The very self-same things get for themselves other denominations as time goes on: such happened to cloths of gold. What the thirteenth century called, first, “ciclatoun,” then “baudekin,” afterward “nak,” people, two hundred years later, chose to name “tissue,” or the bright shimmering golden textile affected so much by our kings and queens in their dress, for the more solemn occasions of stately grandeur, as was just now mentioned. Up to this time, the very thin smooth paper made at first on purpose to be, when this rich stuff lay by, put between its folds to hinder it from fraying or tarnish, yet goes, though its original use is forgotten, by the name of tissue-paper.
The gorgeous and entire set of vestments presented to the altar at St. Alban’s Abbey, by Margaret, Duchess of Clarence, A.D. 1429, and made of the cloth of gold commonly called “tyssewys,” must have been as remarkable for the abundance and purity of the gold in its texture, as for the splendour of the precious stones set on it, as well as the exquisite beauty of its embroideries: “Obtulit etiam unum vestimentum integrum cum tribus capis choralibus de panno Tyssewys vulgariter nuncupato in quibus auri pretiosa nobilitas, gemmarum pulchritudo et curiosa manus artificis stuporem quendam inspectantium oculis repræsentant.” [78] The large number of vestments made out of gold tissue, and of crimson, light blue, purple, green, and black, once belonging to York Cathedral, are all duly registered in the valuable “Fabric Rolls” of that Church lately published by the Surtees Society. [79]
[78] Mon. Anglic. II. 222.
[79] Pp. 229, &c.
Among those many rich and costly vestments in Lincoln Cathedral, some were made of this sparkling golden tissue contra-distinguished in its inventory, from the duller cloth of gold, thus: “Four good copes of blew tishew with orphreys of red cloth of gold, wrought with branches and leaves of velvet;”[80] “a chesable with two tunacles of blew tishew having a precious orphrey of cloth of gold.” [81]
To this day, in some countries the official robes of certain dignitaries are wrought of this rich textile. Even now, these Roman princes, and the senator whose place on great festivals when the Pope is present, is about the pontifical throne, are all arrayed in state garments made of cloth of gold.
[80] Monasticon Anglicanum, ed. Dugdale, t. viii. p. 1282.
[81] Ib.
Silken textures ornamented with designs in copper gilt thread, were brought into market and honestly sold for what they really were: of such inferior wares we find mention in the inventory of vestments at Winchester Cathedral, drawn up by order of Henry VIII. where we read of “twenty-eight copys of white bawdkyne, woven with copper gold.”[82] The substitution of gilt parchment for metal will be noticed further on, Section vi.
To imitate cloth of gold, the gilding of silk and fine canvas, like our gilding of wood and other substances, though not often, was sometimes resorted to for splendour’s sake on momentary occasions; such, for instance, as some stately procession, or a solemn burial service. Mr. Raine tells us he got from a grave at Durham, among other textiles, “a robe of thinnish silk; the ground colour of the whole is amber; and the ornamental parts were literally covered with leaf gold, of which there remained distinct and very numerous portions.”[83] In the churchyard of Cheam, Surrey, A.D. 1865, was found the skeleton of a priest buried there some time during the fourteenth century; around the waist was a flat girdle made of brown silk that had been gilt, and a shred of it now lies before the writer.