed an awareness of personal image, and a certain sensitivity towards ‘peer pressure’, to allow the rise of ‘street fashion’. Both on a secular and a religious level within Byzantine Christian culture, textiles and dress were key artefacts for human action at different levels of Society. Their particular distinctive uses at home and abroad involved a shared understanding and implicit memory of the symbolic meanings and beliefs embodied in silk textiles and dress, that had evolved over centuries. The textiles and dress held knowledge which could be extended across time and space, as well as that could form part of the local ‘habitus’; the context of present experience. The social practices and actions involved in the uses of the textiles and costumes, (many officially codified), involved beliefs and values, which evoked emotional response on an Institutional and on a personal level. The Institutional exploitation of the textiles by Church and State promoted the concept of ‘ideal harmony’ (whether actual or imagined) within a Christian Empire, led by the ‘Divine ruler’, which lent stability to Society through troubled political times. The increasing expression of emotion in the images of the Paschal narrative on Byzantine silk furnishings in the later periods, suggests an attempt to engage the audience in individual emotional response. The emphasis in Byzantium upon the visual materialisation and communication of meanings, beliefs and values, with the involvement of Institutional Agency, plausibly encouraged the promotion of Byzantine textiles and dress artefacts as medium for the creation and materialisation of Byzantine Social and Cultural identity. The inter-twining of ‘secular and temporal’ in Byzantium, and the close connection between economic and political concerns and policies, further empowered Byzantine textiles and dress to materialise Byzantine Culture. Power Dynamics were expressed through control and manipulation of silk in Byzantium, where it served as a valuable economic asset as well as a powerful political tool. The various uses of precious cloth promoted Social Interaction, Social Relations and Practices, and these were reflective of Social Realities through which Byzantine Society was governed.

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On the subject of the ‘affordances’ of silk artefacts, it is clear that the physical properties of silk were closely appreciated (as witnessed by the existence of a specialised, non-Imperial raw silk guild by the ninth century). Similarly there was a cognitive ‘affordance’ of silk artefacts, as confirmed by the existence of specialised language to encompass technical and brand aspects of silk textiles artefacts, and the monitoring and control of these as a medium through which to mediate ‘Byzantine Culture’. Also technological changes and advances (evident through analysis of the surviving silks) may be classed as a cognitive ‘affordance’. On the level of interpretational ‘affordance’ Byzantine textiles and dress could provoke a variety of reactions, both at home and abroad. The use of silk costumes and dress earlier by Byzantine actresses, and later by Byzantine prostitutes, must have been seen as appropriate to themselves, but the State prohibitions and religious condemnations of these practices, suggests that different beliefs and values might be attached to the use of textiles and dress by Social Institutions and by individual members of society. Sumptuary and other controls served to distinguish Social hierarchies as much as to promote Institutional Power Systems. Individual intention in use of Byzantine textiles and dress might or might not be clear from the evidence of the written sources, but different levels of interpretation certainly were possible by different audiences. For example, original intention might be obscured, when overshadowed by later historical events. Different levels of interpretation of costume and dress were possible according to the historical context, and to the setting, and also according to the intention of the audience involved. Generally speaking, Byzantine Textile and Dress studies are susceptible to the application of ‘Material Culture’ theory and method. Fresh close analysis of Byzantine texts such as the Lives of Saints, and private letters, local sermons etc., in which material culture evidence exists, may help to further knowledge about the distinctions which might be drawn between Social Practice (chain of social relations) as discussed above, and Social Act (individual consumption) of Byzantine Textiles and Dress. In the area of surviving textiles, evidence of the use of domestic textiles amongst the lower levels of Byzantine Society, exists in the form of excavated cloths from sites in Israel, Syria, Lebanon and Egypt (for example, see Orit Shamir, ‘Byzantine and Early Islamic Textiles from Excavations of the Israel Antiquities Authority’, in: ‘Medieval Textiles’ special issue of Textile History, volume 32, number 1 (May 2001), (A. Muthesius ed.), pages 93–105; and D. King,

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‘Roman and Byzantine Dress in Egypt’, in: Collected Studies of Donald King (A. Muthesius, M. King ed.) London 2004, pages 246–267). Byzantine Textile and Dress studies represent a distinct Discipline; part of Material Culture studies. In order to be able to do this new Discipline full justice, certainly an inter-disciplinary and all-encompassing approach is necessary, and this naturally will continue to draw upon theoretical debates across many fields of study.

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Silk at Sinai Introduction

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HE monastery of St. Catherine situated more than 2,500 metres above sea level, in the southern Sinai peninsula, was founded by the Emperor Justinian (d. 565), as part of a tradition of Imperial patronage of desert monasticism.1 The high spiritual stature afforded to the monastery is reflected in the wealth of the artistic treasures (icons, manuscripts, metalwork and precious silks) housed within its fortified walls.2 This short paper explores silk at Sinai under two headings: i. Silk as medium for legitimisation of power systems in sacred space ii. Silk as communication agent within processes of ritualisation Silk as medium for legitimisation of power systems within sacred space Sinai provides an excellent opportunity for the examination of silk as a medium for legitimisation of power systems within sacred space. Taking first the concept of sacred space, two elements are important:

See, K. Amantos, Syntomos historia tes hieras mones tou Sina. Thessalonike 1953. For a specialised historical and art historical bibliography see the extensive list of titles as given in, Sinai. Treasures of the Monastery of St. Catherine (K. A. Manafis ed.). Athens, 1990, 382–393. For the links with Byzantium and Russia see, Sinai. Byzantium. Russia. Orthodox art from the sixth to the twentieth century (Y. Pianitsky, O. Baddeley, E. Brunner, M. M. Mango ed.). London 2000. 1 2

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• The topographical significance of the site with its biblical associations and in particular, its identification with the prophets Moses and Elijah.3 • The location of the monastery at the cross roads of two main pilgrimage routes, which linked the sacred space of Sinai (2,200 square miles) to the sacred sites of Egypt on the one hand and to those of the Judaen desert on the other.4 Taking the concept of legitimisation of power systems, two further considerations come into play: • By the time of the foundation of the monastery of St. Catherine under Emperor Justinian, there already existed in Byzantium, a complex system of symbolic storage involving precious cloth. This system was initially devised to legitimise Imperial power. Subsequently, it was applied to uphold sacral authority, and eventually it came to represent a means for encoding not only political and religious, but also social norms.5 Moses and Elijah appear besides Christ in the Transfiguration (Matthew 17:3). For fine coloured photos of the Transfiguration mosaic at St. Catherine’s monastery, Sinai, see K. Weitzmann, ‘Mosaics and Wallpaintings’, in: Sinai. Treasures, 61–67. On the theological significance of the Transfiguartion consult, G. Habra, La Transfiguration selon les pères grecs. Paris 1974. J. A. McGuckin, ‘The Patristic Exegesis of the Transfiguration’. Studia Patristica 18.1 (1986) 335–341. M. Aubineau, ‘Une homélie grecque inédite sur la Transfiguration’, Analecta Bollandiana 85 (1967) 401–427. J. Meyendorff, A Study of Gregory Palamas. London 1964, 172–178. G. Podskalsky, ‘Gottesschau und Inkarnation’. Orientalia christiana periodica 35 (1969) 5–44. M. Sachot, L’homélie pseudo-chrysostomienne sur la Transfiguration. Frankfurt am Main, 1981, 22–37. Idem, Les homélies grecques sur la Transfiguration: Tradition manuscrite. Paris 1987. G. Millet, Recherches sur l’iconographie de l’évangile aux XIVe, XVe et XVIe siècles. Paris 1916, reprinted 1960. 4 Consult, R. Devreesse, ‘Le christianisme dans le péninsule sinaïtique’. Revue biblique. 49 (1940) 205–223. M. Labib, Pèlerins et voyageurs au Mont Sinai. Paris 1961. Also see, G. Vikan, Byzantine Pilgrimage Art. Washington D.C. 1982; idem, ‘Art, Medicine and Magic in Early Byzantium’, Dumbarton Oaks Papers 38 (1984) 65–86; idem. ‘Pilgrims in Magi’s Clothing: The impact of Mimesis on Early Byzantine Pilgrimage Art’, in: The Blessings of Pilgrimage. Champaign-Urbana, Ill., 1990, 106ff. 5 This specialised area of studies has evolved over the last thirty years in the work of the present author, who has gained unprecedented access to the surviving textiles. For surviving silks dating before 1200 A.D. see, A. Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving. Vienna 1997. For the ways in which Byzantine textiles, both before and after 1200 A.D., were used in regard to temporal and sacral power systems and how they operated in relation to social norms, see 3

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• The silks communicated messages about the relationship of Church to State and about the relationship of both Church and State to Society.6 • At Sinai, the survival of some 1500 precious textiles allows for developments within this symbolic storage system to be explored over a broad period of time and across a wide geographical area of production.7 The surviving silks, variously range in date between the tenth and the twentieth centuries and their chief centres of production are: Syria, Palestine, Egypt, Asia Minor, Greece, Cyprus, Italy, Russia, Georgia, Iran and India. They include pieces of Imperial origin alongside the work of ecclesiastical and secular textile and embroidery workshops. About fifty of the pieces are dated and over one hundred bear inscriptions, some with the names of donors. Amongst the pieces which best embody Imperial authority are the fifteenth-century Palaeologian embroideries (Plates 137–139).8 A Russian Imperial silk acts as a continuation of this tradition of political authentication, during a period when the Russian Imperial house was expected to take upon itself the protection of the Orthodox ecumenical Church.9 The authority of the Church is most forcefully expressed through the cloths used for the eucharist as part of liturgical ritual and this will be further discussed later. Silk as communication agent within the processes of ritualisation It is perhaps within the processes of ritualisation that silk best reveals for example, A. Muthesius, Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving. London 1995, chapters 10, 12, 13, 14, and by the same author, Silk in Byzantium. London 2004, chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 7, 8, 9, 10, 13, 15 and 17. In the author’s present book, chapters 1, 2, 3, 9, 11, 15 and 16 are particularly relevant. 6 Consider the discussions in Muthesius, Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving, chapters 8, 10, 12, 13, 14; in Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, chapters 1, 2, 8, 10, 13; and in chapters 1, 2, 3, 9, 15 and 16 in the present volume. 7 The textiles are under publication by the present author. 8 For one fifteenth-century embroidery see M. Theocharis, Church Gold Embroideries’, in: Sinai. Treasures, 231–259, especially 238 and illus. 13. 9 This unpublished piece is a silk vestment, which will be discussed by the present author in her forthcoming publication on the Sinai textiles, ‘The silk treasury of the monastery of St. Catherine, Sinai.’

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‘intention’ and that it brings into physical reality symbolic and conceptual concerns. In particular silk communicates to individual worshippers the ‘supernatural dimensions of their material world’. In Justinian’s time the emphasis on the two natures of Christ, human and divine, found expression in the mosaic depiction of the metamorphosis or transfiguration of Christ that appeared in the east-end of the monastic church.10 The metamorphosis revealed the transformation of Christ from human to divine being and the presence of Moses and Elijah at the scene alongside the three apostles, pointed towards the prophetic Last judgement. The worshipper was called to repentance before the day of the Last Judgement. The Christological salvatory imagery was heightened by the eschatalogical overtones in a way evidently pertinent to the seventh-century audience. From Egyptian sermons of this date it becomes clear that two types of audience existed: the wayward, back-slipping, non-spiritual listener constantly to be admonished, and the intellectually aware and inquisitive believer eager for edification.11 All social levels, were clearly dominated by thoughts of sin, forgiveness and salvation and by the implications of the concept of ‘Man having been created in the image and likeness of God’. The metamorphosis is a subject that occurs on silks at Sinai in a way that suggests it continued to pre-occupy the thoughts of the worshippers over centuries from Byzantine into Post Byzantine times.12 On a grand scale a large banner with metamorphosis suggests public display and lay involvement (Plate 140).13 On a smaller scale an epigonation with metamorphosis hung from the belt of a monastic celebrant would have served as a personal engagement between wearer and representation, given the special symbolic associations of religious vestments to the clergy (Plate 141).14 A third Metamorphosis silk acts as one of a pair that served as eucharist furnishing See note 3 above. See J. Munitiz, ‘Anastasios of Sinai: Speaking and writing to the People of God’, in: Preacher and Audience. Studies in Early Christian and Byzantine Homiletics (M. B. Cunningham, P. Allen ed.). Leiden 1998, 227–245. The section III, ‘questions and answers’ analysis, provides an interesting insight into current concerns of those to whom the sermons were addressed, see pages 235–243. 12 Ibid., 228–229. 13 This piece is under publication by the present author, see note 9 above. 14 For vestments in the Greek Orthodox Church see, T. Papas, Studien zur Geschichte der Messgewänder im byzantinischen ritus. Munich 1965. on both eastern and western liturgical vestments see earlier, J. Braun, Die liturgische Gewandung im Occident und Orient. Freiburg im Breisgau 1907, reprinted Darmstadt 1964. 10 11

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(Plate 142). In use this cloth would bring the human and the divine symbolism of Christ’s two natures, into direct contact with the mystery of the two natures of Christ as expressed in the ritual re-enactment of the eucharist. The symbolic storage here might usefully have engaged the attention of an intellectual spiritual elite. Allied to the concept of Metamorphosis and doctrine of the two natures of Christ was the question of the possibility of the mystic union between Mankind and the Divine. This Hesychastic doctrine saw a long development.15 From Siniatic and Athonite origins, it was elaborated under Palamas, and then it was adopted and encouraged by the fourteenth- to fifteenth-century Palaeologian Emperors.16 This concept was available in Justinian’s time but above all at Sinai he was concerned to be recognised as ruler by Divine right.17 His monastic patronage at Sinai represented a function of his office. The Sinai monastic community in exchange would pray for the Emperor, and the Orthodox Church be expected to uphold the authority of the Imperial house. Silks from Justinian’s time have not come to light at Sinai, but there is a descrip-

15 See G. Podskalsky, ‘Zur Gestalt und Geschichte des Hesychasmus’, Ostkirchliche Studien 16 (1967) 15–32. Earlier see, I Hausherr, ‘La methode d’oraison des hésychastes’, Orientalia christiana analecta 9 (1927) 97–209. idem, ‘Hésychasme et prière’, Orientalia christiana analecta 176 (1966) 1–306. 16 Refer to note 15 above. A Hesychast was one who sought hesychia or inner quiet/rest, in some instances through contemplative prayer, and one who strove towards the experience of a vision of the ‘Divine Light’. Consult, J. Meyendorff, A Study of Gregory Palamas. Leighton Buzzard 1964. Later by the same author see, St. Gregory Palamas and Orthodox Spirituality. Crestwood, N.J. 1974, and Byzantine Hesychasm: historical, theological and social problems. Variorum Collected Studies 26. London 1974. For the doctrine of deification consult, M. Lot-Borodine, ‘La doctrine de la déification dans l’Église grecque jusqu’au XI siècle’, Revue de l’Histoire des Religions 105 (1932) 5–43; 106 (1932) 525–574; 107 (1933) 8–55. Reprinted in, La deification de l’homme selon la doctrine des Pères grecs (Bibliothèque oecumenique). Paris 1970, 21 –183. Further see, B. Schultze, ‘Grundfragen des theologischen Palamismus’, Ostkirchlichen Studien 24 (1975) 105–135. G. I. Mantzaridis, The deification of Man. (L. Sherrard transl.). Crestwood, New York, 1984. 17 The Byzantine rulers were the anointed successors of the prophet David, and their mission to lead Christians was divinely ordained. See G. Dagron, Emperor and Priest. The Imperial Office in Byzantium. Cambridge 2003, English translation, especially 1–10, 127–157, 173–204, 282–312. On Justinian see, K-H. Uthermann, ‘Kaiser Justinian als Kirchenpolitiker und Theologe’, Augustinianum 39 (1999) 5–83.

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tion of a silk he presented to Haghia Sophia in Constantinople.18 On this gold embroidered silk, the salvatory deeds of Christ appeared, bordered by scenes of the heroic deeds of Justinian, the Christian Emperor. After the fall of Constantinople to the Latins (1204–1261), the balance of power between Church and State changed. The Church took on the role of Protector of both the emperor and the Faithful. The rise in the power of bishops and the development of the theme of Church Triumphant facilitated this transition.19 By virtue of the communication of Christ’s mystical body the Church claimed authority over and beyond that of the Imperial house. This was expressed upon the silks, through the elaboration of the imagery on the epitaphios, the liturgical cloth processed on Good Friday (Plates 143–144).20 Two, unique, early epitaphioi at Sinai, illustrate the static and strictly symbolic representation of the dead Christ. One has a thirteenth-century Persian gold brocaded bird silk border and the central embroidery perhaps twelfth century, has been cut out and remounted on a later silk ground. The other epitaphios has extremely powerful imagery, where the simplicity of the piece appears designed to evoke physical and emotional response in an immediate rather than an intellectual manner (Plate 145).21 Two, later examples of epitaphioi (seventeenth and nineteenth century) further reveal this move from symbolism (anamnesis) to realism (Plates 146–147).22 The static image of the dead Christ has been trans18 Paulus Silentarius, Descriptio S. Sophiae, 755–805, in: Johannes von Gaza, Paulus Silentarius, und Prokopios von Gaza (P. Friedländer ed.) Leipzig 1912, 248–250. C. Mango, The Art of the Byzantine Empire, 312–1453: Sources and Documents. Englewood Cliffs N.J. 1972, 88–89 for English translation. 19 C. Walter, Art and Ritual of the Byzantine Church. London 1982, chapter 5, 167–177 and 241–249. 20 On the epitaphios sindon as relic, image and rite see, R. Taft, Liturgy in Byzantium and Beyond. Variorum Collected Studies. Great Yarmouth, 1995, chapter 5, 71–97. 21 Both under publication by the present author. For some published examples of surviving epitaphioi see G. Millet, Broderies religieuses de style byzantin. I–II. Paris 1939–1947, 86–109, plate 176–216. Idem, ‘L’epitaphios: l’image’, Comptes rendus des séances de l’Académie des inscriptions et belles-lettres (1942) 408–419. See further, references in note 22 below. 22 Note S. Curcic, ‘Late Byzantine Loca sancta? Some questions regarding the form and function of Epitaphioi’, in: The Twilight of Byzantium (S. Curcic, D. Mouriki ed.). Princeton N. J. 1991, 251–261. For further surviving examples see, P. Johnstone, The Byzantine tradition in Church Embroidery. London 1967, 25–40, 117–128. On the development of image in relation to liturgical rite consult, D. I. Pallas, Die Passion und Bestattung Christi in Byzanz.

