For a sight of some liturgical appliances which, though once so common
and everywhere employed have become rare from having one by one dropped
into disuse, ritualists, foreign ones among the rest, will have to come
hither. A few more of such articles, though still in common use, are
remarkable for the antiquity or the costliness of those stuffs out of
which they happen to be made.
For its age, and the beauty of its needlework, the Syon cope is in
itself a remarkable treasure, while its emblazoned orphreys, like the
vestments on the person of a Percy in Beverley minster, make it, at
least according to present custom, singular. Several chasubles here
so noteworthy for their gorgeousness, have their fellows equal in
splendour, elsewhere; but in this museum are a few articles which till
now we might have sought for in vain throughout Christendom in any
other private or public collection.
Such liturgical boxes as those two--No. 5958, p. 112, and No. 8327, p.
193--are of the kind known of old as the “capsella cum serico decenter
ornata”--a little box beseemingly fitted up with silk--of the mediæval
writers; or the “capsula corporalium”--the box in which are kept the
corporals or square pieces of fine linen, a fine mediæval specimen of
which is here, No. 8329, p. 195, of the rubrics which, to this day,
require its employment for a particular service, during holy week. Like
its use the name of this appliance is very old, and both are spoken
of in those ancient “Ordines Romani,” in the first of which, drawn up
now more than a thousand years ago, it is directed: “tunc duo acolythi
tenentes capsas cum Sanctis apertas, &c.;”[381] and again, in another
“Ordo,” written out some little time before A.D. 1143, a part of the
rubric for Good Friday requires the Pope to go barefoot during the
procession in which a cardinal carries the Host consecrated the day
before, and preserved in the corporals’ chest or box: “discalceatus
(papa) pergit cum processione.... Quidam cardinalis honorifice portat
corpus Domini præteriti diei conservatum, in capsula corporalium.”[382]
About the mass of the presanctified, before the beginning of which this
procession took as it yet takes place, we have said a few words at pp.
112, 113. What is meant by the word “corporal,” we have explained, p.
194. Here in England, such small wooden boxes covered with silks and
velvets richly embroidered, were once employed for the same liturgical
uses. The Exeter inventories specify them thus: “unum repositorium
ligneum pro corporalibus co-opertum cum saccis de serico;”[383] “tria
corporalia in casa lignea co-operta cum panno serico, operata cum
diversis armis.”[384]
[381] Ed. Mabillon, Museum Italicum, t. ii. p. 8.
[382] Ib. p. 137.
[383] Oliver’s Exeter Cathedral, p. 314.
[384] Ib. p. 327.
Good Friday brings to mind a religious practice followed wherever the
Greek ritual is observed, and the appliance for which, No. 8278, p.
170, we have there spoken of at such length as to save us here any
further notice of this interesting kind of frontal, upon which is shown
our dead Lord lying stretched out upon the sindon or winding-sheet.
Of the Cyrillian character in which the Greek sentences upon it are
written, we shall have a more fitting opportunity for speaking a
little further on. At Rome, in the Pope’s chapel, the frontal set
before the altar for the function of Maundy Thursday, is of gold cloth
figured, amid other subjects suitable to the time, with our Lord lying
dead between two angels who are upholding His head, as we learn from
the industrious Cancellieri’s description, in his “Settimana Santa
nella cappella pontificia.”[385]
In Greece may be still found several churches built with a dome, all
around which is figured, in painting or in mosaics, what is there known
as and called the “Divine Liturgy,” after this manner. On the eastern
side, and before an altar, but facing the west, stands our Lord, robed
as a patriarch, about to offer up the mass. The rest of the round in
the cupola is filled with a crowd of angels,--some arrayed in chasubles
like priests, some as deacons, but each bearing in his hands either one
of the several vestments or some liturgical vessel or appliance needed
at the celebration of the sacred mysteries,--all walking, as it were,
to the spot where stands the divine pontiff. But amid this angel-throng
may be seen six of these winged ministers who are carrying between them
a sindon exactly figured as is the one of which we are now speaking.
How, according to the Greek ritual, this subject ought to be done, is
given in the Painter’s Guide, edited by Didron.[386] Though of yore as
now a somewhat similar ceremonial was always observed according to the
Latin rite, in carrying his vestments to a bishop when he pontificated,
never in such a procession here, in the west, was any frontal or sindon
borne, as in the east.
