The usual process for the application of gold and silver in textiles and embroidery is to twine the precious metal about cotton thread, and thus weave it in with the shuttle or stitch it on by the needle. Here, however, the silver, in part white in its original condition, in part gilt, is laid on in the form of a very thin but solid wire, unmixed with cotton, and the effect is very rich and brilliant.
In the middle of this piece are shown two monsters interlacing one another; within the upper coil which they make with their snake-like lengths, stands a human figure which, from its dress, looks that of a man who with each outstretched hand, seems fondling the serpent-heads of these two monsters; that at the other end terminates in the upper portion of an imaginary dragon with wings on its shoulders, its paws well armed with claws, and a wolfish head largely horned, and jaws widely yawning, as eager to swallow its prey. To our thinking, we have shown to us here the Scandinavian personification of evil in the human figure of the bad god Loki (the embroidery of whose face is worn away) and his wicked offspring, the Midgard serpent, the wolf Fenrir, and Hela or Death, who may be identified in that female figure seated within the smaller lower coil made by the twining serpents. Amid some leaf-bearing branches to the right is perceived a man as if running away affrighted; to the left we behold Thor himself, mallet in hand, about to deal a heavy blow upon the scaly length of this Midgard serpent. About the same time this embroidery was worked the bishop’s crozier began to end in the serpent’s head. A good figure of this piece is given by Dr. Bock, in his “Geschichte der Liturgischen Gewänder des Mittelalters,” 1 Band, 2 Lieferung, pt. vi.
8229.
Piece of Crimson Silk, with interlacing pattern woven in gold; the centre occupied with representations of flat-shaped fish, and, as we learn from Dr. Bock, like to an imperial robe at Vienna, made A.D. 1133. Oriental. 11 inches by 5 inches.
Though of a very tame design and rather striking for the sparing way in which the dim gold is rolled about its thread, still it is not fair to judge of what this stuff might have once been when new, fresh from the loom and unfaded. If, in the first half of the 12th century, silks so wrought with the representation of fishes were deemed worthy of being put into use for state garments of a German Emperor; a short hundred years later, they were for their symbolism thought even more fitting to be employed for making the chasubles and copes worn at divine service in the cathedral of London. From the inventory drawn up, A.D. 1295, of the altar vestments belonging to old St Paul’s, we learn that among them there were:—“Capa magistri Johannis de S. Claro, de quodam panno Tarsico, viridis coloris, cum plurimis piscibus et rosis de aurifilo, contextis.” Dugdale’s “History of St. Paul’s,” new ed. p. 318. “Item casula de panno Tarsico indici coloris cum pisculis et rosulis aureis, &c.” Ib. p. 323. In all likelihood, the fish here shown was meant for what we oddly call “John Dory,” a corruption of the Italian “Gianitore,” or gate-keeper, the name of this fish in some parts of Italy, in reference to St. Peter, who is deemed to have found the tribute-money in the mouth of this fish, hence denominated St. Peter’s fish.
8230.
Piece of so-called Bissus, of a yellowish white, with squares formed by intersecting bars of dark brown. 11¼ inches by 8½ inches.
Though so unattractive to the eye, this fragment of one of the most delicate sorts of textile manufacture is one among the most curious and interesting specimens of this valuable collection. Unfortunately, Dr. Bock does not furnish us with any clue to its history, nor tell us where he found it. The large whitish squares measure 4¼ inches by 3¾ inches, and those deep brown bars that enclose them are a quarter of an inch broad, and meant evidently to have not a straight but wavy form. Another piece of this curious textile may be seen under No. 1238.