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formed into a scene of lamentation revolving around the lifeless body of Christ. Real emotional response is evoked. Elaboration of liturgical practice and association of particular imagery with specific parts of the liturgical ritual is also reflected in the silks at Sinai. The Great Entrance, at the beginning of the liturgical rite, culminating in the celebration of the Eucharist, includes the priest’s prayer referring to Christ as ‘offerer and offered’ and as ‘consecrator and consecrated’. This became associated with the image of Christ as High Priest (Plates 31–33).23 Numerous examples of this imagery are found at Sinai, not least on an epigonation, and most often, on poloi detached from their original silk vestments and later attached to the rear nape area of large sakkoi (chasubles).24 The concept of heavenly liturgy, was represented by an image of the open Gospels shown on the throne of heaven.25 This subject occurs on stoles, and this image also served as symbolic parallel for the opening section of the liturgy. Another part of the liturgical rite, the offertory (epiclepsis and anaphora) correlates to the Second Coming, and this was traditionally represented by an image known as the Deesis.26 Here Christ is shown flanked by the Virgin and St. John the Baptist. At Sinai there is an intriguing epigonation with this subject, perhaps of Georgian origin (Plate 148).27 The Deesis is also implied by the presence of the Virgin and of St. John the Baptist on either side of epitrachelia, where a medallion with Christ may occupy the back of the nape area of the vestment. Not only the words of the liturgy itself, but also hymns influenced the imagery in this system of symbolic storage. The Cherubic Hymn intoned by the deacons during the Great Entrance, for instance, sometimes found

Der Ritus, das Bild. Miscellanea Byzantina Monacensia, 2. Munich 1965. Also see, H. Belting, ‘The Image and its function in Liturgy; The Man of Sorrows in Byzantium’. Dumbarton Oaks Papers 34–35 (1980–1981) 1–16. 23 Walter, Art and Ritual, 214–221, chapter 5, section 12, ‘Christ as Universal Patriarch’. 24 On this and other vestments see reference to Papas, in note 14 above, 106–111. Also see, Walter, Art and Ritual, chapter 1, section 2, especially 16–18, part iii, ‘Sticharion and Sakkos’. 25 Walter, Art and Ritual, chapter 5, section 12, 217–221, ‘The Celestial Liturgy’. 26 C. Walter, ‘Two notes on the Deesis’ Revue études byzantins 26 (1968) 311–336. Idem., ‘Further Notes on the Deesis’, Revue études byzantins (1970) 161–187. Idem., ‘Bulletin on the Deesis and the Paraclesis’, Revue études byzantins 38 (1980) 261–269. Walter, Art and Ritual, 181–184. 27 Presently under publication by the author.

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expression in the form of cherubs on the deacon’s sticharion (Plate 149).28 The Sinai repertoire of iconography deserves a thorough study of the relationship of text (sermon, liturgical commentary, hymnography, haghiography and liturgical drama), to religious imagery. It will be interesting to ascertain whether the relationship of text to image is distinct between monumental and non-monumental storage systems. Intercession as a real social function was important to the Orthodox worshippers at Sinai. Religious imagery might be viewed as an adjunct of the process of intercession. Within the repertoire of religious iconography there were images reflective of the presence of an intellectual elite, such as the Melismos or Christ child in the offertory basket, but these probably passed easily into the popular repertoire via the medium of ecclesiastical cloths, so they could be read in individual ways by different levels of society (Plate 150).29 At the same time tried and tested and well understood images existed, either biblical or based on the Church’s calendar of major feasts, (Palm Sunday and the Dormition of the Virgin), for instance (Plates 151–152).30 The Holy family was acknowledged as key intercessor for the salvation of Mankind. But Byzantine society further required the re-assurance of the intercession of the saints. Beyond this Byzantine society demanded the services of holy men and women, who in the desert and elsewhere adopted paternal and maternal roles as spiritual patrons of their Christian families of followers. The practice of guidance through a spiritual father is still strong at Sinai today. The archaeological remains of eremitic monasteries of southern Sinai also suggest the practice was widespread between the fifth 28 St. Catherine’s monastery, Sinai, has several gold embroidered vestments with winged cherubs, including two splendid sticharia, to be worn by deacons. These vestments are under publication by the author. On the ‘Cherubic hymn’ see, E. Wellesz, A History of Byzantine Music and Hymnography. Oxford, 1998 edition, 165–166. Also, Taft, Liturgy in Byzantium, chapter 1, section 7, 52–54, and chapter 2, 295–297. The Great Entrance serves as a ritual preparation for the Anaphora. On the development of liturgical Anaphoras consult, J. Fenwick, An Investigation into the Common Origin of the Anaphoras of the Liturgies of St. Basil and St. James (Ph.D. thesis, University of London, 1985). R. Bornert, ‘L’anaphore dans la spiritualite de Byzance. Le témoignage des commentaries mystagogiques du VIII au XV siècles’, in: Eucharisties d’Orient et d’Occident, Lex orandi, 47. Paris, 1970, 241–264. 29 R. Taft, ‘Melismos and Comminution: The Fraction and its Symbolism in the Byzantine Tradition’, in: Traditio et progressio: Studi liturgici in onore del Prof. Adrien Nocent, OSB, (G. Farnedi ed.), Rome 1988, 531–552. Cf. Walter, Art and Ritual, 238. 30 From the ninth century onwards Adam and Eve appear in the Anastasis scene. See, A. Kartsonis. Anastasis: The Making of an Image. Princeton 1986.

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and the ninth centuries.31 The cult of St. Catherine at Sinai reaches back to the tenth-century miraculous reception of the body of the Virgin martyr from Alexandria, and silks at Sinai clearly demonstrate the continuing belief in the intercessory power attributed to the Saint.32 One of the silks depicting the saint’s life includes an image of the patron with dedication inscription (Plates 153–155).33 The donor seeks a proper relationship with God prior to his death through the intercession of the saint. The fate of the soul after death and the possibility of the intercession of the saint for the soul after death are evoked. The ultimate association of the patron with the ‘salvation seeking’ monastic institution, of course, demanded burial within the monastery. This does not appear to have occurred at Sinai with secular patrons. But the silks at Sinai do indicate that the expression of spirituality was encouraged at all levels of society. The rural monastic pilgrimage setting of the monastery enhanced its reputation as institution representative of the highest form of life on earth. The Byzantine ethic of ‘good works’ provided for two forms of donation mechanisms: • Major, institutionalised patronage that exemplified the existing impressive record of good works already undertaken by the important donor • Lesser, more personal patronage that reflected the general ethical stance of individuals.34 Major and costly donations have been well illustrated in this paper. Lesser donations included items such as the wonderfully embroidered Greek island cloths sent to Sinai from its metochia (dependencies), (Plates 58-61).35 Trade textiles at Sinai also feature in abundance and these appear 31 See U. Dahari, Monastic settlements in South Sinai in the Byzantine period. The Archaeological Remains. Israel Antiquities Authority Reports, number 9. Jerusalem 2000. 32 For the epitaphios of St. Catherine, the podea of St. Catherine and the pyle of St. Catherine, all of which depict different scenes from the life and death of the saint, see, Manafis, Sinai. Treasures of the Monastery of St. Catherine, 246–247, 248, and 236, 254, respectively. 33 This is the pyle mentioned in the previous note. It was made in Vienna in 1770 and the donor was Nikolaos Dimitriou of Pelagonia. 34 There are numerous small-scale donations, some embroidered, from lesser lay patrons, and these are Post Byzantine in date. During the Byzantine period, there were some silk vestment and cloth donations from monks.

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to have come mainly from Asia Minor and from the Syrian-Palestinian region.36 Conclusion Returning to the idea of Sinai as sacred space and as site for communication between God and Humanity, it is easy to recognise how comfortably the symbolic storage system represented by the silks, would have slotted in to the ethos of the monastery.37 The silks at Sinai provided a physical manifestation of symbol and concept in a manner that moved beyond selective perception and memory, and yet the imagery could be read at individual levels. This form of symbolic storage system still today appears to communicate across the Orthodox world, transcending time and space.

Past and present Greek Island metochia are as follows: Andros; Zakynthos; Kerkyra (Corfu); Leukas; Lesbos (Mitylene); Cephalonia; Samos; Santorini; Skopelos; Syros; Paros; Rhodes; and Chios. 36 These are variously datable up to as late as the nineteenth century. These are amongst the textiles under publication by the present author in her forthcoming book, ‘The silk treasury of the monastery of St. Catherine, Sinai’. 37 The theme of ‘sacred space’ was recognised as a separate area of study at the Twenty First International Congress of Byzantine Studies, London, August 21–26, 2006. See the, ‘Proceedings’ of this Congress, Aldershot 2006, volume II, section VI.5, 210–218. 35

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The Importance of Textiles to the Understanding of Byzantine Civilisation Introduction

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HIS paper is divided into two sections and correspondingly it examines Byzantine textiles in two ways:

i. ii.

As physical objects As conceptually constructed artefacts

The aim of the paper is to illustrate how far Byzantine textiles from the fourth to the fifteenth centuries served as important ‘mirrors of Byzantine civilisation’.1 There are four key themes: • Empire and Imperial ideology;2 1 The abstracts of the papers of the speakers of the Twenty Seventh Symposium of Byzantine and Post Byzantine Archaeology and Arts, (Christian Archaeological Society, of Athens, Athens 11–13 May, 2007), were published by the Byzantine and Early Christian Museum of Athens, (Athens 2007). However, this publication omitted the abstracts of a number of speakers including that of the present author, which, therefore, is provided in the Appendix 2 The three volumes of collected studies of the present author: A. Muthesius, Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving, London 1995; Silk in Byzantium, London 2004, and Byzantine, Islamic and Near Eastern Silk Weaving, London 2007, deal with various aspects of silk in relation to Empire and Imperial Ideology. For example, see Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, chapters 1, 2 and 13.

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• Inter-Cultural contact and diplomacy (Muslim, Latin, East European);3 • Orthodoxy and Human Salvation,4 and • Social Identity.5 Section one Physical appearance and practical functions Secular Clothing Several different types of clothing textiles are documented in use in Byzantium: silks; woollens; linens; cottons; mixed fabrics made of linen/cotton, and silk/wool, and animal hair fabrics such as goat, camel and rabbit.6 Only small scraps of everyday early Byzantine clothing fabrics have survived, many from Byzantine period sites in Israel.7 These scraps indicate the use of animal and vegetable fibres for working garments. An eleventhcentury Byzantine agricultural treatise includes depictions of rural work tunics, alongside more elaborate male and female dress types.8 Both linen and silk dress types were known in the Roman Empire in the Consult, A. Muthesius, ‘Silken Diplomacy’, in; Byzantine Diplomacy (J. Shepard, S. Franklin ed.), Cambridge 1992, chapter 15, 237–248. 4 See, Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, chapters 9, 10 and 11. 5 This aspect was the subject of a paper by the present author, ‘Textiles and Dress in Byzantium’, in; Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, chapter 4, 67–84. This paper with some updating of notes will re-appear in the Proceedings of the International Conference organised by A. Muthesius, ‘Material Culture and Well-being in Byzantium’, Cambridge University, September 8–10, 2001, forthcoming (Vienna 2007). 6 Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, chapter 4, 70–71. 7 Refer to, Textile History 32, 1 (May 2001), special edition (A. Muthesius ed.), A. Baginski, ‘Later Islamic and Medieval Textiles from Excavations of the Israel Antiquities Authority’, 81–92, and O. Shamir, ‘Byzantine and Early Islamic Textiles excavated in Israel’, 93–105, and note bibliography on 104–105 with references to other publications on archaeological textile finds from Israel, by Baginski and Shamir, and Baginski and Tidhar. 8 See the eleventh-century Pseudo Oppian, Venice Marciana gr. Z479 manuscript, in; I. Furlan, Codici greci illustrati della Biblioteca Marciana 1–5, Milan 1978–1988. Costumes from this manuscript were discussed in Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, chapter 4, 72–74. C. Cupane, ‘Der Kaiser, sein Bild und dessen Interpret’, in; Novum Millennium. Studies on Byzantine history and culture dedicated to Paul Speck (C. Sode, S. Takacs ed.), 65–81, questions the use of ‘working clothes’ by Andronikos Komnenos, as described by Nicetas Choniates. Nicetae Choniatae Orationes et Epistulae (van Dieten ed.) CFHB XI/1–2, Series Berolinensis, Berlin 1972, 332, 24–30. The Emperor did not wear Imperial costume, but he 3

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third to fourth century. The fourth century edict of Diocletian setting prices across the Empire clearly distinguished between silk and non-silk garments, different types of silks, and uses of expensive dyes.9 In East Roman Egypt, linen tunics woven in one piece on the loom, and decorated with woollen foliate motif panels were worn (V. and A. Museum, inv. 820–1905).10 In Byzantine Egypt of the fifth to the sixth century, figurative ornament was introduced onto the linen tunics (V. and A. inv. 631–1886, and V. and A. inv. 290–1887).11 The clavi and sleeve and neck-bands of one example, depict warriors and hunters alongside animals in brown wool tapestry. Another tunic shows followers of Dionysius alongside animals and foliage, in purple wool tapestry. On this tunic there is a small cross in the centre of the neck-band suggesting the existence of a Christian market. Also on this tunic is a prominent shoulder square, which resembles those on costumes of the court of Justinian and Theodora at St. Vitale.12 A Byzantine, fifth- to sixth-century child’s formal all wool tunic from Egypt (V. and A. inv. T.7–1947), has multi-coloured woollen tapestry band decoration of human heads, animals and birds.13 The style of the decoration reflects Sassanian influence from the period of the Sassanian occupation of Egypt (619–629 A.D).14 The tunics shown were ‘middle-market’ range. Finer Byzantine period Egyptian tunics had panels and squares woven in more costly yarns in wore a short blue-green garment with long white boots. Choniates and subsequent contemporary translators of the relevant passage labelled the garments as ‘working clothes’ but Cupane suggested this was a manipulation instigated by Choniates. Short tunics and boots were fashionable amongst the aristocracy. Choniates turns an image of Andronikos intended to portray a ‘saviour of the State’ into a depiction of a labourer, she argued. 9 On some textile and dye prices in the Edict of Diocletian see, Muthesius, ‘The Byzantine Silk Industry: Lopez and Beyond’, in; Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving, chapter 16, 255–314, especially 298–303. 10 Discussed in D. King, ‘Roman and Byzantine Dress in Egypt’, in; Collected Studies of Donald King (A. Muthesius, M. King ed.), chapter16, 246–267, 262 and figure 4. I am indebted to Monique king for the loan of original slides of V. and A. tunics for the purpose of illustrating my paper given at the conference in Athens. 11 Ibid., 264 and figures 11 and 12. 12 The added decorations on garments of Theodora and her attendants at St. Vitale, Ravenna can be seen clearly on the plate of pages167–168 in, R. Browning, Justinian and Theodora. London 1971. 13 Muthesius and King, Donald King Collected Studies, 266 and figure 19. 14 Ibid., 266, where Donald King specifically referred to Sassanian blue silk textiles as transmitters of Sassanian motifs.

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lighter colours upon a dark ground, showing motifs such as horsemen and sea creatures (V. and A. inv. 334, 335–1887).15 The best of these used very expensive materials: for example, fine linen and silk mixtures for the tunic; angora or Kashmir goat’s hair wool for the decorations, and also costly dyes. The survival of such high value tunics suggests that there were centres of luxury textile production: possibly in Alexandria, Constantinople, or somewhere in Syria. Amongst luxury fabrics of the sixth to seventh century, probably woven in Egypt, are the ‘so-called’ Akhmim and ‘Antinoe’ twill weave silks, some with inscriptions.16 After the Arab conquest of Egypt from the seventh to eighth century, Islamic linen tunics in shape and style, follow Byzantine tunics, but the amount of decoration is increased and the weaving of the tunic panels is coarser.17 Monastic habits and Church vestments The rise of the cult of relics from the fourth century onwards also saw silks being used to shroud relics, not least those of St. Anastasius in the fourth century.18 In leading monastic foundations such as Athos, Sinai, and Patmos, silks were used to embellish the cults of patron saints, and increasingly precious cloths were added to the treasuries in the form of vestments and ecclesiastical furnishings. At the other end of the scale were the locally produced woollen and animal hair monastic habits woven in Egypt.19 Domestic furnishings Wool, linen and cotton textiles of course, had a practical use in the Byzantine home, but it is clear that luxury silk domestic furnishings also existed. The tenth- to eleventh-century Cairo Geniza documents, indicate widespread trade of silk domestic furnishings across the Eastern

Ibid., 265 and figure 15. On these types of silks see, A. Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, Vienna 1997, 81–82 and notes 16 to 25 for references to further literature. 17 Muthesius and King, Donald King Collected Studies, 266–267 and figure 21. 18 For St. Athanasius, see, Vita S. Athanasiae AA SS Aug. 111, 170–175. BMG 186, page 174, section B. 19 See, S. Torallas Tovar, ‘The Terminology of Egyptian Monastic Garments’, in; Material Culture and Well-Being in Byzantium, International Symposium at the University of Cambridge, 8–10 September 2001, (M. Grünbart, E. Kislinger, A. Muthesius, D. Stathakopoulos ed.) Vienna 2007. 15 16

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Mediterranean by the tenth to eleventh centuries.20 Amongst these furnishings, very expensive Byzantine silk cushions and bed coverings were eagerly sought after as dowry items. The price of some items would have been equivalent to the cost of living of an average family for several years. These furnishings would have been woven in commercial workshops in Byzantium. Other uses Occasionally sources document unusual practical uses for fabrics, for example, production of woven silk sails for ceremonial Imperial Byzantine ships.21 These were a source of envy for the Rus traders who sought silk sails from Byzantium in the tenth century in exchange for slaves and furs.22 When the ‘Rus’ tried to operate under silk, not surprisingly their silk sails tore. (It was no use seeking a ‘status symbol’ if one did not have the ‘know how’ of practical use to reap the full ‘cultural capital’ embodied in the object of desire). Silk was also used for making nautical rope, and silk filaments were used for surgical suturing. Subject matter on textiles; techniques and technology; guilds and workshops Motifs In Byzantium by the sixth to seventh century, silks with both Christian and pagan subject matter were being woven in centres in Egypt, Asia Minor and Syria (Plates 156–157).23 In contrast to the small scale largely bird and foliate designs of the fourth to sixth centuries, successively more complex and larger scale designs were produced on Byzantine silks from the eighth 20 Refer to S. D. Goitein, A Mediterranean Society, volumes 1 and 4, London 1967 and London 1983 respectively. For silk, silk weaving, silk dyeing, silk furnishings, silk trade etc., in volume one see, 46, 51, 71–79, 84, 86–88, 90, 93, 96, 99–108, 116, 128, 153–154, 178, 193–198, 200, 203, 207–208, 210, 217, 220, 222–225, 245, 263–264, 267–268, 303, 313, 333–334, 337, 343, 365 sec. 16, 372 sec. 14, 381 sec. 55, 384 sec. 67, 454 note 53, 455 note 60. Similarly, in volume two see, 18, 120–121, 150–151, 158–164, 167–170, 183–187, 189–190, 193, 297–309. 21 See above chapter 9, note 52 for source reference to silk mantlings used to sail between Hierreia and Constantinople, as documented for 769–770. 22 S. H. Cross, O. P. Sherbowitz-Wetzor, The Russian Primary Chronicle, Laurentian Text. Cambridge Mass. 1953, 65. 23 See Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 8, 81–84.