With regard to “red” as the mourning colour, in the sindon, our own
old English use joined it with “black” upon vestments especially
intended to be worn in services for the dead. For especial use on Good
Friday Bishop Grandison gave to his cathedral (Exeter) a black silk
chasuble, the red orphrey at the back of which had embroidered on it
our Lord hanging upon a green cross: “j casula de nigro serico, pro Die
Paraschive, cum j orfrey quasi rubii coloris, cum crucifixo pendente
in viridi cruce, ex dono Johannis Grandissono;”[387] and in the same
document, among the black copes and chasubles, we find that they had
their orphreys made of red: “cape nigre cum casulis--j casula de nigro
velvete cum rubeo velvete in le orfrey. ij tuniculi ejusdem panni et
secte. iij cape ejusdem panni et secte.”[388]
[385] P. 58.
[386] Manuel d’Iconographie Chretienne, pp. xxxvi. 229.
[387] Oliver, p. 344.
[388] Ib. p. 349.
At Lincoln cathedral there were “a chesable of black cloth of gold of
bawdkin with a red orphrey, &c.; a black cope of cloth of silver with
an orphrey of red velvet broidered with flowers, &c.; a black cope of
camlet broidered with flowers of woodbine with an orphrey of red cloth
of gold,” &c.; two copes of black satin with orphreys of red damask,
broidered with flowers of gold, having, in the back, souls rising to
their doom, &c., besides other vestments of the same kind.[389] Green,
sometimes along with red, sometimes taking the latter’s place in the
orphreys, may be seen on some of our old vestments.
Those two pyx-cloths at No. 8342, p. 202, and No. 8691, p. 260, will
have an interest for the student of mediæval liturgy as we have already
pointed out, p. 202. While in Italy the custom, during the middle
ages at least, never prevailed, here in England as well as all over
France, and several countries on the Continent, it did, of keeping
the Eucharist under one form, hung up over the high altar beneath a
beautiful canopy within a pyx of gold, silver, ivory, or enamel, and
mantled with a fine linen embroidered cloth or veil. At present this
“velum pyidis” overspreading the ciborium or pyx in the tabernacle, is
of silk.
In olden days the veil for the pyx was, here in England, beautifully
embroidered with golden thread and coloured silks, and usually carried
three crowns of gold or silver, as is shown in the woodcut, “Church
of our Fathers,”[390] and often mentioned in many of our national
documents which, without some such notice as this, could not be rightly
understood. Among the things once belonging to Richard II. in Haverford
castle and sent by the sheriff of Hereford to the exchequer, at the
beginning of Henry IV.’s reign, are three crowns of gold, a gold cup,
and one of the pyx-veils like these: “iij corones d’or pour le Corps
Ihu Cryst. i coupe d’or pour le Corps Ihu Cryst. i towayll ove (avec) i
longe parure de mesure la suyte.”[391]
[389] Monasticon Anglicanum, t. viii. p. 1285, ed. Caley.
[390] T. iv. p. 206.
[391] The Ancient Kalendars and Inventories of His Majesty’s Exchequer,
t. iii. p. 361. ed. Palgrave.
By different people, and at various periods, a variety of names was
given to this fine linen covering. Describing in his will, one made in
this country and so valuable for its English needlework, a bishop of
Tournay (see before p. xcix) calls it a corporal: in the inventory of
things taken from Dr. Caius, and in the college of his own founding
at Cambridge, are: “corporas clothes, with the pix and ‘sindon’ and
canopie,” &c.[392] This variety in nomenclature doubtless led writers
unacquainted with ritual matters to state that before Mary Queen of
Scots bent her head upon the block, she had a “corporal,” properly so
called, bound over her eyes. What to our seeming this bandage really
was, must have been a large piece of fine linen embroidered by her own
hands--Mary wrought much with her needle, as specimens of her doing yet
remain at Chatsworth, and at Greystock show--meant for, perhaps too
once used as a pyx-cloth, and not an altar corporal.
[392] Munk’s Roll of the Royal College of Physicians, t. i. p. 37.
Whilst these pages were going through the press, one of these old
English pyx, or Corpus Christi cloths, was found at the bottom of a
chest in Hessett church, Suffolk. As it is a remarkable and unique
specimen of the ingenious handicraft done by our mediæval countrywomen,
we notice it. To make this pyx-cloth, a piece of thick linen, about two
feet square, was chosen, and being marked off into small equal widths
on all its four edges, the threads at every other space were, both in
the warp and woof, pulled out. The checquers or squares so produced
all over it were then drawn in by threads tied on the under side, so
as to have the shape of stars, so well and nicely given that, till
this piece had been narrowly looked into, it was thought to be guipure
lace. Of a textile so admirably wrought, it is to be regretted that
there is, as yet, no sample in this collection. This curious liturgical
appliance is figured in the April number, for the year 1868, of the
“Ecclesiologist,” page 86.