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to ninth, to the tenth to eleventh centuries (Plates 158–159; 160–161).24 During first and second Iconoclasm, in Constantinople Hunter and Charioteer themes appeared (Plates 17 and 2–4).25 Documentary references in the Liber Pontificalis, suggest the tradition of narrative religious subjects woven on silks continued outside Asia Minor, perhaps in Syria.26 Christian weavers working under Muslim over-lords in Egypt are recorded and perhaps the same was true for Syria. After the end of second Iconoclasm in 843 A.D., in Constantinople it seems there was a return of narrative Christian subjects on silks (Plates 162–163).27 Also, large-scale animal and bird designs were woven (Plates 5–6, 9–10, 161).28 Workshops Concerning workshops, it is documented that an Imperial silk weaving and gold embroidery and special purple-dyeing workshop was established in fourth-century Constantinople.29 Private textile and dyeing workshops also existed, particularly in Syria and Lebanon, but little is known about them (Plate 164).30 By the ninth century, alongside the Imperial silk industry, private linen and silk guilds were documented in the Book of the Prefect.31 Special emphasis was placed upon five silk guilds.32 Production and trade was centred in the Capital, although Byzantine merchants operated also in Egypt and via Trebizond.33 Imperial textile legislation and regulation between the fourth and the twelfth centuries, was designed to protect Imperial monopolies, but commercially it covered supply of raw materials, integrity between textile specialisations, production methods, regulation of standards and qualities, and the rules of retailing and export Ibid., chapters 4–7, pages 34–79. Ibid., chapter 7, pages 68–73. 26 Ibid., chapter 14, pages 124–126 with reference to specific examples in the Liber Pontificalis. 27 Ibid., chapter 7, 67, for the Vatican Annunciation and Nativity silk. 28 Ibid., chapter 5, 44–57. 29 Discussed in relation to Imperial legislation of the Theodosian Code, in Muthesius, Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving, chapter 16, pages 298–303, 305–306. 30 Ibid., 258–259. 31 J. Koder, Das Eparchenbuch Leons des Weisen. Wien 1991, chapters 4–9, pages 90–111. 32 Ibid., chapters 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8, pages 90–107. 33 Most recently see, D. Jacoby, ‘Byzantine Trade with Egypt from the mid-tenth century to the Fourth Crusade’, in; D. Jacoby, Commercial Exchange across the Mediterranean. Byzantium, the Crusader Levant, Egypt and Italy. Aldershot 2005, chapter 1, 25–77. 24 25

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of fabrics and garments.34 The Byzantine textile guild legislation of the tenth-century Book of the Prefect is centuries in advance of mediaeval guild regulation in the Islamic and the Latin worlds. Alongside strength in technological development, Byzantium clearly had strong instincts about building up and regulating private enterprise. Imperial silks were woven by the Imperial guilds in the Capital but a few were also produced by the private guilds for Imperial use, by the tenth century.35 After the Fall of Constantinople in 1204, sumptuous Imperial Byzantine silks were perhaps woven in Nicaea and after the restoration in 1261, probably again in Constantinople, perhaps in a Palaeologian Imperial workshop.36 Ecclesiastical silks were produced in different types of workshops: Patriarchal, monastic and secular.37 Many textiles in monastic treasuries were also received as diplomatic or as other types of gifts. Textile terminology A specialised administrative textile terminology was developed to ensure strict adherence to technical detail in the production of both Imperial and non-Imperial silks. This terminology does not find parallel in ordinary language and Byzantine philological and historical scholars have struggled to provide interpretations.38 The language used, becomes simple to understand See, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Industry, Lopez and Beyond, 280–290. Koder, Eparchenbuch, chapter 8, regulation 1.36 See, A. Muthesius, ‘The Thessaloniki Epitaphios: a technical examination’ in; Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, chapter 11, especially 192–194. At the Twenty seventh Archaeological Society of Athens symposium mentioned in note one above, Kathrin Colburn of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, presented a paper entitled ‘ A double-headed eagle embroidery: analysis and conservation’. This surface couched, embroidered banner with bicephalous eagle motif in gold originally on a red silk ground, appears to be another early work of the Palaeologian workshop. See, Abstracts page 36. 37 A Patriarchal workshop is suggested by vestments including epitrachelia, which have inscriptions naming officials of the ‘Great Church’. One example is at the monastery of the Great Lavra, Mount Athos. See, G. Millet, Broderies religieuses de style byzantin. Paris 1947, 13–18, plates 23, 32–37. Monastic workshops are suggested by the presence of the names of monks as the makers of a variety of ecclesiastical vestments and furnishings in the treasuries of monasteries including St. Catherine, Mount Sinai. Professional workshops are recorded for the later period, see P. Johnstone, Byzantine Tradition in Church Embroidery. London 1967, chapter 7, 57–64. 38 See, A. Muthesius, ‘Essential processes, looms, and technical aspects of the production of Silk Textiles’, in; The Economic History of Byzantium. (A. E. Laiou ed.). Volumes 1–3, Washington 2002, volume 1, 147–168. This publication equates to Dumbarton Oaks Studies 39. 34 35

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when it is referenced to technical analysis of textiles.39 The textile terminology enforced methods for how looms were to be tied up, which weaves were forbidden for general use, and which purple dyes and what forms of tailoring were to be restricted. There was also branding in Byzantium and Constantinopolitan silks of high value had to be stamped by the eparch.40 The brand/trade language built up in Byzantium, allowed those retailing, trading and marketing textiles to better understand the precise type of textiles to be sold. My analysis of more than a thousand surviving Byzantine silks dating between 400 and 1200 A.D. revealed that there were five weaves, tabby, twill, damask, lampas and tapestry in use in Byzantium (Plate 165).41 Later satin and velvets were woven.42 Embroideries, too were produced from the earliest period but they survive only from the twelfth century onwards.43 In gold thread embroidery in Byzantium the gold threads were surface couched.44 They used gold foil twisted around silk or membrane or silver gilt wire. Various combinations of thread slant were used to reflect the light differently and to produce shadows.45 Accompanying coloured silk thread embroidery, made use of stem and satin stitch. Looms Between the fourth and the twelfth century in Byzantium looms widened to accommodate the change from motifs a few centimetres across to those as large as a metre wide.46 The development of advanced pattern making devices on Byzantine draw-looms can be traced from the fifth to the eleventh centuries. St. Theodoret of Cyrrus, writing about local woollen 39 The problems of interpretation have arisen because Byzantine philologists and historians have attempted to deal with textile terms although they have no expertise in the field of textile studies. These scholars include John Haldon, David Jacoby, and most recently L. Brubaker, who appropriates technical analysis from publications of the present author, but who through total lack of textile expertise, manages to misinterpret the technical material she appropriates. This leads to interpretations of technical names, which have no bearing on technical reality. 40 Koder, Eparchenbuch, chapter 4, regulations 2 and 3, pages 92–93. 41 Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 16, 145–148 and Appendix 1, 151–153. 42 Satins had longer weft floats to reflect the light more brightly. Velvets had a cut silk pile. For these terms see, C. I. E. T. A. Vocabulary of Technical Terms, Lyons 1964, 41–42 and 54. 43 Johnstone, Byzantine Tradition, chapter 8, 65–73. 44 Ibid., diagram facing page 66, figures g to h. 45 Ibid., diagram facing page 66, figure j. 46 Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 2, 19–26.

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weaving in Syria in the fifth century, indicated that there were simple pattern making devices in operation on horizontal looms (Plate 166).47 These pattern devices consisted of loops attached to wooden sticks, threaded around warp threads. The wooden sticks could be pulled to raise the warps in the necessary order for the weaving of the patterns. By the year 1000 Byzantine loom technology was tremendously advanced and the Imperial workshop at least, was capable of operating looms around twelve feet wide, weaving silks whose one metre asymmetrical designs needed 1440 separate manipulations for their design.48 These looms had very advanced, patternproducing devices. In modern industrialised times this would equate to the Jacquard loom, which uses rows of holes in punched cards (Plate 167).49 The Byzantine weavers did this all by hand using draw-boys to lift the warps via an elaborate patterning device reaching high above the draw-loom. They were master craftsmen and Byzantine textile technology must have acted like a jewel in the ‘Imperial crown’ in Byzantium. Weaving faults in surviving silks indicate that workshops of different standards were operating.50 This Byzantine development of very advanced loom and weave technology was shared across the Byzantine and the Islamic Eastern Mediterranean. Around the year 1000 Islamic and Byzantine workshops were producing very similar silks. Byzantium in particular, perhaps under the influence of Iranian silk weaving workshops turned from the production of multicoloured twill-weave silks, to the weaving of monochrome twills and also new, monochrome, lampas weave silks (Plates 168–169).51 Lampas weaves employed the complex pattern making mechanisms of draw-looms more economically, with the result that the silks could be produced in half the time necessary to weave the same fabrics as polychrome twills.52 Faster production cut down on costs, meaning that cheaper silks could be produced to meet the demands of growing markets. The lampas weave textiles indi47 Ibid., chapter 2, 23–24. Theodoret of Cyrrhus, De providentia oratio IV (PG 83, 617–620). 48 Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 4, 38–39 for the Aachen Elephant silk. 49 J. Becker, Pattern and Loom. Copenhagen 1987, 274–278. 50 This is particularly true of silks woven as ‘incised twills’ or lampas weave fabrics. See, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 9, 85–93. 51 Monochrome twills are also called ‘incised twills’. For twill and for lampas weave see, Vocabulary of Technical Terms, 52–53 and 28. 52 The main warps as well as the binding warps, in lampas were used for binding the weft threads, so cutting down on labour and costs. On lampas in its developed form see, Becker, Pattern and Loom, chapter 6, 140–143, and 145–152.

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cate cultural exchange between the Byzantine and the Islamic world on the level of technology and textile aesthetics, otherwise undocumented in written sources. Section two Conceptual constructions and symbolic use Alongside practical uses, Byzantine textiles served to visually communicate important socio-cultural, political and spiritual messages. The textiles were embedded with symbolic meaning and through ritual and ceremonial actions these messages were rendered public.53 Citizenship, community and social identity Whilst the poorest in Byzantine society wore rags and the destitute were dressed in worn garments turned inside out, the most fortunate wore splendid silks.54 There were statutory precautions and spiritual admonitions against inappropriate dress: actresses should not wear silks; ordinary citizens should shun transparent fabrics and sumptuary display. Prostitutes should not wear stripes.55 Distinct professions favoured use of distinguishing dress types and across all sectors of society garments were worn not only as practical items but also as instruments of secular and of spiritual identity and authority.56 At the top end of the scale, the Emperors had both ceremonial and private wardrobes and the Imperial administration was clad in special robes of office.57 The ceremonial vestments of the Emperor described in detail in the Book of Ceremonies, emphasised secular authority as well as divine associ53 For an analysis of theoretical debates surrounding the use of textiles as artefacts for the embedding of memory and for the communication of messages, beliefs and social norms see, chapter 15 above, ‘Byzantine Material Culture; theory and method’. 54 The use of old clothing, is a subject discussed by, P. Koukoules, Byzantinos Bios, 3, 29, and note 9. He cited, Die Gedichte des Christophoros Mitylenaios (E. Kurtz ed.) 63 (99). 55 On prostitutes and their dress see, S. Leontsini, Die Prostitution im frühen Byzanz. Byzantine Institute, University of Vienna 1988, 88–89. 56 See A. Muthesius, ‘Textiles and Dress in Byzantium’, in; Silk in Byzantium, chapter 4, 67–84, especially 72–76. 57 See J. Bury, The Imperial Administrative System in the ninth century. London 1911, 80–82 and 98ff. The tremendous extent of the wardrobes can be gauged for instance, by consideration of the fact that one private Imperial wardrobe as mentioned in the Baggage

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ations.58 The private wardrobe of the Emperors in contrast to their official wardrobe allowed for the expression of gendered individuality. For instance, Choniates characterised the Emperor Andronikos I as ‘the king of dandies’, who favoured Georgian imported, figure-hugging garments slit at the sides, together with flamboyant headdress.59 The Ecclesiastical authorities developed an array of special vestments, which denoted hierarchy of office, and elaborate liturgical furnishings.60 They increasingly bore upon them narrative major feast scenes or liturgical representations, both intended to stress the redeeming role of the Church (Plates 34, 137–139, 151).61 From the earliest times the Church Fathers advocated simple woollen Christian dress, which emphasised spiritual rather than physical identity. The tendency towards the mixture of secular and Christian subject matter was frowned upon. Weaving metaphors presented the Virgin as the loom upon which the Salvation of Man was woven.62 Excesses in dress were an adjunct to a guilty conscience and the Byzantine citizen was encouraged to ‘measure up’ to Biblical exemplars.63

train account appended to the Book of Ceremonies (oikeiakon basilikon vestiarion), required 30 mules and 15 horses for its transportation. See, J. Hendy, Studies in the Byzantine Monetary Economy c. 300–1450. Cambridge 1985, 304. Hendy cites Constantine Porphrogenitus, De Caerimoniis 1 (Appendix), (Bonn ed.) 478–481. 58 On the court ceremonial robes see, The Kleterologion of Philotheos (N. Oikonomides ed.) in; Les listes de preseance byzantines du IX et X siècle. Paris 1972. Pseudo Kodinus, Traité des offices (J. Verpeaux ed.) Paris 1966. For references to costumes in the Book of Ceremonies, see E. Piltz, ‘Middle Byzantine Court Costume’, in; Byzantine Court Culture (H. Maguire ed.). Washington 1997, 39–51, with earlier relevant bibliography in footnotes 1, 2, 5, 6, 9, 17, and 19. 59 Niketas Choniates Historia (Van Dieten) 139, (Magoulas, 79). 60 For Byzantine vestments see, T. Papas, Studien zur Geschichte der Messgewänder im byzantinischen Ritus. Munich 1965. C. Walter, Art and Ritual of the Byzantine Church. London 1982, chapter 1, section 2, 9–22. 61 For example, the Annunciation, the Crucifixion and the Anastasis. The liturgical representations included the Celestial Liturgy, the Communion of the Apostles and the Melismos. On these liturgical scenes see, Walter, Art and Ritual, chapter 5, sections 7–8, 11iii, 12i and ii, on pages 184–192, 205–207, and 214–221, respectively. Walter sees the concept of Church Triumphant and a hierarchy of Eucharistic celebrations, as fundamental to the development of the Celestial Liturgy and the Communion of the Apostles, see page 199. Further see above, in chapter five of the present book, extensive relevant bibliography given in notes 8, 9, 24, 27, 32, 34, 41, 43, 49 and 50. 62 Discussed in A. Muthesius, ‘The “cult” of Imperial and Ecclesiastical silks in Byzantium’, in; Silk in Byzantium, chapter 2, 23–35, especially 23–24.

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The Byzantine Christian was encouraged to practise a ‘reflexive subjectivity’ with penitence and repentance as necessary steps towards salvation.64 By the end of the fourteenth century, Hesychasm with its doctrine of the living God accessible to individuals through quiet contemplation and personal experience, gave rise to a strengthening acknowledgement of the humanity of Christ, which was reflected on liturgical furnishings in particular.65 On a secular level, textiles used to re-enforce social status, included those commanded by the Emperors from the silk guilds of Constantinople in the tenth century.66 They were used to line routes of Imperial processions. Group identity was afforded to the tenth-century silk textile guilds through these civic duties assigned to them as a closed occupational unit within urban space. Power too, accrued though such duties and some guildsmen rose to membership of the Senate, but this rise to power, was to be swiftly curtailed by the Imperial house.67 Feasts such as that of ‘Agathe’ were held

63 For the exposure of truths about self through biblical exegesis, consider John Chrysostom on Lazarus 1.11 (PG 48.979) translated by C. P. Roth, St. John Chrysostom: On Wealth and Poverty. Crestwood, New York 1984, 34–35. 64 For the examination of Bible as typological knowledge of self, see, P. Rousseau, ‘Knowing Theodoret: text and self ’, in; The Cultural Turn in Late Antique Studies: gender, asceticism and historiography. Durham NC 2005. For representations of the penitent self see, G. Frank, ‘Romanos and the night vigil in the sixth century’, in; Byzantine Christianity (D. Krueger ed.) Minneapolis 2006, 59–77. Also, D. Krueger, ‘ Writing and Redemption in the hymns of Romanos the Melodist’, Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies 27 (2003) 2–44, and D. Krueger, ‘Romanos the Melodist and the Christian Self in Early Byzantium’, in; Proceedings of the Twenty first International Congress of Byzantine Studies. London, 21–26 August, 2006, Aldershot 2006, volume 1, 255–274. 65 For Palamas and Hesychasm see, K. Garitsis, Die Dynamik der trinitarischen Vergöttlichung des Menschen im Rahmen der Gegenseitigkeit von Christologie und Pneumatologie bei Gregor Palamas. Ph.D. thesis, Universität Bern, 1996. Scenes of the Lamentation are reflective of the growing awareness of the importance of the humanity of Christ. These scenes appear on epitaphioi. See for example, S. Curcic, ‘Late Byzantine Loca Sancta? Some questions regarding the form and function of epitaphioi’, in; The Twilight of Byzantium (S. Curcic, D. Mouriki ed.) Princeton 1991, 251–261, figures 1–16. On suffering and lamentation see also, H. Belting, ‘An image and its function in the liturgy. The Man of Sorrows in Byzantium’, Dumbarton Oaks Papers 34–35 (1980–1981) 1–27. 66 It is clear that guildsmen were active in military, ceremonial and dynastic contexts. See, ‘Democratia and eleventh century guilds’, in; S. Vryonis, Byzantium: its internal history and relations with the Muslim world. London 1971, chapter 3, 289–314, especially 295, 300–301, and 303, with notes 41, 43 and 52. Apart from decorating the route between the Palace and Haghia Sophia with purple silk cloths and woven silk carpets, guildsmen actually took part in the receptions of foreign ambassadors.

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to celebrate the skills of female weavers, and these also acted to provide group identity to the women occupied in the production of everyday textiles.68 Because of non-Christian associations, this festal activity too, was eventually prohibited. At the level of the ordinary citizen of Byzantium, by the tenth century there would have been a certain scope for the expression of individual gendered identity, via the use of imported Syrian and Cilician costumes and through purchase at local markets in Constantinople of Egyptian clothing.69 But in the twelfth century, silk dresses woven in Thebes and Corinth, were worn by fashionable women on the streets of Constantinople.70 Popular literature even began to record the actual motifs upon garments, for instance, the multi-bodied lion design.71 With the encroachment of imported Italian fashions in the later Byzantine period, some writers lamented the rejection of local dress in favour of imported foreign styles.72 Empire and imperial ideology Up to the twelfth century Byzantium promulgated images of divinely appointed rulers, powerful Patriarchs and divinely inspired councils and ascetics. With the dissolution of Imperial power after 1200 A.D. it was the turn of the Byzantine ecclesiastical establishment to extol the divine authority of the Emperors as figureheads of the State.73 The symbolic use of preVryonis, Byzantium, 309–314 and notes 87, 88, 90, 91, 92. Cf. Hendy, Byzantine Monetary Economy, 578–590. 68 See, ‘The festival of “Agathe”. Comments on the Life of Constantinopolitan Women’, in; A. Laiou, Gender, Society and Economic Life in Byzantium. Aldershot 1992, chapter 3, 111–122. 69 Koder, Eparchenbuch, 94–95, chapter 5, regulation 1. The Baggage Train account of the Book of Ceremonies reveals that lesser captives were given Egyptian silk garments to wear, which had been purchased on the open market in Constantinople. See, Haldon, Baggage Train, c289–291. 70 See above, in the present book, chapter 1 with note 31, and also by the present author, ‘Silk in Byzantium: Cultural Imperialism, identity and value’, in; Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, 9 with note 65. 71 First noted by the present author in Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, 39 and note 53 with reference to a silk described in Theodori Prodromi de Rhodanthes Dosiclis Amoribus Libri IX (M. Markovich ed.) Stutgardiae et Lipsiae 1992. See, C. Cupane in Byzantinische Zeitschrift 89 (1996) 99–100 with note 2. 72 Emanuel Georgillas Limenites, in; Bibliothèque Grecque Vulgaire (E. Legrand ed.) I, Paris 1880, reprint Athens 1974, 206–209. Cf. A. Micha-Lampaki, To Thanatikon, Vyzantinos Domos 3 (1989) 51–62. 67

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cious textiles to visually present images of Imperial authority and power is very clear in Byzantium from the fourth century onwards (Plates 13, 170).74 The Byzantine Imperial imagery so well promulgated through use of motifs on textiles, served as a conceptual device rather than as the representation of historical reality. From the fourth century onwards the Imperial image was revered and the Imperial word was acclaimed.75 The Imperial house developed a strong bond between the development of the cult of saints and the cult of Emperors.76 Elaborate ceremonial and imagery were intended to render visual Imperial ideology, concepts of political Orthodoxy and Basileia (Plates 171 and 168, 170).77 Texts, images and ceremonies carried encoded messages about Imperial legitimacy and power, territorial integrity, secure and balanced administrative and social systems.78 The Christian Emperor ruled over the Kingdom of Heaven upon Earth and Constantinople served as the New Jerusalem.79 All this was embedded in the use of sumptuous textile display. Motifs such as the Eagle and the Griffin, became closely related to the image of legitimate Imperial authority by the tenth to the eleventh century Plates 5–6, 18, 42).80 Elaborate textile based ceremonial, well known through the Book of Ceremonies, also acted to establish critiques of luxury 73 See, G. Dagron, Emperor and Priest. The Imperial Office in Byzantium. Cambridge 2003, 295–312. This deals with the relationship of Church and State in relation to the concept of Imperial priesthood. 74 Hence the especially reserved types of purple silk and of gold embroidery produced by the Imperial workshops for use of the court. See ‘Lopez and beyond’, in; Muthesius, Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving, chapter 16, 298–303, particularly 299–301 on legislation designed to maintain the Imperial monopoly over production of the ‘reserved silks’. 75 Refer to C. Roueche, ‘Written display in the Late Antique and Byzantine City’, in; Proceedings of the Twenty First International Conference of Byzantine Studies, volume 1, 235–253, especially 250–252. 76 See, V. Limberis, Divine Heiress. The Virgin Mary and the creation of Christian Constantinople. London 1994, chapter 4, 62–97. 77 Ibid., chapter 3, 47–61. 78 See above in the present book, chapter 2, for a discussion of legitimacy and legitimisation. 79 On concepts of hierotopy (sacred space) see, Proceedings of the Twenty First International Congress of Byzantine Studies, volume 2, panel VI. 210–225. Also, A. Lidov, Hierotopy: the creation of sacred spaces in Byzantium and Old Russia. Moscow 2006. For the idea of heavenly and earthly courts, with a parallel drawn between heaven and Constantinople, see, H. Maguire, ‘The Heavenly Court’, in; Byzantine Court Culture, 247–258. 80 See by the present author, ‘The Byzantine Eagle’, in; Silk in Byzantium, 227–236.

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and to visually display the relationship of the Emperor to the Imperial administrative body.81 Inter-cultural ties and socio-economic/diplomatic contacts Byzantine luxury textiles acted as part of the establishment of processes of affirmation of cultural identity and of cultural value and there was the need to communicate these values abroad.82 Byzantium promoted close diplomatic contact with the Muslim, the Latin and the East European world, which involved the exchange of diplomatic silks.83 Inscribed Lion silks illustrate diplomatic contacts with the German court (Plates 9–10, 21–22, 30, 173–174 and 7).84 The top of the range Imperial Byzantine silks sent to the Latin courts ‘bridged the gap between Byzantine Imperial ideology and the political reality of Byzantium’s situation’. Byzantium sought a moral ally in the Latin west. Numerous Islamic accounts detail the gift of Byzantine silks and costumes to the Fatimid and the Abbasid courts.85 Fatimid court ceremony in particular was influenced by Byzantine ceremonial practices using such magnificent silks.86 The Byzantine and the Muslim world on one level

81 Discussed by the present author within, ‘Silk in Byzantium: Cultural Imperialism, Identity and Value’, in; Silk in Byzantium, 1–22. 82 Ibid., 7–9. 83 For Byzantine silks in Central Asia, see by the present writer, ‘Byzantine influences along the Silk Route: Central Asian silks transformed’, in; Silk in Byzantium, chapter 16, 277–287. For Byzantine silks given to Muslim rulers as diplomatic gifts, see Hamidullah, reference in note 85 below. For examples of Byzantine silks in the West consult two papers by the present author: ‘The role of Byzantine silks in the British Isles before AD 1200’, in; Silk in Byzantium, chapter chapter 15, 257–275; and ‘The role of Byzantine silks in the Ottonian Empire’, in; Byzantine and Islamic Silk Weaving, chapter 12, 217–230. For the East European world consider for example, the greater Sakkos of Photius, Metropolitan of Moscow, between 1414–1417 sent to Russia by the Emperor John Palaeologos. See, Medieval Pictorial Embroidery. Byzantium, Balkans, Russia. Exhibition catalogue of the Eighteenth International Congress of Byzantinists, Moscow, August 8–15, 1991, catalogue number 10, 44–51. 84 For these silks see, Muthesius, Byzantine Silk Weaving, chapter 4, 34–38. On exchange of diplomatic gifts see, G. Prinzing, ‘Zum Austauch diplomatischer Geschenke’, Mitteilungen zur spätantiken Archäologie und byzantinischen Kunstgeschichte 4 (2005), 145–164. 85 See, M. Hamidullah, ‘Nouveaux documents sur les rapports de l’Europe avec l’orient Musulman au Moyen Âge’. Arabica 7 (1960), 281–300.

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shared in the culture of ‘textile objects’, and they had a common consensus over aesthetic values surrounding cloth.87 They also expressed a consensus about textiles as part of ‘civilised life’ with the exchange of precious silk garments and furnishings. As a concomitant of diplomatic gift exchange, silk textiles were used to symbolically seal treatises and to free political prisoners, that is, in place of ransoms of gold.88 In the case of Eastern Europe Byzantium’s key aim was to stress the Byzantine Emperor as an archetype of Christian Ruler.89 Following the conversion to Orthodoxy, the Byzantine Emperor regarded Russia as a new divinely sanctioned centre of Orthodoxy, and the Russian church took on

Discussed by P. Canard, ‘Le Cérémonial Fatimite et le Cérémonial Byzantin’. Byzantion 21 (1951) 355–420. Also see note 87 below. 87 For the idea of a shared ‘culture of objects’ see, O. Grabar, ‘The shared culture of objects’, in; Byzantine Court Culture, chapter III, 115–129. This paper deals with the objects recorded in The Book of Treasures and Gifts, by al-Qadi al-Rashid Ibn al-Zubayr, who was either an administrator of the Fatimid court or an administrator based in Cairo. The document was written prior to 1071. The accounts discussed according to Grabar, included two examples of extensive Byzantine textile gifts to the Fatimid court by Byzantine emperors. Amongst the silks sent after 924, to Baghdad to Caliph al-Radi by Romanos Lekapenos, Stephen and Constantine, were included according to Grabar’s translation, seven brocade covers one with design of eagles in two colours, two others with eagles, yet others with foliate and tree designs, two with hunters in roundels on a white background, one with tricoloured stripes, and two with crouching lions on a yellow background. A velvet fabric, also sent on this occasion, had an eagle in a roundel with riders above. One thin brocade textile showed a mounted Emperor carrying a standard, and another had an eagle attacking a lion. Other thin brocades featured a variety of animals, some in combat with each other. Of the garments sent by Romanos, ten were of velvet with elephant-motif, decorated stripes. In 1046 Constantine IX Monomachos sent to the Fatimid Caliph al-Mustansir, according to Grabar’s translation, one thousand assorted brocade textiles and three hundred pieces of thin brocade, as well as brocade cloths designed to wrap garments in. The horses and mules carrying the textiles bore brocaded saddle covers. Also consult, N. M. El Cheikh, Byzantium viewed by the Arabs. Cambridge MA 2004; C. E. Bosworth, ‘Byzantium and the Arabs: war and peace between two world civilisations’, Journal of Oriental and African Studies 3–4 (1991–1992) 17–23, and A. Beihammer, ‘Die Kraft der Zeichen: symbolische Kommunikation in der byzantinisch-arabischen Diplomatie des 10. und 11. Jahrhunderts’, Jahrbuch der Österreichischen Byzantinistik 54 (2004) 159–189. 88 Grabar, The Shared Culture, account 2 on page 121, where the renewal of a peace treaty and the freeing of two hundred Muslim prisoners of war are involved. 89 Consult J. Shepard, ‘Byzantium’s overlapping circles’, in; Proceedings of the Twenty First international Congress of Byzantine Studies, volume 1, 15–55, especially 17–28, 53–55. 86

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all the Byzantine textile symbolism described above.90 Orthodox doctrine, Christian Rulers and Human Salvation Amongst the splendid surviving fifteenth-century Byzantine embroideries is the Greater Sakkos of Phocas metropolitan of Moscow, presented by the Emperor John III and the grand princess Anna, who arrived in Constantinople in 1414, and who died in 1417.91 This vestment with its embroidered Nicaean Creed set against the Imperial images demonstrates the relationship of Church to State in Byzantium by the fifteenth century (Plates 7, 173–174). This depiction contrasts with the imagery of a silk altar cloth presented to Haghia Sophia by the Emperor Justinian in the sixth century on which miracles of Christ and the victorious military deeds of the Emperor were depicted side by side.92 Some Byzantine ecclesiastical textiles also reflect the fact that a combination of Christian theology and of Imperial Byzantine traditions was at work, for example within the scene of the Anastasis (Plate 34).93 Here, the victory of Christ over Hades, Satan and sin, can be likened to the victory of the Emperor over his enemies, the latter by tradition ceremonially expressed in the ritual act of the Emperor trampling his enemies underfoot.94 Passion imagery in the Comnene period was tied to the introduction of new hymns and homelies into the Great Friday offices, as documented in the Synaxarion of Evergitis.95 Similarly, there were influences of kontakia and kathismata to the Theotokus, upon the image of the Virgin as intercessor, The special relationship between Byzantium and Russia, was emphasised in the exhibition, Sinai, Byzantium, Russia. Orthodox art from the sixth to the twentieth century. London 2000. 91 See above, in the present chapter, the last reference in note 83. 92 See above in the present book, chapter 1, reference in note 14. 93 Consult, A. D. Kartsonis, Anastasis. The Making of an Image. Princeton, New Jersey 1986. More recently note, R. Gounelle, La Descente du Christ aux Enfers. Institutionalisation d’une croyance. Paris 2000. 94 Refer to, I. Kukota, ‘Some aspects of calcatio colli as an iconographical element of Christ’s Descent into Hades’, in; Proceedings of the Twenty First International Congress of Byzantinists, volume 3, 292. On the celebration of victory in Byzantium in general see, M. McCormick, Eternal Victory. Triumphal Rulership in Late antiquity, Byzantium and the early medieval West. Cambridge 1986. 95 The idea was first suggested by, Belting, An image and its function, 1–16. Also consult, O. Ovcharova, ‘New developments in Byzantine religious imagery and the monastic rite in the period between c. 1050 and 1200’, in Proceedings of the Twenty First International Congress of Byzantinists, volume 3, 258–260. On the influence of the development of the 90

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reflected in scenes such as the Deesis.96 Certain images such as that of Christ Patriarch, suggested the direct line of authority between God and the Church, rather than the role of Emperor as intercessor between God and his people (Plates 31–33).97 The Cults of patron and of military and of local saints appealed to the masses, with the associated popular religious feasts and celebrations as a foil to the earlier Cult of Emperors.98 Nevertheless, from Imperial patronage stemmed textiles intended to communicate decisions of State such as the thirteenth-century proposed Union of Churches, or the swift subsequent reversal of this Union (Plates 30, 29; 35–36).99 Conclusion To sum up this paper, five main points can be made about Byzantine textiles. • Firstly, that they operated on both a practical and a symbolic level monastic rite in the eleventh century, see, J. Ph. Thomas, ‘Documentary evidence from the Byzantine monastic typika for the history of the Evergetine reform movement’, in; The Theotokus Evergitis and Eleventh-Century Monasticism. Belfast 1994, 246–273. Also, R. F. Taft, ‘Mount Athos: a late chapter in the history of the Byzantine rite’. Dumbarton Oaks Papers 42 (1988) 188–190. 96 Ovcharova, New developments, 259–260. 97 This image is widespread in the form of polioi on or from monastic vestments in the treasuries of St. Catherine, Mount Sinai, for instance. 98 On the cult of warrior saints see, E. H. Kantorowicz, ‘Gods in Uniform’, Proceedings of the American Philosophical society 105 (1961) 368–393. Also D. Ivanov, The army of God. Sofia 2004. Further see, P. Grotowski, ‘Military attire of warrior saints-between iconography and the written sources’, in; Proceedings of the Twenty First International Congress of Byzantine Studies, volume 3, 283–285. On the Imperial court as intercessor through association with the cult of relics see, B. Flusin, ‘L’empereur hagiographie. Remarques sur le rôle des premiers empereurs macédoniens dans le culte des saints’, in; L’empereur hagiographe. Culte des saints et monarchie Byzantine et post-byzantine. (P. Guran ed.). New Europe College 2001, 29–55. 99 In relation to this suggestion, I have in mind firstly a lost ‘curtain’ sent by the Emperor Michael VIII Palaeologus to Pope Gregory X, at the time of the 1274 Council for the Union of Churches in Lyons, on which was depicted a surprising iconography. Uppermost appeared the Trinity set above a bust of the Virgin with saints in a central register. On the lower register of the textile, was placed a scene in which Pope Gregory was shown leading Emperor Michael towards St. Peter. For this lost piece see L. de Farcy, La broderie de l’Xme siècle jusqu’à nos jours. Paris 1890, 35, and P. Johnstone, Byzantine tradition in Church Embroidery. London 1967, 76–77. Secondly, in relation to my suggestion, I refer to the Thessaloniki Epitaphios. See, ‘The Thessaloniki epitaphios: a technical examination’, in: Muthesius, Silk in Byzantium, chapter 11, 175–206, and especially 188–194.

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in Byzantium. • Secondly, that they acted as a clear indicator of economic and of technological developments in Byzantium in relation to the Muslim Eastern Mediterranean and the Latin West. • Thirdly, that they served as a catalyst for communication across the Empire, of political ideology, of religious doctrine and Orthodox belief, and of social concerns. • Fourthly, that they conveyed abroad ‘idealised’ images of Imperial power and authority through which to gain moral or political advantage • Lastly, that they were a medium through which social identity, gender, individuality or group allegiance might be expressed and communicated. In these ways Byzantine textiles serve as one of the most powerful documents available to inter-disciplinary scholars working on a practical and a theoretical level, for the reading of Byzantine civilisation. This paper in essence, I hope brings together the concerns of the academic and the museum worlds.

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Appendix The Importance of Textiles to the Understanding of Byzantine Civilisation Introduction This paper examines Byzantine textiles in two ways: i. As physical objects related to practical functions ii. As conceptually constructed objects acting in ways beyond practical function The first approach involves empirical analysis and it is tied up with technical and technological examination to provide a chronological history of textile types and motifs. It marries historical contextual evidence to art historical and archaeological scientific analysis of the surviving Byzantine textiles, including embroideries and tailored garments. The second approach looks at the textiles as carriers of cultural codes embedded with meanings, beliefs and values. This calls for a blend of historical, art historical, archaeological, anthropological, literary/philological, and theological research methods. This approach reveals the role of the textiles in relation to key aspects of Byzantine Civilisation including concepts of Empire and Imperial Ideology; socio-economic, diplomatic and cultural ties with further cultures (Muslim, Latin, East European); Orthodoxy in relation to Christian Rule; Religious doctrine allied to the Salvation of humanity; Citizenship, community as related to individual/group social identity. The aim of the paper is to demonstrate the importance of textiles to the understanding of Byzantine Civilisation: an area of study, which represents an autonomous discipline within Byzantine Studies.

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Section one This part of the paper will present an empirical study of a number of surviving textiles, embroideries and tailored garments, variously datable between the fourth and the fifteenth centuries. The aim is to demonstrate the physical characteristics of the textiles (to include a chronology of weaving types and motifs), and to provide analysis of the development of textile technology in Byzantium. Textiles of practical, everyday function will be included in this section. Consideration will be given to dyes, to different types of woven yarns, to embroidery materials, and to the early use of techniques for weaving to shape, (as opposed to production of tailored garments). This section addresses the physical reality of Byzantine textiles and draws conclusions about the conditions and methods of production involved in their manufacture. Section two This part of the paper will examine surviving and documented Byzantine textiles and items of dress with regard to the process of encoding them with cultural meanings, values and beliefs. Here the textiles are analysed as part of a ‘visual communication’ system. The textiles are read as part of conventional social display at different levels. Three principal themes are explored here: a. Textiles in relation to Empire as hierarchical structure: (from the glorification of the State to issues of Government, regulation and ordering of society; socio-economic and diplomat contacts with other cultures). b. Textiles in the service of Orthodoxy and religious doctrine, to include the issue of Emperor as Christian Ruler: (from the Empire as ‘ekklesia’ awaiting God’s salvation, to spiritual Orthodoxy expressed within hierarchy, theology, sacraments, worship and morality). c. Textiles as clothing in relation to human identity and behaviour: (gender/expression of the ‘self ’, status/profession, aesthetic ideals/taste, lifestyle). Conclusion This will present conclusions that can be drawn about the importance

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of textiles to the understanding of Byzantine Civilisation. The textile examples chosen for discussion, in particular will provide extra light upon aspects of: production, technology and textile use and commerce in Byzantium; the governing, regulation and administration of the Byzantine Empire; the organisation of social and religious life within the Empire; contact and cultural exchange between Byzantium and other cultures, and the development of individual, and of group identity in Byzantium.