For the several very curious sorts of ornamental needlework about it,
and the somewhat intricate manner after which it is cut out, the old
alb, No. 8710, p. 268, as well as the amice, No. 8307, p. 185, having
both of them the apparels yet remaining sewed on to these church
garments, must draw the attention of every inquirer after such rare
existing samples of the kind.
Some very fine threaden cloths--now become rare--for liturgical
purposes, deserve attention. In the old inventories of church furniture
in England, they are known under the name of “filatoria,” about which
we have spoken just now, p. cix. At No. 4457, p. 99, is a towel which,
it is likely, was spread under the tapers for Candlemass-day, and the
twigs of the sallow, or willow (our so-called palm), and slips of
the box-tree, for Palm-Sunday, while they were being hallowed before
distribution. For several lectern veils, we shall have to go to No.
7029, p. 120; No. 8358, p. 210; and No. 8693, p. 261.
Those two linen napkins, formerly kept hanging down from just below the
crook on a pastoral staff or crozier are become so excessively rare,
that we unhesitatingly believe that none of our countrymen have ever
been able to find, either in England or abroad, a single other sample;
they are to be seen, No. 8279A, p. 174, and No. 8662, p. 250.
Those who have ever witnessed on a Sunday morning in any of the great
churches at Paris, the blessing of the French “pain beni”--our old
English “holy loaf”--the “eulogia” of antiquity--will call to mind
how a fair white linen cloth, like the one here, No. 8698, p. 263,
overspread, and fell in graceful folds down from two sides of the board
upon which, borne on the shoulders of four youthful acolytes, a large
round cake garnished with flowers and wax-tapers was carried through
the chancel, and halting at the altar’s foot got its blessing from the
celebrant.
The rich crimson velvet cope, No. 79, p. 2, has a fine hood figured
with the coming down, after the usual manner, of the Holy Ghost upon
the infant church. No. 8595, p. 226, presents us with a shred merely
of what must have been once a large hanging for the chancel walls,
or perhaps one of the two curtains at the altar’s sides, having such
fragments of some Latin sentences as these:--“et tui amoris in eis
... tus. Re ... le tuoru.” The subject on the cope’s hood tells of
Pentecost Sunday; so too does the second article, for those broken
sentences are parts of particular words: “Veni Sancte Spiritus, reple
tuorum corda fidelium: et tui amoris in eis ignem accende,” to be found
both in our own old English Salisbury missal, and breviary, but in
every like service-book in use during the mediæval period throughout
western Christendom. Be it kept in mind that both these liturgical
appliances are red or crimson; and as now, so heretofore, as well
in old England, as elsewhere this very colour has been employed for
the church’s vestments, thus to remind us of those parted tongues,
as it were, of fire that sat upon every one of the Apostles.[393] We
mention all this with a view to correct an error in lexicography.
In our dictionaries we are told that “Whitsuntide” is a contracted
form of White Sunday tide, so called from the white vestments worn on
that day by the candidates for baptism. Nothing of the sort; but the
word “wits,” our intellect or understanding, is the root of the term,
for a curious and valuable old English book of sermons called “The
Festival,” tells us:--“This day is called Wytsonday by cause the Holy
Ghoost brought wytte and wysdom in to Cristis dyscyples; and so by her
preachyng after in to all Cristendom.”[394]
[393] Acts ii. 1-11.
[394] In die Penthecostes, fol. xlvi. verso.
Somewhat akin to this subject, are those several christening cloaks
here, pp. 8, 9, 10, 11. Not long ago the custom was to carry to church
for baptism the baby wrapped up in some such a silken covering which
was called a bearing-cloth. Of old, that used to be a conspicuous
article in all royal christenings; and amongst our gentry was looked
upon as worthy enough of being made a testamentary bequest. At the
christening of Arthur Prince of Wales, eldest son of Henry VII. “my
Lady Cecill, the Queen’s eldest sister, bare the prince wrapped in a
Mantell of Cremesyn Clothe of Golde furred with Ermyn,” &c.[395] Such
ceremonial garments varied, according to the owner’s position of life,
in costliness; hence Shakespeare makes the shepherd, in the “Winter’s
Tale,” cry out, “Here’s a sight for thee; look thee, a bearing cloth
for a squire’s child!”[396] A well-to-do tradesman bequeathed, A.D.