Index A Abbasid society 115 acclamation of saints 4 Adventus ceremony, Trier ivory 152 Alan burial customs 141 ancient Sassanian culture 141 Anglo-Byzantine diplomacy 151 Anglo-Saxon church, cloths of 145 Anglo-Saxon royal patronage 145 Anglo-Saxon soldiers 151 Arab traders in Adriatic 204 archaeological textiles 259 Archbishops Aelfsige of Canterbury (d. 959) 111 Chrysostom of Athens (in 1999) 69 Nilus of Thessaloniki (14 century) 66 Paulinus of Trier (351–358) 167 Sigeric of Canterbury (in 990s) 111 Theodore of Canterbury (c.612–90) 146 Theophylact of Ochrid (from 1088/9) 74 Willigis of Mainz (d. 1011) 46 Archbishop/s of Split 206 Archbishop electors of German Emperor 183 Aristotelian Rationalism 115 astronomy, Byzantine/Near Eastern

115 astronomy and Byzantine medicine 115 ‘authoratitive rulership’ 17 Ayyubid and Mamluk Damascus 115 Ayyubid and Mamluk rulers 202 B Basilicas of Rome 170 Benedictine monks at Durham (1083) 15 birthday of the Emperor 18 Bishops Adalbero II of Basle (d. 1026) 46 Albuin of Brixen (1002–06) 45 Bernward (d. 1022) of Hildesheim 46 Godehard (from 1009) of Niederaltaich 46 Gunther of Bamberg (d. 1067) 124 Hugh of Lincoln (1186–1200) 153 Manuel, at Stroumitsa (in 1080) 72 Meinwek of Paderborn (d. 1036) 46 Perperus of Tours (late 5 century) 150 Symeon of Thessalonica (d. 1363) 59 Theodore of Mopsuestia (c.

318 350–428) 58 William of St. Calais at Durham (1089–1096) 146 Book of Ceremonies 6 Book of the Prefect 21 brandea 88 Byzantine alliances with Ethiopians (530s, 550s) 135 alliances with Sogdians/Turks (568–581) 135 Christian penitence/repentance 305 coin types 141 court ceremony, Kletorologion of Philotheos 270 — Pseudo Codinus 27 dignitaries 17 domestic silk market 127 foreign policy, diplomatic/military 16, 24 hair nets 159 head-scarves 176 Imperial guard 12 Imperial silk guild regulations 261 Imperial silk monopoly 261, 268–69 Imperial victory parades 277 loom technology 138 manuscripts, silk bindings 80 purple murex silks 160 silks, colours of 279 raw silk supply 128 ‘rulership’ 14 silk sails 130 Senate 21 society/social hierarchy 16, 37 State 14 Byzantium, vanity, ostentation, innuendo 32

C Cairo Geniza documents 129, 142, 297 canonisation of Charlemange (1160) 77 — of Edward the Confessor (1163) 77 — of St. Denis (early 12 century) 77 Carolingian court ‘Renaissance’ 163 Chinese contacts with West 113 Chinese maritime routes 113 Christian culture and worship 249–54 Christian identity 256–7 Christian Kingship 43, 269 Christian kinship 25 Christian miracles 87 Chronicle of John Malalas 25 Churches/Cathedrals Aachen Cathedral 8, 40 Bamberg Cathedral 40, 48 Basilica of the Virgin, Tongeren 96 Basle Cathedral 40, 45 Beromünster, St. Michael 94 Brixen Cathedral 45 Canterbury Cathedral, inventory (1315) 107 Canterbury Cathedral, silk seal bags, 1, 98–115 Chur Cathedral 40 Cologne Cathedral 40 Constantinople, Haghia Sophia 4, 307 — the Blachernae 5, 86 — the Chalkoprateia 5, 86 — the Hodegetria 5 — the Pharos, 5 Durham Cathedral 49 Hildesheim Cathedral 94 Jerusalem, Holy Sepulchre/shrine of Golgotha 87

INDEX

Liege Cathedral 40 London, St. Paul’s 109 Maastricht, St. Servatius 40 Milan, St. Ambrogio 40 Mozac, St. Austremoine 41 Peterborough Cathedral 109 Rome, Vatican inventory (1295) 108 Sens Cathedral 40 Split Cathedral 197 St. Catherine’s, Sinai, Russian monks at 168 Szekesfehervar, church of the Virgin 48 civic and ecclesiastical ceremonies 6 civic ritual/identity/enactment/display 163–65 Cloth pouches silk embroidered, Christian themes 96 with love/ mythological scenes/ coats of arms 97 Cloth relics Christ’s burial cloths 64 Christ’s swaddling clothes 85 girdle/ robes/ veil/ shroud of the Virgin 5, 35 Holy Mandylion of Christ 5, 35, 85 linen shroud of St. Martin of Tongeren 178 loin cloth of Christ 85 robe of Christ 29 silk shroud, Sts. Harlindis/ Relindis, Maayseck 151, 178 Turin shroud 85 winding sheet of Christ 85 — and miraculous cures 35 — from Durham, cloth relics of St. Cuthbert 191 — of Sens, Maastricht, Swiss treasuries 96

319 cloth reliquaries, bags, burses, purses (silk) 85, 95 cloth reliquaries as amulets 94 cloth seal pouches — Canterbury Cathedral 96–7, 100 — Westminster abbey, 96–7, 100 coronation of the Emperor 18 Council of Union (1274) 28 court ceremonial, Theo-centric 52 Costume — and hierarchy/ exploitation of 20, 34 Byzantine dress as signifying system 266–83 Byzantine Imperial, 3, 9–10, 18–19, 121–23, 160, 269, 272, 277 Byzantine Imperial purple 3, 18, 33, 122, 124 carried into battle 121, 123 Caucasian, headdress and kaftans 140 Court costume chlamys with gold tablion 20 Easter Monday 19 — of court dignitaries 19–20 — of Blue and Green demarchs 20 — of parade 19, 93 — of the Empress, thorakion 19 ‘robes of honour’ 19–20 dress of Caliphs in Maqamar al-Hariri 203 Egyptian, male 203 Egyptian silk tunics 33 Egyptian/ Syrian/ Cilician garments 35 fine silk dresses 8 imported, Syrian, Cilician, Italian 306

320 — in Edict of Diocletian (4 century) 296 kaftan 35 Mediterranean dress 140–41 Northern Caucasian, silk 131 particularisation of 17 propriety of 279 secular silk and ‘cultural capital’ 20, 22, 31, 148 silk dowry 25, 26, 32 silk dress categories 32 silk dress, civilising elements of 33 silk dress, fur lined 3, 131 silken identity/dress codes 16, 31 tailored silk garments 15 — of Turkish Sultans 75 uniforms 32 unseemly ostentation 34 court of Constantine VII 16 court of Nicephoros Phocas 16 Crusader Kingdoms, Syria/ Palestine 128 Cults — as royal allegiance 162 — urban phenomenon Byzantium/ Italy 169 — of Byzantine, Imperial ruler 2, 72 — Charlemagne at Aachen 42, 90, 171 — Christian saints 2, 89 — Edward the Confessor at Westminster Abbey 90, 171 — of relics 76 — of rulers, Anglo-Saxon/Anglo Norman 90, 149, 153, 171 — of St. Catherine, Sinai 292 — St. Cuthbert, Durham 90, 145, 154, 164 — St. Columba, Iona 151 — St. Denis, Paris 171

— St. Thomas Beckett, Canterbury 91, 101 — St. Wilfrid 173–74 — the Virgin 169 Northumbrian/ Continental, silken cults 144, 156 shrines, pilgrimage, miracles, cults at Canterbury 110 tomb cults, Episcopal of Gaul 145, 153 tradition/ ecclesiastical cult, Central European 197 D Desert Fathers/Church Fathers 84, 94 diplomatic silk exchange, Byzantine/ Islamic 12, 29, 205 diplomatic silk exchange, Fatimid 119 diplomatic silk exchange, Latin West 126, 308–09 — Emperor Const.IX to Caliph Al Mustensir (1045) 119 diplomatic missions 29 dispersal of precious silks, Durham 186, 190–91 Divine Incarnation 3 domestic uses of Byzantine textiles 274–75 dye analysis 199 E Early Christian Martyrs 87 earthly court 6 ecclesiastical silk treasuries 184–85 elaborate ceremonies 15 embassies 24 Embroidery/ Embroidery techniques — Anglo-Saxon, silk 151 Constantinopolitan, commercial 68 Cretan 81

321

INDEX

gold borders on 15, 52, 160 gold-embroidered — Emperor portraits 47 — Falconers 49 — Star mantle 49 gold, lost 53 Greek island 82 Imperial Palaeologian 270, 286, 310 Opus Anglicanum 77, 157 over-side couching, gold threads/ paddings 52, 54 under-side couching 157 Emperor/Empress Alexius I Comnenus (1081– 1118) 72 Alexius V (1204) 121 Andronicus I Comnenus (1183–85) 36 Andronicus II Palaeologus (1282–1328) 67 Basil I (867–86) 123 Constantine VII (913–957) 6, 33, 121 Constantine the Great (306– 337) 2 John Cantacuzenus 66 John VIII Palaeologus (1425– 1448) 28, 67 Justinian I (527–565) 4, 284, 296 Leo IV (775–780) 25 Leo VI, the Wise, (886–912) 21, 24, 33 Michael I (811–813) 73 Manuel I Comnenus (1143– 1180) 9, 25, 123 Manuel II Palaeolous (1391– 1425) 29 Michael VII Ducas (1071–1078) 25 Nicephorous III Botaneiates

(1078–1081) 120 Romanus I Lecapenus (920–944) 5 Theodosius II (408–450) 152 Emperor’s ‘Divine Right’ 15 Empress Catherine the Great of Russia 75 Empress Eirene (regent 780–790) 72 episcopal towns 45 eschatology, salvation and forgiveness 7, 60, 287 F fall of Fatimids (1171) 203 family of Emperor Alexius I (1081– 1118) 72 feasts — of all Saints 19 — of Orthodoxy 19 — of St. Basil 19 — of the Ascension 19 — of the Dormition 19 — of the Nativity 19 — of the Presentation 19 — of the Virgin Theotokos 3 festival of ‘Agathe’ 277 G Galerian persecution 198 glass, Mediterranean 141 Greek school in Rome 78 H Heavenly Kingdom 6 Heavenly liturgy 62 Hiberno-Northumbrian missionaries 150, 156 hierarchy, earthly and heavenly 60 Homilies of Gregory of Nazianzus 2–4 House of Lamps, Constantinople 32 human redemption 66 hymns 4

322

I Iconoclasm in Byzantium 7, 88, 260 ideological Union of Byzantine Empire/ Church 269 Imperial — authority/ideology 5, 294–95, 306–7, 312 — Baggage Train Account 121 — bedchamber 19 — Byzantine diplomatic gifts, silk 25, 274 — critiques of silken luxury 31 — horses 6 — identity and power 18, 23 — murex purples 15 — palaces, Constantinople 6 — patronage, silk 71 — patronage, silk, of Romanus I (920–944) 123 — silk to monasteries 74 — piety 90 — religious parades across Constantinople 124 — silk and grandeur 117 — silk bed sheets on military campaign 121 — silk storehouses, eidikon/vestiarion 120, 127 — tunics, Gregory, Megas Domestikos of the West 122 — uses of silk 269, 303–4 — weaving, silk 1, 2, 268–74 Indian printed cottons 81 Irish haghiographical tradition 154 Islamic Mediterranean silk workshops 8 Italian City States 80 Italian silks, Near/Far Eastern influences on 113 J

Jewish Rhadanite merchants 112 Jouarre, Merovingian stone sarcophagus 150 K Kashmir shawls 81 King of the Lazi 25 L late Roman diplomacy 23 Latin Church silk imports 144 — Papal silk inventory 77 — silk furnishings/vestments 126, 143 Latin Crusader States 74 Latin occupation (1204–61) 8, 22, 37, 67 Latin silk weaving 120 Legend of Alexander 9 ‘legitimisation’ of power systems 284–5 ‘legitimisation’ of the ruler 15 Liber de reliquiis, Richard de Segbruk (1383) 189 Life of St. Christodulos, Patmos 76 Life of St. Cuthbert, Bede’s prose 150 Life of St. Columba 151 Life of St. Martin 150 Life of Theophanou 35 Liturgy — as theoretical dogma/ empirical practice 56 Byzantine and — Anamnesis-Eucharistic Prayer 63 — Cherubic Hymn 290 — Epiclesis and Anaphora 63, 290 — Great Entrance 62, 67, 290 — rite of the Zeon 63 — rites of the Prothesis 62 — ’stational’ presentaion of 87

INDEX

— the Communion, priest’s prayer 63, 290 — Transfer of Gifts 62 — Words of Institution 62 liturgy and — drama 5 — furnishings — aer 64 — epitaphios 65, 289 — epitaphios with lamenting angels 65 — hangings door/ciboria, cushions, podea 11, 125 liturgical — hymn, Cherubikon 67 — practices, Durham 39, 184 — re-enactment 60 — services of Joseph of Arimathea 64 liturgy at Haghia Sophia 66 — Episcopal 60 looms — Central Asian 138 — pattern-producing devices of 138, 260, 301–2 — spacing of warps/ drawcords on 271 M mass spectacle in Constantinople 34 Material Culture — approaches analysis in contemporary Design theory 236 — of materials/ techniques/ processes 210, 235 archaeological and historical 217 body/ mind debates 207 cognitive approaches and 222 cross-disciplinary 208, 214, 225ff. cultural history/material remains

323 analysis 219 empirical/ non-empirical, textual, visual, object based 210 evol. biology, anthropology, archaeology, philosophy 224 French Annales school, 213 historical and art historical 216 inter-disciplinary analysis of Byzantine silks 258–83 literary and rhetorical devices 217 material essentialism and theoretical analysis 233 mind and matter ‘co-dependent’ 244–45 object/ image/ text 231 object/symbol/cognition 224 objects, handling and analysis of 234 parallel study of word/image 213 perception, aesthetics, sensory response, language 209 qualitative/ quantitative/ statistical analysis 222 Realienkunde, Sachkunde, Volkskunde 212–15, 227 relationship of person/object 214, 223 scientific analysis of objects 210 Social science, objects/imagination/ memory 139 social science, philosophy, psychology, objects 227 socio-economics, technology, mentalities 214 structural, narrative and historical 214 symbolic function of material culture 210, 228 textual, visual, empirical 209, 233–35 Material Culture

324 — aspects of Apokaukos, Byz. Literary perception of 222 architecture, city planning 208 artefacts in social context 230 bibliographies 232, 240–42 Byzantine, definitions of 209, 212 Byzantine medicine and diet 207 Cambridge University, McDonald Institute 222— 25 communal life, laws, family communication 220 cultural language, written/visual 237 cultural/social identity/ cultural value 265, 308 diet and nutrition 208 dress, identity, gender 208 health, hospitals, surgery 208 home building regulations 208 human thought and 265, 267 iconological interpretation of 209 ideas and material objects 224 ideas, beliefs, concepts communicated 244 ideology and manipulation of symbols 244 Krems, International Round Table on (1982) 216 Kuehnel, Festschrift (1992) on 222 lifestyle, mode of living 264 living conditions/ work 207 ‘living world’, institutions and mentalities 221 Mat. Culture and Well-Being in Byzantium (2001) 207–11 material evidence, value of beyond written sources 142 material goods and lifestyles 218

meaning and value in society 228 medicine, medical saints 208 medieval Christian worship and 249–53 monastic life and trade as aspects of 208 museums, exhibitions, objects 231 neighbourliness and 208 object, culture and environment 265 object — and human status 225, 244, 264 — mental processes 230 — social interaction 265 — subject in cultural context 248 object — as ‘cultural capital’ in Byzantium 279 — transmitter of religious ideas 225 — ’symbolic of ’ and conceptual thought 225 object/ rational thought/ emotion 248 power, social interaction/ relations and ‘realities’ 281 power systems and social structures 280 relation of material/ immaterial 208 Rethinking Materiality (1998) 244–49 semiotics of materials 228 social and cultural identity, transformation of 245 social interaction in 265–66 social norm and social function 239 social relations: artefacts/ linguis-

INDEX

tics/ concepts 223–24 socio-political change, effects of in 145 supernatural dimensions of material world 208, 287 symbolic forms, new concepts, social institutions 245 technical/physical language of Byzantine 135 technology/ science/ economy/ trade 226 Material culture terms ‘affordances’ — of objects 265 — of silk, cognitive/ physical/ interpretational 282 ‘agency’ and pragmatic/ epistemic action 244, 247, 265 assigning ‘value’ to daily life 238 ‘collective acceptance’/ ‘institutional regulation’ 240 ‘embodied dispositions’ and ‘ongoing outcomes’ 247 emotions and ‘extended consciousness’ 266 ‘engagement theory’ 245 ‘extended artefact’ 247 ‘external symbolic storage’, artefact/cognition 223 ‘figured objects and figured worlds’ 247 ‘for groupness’ — and ‘joint decision/ collective agreement’ 240 ‘Habitus’, present experience 245, 281 ‘habitat’ and human response 261 ideas, memory/’cultural imitation’ 224 ‘institutions’, ‘formal and informal’ 237

325 ‘intention’ 238, 287 ‘material engagement’ — and accumulation, enchainment 247 — and fragmentation, consumption 247 ‘material essentialism’ 227 — and human cognition/ response in context 242 ‘materiality’ and ‘material expression’ 227–28, 263 ‘memory’ and ‘formation of narratives’ 228 object analysis and ‘status function’ 229 objects and ‘social function’ 229 material culture and definitions of social/ cultural reality 215, 227, 266 ‘institutional’ and ‘informal reality’ 224, 229 ‘retrieval of information’, memory/narrative 238 ‘social act’, ‘social practice’, social relations 245, 282 ‘social emotion’, pan human 266 ‘social institution’ and ‘cultural practice’ 245 ‘social norms’ 285 ‘symbolic storage’ 285 topics of current debate 248, 252–3, 257 supply and rural economy 208 the cultural artefact 207 tradition and ‘popular feeling’ 237 urban ritual, display, mass spectacle 208 Vienna, 16. Intern. Byz. Congress (1981) 219 Monasteries Athos 11

326 — as religious cult centres 76 — Dissolution of 98 Latros, monastery library 84 St. Catherine’s, Sinai 11 St. John’s, Patmos, and Stylos 11, 81 stauroplegial 74 treasuries, silk of 11 Virgin of Pity, Macedonia 73 Motifs on silks — secular axe in pearled medallion 140, 199 astrological symbols, Sassanian 7, 49 birds and animals 160 Byzantine, ‘anamnesis’ to realism in 289 Central Asian lions 136 circles with peacock feathers 199 double-headed eagle 10, 79 eagle and griffin 9 elephants 12 elongated hexagonal medallions/ quadrupeds 200 facing birds in profile set about a tree form 200 foliate, animal and figurative 140 foliate spandrel 201 geometric and foliate ornament 140 heroic deeds of Emperor Justinian 289, 310 heroic literary 107 hunter/ charioteer, Mediterranean 136, 299 imagery on precious cloths 56 Imperial Byzantine lion silks 25, 308 Kufic inscription 49 large scale bird and animal 7 lion, griffin and bi-cephal eagle

183 Mongol, Ayyubid-Kurdish, Mamluk-Turk 202 mounted Hunters 138 multi-bodied lions 8, 36 mythological themes 7 ‘Nature-Goddess 179 paired, addorsed, golden brocade griffins 9 paired lions 13 palmette, Sassanian 198 peacocks 19 peacock-eye 200 quadrupeds in medallions, with spandrel birds 160 secular scenes 279 wisdom/’Ruler/ philosopher/ King’ 49 Motifs — religious scenes Anastasis/Resurrection 60, 310 Christ as priest/Patriarch 11, 58, 62, 290 Church as intercessor 58 Church Triumphant/ Christ’s mystical body 289 Communion of the Apostles 63 Deesis and Second Coming 290 Emperor as High Priest 58 Festal cycle 55, 57, 60, 63, 310 From dead Christ to Lamentation 289 Heavenly liturgy 58 Hospitality of Abraham 63 imagery of liturgical rite 56, 63 images of Gethsemane 63 Koimesis of the Virgin 63 Last Judgement 287 Liber Pontificalis, Christian narrative 299 Liturgical imagery 54 Liturgical themes, Humanity of

INDEX

Christ 79 Melismos-sacrifice of Christ Child 65, 291 Metamorphosis/Transfiguration 60, 287 Old and New Testament 48, 279 salvatory deeds of Christ 55, 57, 289 scenes of the life of the Virgin 3 — Dormition 291 scenes from life of Christ 55 N National identity 13 Neo-Platonic concepts/ Divine Light 22, 184 Northumbrian Renaissance 163 Nuptial alliances 12 O Orthodox doctrine — Holy Spirit and ‘Christ present’ 60 — Palamite theology, Hesychaism 69, 288 — theological debate 11, 71, 143, 209, 310–11 — Orthodoxy and ‘Basileia’ 307 — Orthodoxy and Hypostatic Union 68 — Indivisible Trinity 68 — ’Real presence’ of Christ 68 Ottoman silk/ embroidery 37, 74 P panegyrics 4 Papacy 15, 28 Patmian School (f. 1718) 84 Patriarchs — Athanasius of Antioch (1156– 1170) 76 — Antonius IV (in 1393) 29 — Germanos (d.733) History

327 58, 64 — Nicephoros (806–815) 88 — Photius (858–867, 877–886) 80 — Proclus (in 434) 3 Patrons — silk Emperor Henry II (1002–1024) 38–51 Ismahal, Duke of Apulia 49 King Ecgberht (732–766) 148 King Edmund 158 King Oswald (633–641) 148 Palaeologian Emperors 53, 311 Papal to Basilicas of Rome 88 Pope Benedict 148 pearls and silk 10 People/ works — Abbess Theodechildis, Jouarre 150 — Abbes Verca, and Durham 155 — Abbot Suger, St. Denis, Paris 184 Ackermann, Survey of Persian Textiles 201 Adam of Eynsham, Magna Vita 153 Agnes daughter of Louis VII of France 272 Alexander of Macedon 94 Anastasius/ Germanos, History (869–70) 58 Anna Comnena’s Alexiad 131 Ascletia 198 Asterius of Amasia 34 Bede’s Two Lives of St. Cuthbert 155 Caliph al-Mustansir (1035– 1094) 202–3 Constantine Manasses, chronicler 120

328 Cunigunde, consort of Henry II (d.1024) Dom Richard de Segbruck 91 Dom Thomas de Lythe (1398– 1401) 92 Emanuel Georgillas Limenites 37 Eustathios Boilas, Hypatos 73 Gisela, sister of Henry II (d. 1024) 47 Grand Duke Basil of Moscow 29 Gregory of Nyssa 279 Gregory Pacourianos (d.1086?), Grand Domestic 72–3, 121 Ivan, military official in Caucasus 140 John of Canterbury, monk (1188) 111 Kukules, Byzantinon bios kai politismos 218 Luidprand of Cremona, envoy 16, 33, 125 Margantas, Sicilian admiral 76 Michael Attaliates, Diataxis 73 Michael Soutsas, Prince of Wallachia (1784–1787) 75 Nicetas Choniates, historian 32, 120 Nicholas/Theodore of Andida, Protheoria 64 Nicholas Cabasilas (d. post 1363) 66 Philip Augustus, King of France 76 Photius, Metropolit of Moscow 11 Raine’s account, Silks of St. Cuthbert (1827) 161, 189–90 Reginald of Durham, Miracles (1164–74) 154 Robert Guiscard in S. Italy (1059) 25, 42 Sultan Kilic Arslan II (1156–92)

26 Symeon of Thessalonica (d. 1429) Collection 64 Theodora, niece of Emperor Manuel I (d. 1180) 25 Vizier Abu-l-Farag (1058–1060) 202–3 Persian silks 105 personal morality 34 pictorial Lives of Saints 181 piety, courtly and popular 110 pilgrimage tokens 87, 89 pilgrtimages 111 Places Aachen, cathedral treasury, Virgin’s shrine 26 Abbey of St. Truiden 96 Aquileia 198 Armenia 14, 82 Athens, Byzantine and Christian Museum 210 Baghdad, Graeco-Arabic translations from 115 Byzantine Egypt 4 Cairo 81 Chester-le Street 146 Cyprus 11 Dubrovnik, trade routes 205 Edessa 5 Fatimid Egypt, Iran, Iraq 201 Genoa 127 Islamic/ Near Eastern worlds 20, 32 Italy 136 Krems, Material Culture Institute 212 Lindisfarne, Viking raid (793) 146 London 29 Monte Cassino 45 Moščevaja Balka, Caucasus 35 — burial finds, silks, brachea

INDEX

139–141 Munich University 211 Nicaea 28 Paris 29, 40 Pisa 127 Poland 81 Ravenna, Museo Nazionale 40 Rome, 40, 88 Salona, Split 198 Saracen Asia Minor 24 Syria 4 Tabaristan, south Caspian sea 205 Tephriken and Germanikeia 123 Thebes and Corinth 8 the Latin West 24 the Lowlands and France 136, 156 the Meteora 68 Topkapi Museum, Istanbul 75 Venice 12 Vienna, Byzantine Institute 210 York 94 political allies 12 political identity 15 ‘political legitimisation’ 17 Pope Innocent III (1189–1215) 51, 111 Pope Leo III (795–815) 88 Post Byzantine era 53 Pre-Reformation rites at Durham 174 Prefect of Constantinople 5, 123 proskynesis 4 provincial silk weaving 22 pseudo-Kufic inscription 161 purple of Tyre 19 R ransom of political prisoners 12 redemption/resurrection 60 regulation of public life 110 relationship, Church/State to Society

329 286 — State/Church 22, 43, 71, 110, 163, 266–68, 286 Relics collected by King Athelstan 171 — of saints Charlemange 171 King Oswald 149 St. Athanasius 89, 167 St. Christodoulos 76 St. Cuthbert 91, 155 St. Mary Magdalene 153 St. Paulinus 89 St. Raphael 69 St. Stephen 152 the Holy Cross 86 the Magi, Cologne 176 the portrait of the Virgin 5 the Sancta Sanctorum, Vatican 170 religious feast of Orthodoxy 4, 69 reliquary purses with armorial devices 93 rhogai 27 rituals of ‘inclusion’ and ‘exclusion’ 17 royal manors 45 ruler by ‘Divine Right’ 288 Russ, attacks on Constantinople 130 Russ trade in fur/ slaves 130 S ‘sacred space’ Egypt/Judaen desert 60, 285, 293 shrine of St. Bede 183 shrine of St. Servatius, Maastricht 179 Synaxarion of Evergitis, new hymns/ homilies 310 Saints St. Aethelthryth, Abbess of Ely (d. 679) 150

330 St. Anastasius (m. 304), Split 197 St. Anselm of Canterbury (in c. 1097) 111 St. Audoenur (d. 684) Rouen 150 St. Basil the Great 57, 304 St. Boniface, missionary 147 St. Bonitos (d. 709) Clermont 150 St. Christodoulos, Patmos 72 St. Cuthbert (d. 687) Durham 143–65, 172, 174 St. Denis, Paris 171 St. Domitian, Split 198 St. Edburga, Winchester/ Pershore 149 St. Etheldreda, Ely 149 St. John Chrysostom 34, 304 St. Harlindis and St. Relindis, Maayseck 151, 178 St. Leodegar (d. 678) Autun 150 St. Leontius, abbot Patmos, St. John’s (1157–8) 76 St. Martin, Tours 150 St. Maximus, Confessor (d. 662) 66 Sts. Meletios and Cyril Philotheos 72 St. Othlon, St. Emmeram, Regensburg 34 St. Paulinus, Trier 167 St. Peter, Rome 87 St. Quentin, Noyon 150 St. Theodore of Studities (d. 826) 59 St. Theodoret of Cyrrus 3 St. Thomas of Canterbury (m. 1170) 154, 163 saints, miracles of 173 saints, universal Christian and local 170

second Russo-Byzantine Empire 75 Seldjuk Turks 84, 114 Silks — extant Aachen, Cathedral — Charioteer 41 — Elephant 42 Bamberg Cathedral, Christ medallion 178 Brussels, Museum of Art/History, Charioteer 7 Cologne, St. Cunibert, Hunter 140 Durham, Cathedral — stole, maniple, girdle, of St. Cuthbert, 188 — Falconer 161 — Nature-Goddess 157, 188 — Peacock 161, 188 London, British Museum, Hunter 131 Maastricht, St. Servatius, Lion 131, 139 Milan, St. Ambrogio, Hunter 140 Moscevaja Balka, Senmurv kaftan 141 Moscow, Kremlin, Greater sakkos of Met. Photius 11, 310 Mozac, now Lyons, Hunter 25, 126 Riggisberg, Abegg, St. Vitalis chasuble 177 Rome, Vatican dalmatic 28, 57 Sinai, St. Catherine’s, Persian gold brocade 289 — large silk banner 287 Sitten, cathedral, Griffin 160 Split, Ministry of Culture, animal tapestry 200–2 — folaite tapestry 198–200

INDEX

St. Petersburg, Russia, Bird tapestry from Hassaut 201 Thessaloniki epitaphios 28 Silk and — cultural transmission 117 — debauchery 31 — East/West marriage negotiations 126 — goat’s hair, finds, Israeli arch. 147–8 — gold embroidery 41, 52 — ’legitimisaton’ of eccles./secular authority 100 silk as — channel for inter-cultural discourse 100, 112 — expression of authority 13 — politics and power 14, 34 silks at — Durham cathedral, stored 193 — Hexham, Lindisfarne, Ripon 148 silk Byzantine domestic 297–8 Byzantine state factories 1 centres of production 286 Chinese sericulture/ silk weaving 140, 262 dyes 137 silks from — Asia Minor, Georgia, Italy, N. Europe 82 — Palestine, Russia, Syria 82 silk furnishings, altar cloths 4, 122 silk legislation, Byzantine 31 silk mixtures — linen/silk/Kashmir goat 297 — wool/ linen/ cotton 297 monochrome silks 46 workshop, Islamic Spain 161 silk

331 — of the Silk Roads 112 — patterns of acquisition of 104 — pillows 176 — private manufacture 3 — processions 6, 93 raw silk from — Iraq, lesser quality ‘lasin’ 142 — Central Asia 142 — Ibrisim, via Aleppo traded at Fustat 142 — Khorasan, in Genoa (1191) 142 — Georgia, ‘seta iurea’, in Lucca (1256) 142 — twelve types traded at Fustat 129 — Russian Imperial silk 286 Silk Road 134 silk routes, Eastern Islamic and Chinese 112 silk scraps, Central Asian and Chinese 35 silk street décor in Constantinople 21 silk textiles from Croatia 197 silk trade, Byzantine and — Caucasian silk route 139, 142 — China to the West 112, 135 — Constantinople, Egypt 119, 299–300 — Trebizond, Sinai 128, 274, 292 silk trade — concessions 26, 128 — diplomacy 116, 119 — imported Latin silks 74 — imported trade silks 80 — Islamic from Sicily to Spain 128 — Italian pacts with Byzantium 127 — markets, guilds, taxes 13, 21–2, 47, 127, 275–6

332 — Rhadanite Jewish traders 136 — Russ treatises (911 and 944) 130 — Sogdian merchants 135 silk trappings, horse, 6 silk treasuries 104 silk tunics 156 silk war with Persia (572–91) 135 silk workshops, techniques, style in, quality 132, 263 silk yarn characteristics of 262–3 social hierarchy and civic ritual 163 stellar mantles 7 subversion of privilege 31 sumptuary legislation 22 sumptuous gifts 11 symbolic space 16 T territorial losses, Byzantine 30 textile conservation/storage, Durham 194–5 the Diasphora 68 the Ecumenical state 14, 23 the Eparch of Constantinople 33 the Liber Pontificalis 78 the Normans 147 the Russ 12, 27 theories of State/political identity 15 Thessalonican Christianity 198 Third Crusade 76 Tithes 151 Triumphal Christian State 2 Typology and Christian exegesis 254–56 V Varangian guard 131 Vikings 154 Vestments — Byzantine bishop, priest, deacon 11, 58

epigonation 59, 287 epimanikia 59 epitrachelion 59, 74 girdle 59 liturgical belts 82 omophorion 59 orarion 59 Patriarchal 10 phelonion 59 sticharion 59, 291 Vestments — Latin cloaks 126, 147 of Bishop Hugh, Durham 164, 183 of Bishop Philip, Durham 164 of St. Cuthbert 177 — burial 177, 186, 187 — stole from Queen Aelfflaed/ Bishop Frithestan 157 Vestments — Russian silver brocade 75 victory parades, Constantinople 33 W Weaving metaphors 3, 304 Weaves/Weaving types Byzantine tablet woven braid 140 — twill, tabby, damasks, lampas, tapestry 156, 301–3 — linen/ wool, carding, spinning, weaving 277 — silk, technical and brand vocabularies 273 Central Asian twills 105, 136, 156 chronology of techniques 54 fine tabby 200 gold-leaf ‘lammelle’ on silk core 203

INDEX

gold tapestry, Fatimid 204 gold threads, leather/gold leaf, gold membrane 204 Iberian weave 36 international, E. Mediterranean silk style 280 Italian lampas/ damask silks 81 Italian patterned/ brocaded silks 77 Italian, semi-silks, twills 102 motifs, style and weave technology 7, 271 ‘Panni Tartarici’, E. Islamic lampases 106 silk tapestry from Croatia 201 slit-tapestry weave 199 Soumak rechnique 156 Spanish cloth of ‘Areste’ 102 sprang, silk hair nets 159 tabby weave with floats/ tabby damask 156 technical analysis/ textile terminology 54, 300–1 Tiraz — Fatimid (969–1171) 201–2 — Fatimid (1021–1094) 202 — Fatimid (1094–1130) 202

333 — of the Ayyubids and Mamluks (1171–1517) 202 twills 46, 297, 300 wedding or coronation of Augusta 19 Western Emperors Charlemagne (800–814) 26–7, 41–2 Henry II (1002–1024) 38 Otto I (962–972) 38 Otto II (973–983) and Theophanou 34, 50 Otto III (996–1002) 50 west European fashion (Latin dress) 36–7 Western Ruler King Aldfrith 148 King Baldwin III of Jerusalem 25 King Ecgrifth (672–685) 146 King Edwin of Northumbria (616–632) 148 King Pepin the Short (d. 768) and Gisela 25 Kings, Nothumbrian 149 West Saxon royal dynasty 149 Western rulers and the art of ruling 57 woven Kufic inscription 140

Acknowledgements The articles published in this volume were first delivered as lectures at the following venues: I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX

Public lecture by invitation, Hellenic Centre, London, 8th. October, 1997. Public lecture in series to accompany the exhibition, Byzantium; an Ecumenical Empire, October 2001–January 2002, Byzantine and Early Christian Museum, Athens, December 2001. Communication paper, Desire and Denial in Byzantium, Thirtyfirst Spring Symposium of Byzantine studies, University of Sussex, Brighton, March 1997. Morley Medieval Special Guest Lecture, Henry II of Germany series, Morley College, London, 1st. February, 2002. Paper for the CIETA 18th. General Assembly Conference, dedicated to the memory of Donald King, Berne Casino, Switzerland, 20–22nd. September, 1999. Research lecture by invitation, Byzantine and Neo-Hellenic Research Institute, Athens, Greece, 16th. March, 1999. Paper read at Medieval Textiles and Dress Society, Ecclesiastical Textiles day conference, Courtauld Institute of Art, London, May 9th. 1997. Paper read at Early Textiles Study Group Biennial Conference, Migrating Textiles, University of Manchester, 8–10th. September, 2000. Paper read at Medieval Textiles and Dress society, The Textile Trade between Byzantium and the West: Economic and Artistic Exchanges day conference, British Museum, London, 11th. April, 1995.

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X XI XII XIII XIV XV

XVI XVII

Paper read at The Mediterranean and the Caucasus International Symposium, of the Georgian Institute of Athens. National Hellenic Research Foundation, Athens, 12–14th. March, 1999. Paper for the Twenty ninth Spring Symposium of Byzantine Studies, Society for the Promotion of Byzantine Studies, Durham University, March 1995. Public lecture by invitation of University of Durham, Historical Society and Dean and Chapter of Durham Cathedral, 26th. May, 1999. Public lecture by invitation of University of Durham, Historical Society and Dean and Chapter of Durham Cathedral, 27th. May, 1999. Paper read at Early Textiles Study Group Biennial Conference, Current Research, University of Manchester, 7–8th. September, 2002. Material Culture and well-being in Byzantium (A.D. 400–1453), International Symposium, organized by A. Muthesius, at Lucy Cavendish and St. Catharine’s Colleges, University of Cambridge, 8–10th. September, 2001. Proceedings, (M. Grünbart, E. Kislinger, A. Muthesius, D. Stathakopoulos eds.), Austrian Academy of Sciences, Vienna 2007. Extract from ‘Introduction: Studies on Byzantine Material Culture’, with extended contribution especially added for the present book. McDonald Institute for Archaeological Research, University of Cambridge, Lunchtime Seminar series, 2003–2004, February 2004. Paper read at the Twenty Seventh Symposium of Byzantine and Post Byzantine Studies of the Christian Archaeology Society of Athens, Byzantine and Early Christian Museum, Athens, 11–13 May, 2007.