1648, to his daughter Rose his “beareing cloath such ... linnen as is
belonginge to infants at their tyme of baptisme.”[397]
Very often in our old country houses are found, thrown aside in some
antique chest, certain small square pieces of nice embroidery, the
former use for which nobody now knows, and about which one is asked. If
their owners would look at those several cradle-quilts here--pp. 4, 13,
66, 67, 100, 103, 104, 110--they might find out such ancient household
stuff was wrought for their forefathers’ comfort and adornment, when
mere babies. The evangelists’ emblems figured on several among these
coverlets: such as No. 1344, p. 67, No. 4459, p. 100, No. 4644, p. 103,
will call to mind those old nursery-rhymes we referred to at p. 103. Of
yore, not only little children, but grown-up, ay, aged men too loved to
think about those verses, when they went to sleep, for the inventory
of furniture taken, A.D. 1446, in the Priory of Durham, tells us that
in the upper chamber there was a bed-quilt embroidered with the four
Evangelists--one in each corner: “j culcitrum cum iiij or Evangelistis
in corneriis.”[398]
The bag or purse, No. 8313, p. 188, is of a kind which not only were
used for those liturgical purposes which we have already enumerated,
but served for private devotional practices. In that very interesting
will made by Henry, Lord de Scrope, A.D. 1415, among other pious
bequests, is the following one, of the little bag having in it a piece
of our Lord’s cross, which he always wore about his neck;--“j bursa
parva quæ semper pendet circa collum meum cum cruce Domini.”[399]
[395] Leland’s Collectanea, t. iv. pp. 205, 180, 181, 183.
[396] Act iii. scene iii.
[397] Bury Wills, &c. p. 186.
[398] Hist. Dunelm. Scriptores Tres, ed. Surtees Society, p. cclxxxvii.
[399] Rymer’s Fœdera, t. ix. p. 278.
The crimson velvet mitre,--No. 4015, p. 85,--for the boy-bishop,
bairn-bishop, or Nicholas-tide bishop, as the little boy was severally
called in England, is a liturgical curiosity, as the ceremonies in
which it was formerly worn are everywhere laid aside. Among the things
given for the use of the chapel in the college--All Souls--of his
founding at Oxford by Archbishop Chicheley, are a cope and mitre for
this boy, there named the Nicholas-tide bishope:--“i cap. et mitre pro
episcopo Nicholao.”[400] To make good his election to such a dignity,
at Eton College, a boy had to study hard and show at the examination
for it, that he was the ablest there at his books: his success almost
ennobled him among his schoolfellows:--“In die Sti Hugonis pontificis”
(17 Nov.) “solebat Ætonæ fieri electio Episcopi Nihilensis, sed
consuetudo obsolevit. Olim episcopus ille puerorum habebatur nobilis,
in cujus electione, et literata et laudatissima exercitatio, ad
ingeniorum vires et motos exercendos, Ætonæ celebris erat.”[401] The
colour, crimson, in this boy’s mitre, was to distinguish it from that
of bishops.
Of the episcopal bairn-cloth--the Gremiale of foreign liturgists--we
have two specimens here,--Nos. 1031, 1032, pp. 19, 20. The rich one of
crimson cloth of gold, once belonging to Bowet, Archbishop of York, who
died A.D. 1423, brought more money than even a chasuble of the same
stuff:--“Et de xxvj_s._ viij_d._ receptis pro j. bairnecloth de rubeo
panno auri. Et de xx_s._ receptis pro j casula de rubeo beaudkyn, &c.
Inventorium,” &c.[402]
Old episcopal shoes are now become great liturgical rarities, but there
is one here,--No. 1290, p. 46. At one time they were called “sandals;”
and among the episcopal ornaments that went by usage to Durham
cathedral at the death of any of its bishops, were “mitra et baculum
et sandalia et cætera episcopalia,” of Hugh Pudsey, A.D. 1195.[403]
Later was given them the name of “sabatines;” and Archbishop Bowet’s
inventory mentions two pairs:--“pro j pare de sabbatones, brouddird,
et couch’ cum perell’; pro j pare de sabbatones de albo panno auri,”
&c.[404]
[400] Collectanea Curiosa, ed. Gutch, t. ii. p 265.
[401] King’s College, Cambridge, and Eton College Statutes, ed. Wright,
p. 632.
[402] Test. Ebor. t. iii. p. 76, ed. Surtees Society.
[403] Wills of the Northern Counties, ed. Surtees Society, t. i. p. 3.
[404] Ib. p. 76.