List of Plates 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14.

Hunter with cheetah. Byzantine Egypt, sixth to seventh century. Inv. B34, Ch16, Sens, Cathedral Treasury. Charioteer silk. Byzantine, eighth to ninth century. Inv. 13289, Paris, Cluny Museum. Charioteer silk. Byzantine, eighth to ninth century. Inv. 762 and A–1893, London, Victoria and Albert Museum. Charioteer silk. Byzantine, eighth to ninth century. Inv. 371, Brussels, Museum of Art and History. Eagle silk chasuble, detail. (Cf. Plate 18 below). Byzantine, tenth to eleventh century. Brixen, Cathedral Treasury. Griffin silk. Byzantine, tenth to eleventh century. Le Monastier, St. Chaffre. Greater sakkos of Photius, Metropolit of Moscow. (Cf. Plates 173–174 below). Byzantine, early fifteenth century (1414–1417). Inv. TK4, Moscow, Kremlin Museums. Hunter silk from Mozac. Byzantine eighth century. Inv. 27.386 (904. III.3), Lyons, Textile Museum. Lion Silk. Byzantine, dated 921–931. Berlin, Schloss Koepenick. Elephant silk. Byzantine, eleventh century. Aachen, Cathedral Treasury. Thessaloniki epitaphios. Byzantine, thirteenth to early fourteenth century. (Cf. Plates 29, 35, 36 below). Thessaloniki, Byzantine Museum. As above Christ crowning Emperor Nicephoros III Botaniates and his consort. Ms. Coislin 79, folio 1 (2 Bis). St. John Chrysostom Homilies. Constantinople, 1078–81? Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale. Sakkos, Post Byzantine with Christ, High Priest. Sinai, St. Catherine’s monastery.

338

15. Samson and the Lion silk. Byzantine, eighth to ninth century. Schmedding inv. 89, Chur, Cathedral Treasury. 16. Amazon silk. Byzantine, eighth to ninth century. Inv. 1, Maastricht, St. Servatius. 17. Hunter silk. Byzantine, eighth to ninth century. Sarthe, St. Calais. 18. Eagle silk chasuble. Byzantine tenth to eleventh century. Brixen, Cathedral Treasury. 19. Right, chasuble of Bishop Godehard of Niederaltaich. Left, chasuble of St. Vitalis. Both, Byzantine, tenth to eleventh century. Right, Niederaltaich, St. Godehard, and left, Abegg Stiftung, Riggisberg, Berne. 20. Chasuble of Archbishop Willigis of Mainz. Byzantine, tenth to eleventh century. Mainz, Cathedral Treasury. 21. Chasuble of King Stephan and Queen Gisela of Hungary. Byzantine, tenth to eleventh century ground silk. Embroidery, eleventh century, German. Presented to the Church of the Virgin, Szekesfehervar in 1031. Budapest, National Museum. 22. So-called Cunigunde mantle. Mantle of Henry II (d.1024). Byzantine tenth to eleventh century ground silk and embroidery. Bamberg, Cathedral Treasury. 23. As above. 24. As above. 25. Chasuble with Old and New Testament embroidered scenes. Byzantine, tenth to eleventh century silk ground. Eleventh century, German embroidery of the time of Henry II (d. 1024). Bamberg, Cathedral Treasury. 26. Chasuble with embroidered signs of the Zodiac. Byzantine, tenth to eleventh century silk ground. Eleventh century, German embroidery of the time of Henry II (d. 1024). Bamberg, Cathedral Treasury. 27. As above. 28. As above. 29. Thessaloniki epitaphios, detail of the Communion of the Apostles. (Cf. Plates 11 and 12 above, and 35, 36 below). Byzantine, thirteenth to early fourteenth century. Thessaloniki, Byzantine Museum. 30. Vatican Dalmatic with Heavenly Liturgy. Byzantine, thirteenth century. Rome, Vatican Museo Sacro. 31. Polos, Christ as High Priest. Post Byzantine, Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine.

list of plates

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32. Polos, as above. 33. Polos, as above. 34. Epitrachelion with scenes of the Main Feasts of the Church, here detail of the Anastasis. Byzantine, fifteenth century. Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine. 35. Thessaloniki epitaphios. Dead Christ and lamenting angels. (Cf. Plates 11, 12 and 29 above). Byzantine, thirteenth to early fourteenth century. Thessaloniki, Byzantine Museum. 36. As above. 37. Epitaphios. Byzantine, fifteenth century. Patmos, Monastery of St. John. 38. Epitaphios, Byzantine, fifteenth century. Donated by Matthew, Metropolitan of Myra, 1460. Patmos, Monastery of St. John. 39. Epigonation, Christ ‘Anapeson’. Byzantine, fifteenth century. Patmos, Monastery of St. John. 40. Cover for relics of Hosios Christodoulos. Byzantine, eighteenth century. Work of the Constantinopolitan embroideress, Sophia, dated 1749. Patmos, Monastery of St. John. 41. As above. 42. Epitrachelion with the Church Fathers. Detail of bi-cephalous eagle border. Byzantine, fifteenth century. Patmos, Monastery of St. John. 43. As above. 44. Silk textile. Ottoman, sixteenth century. Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine. 45. Two Imperial Ottoman silk kaftans. Ottoman, sixteenth century. Topkapi Saray, Istanbul. 46. Hanging with the embroidered Assumption of St. Catherine. Vienna, eighteenth century. Sinai, St. Catherine’s Monastery. 47. As above. 48. Indian, printed cotton with scene of Constantine and Helena and the true cross. Indian, eighteenth century. Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine. 49. Indian, printed cotton with Virgin and Child and foliate motifs. Indian, (Coromandel coast), eighteenth century. 50. As above, detail, showing foliate motifs. 51. Epitrachelion with saints. Crete, eighteenth century. Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine. 52. As above, detail.

340

53. Aer with Melismos. Near Eastern silk ground, fourteenth to fifteenth century. Georgian embroidery, fifteenth century? Patmos, Monastery of St. John. 54. Altar cloth converted into epigonation, with Holy Wisdom. Russia, sixteenth century. Patmos, Monastery of St. John. 55. As above, detail. 56. Monastic belt from the Holy Land. Tablet-weave, Jerusalem, 1741. Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine. 57. Aer of silk with Islamic inscription. Egypt, fourteenth century? Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine. 58. Greek island embroidery. Greece, seventeenth to eighteenth century. Patmos, Monastery of St. John. 59. Greek island embroidery. Greece, seventeenth to eighteenth century, Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine. 60. As above. 61. As above. 62. Silk reliquary pouch. Byzantine, tenth century. Inv. 1/7, Hildesheim, Cathedral Treasury. 63. Silk reliquary pouch. Byzantine, tenth to eleventh century. Inv. XVII/2/1, Hildesheim, Cathedral Treasury. 64. Silk reliquary pouch. Byzantine, tenth to eleventh century. Beromünster, St. Michael. 65. Silk reliquary pouch. Personal small phylactery. From York, Coppergate Viking age site. Byzantine, tenth century. York, City Museum. 66. Silk pouch and amulets. From burial sites of Moščava Balka, Byzantine, ninth to tenth century silk. Caucasus. St. Petersburg, Hermitage Museum. 67. Silk reliquary pouch. Byzantine, tenth to eleventh century. Sens, Cathedral Treasury. 68. Silk reliquary pouch. Islamic Spain, thirteenth century. Sens, Cathedral Treasury. 69. Silk reliquary pouch. Islamic Spain, thirteenth century.. Sens, cathedral Treasury. 70. Silk reliquary pouch. Byzantine, eleventh century. Inv. K31, Hildesheim, Cathedral Treasury. 71. Silk reliquary pouch. Near Eastern, twelfth century. Inv. K29, Hildesheim, Cathedral Treasury. 72. Silk seal pouch. Byzantine, tenth century. Inv. N12, Canterbury,

list of plates

341

Cathedral Treasury. 73. Silk seal pouch. Near Eastern, twelfth to thirteenth century. Inv. N2, Canterbury, Cathedral Treasury. 74. Silk reliquary pouch with embroidered crucifixion. Ground silk, Byzantine twelfth to thirteenth century? Embroidery, Maaslands, twelfth to thirteenth century. Maastricht, St. Servatius. 75. Embroidered secular silk purse. French, fourteenth century. Tongeren, Cathedral Treasury. 76. As above. 77. Silk seal pouch. Byzantine, tenth century. Inv. N22, Canterbury, Cathedral Treasury. 78. Seal pouch. Lion-griffin and bird silk. Near Eastern, fourteenth century. Inv. N6, Canterbury, Cathedral Treasury. 79. As above, detail. 80. Seal pouch, stripped silk. Near Eastern, fourteenth century. Inv. N13, Canterbury, Cathedral Treasury. 81. Seal pouch, inscribed silk. Islamic, thirteenth to fourteenth century. Inv. N14, Canterbury, Cathedral Treasury. 82. As above, detail. 83. Seal pouch, peacock and quadruped silk. Islamic, thirteenth century. Inv. N11, 11A, 11B, Canterbury, cathedral Treasury. 84. As above, detail. 85. Seal pouch, bird with neck scarf silk. Near Eastern, fourteenth century. Inv. N1, N2, Canterbury, Cathedral Treasury. 86. As above. 87. Seal pouch, diamond diaper silk. Islamic, Spanish, thirteenth century. Inv. N30, Canterbury, Cathedral Treasury. 88. Seal pouch, brocaded, diamond diaper silk. Islamic, Spanish, thirteenth century. Inv. N16, Canterbury, Cathedral Treasury. 89. Seal pouch, foliate motifs, silk. Islamic, Spanish, thirteenth century. Inv. N33, Canterbury, Cathedral Treasury. 90. Seal pouch, bicephalous eagles silk. Spanish, thirteenth century. Inv. N15, Canterbury, Cathedral Treasury. 91. As above, detail of reverse side. 92. Seal pouch, crescent and stars silk. Islamic, thirteenth century. Inv. N9, Canterbury, Cathedral Treasury. 93. Seal pouch, Lion silk. Islamic, thirteenth century. Inv. N32, Canterbury, Cathedral Treasury.

342

94. Seal pouch, ogee containing foliate motif silk. Near Eastern, fourteenth century. Inv. N24, Canterbury, Cathedral Treasury. 95. As above, detail. 96. Seal pouch, silk with figure and bird (top). Near Eastern, fourteenth century. Inv. N18, Canterbury, Cathedral Treasury. 97. Seal pouch, animal and bird silk. (Cf. Plate 96, bottom). Near Eastern, fourteenth century. Inv. N17, Canterbury, Cathedral Treasury. 98. Seal pouch, horse silk. Far Eastern, fourteenth century? Inv. N25, Canterbury, cathedral Treasury. 99. Triumphal entry of Byzantine Emperor with personifications of two cities. Tapestry silk used to shroud Bishop Gunther (d. 1065). Constantinople, eleventh century. Bamberg, Cathedral Treasury. 100. As above, detail. 101. Lion silk. Central Asia, seventh to eighth century. Inv. Ch. 20, Sens, Cathedral Treasury. 102. Horse silk. Central Asian, eighth to ninth century. Inv. 40, Ch. 27, Sens, Cathedral Treasury. 103. Hunter silk. Central Asian, eighth to ninth century. Inv. 86.4–23.3, British Museum, London. 104. Lion silk. Central Asian, tenth to eleventh century. Maastricht, St. Servatius. 105. Costumes from graves of Moščeva Balka, Caucasus, using mixture of Byzantine, Central Asian and Chinese silk scraps. Eighth to ninth century. St. Petersburg, Hermitage Museum. 106. As above. 107. As above. 108. As above. 109. Senmurv silk. Byzantine, eighth to ninth century. St. Petersburg, Hermitage Museum. 110. Hunter silk. Byzantine, eighth to ninth century. Cologne, St. Cunibert. 111. Silk chieftan’s Kaftan, from Moščeva Balka. Senmurv silk. Byzantine, eighth to ninth century. St. Petersburg, Hermitage Museum. 112. Rider silk from relics of St. Cuthbert. Islamic, Spanish, tenth to eleventh century. Durham Cathedral, Chapter House. 113. As above, painted reconstruction of the silk. 114. Peacock silk from relics of St. Cuthbert. Islamic, Spanish, tenth to eleventh century. Durham Cathedral, Chapter House.

list of plates

343

115. As above, drawn reconstruction of the peacock design. 116. Monochrome geometric and foliate design silks from relics of St. Cuthbert. Byzantine, seventh to eighth century. Durham Cathedral, Chapter House. 117. As above, design details. 118. Window with silks of Plates 114–117 as displayed, and as described above. Durham Cathedral, Chapter House. 119. So-called ‘Nature Goddess’ silk from the relics of St. Cuthbert. Byzantine, eighth to ninth century. Durham Cathedral, Treasury. 120. As above, drawn reconstruction of the design. 121. Embroidered maniple panel naming Fridestan, Bishop of Winchester (909–931). Anglo Saxon gold embroidery, 909–916. Durham, Cathedral Treasury. 122. Embroidered stole panel naming Queen Aelfflaed (d. 916). Anglo Saxon gold embroidery, 909–916. Durham, Cathedral Treasury. 123. Peter the Deacon from the maniple embroidery. Anglo Saxon gold embroidery, 909–916. Durham, Cathedral treasury. 124. The prophet Daniel from the stole embroidery. Anglo Saxon gold embroidery, 909–916. Durham, Cathedral Treasury. 125. Silk chasuble of Philip of Swabia (d. 1208) with embroidered medallion of Christ. Byzantine, twelfth to thirteenth century. Bamberg, Cathedral Treasury. 126. Part of the archived, unpublished collection of items from the relics of St. Cuthbert. Durham Cathedral, Chapter House. 127. Foliate, tapestry weave silk from the bust housing relics of St. Anastasius. Central Asian, tenth to eleventh century. Split, Cathedral Treasury. 128. As above, detail. 129. As above, detail. 130. As above, detail. 131. Animal and bird, tapestry weave silk band on tabby weave silk. Removed from the bust housing relics of St. Anastasius. Fatimid, eleventh to twelfth century. Split, Cathedral Treasury. 132. As above, detail. 133. As above, detail. 134. As above, detail. 135. Double-axe motif silk from Moščeva Balka, Caucasus. Central Asian, eighth to ninth century. St. Petersburg, Hermitage Museum. 136. Bird tapestry silk from Hassaut, Caucasus. Central Asian, eighth

344

century. St. Petersburg, Hermitage Museum. 137. Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine. 138. Epitrachelion with embroidered Major Feasts of the Church. Byzantine, fifteenth century. Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine. 139. As above, detail. 140. Lavaron with Metamorphosis. Embroidered by Hilarion? Sinai, 1673. Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine. 141. Epigonation with Metamorphosis. Post Byzantine. Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine. 142. Aer with Metamorphosis. Post Byzantine. Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine. 143. Epitaphios. Byzantine, thirteenth century, with Near Eastern, thirteenth century, silk border. Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine. 144. As above, detail. 145. Epitaphios. Byzantine, thirteenth century? Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine. 146. Aer-epitaphios. Lamentation at the Sepulchre, Smyrna, sixteenth century. Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine. 147. Epitaphios. Embroidered by Gregoria. Offered by Patriarch Constantios I. Constantinople 1842. Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine. 148. Deesis. Georgian, Post Byzantine era? Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine. 149. Deacon’s tunic, detail. Post Byzantine. Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine. 150. Aer with Melismos. Post Byzantine. Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine. 151. Epitrachelion with Palm Sunday feast scene. Byzantine, fifteenth century. Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine. 152. Epitrachelion with Dormition of the Virgin feast scene. Byzantine, fifteenth century. Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine. 153. Painted silk with the Dormition of St. Catherine. Post Byzantine tradition, nineteenth century, dated 1801. Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine. 154. As above, detail. 155. As above, detail. 156. Silk with scenes of the life of Joseph. Painted copy. Original, Byzantine Egypt, sixth to seventh century. Sens, Cathedral Treasury. 157. Silk with Nile scenes. Byzantine Egypt, fifth century. Inv. 2187, Abegg

list of plates

345

Stiftung, Riggisberg, Berne. 158. Small-scale ornament silks. Byzantine, sixth century. Sens, Cathedral Treasury. 159. Peacock silk. Byzantine, sixth to seventh century. Aachen, Cathedral Treasury. 160. Pegasus silk. Byzantine, eighth to ninth century. Rome, Vatican, Musero Sacro. 161. Eagle silk. Byzantine, tenth to eleventh century. Auxerre, St. Eusebe. 162. Annunciation and Nativity silk. Annunciation. Byzantine, second half of ninth century. Rome, Vatican, Museo Sacro. 163. As above. Nativity. 164. Author’s diagram. The organisation of the Silk Industry as described in the Book of the Prefect. 165. Author’s diagram. The main weaving types before A.D. 1200. 166. Simple horizontal loom. Miniature, Byzantine, fourteenth century. Paris gr. 135, fol. 222v. 167. Modern Jacquard loom with punched cards for automatic repeat of the design. 168. Imperial portrait bust. Byzantine, eighth to ninth century. Sens, cathedral Treasury. 169. Paired griffins, ‘incised’ design on monochrome silk. Byzantine, eleventh to twelfth century. Abegg Stiftung, Riggisberg, Berne. 170. Imperial portrait bust. Byzantine, eighth to ninth century. Gandersheim, Cathedral Treasury. 171. Foundation Chrysobull issued to Dionysiou Monastery, Mount Athos, by Alexius III Comnenos (1195–1203). Original, Byzantine, twelfth century. Here eighteenth century, copy. Athos, Dionysiou Monastery. 172. Griffin attacking quadruped silk. Byzantine, tenth century. Cologne, St. Gereon. 173. Greater sakkos of Photius, Metropolit of Moscow, detail. (Cf. Plate 7 above). Byzantine, early fifteenth century (1414–1417). Inv. TK4, Moscow, Kremlin Museums. 174. As above, detail.

Plates

347

1. Hunter with cheetah. Byzantine Egypt, sixth to seventh century. Inv. B34, Ch16, Sens, Cathedral Treasury.

2. Charioteer silk. Byzantine, eighth to ninth century. Inv. 13289, Paris, Cluny Museum.

3. Charioteer silk. Byzantine, eighth to ninth century. Inv. 762 and A–1893, London, Victoria and Albert Museum.

4. Charioteer silk. Byzantine, eighth to ninth century. Inv. 371, Brussels, Museum of Art and History.

348

6. Griffin silk. Byzantine, tenth to eleventh century. Le Monastier, St. Chaffre.

5. Eagle silk chasuble, detail. (Cf. Plate 18 below). Byzantine, tenth to eleventh century. Brixen, Cathedral Treasury.

Plates

349

350

7. Greater sakkos of Photius, Metropolit of Moscow. (Cf. Plates 173–174 below). Byzantine, early fifteenth century (1414–1417). Inv. TK4, Moscow, Kremlin Museums.

Plates

8. Hunter silk from Mozac. Byzantine eighth century. Inv. 27.386 (904.III.3), Lyons, Textile Museum.

351

352

9. Lion Silk. Byzantine, dated 921–931. Berlin, Schloss Koepenick.

10. Elephant silk. Byzantine, eleventh century. Aachen, Cathedral Treasury.

Plates

353

11. Detail of Plate 12 12. Thessaloniki epitaphios. Byzantine, thirteenth to early fourteenth century. (Cf. Plates 29, 35, 36 below). Thessaloniki, Byzantine Museum.

13. Christ crowning Emperor Nicephoros III Botaniates and his consort. Ms. Coislin 79, folio 1 (2 Bis). St. John Chrysostom Homilies. Constantinople, 1078–81? Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale.

14. Sakkos, Post Byzantine with earlier Byzantine polos of Christ, High Priest. Sinai, St. Catherine’s monastery.

354

15. Samson and the Lion silk. Byzantine, eighth to ninth century. Schmedding inv. 89, Chur, Cathedral Treasury.

Plates

355

356

16. Amazon silk. Byzantine, eighth to ninth century. Inv. 1, Maastricht, St. Servatius.

17 (right). Hunter silk. Byzantine, eighth to ninth century. Sarthe, St. Calais.

Plates

357

18. Eagle silk chasuble. Byzantine tenth to eleventh century. Brixen, Cathedral Treasury.

358

19. Right, chasuble of Bishop Godehard of Niederaltaich. Left, chasuble of St. Vitalis. Both, Byzantine, tenth to eleventh century. Right, Niederaltaich, St. Godehard, and left, Abegg Stiftung, Riggisberg, Berne.

Plates

359

360

20. Chasuble of Archbishop Willigis of Mainz. Byzantine, tenth to eleventh century. Mainz, Cathedral Treasury.

21. Chasuble of King Stephan and Queen Gisela of Hungary. Byzantine, tenth to eleventh century ground silk. Embroidery, eleventh century, German. Presented to the Church of the Virgin, Szekesfehervar in 1031. Budapest, National Museum.

22. So-called Cunigunde mantle. Mantle of Henry II (d.1024). Byzantine tenth to eleventh century ground silk and embroidery. Bamberg, Cathedral Treasury.

Plates

361

23. Detail of Plate 22.

24. Detail of Plate 22.

362

25. Chasuble with Old and New Testament embroidered scenes. Byzantine, tenth to eleventh century silk ground. Eleventh century, German embroidery of the time of Henry II (d. 1024). Bamberg, Cathedral Treasury.

Plates

363

364

26. Chasuble with embroidered signs of the Zodiac. Byzantine, tenth to eleventh century silk ground. Eleventh century, German embroidery of the time of Henry II (d. 1024). Bamberg, Cathedral Treasury.

27. As Plate 26.

Plates

365

366

28. Detail of Plate 26. 29. Thessaloniki epitaphios, detail of the Communion of the Apostles. (Cf. Plates 11 and 12 above, and 35, 36 below). Byzantine, thirteenth to early fourteenth century. Thessaloniki, Byzantine Museum.

Plates

367

30. Vatican Dalmatic with Heavenly Liturgy. Byzantine, thirteenth century. Rome, Vatican Museo Sacro.

31. Polos, Christ as High Priest. Post Byzantine, Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine.

32. Polos, Christ as High Priest. Post Byzantine, Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine.

368

33. Polos, Christ as High Priest. Post Byzantine, Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine.

34. Epitrachelion with scenes of the Main Feasts of the Church, here detail of the Anastasis. Byzantine, fifteenth century. Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine.

Plates

369

370

35. Thessaloniki epitaphios. Dead Christ and lamenting angels. (Cf. Plates 11, 12 and 29 above). Byzantine, thirteenth to early fourteenth century. Thessaloniki, Byzantine Museum.

36. Detail from Plate 35.

Plates

37. Epitaphios. Byzantine, fifteenth century. Patmos, Monastery of St. John. 38. Epitaphios, Byzantine, fifteenth century. Donated by Matthew, Metropolitan of Myra, 1460. Patmos, Monastery of St. John.

371

372

39. Epigonation, Christ ‘Anapeson’. Byzantine, fifteenth century. Patmos, Monastery of St. John.

Plates

373

40–41. Cover for relics of Hosios Christodoulos. Byzantine, eighteenth century. Work of the Constantinopolitan embroideress, Sophia, dated 1749. Patmos, Monastery of St. John.

42. Epitrachelion with the Church Fathers. Detail of bi-cephalous eagle border. Byzantine, fifteenth century. Patmos, Monastery of St. John.

43. Detail of Plat 42.

374

44. Silk textile. Ottoman, sixteenth century. Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine.

45. Two Imperial Ottoman silk kaftans. Ottoman, sixteenth century. Topkapi Saray, Istanbul.

Plates

375

376

46. Hanging with the embroidered Assumption of St. Catherine. Vienna, eighteenth century. Sinai, St. Catherine’s Monastery. 47. Detail of Plate 46.

Plates

48. Indian, printed cotton with scene of Constantine and Helena and the true cross. Indian, eighteenth century. Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine.

49. Indian, printed cotton with Virgin and Child and foliate motifs. Indian, (Coromandel coast), eighteenth century.

377

50. Detail of Plate 49, showing foliate motifs.

51. Epitrachelion with saints. Crete, eighteenth century. Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine.

378

52. Detail of Plate 51.

53. Aer with Melismos. Near Eastern silk ground, fourteenth to fifteenth century. Georgian embroidery, fifteenth century? Patmos, Monastery of St. John.

Plates

379

54. Altar cloth converted into epigonation, with Holy Wisdom. Russia, sixteenth century. Patmos, Monastery of St. John.

55. Detail of Plate 54.

380

Plates

56. Monastic belt from the Holy Land. Tablet-weave, Jerusalem, 1741. Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine. 57. Aer of silk with Islamic inscription. Egypt, fourteenth century? Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine.

381

58. Greek island embroidery. Greece, seventeenth to eighteenth century. Patmos, Monastery of St. John.

59. Greek island embroidery. Greece, seventeenth to eighteenth century, Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine.

382

Plates

60. As Plate 59. 61. As Plate 59.

383

62. Silk reliquary pouch. Byzantine, tenth century. Inv. 1/7, Hildesheim, Cathedral Treasury.

63. Silk reliquary pouch. Byzantine, tenth to eleventh century. Inv. XVII/2/1, Hildesheim, Cathedral Treasury.

384

64. Silk reliquary pouch. Byzantine, tenth to eleventh century. Beromünster, St. Michael.

65. Silk reliquary pouch. Personal small phylactery. From York, Coppergate Viking age site. Byzantine, tenth century. York, City Museum.

Plates

385

66. Silk pouch and amulets. From burial sites of Moščava Balka, Byzantine, ninth to tenth century silk. Caucasus. St. Petersburg, Hermitage Museum.

386

67. Silk reliquary pouch. Byzantine, tenth to eleventh century. Sens, Cathedral Treasury.

68. Silk reliquary pouch. Islamic Spain, thirteenth century. Sens, Cathedral Treasury.

Plates

387

69. Silk reliquary pouch. Islamic Spain, thirteenth century.. Sens, cathedral Treasury.

70. Silk reliquary pouch. Byzantine, eleventh century. Inv. K31, Hildesheim, Cathedral Treasury.

388

71. Silk reliquary pouch. Near Eastern, twelfth century. Inv. K29, Hildesheim, Cathedral Treasury.

72. Silk seal pouch. Byzantine, tenth century. Inv. N12, Canterbury, Cathedral Treasury.

Plates

389

73. Silk seal pouch. Near Eastern, twelfth to thirteenth century. Inv. N2, Canterbury, Cathedral Treasury.

74. Silk reliquary pouch with embroidered crucifixion. Ground silk, Byzantine twelfth to thirteenth century? Embroidery, Maaslands, twelfth to thirteenth century. Maastricht, St. Servatius.

390

75. Embroidered secular silk purse. French, fourteenth century. Tongeren, Cathedral Treasury.

76. Detail of Plate 75.

Plates

391

392

77. Silk seal pouch. Byzantine, tenth century. Inv. N22, Canterbury, Cathedral Treasury.

78. Seal pouch. Lion-griffin and bird silk. Near Eastern, fourteenth century. Inv. N6, Canterbury, Cathedral Treasury.

79. Detail of Plate 78.

80. Seal pouch, stripped silk. Near Eastern, fourteenth century. Inv. N13, Canterbury, Cathedral Treasury.

Plates

393

394

81. Seal pouch, inscribed silk. Islamic, thirteenth to fourteenth century. Inv. N14, Canterbury, Cathedral Treasury.

82. Detail of Plate 81.

Plates

83–4. Seal pouch, peacock and quadruped silk. Islamic, thirteenth century. Inv. N11, 11A, 11B, Canterbury, cathedral Treasury.

85. Seal pouch, bird with neck scarf silk. Near Eastern, fourteenth century. Inv. N1, N2, Canterbury, Cathedral Treasury.

395

396

86. As Plate 85.

87. Seal pouch, diamond diaper silk. Islamic, Spanish, thirteenth century. Inv. N30, Canterbury, Cathedral Treasury.

397

Plates

88. Seal pouch, brocaded, diamond diaper silk. Islamic, Spanish, thirteenth century. Inv. N16, Canterbury, Cathedral Treasury.

89. Seal pouch, foliate motifs, silk. Islamic, Spanish, thirteenth century. Inv. N33, Canterbury, Cathedral Treasury.

90. Seal pouch, bicephalous eagles silk. Spanish, thirteenth century. Inv. N15, Canterbury, Cathedral Treasury.

398

91. Detail of Plate 90.

92. Seal pouch, crescent and stars silk. Islamic, thirteenth century. Inv. N9, Canterbury, Cathedral Treasury.

93. Seal pouch, Lion silk. Islamic, thirteenth century. Inv. N32, Canterbury, Cathedral Treasury.

94–95. Seal pouch, ogee containing foliate motif silk. Near Eastern, fourteenth century. Inv. N24, Canterbury, Cathedral Treasury.

96. Seal pouch, silk with figure and bird (top). Near Eastern, fourteenth century. Inv. N18, Canterbury, Cathedral Treasury.

Plates

399

400

97. Seal pouch, animal and bird silk. (Cf. Plate 96, bottom). Near Eastern, fourteenth century. Inv. N17, Canterbury, Cathedral Treasury. 98. Seal pouch, horse silk. Far Eastern, fourteenth century? Inv. N25, Canterbury, cathedral Treasury.

Plates

401

99. Triumphal entry of Byzantine Emperor with personifications of two cities. Tapestry silk used to shroud Bishop Gunther (d. 1065). Constantinople, eleventh century. Bamberg, Cathedral Treasury.

100. Detail of Plate 99.

101. Lion silk. Central Asia, seventh to eighth century. Inv. Ch. 20, Sens, Cathedral Treasury.

402

103. Hunter silk. Central Asian, eighth to ninth century. Inv. 86.4–23.3, British Museum, London.

102. Horse silk. Central Asian, eighth to ninth century. Inv. 40, Ch. 27, Sens, Cathedral Treasury.

Plates

403

104. Lion silk. Central Asian, tenth to eleventh century. Maastricht, St. Servatius.

404

105–106. Costumes from graves of Moščeva Balka, Caucasus, using mixture of Byzantine, Central Asian and Chinese silk scraps. Eighth to ninth century. St. Petersburg, Hermitage Museum.

Plates

405

406

107–108. Costumes from graves of Moščeva Balka, Caucasus, using mixture of Byzantine, Central Asian and Chinese silk scraps. Eighth to ninth century. St. Petersburg, Hermitage Museum.

109. Senmurv silk. Byzantine, eighth to ninth century. St. Petersburg, Hermitage Museum.

110. Hunter silk. Byzantine, eighth to ninth century. Cologne, St. Cunibert.

Plates

407

408

111. Silk chieftan’s Kaftan, from Moščeva Balka. Senmurv silk. Byzantine, eighth to ninth century. St. Petersburg, Hermitage Museum.

Plates

112. Rider silk from relics of St. Cuthbert. Islamic, Spanish, tenth to eleventh century. Durham Cathedral, Chapter House.

113. As Plate 112, painted reconstruction of the silk.

409

410

114. Peacock silk from relics of St. Cuthbert. Islamic, Spanish, tenth to eleventh century. Durham Cathedral, Chapter House. 115. As Plate 114, drawn reconstruction of the peacock design.

Plates

411

116. Monochrome geometric and foliate design silks from relics of St. Cuthbert. Byzantine, seventh to eighth century. Durham Cathedral, Chapter House. 117. As above, design details.

118. Window with silks of Plates 114–117 as displayed, and as described above. Durham Cathedral, Chapter House.

412

119. So-called ‘Nature Goddess’ silk from the relics of St. Cuthbert. Byzantine, eighth to ninth century. Durham Cathedral, Treasury.

120. As Plate 119, drawn reconstruction of the design.

Plates

413

121. Embroidered maniple panel naming Fridestan, Bishop of Winchester (909–931). Anglo Saxon gold embroidery, 909–916. Durham, Cathedral Treasury.

122. Embroidered stole panel naming Queen Aelfflaed (d. 916). Anglo Saxon gold embroidery, 909–916. Durham, Cathedral Treasury.

414

123. Peter the Deacon from the maniple embroidery. Anglo Saxon gold embroidery, 909–916. Durham, Cathedral treasury.

124. The prophet Daniel from the stole embroidery. Anglo Saxon gold embroidery, 909– 916. Durham, Cathedral Treasury.

Plates

415

416

125. Silk chasuble of Philip of Swabia (d. 1208) with embroidered medallion of Christ. Byzantine, twelfth to thirteenth century. Bamberg, Cathedral Treasury. 126. Part of the archived, unpublished collection of items from the relics of St. Cuthbert. Durham Cathedral, Chapter House.

Plates

417

127–128. Foliate, tapestry weave silk from the bust housing relics of St. Anastasius. Central Asian, tenth to eleventh century. Split, Cathedral Treasury.

418

129–130 Foliate, tapestry weave silk from the bust housing relics of St. Anastasius. Central Asian, tenth to eleventh century. Split, Cathedral Treasury.

Plates

131–132. Animal and bird, tapestry weave silk band on tabby weave silk. Removed from the bust housing relics of St. Anastasius. Fatimid, eleventh to twelfth century. Split, Cathedral Treasury.

419

420

133–134. Animal and bird, tapestry weave silk band on tabby weave silk. Removed from the bust housing relics of St. Anastasius. Fatimid, eleventh to twelfth century. Split, Cathedral Treasury.

Plates

421

135. Double-axe motif silk from Moščeva Balka, Caucasus. Central Asian, eighth to ninth century. St. Petersburg, Hermitage Museum.

136. Bird tapestry silk from Hassaut, Caucasus. Central Asian, eighth century. St. Petersburg, Hermitage Museum.

137. Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine.

138. Epitrachelion with embroidered Major Feasts of the Church. Byzantine, fifteenth century. Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine.

422

139. Detail of Plate 138.

140. Lavaron with Metamorphosis. Embroidered by Hilarion? Sinai, 1673. Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine.

Plates

423

424

141. Epigonation with Metamorphosis. Post Byzantine. Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine.

142. Aer with Metamorphosis. Post Byzantine. Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine.

Plates

143. Epitaphios. Byzantine, thirteenth century, with Near Eastern, thirteenth century, silk border. Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine.

144. Detail of Plate 143.

425

426

145. Epitaphios. Byzantine, thirteenth century? Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine. 146. Aer-epitaphios, Lamentation at the Sepulchre. Smyrna, sixteenth century, Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine.

Plates

147. Epitaphios. Embroidered by Gregoria. Offered by Patriarch Constantios I. Constantinople 1842. Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine. 148. Deesis. Georgian, Post Byzantine era? Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine.

427

428

149. Deacon’s tunic, detail. Post Byzantine. Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine.

150. Aer with Melismos. Post Byzantine. Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine.

151. Epitrachelion with Palm Sunday feast scene. Byzantine, fifteenth century. Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine.

152. Epitrachelion with Dormition of the Virgin feast scene. Byzantine, fifteenth century. Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine.

Plates

429

153–154. Painted silk with the Dormition of St. Catherine. Post Byzantine tradition, nineteenth century, dated 1801. Sinai, Monastery of St. Catherine.

430

155. Detail of Plate 153.

156. Silk with scenes of the life of Joseph. Painted copy. Original, Byzantine Egypt, sixth to seventh century. Sens, Cathedral Treasury.

Plates

431

432

157. Silk with Nile scenes. Byzantine Egypt, fifth century. Inv. 2187, Abegg Stiftung, Riggisberg, Berne.

158. Small-scale ornament silks. Byzantine, sixth century. Sens, Cathedral Treasury.

159. Peacock silk. Byzantine, sixth to seventh century. Aachen, Cathedral Treasury.

160. Pegasus silk. Byzantine, eighth to ninth century. Rome, Vatican, Musero Sacro.

Plates

433

434

161. Eagle silk. Byzantine, tenth to eleventh century. Auxerre, St. Eusebe.

162–3. Annunciation and Nativity silk. Annunciation. Byzantine, second half of ninth century. Rome, Vatican, Museo Sacro.

Plates

435

436

164. Author’s diagram. The organisation of the Silk Industry as described in the Book of the Prefect.

Plates

165. Author’s diagram. The main weaving types before A.D. 1200.

437

438

166. Simple horizontal loom. Miniature, Byzantine, fourteenth century. Paris gr. 135, fol. 222v. 167. Modern Jacquard loom with punched cards for automatic repeat of the design.

Plates

168. Imperial portrait bust. Byzantine, eighth to ninth century. Sens, cathedral Treasury.

439

169. Paired griffins, ‘incised’ design on monochrome silk. Byzantine, eleventh to twelfth century. Abegg Stiftung, Riggisberg, Berne.

170. Imperial portrait bust. Byzantine, eighth to ninth century. Gandersheim, Cathedral Treasury.

440

171. Foundation Chrysobull issued to Dionysiou Monastery, Mount Athos, by Alexius III Comnenos (1195–1203). Original, Byzantine, twelfth century. Here eighteenth century, copy. Athos, Dionysiou Monastery.

172. Griffin attacking quadruped silk. Byzantine, tenth century. Cologne, St. Gereon.

Plates

441

173–4. Greater sakkos of Photius, Metropolit of Moscow, detail. (Cf. Plate 7 above). Byzantine, early fifteenth century (1414–1417). Inv. TK4, Moscow, Kremlin Museums.

442