Opus Anglicanum: Embroidery in Medieval England

By Mark Patton.

London's Victoria and Albert Museum currently has a major exhibition of English Medieval embroidery, including examples gathered from public collections around the World, and others from private collections never previously seen in public.

The Latin term, Opus Anglicanum, refers to a school of English embroidery that had its origins in the Tenth Century, and flourished, especially, from the mid-Twelfth to the mid-Fourteenth Century. Most surviving examples are priestly and episcopal vestments, and the work of English embroiderers was so widely admired that these were in demand in all of Europe's great cathedral cities, and even in the Vatican itself. Domestic hangings were also made in the English workshops, but many fewer of these have survived.

The Butler-Bowden Cope, 1330-50, silk, silver and silver-gilt thread on Italian silk velvet (a cope is an outer vestment worn by a bishop or priest in a religious procession). Photo: Victoria and Albert Museum (licensed under GNU). 

Cope from the Museum Schnutgen, Cologne. Photo: Raimond Spekking (licensed under CCA CC BY-4.0, via Wikimedia Commons).

Medieval cope-chest at York Minster (protecting vestments from light, damp, and vermin, such chests helped ensure their preservation). Photo: LeMonde1 (licensed under CCA).

The "funeral achievements" of Edward, the Black Prince, at Canterbury Cathedral, including an embroidered surcoat, a rare surviving example of secular embroidery. Photo: Jononmac46 (licensed under CCA).

Among the earliest surviving examples is the stole found in the tomb of Saint Cuthbert, which was made between 909 and 916 AD. The "Bayeux Tapestry" (actually an embroidery) is another notable early example, and this commission was on such a scale that it may, in itself, have played a role in kick-starting the industry. It consists of a strip of  linen, a fabric that had been produced in England since the Bronze Age, embroidered with dyed woolen yarns.

The Saint Cuthbert stole (a stole is a strip of fabric worn by a priest around his neck whilst administering a sacrament). Image is in the Public Domain. 

The Bayeux Tapestry. Photo: Myrabella (licensed under CCA).

Linen was, similarly, the basis for much of the later Medieval Opus Anglicanum, although embroidered strips were sometimes sewn onto garments made of woven silk, imported from Italy, or from farther afield (Iran or Central Asia). The embroidery of the High Middle Ages made extensive use of silk thread, as well as gold and silver thread.

Raw silk was imported from China, via Italy: a cargo of oriental wares, including bales of silk, was unloaded at London by the Frescobaldi Company of Florence in 1304. From the late Fourteenth Century, however, most of the trade was in the hands of the Venetians, who imported dyed silk thread from the ports of Lahidjian and Talich, on the Caspian Sea. Each year, a fleet of Venetian galleys would sail out from the Mediterranean, half of them bound for London, and the other half for Flanders. They carried cotton and ivory, sugar, spices and wine, as well as silk thread; and returned with woolen cloth (England's most significant Medieval export), as well as embroidered vestments commissioned by Italian bishops.

A Venetian "Flanders Galley," built to withstand Atlantic storms (illustration by Michael of Rhodes, a seaman who visited London in the 15th Century - image is in the Public Domain).

Most of the English embroidery was produced in London, in the streets behind Saint Paul's Cathedral. The embroiderers were not, for the most part, monks or nuns, but private contractors, some of whose names are known: Adam de Basing, Maud of Canterbury, Mabel of Bury-Saint-Edmund's, Joan of Woburn, Maud of Bentley, Alice Prince, Matilda le Goldsherer. Whilst it is often difficult to untangle the precise nature of the supply chains, it seems that, whilst men such as Adam de Basing (Lord Mayor of London in 1251) handled much of the outward-facing business: negotiating with bishops, court officials, and Venetian sea-captains; much of the embroidery itself was done by women, who would have been among the best-paid professional women in Medieval society.

The Fishmongers' Pall (used to cover the coffins of fishmongers during their funerals), 1512-38 (image is in the Public Domain). 

The industry declined from the mid-Fifteenth Century. The fall of Constantinople to the Ottoman Turks in 1453 disrupted the supply of silk, and, after 1517, the Protestant Reformation reduced the demand for sumptuously embroidered ecclesiastical vestments. Now, for the first time in my lifetime, some of this industry's finest masterpieces have been brought together in the city where most of them were made.

For more information about the exhibition, see the Victoria and Albert Museum website, "Opus Anglicanum: Masterpieces of English Medieval Embroidery," 

This is an Editor’s Choice from the #EHFA archives, originally published November 10, 2016.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mark Patton blogs regularly on aspects of history and historical fiction at http://mark-patton.blogspot.co.uk. His novels, Undreamed Shores, An Accidental King, and Omphalos, are published by Crooked Cat Publications, and can be purchased from Amazon. 

Michael of Rhodes: a 15th Century Visitor to London

by Mark Patton

In an earlier blog-post, I introduced the topic of Medieval trade between London and Venice. Each year, a fleet of galleys would set sail from Venice, passing through the Straits of Gibraltar, along the Atlantic coasts of Portugal, Spain and France, and into the English Channel, half of them bound for London, the other half for Flanders. They brought with them silk thread and cloth from China and Persia; spices from India; and wine from Italy; and returned with woolen cloth, raw wool; expensive embroideries from London; and tin from the mines of Cornwall. Remarkably, we have a written record from one of the men who sailed on these ships, Michael of Rhodes.

A Flanders Galley, from the Book of Michael of Rhodes (image is in the Public Domain): these vessels were specially built to withstand the storms of the Atlantic.  

Michael was, ethnically, a Greek, and spoke Greek as his first language, although he seems only ever to have been literate in Venetian (his book includes prayers in Greek, presumably remembered from his childhood, but they are transcribed in Latin letters). He joined the Venetian navy as a humble oarsman in 1401, and, over the course of a 44-year career, which saw him sailing to Constantinople, Alexandria, Beirut, London and Bruges, rose through the ranks to be Nochiero (Midshipman), Paron (responsible for provisioning, ballasting and stowing of the ship), Comito (Sailing Master) and Armirao (effective commander of a fleet, responsible to a nobleman who did not necessarily have the skills of a master-mariner). He served on both commercial and military vessels, and was wounded in action at least once. Further details of his career can be found here.

Michael's first visit to London was in 1406, when he was a Proder (a senior oarsman, responsible for discipline on the benches). He would have had an uncomfortable journey, sleeping on his bench, exposed to the elements, and living on a diet of ship's biscuits and broth. Although the ship would have traveled under sail throughout most of her time at sea, Michael and the 180 oarsmen would have had to row her up the Thames. He would have stepped ashore, exhausted, at Galley Quay, close to the Tower of London.

The arrival of a galley signaled the beginning of an unofficial trade fair, since each member of the crew was entitled to a portata, a small package of goods that he could trade on his own account. This might have included trinkets of glass, pottery or copper made by his relatives in Venice or on Rhodes. If he was lucky, he might have been able to afford a few nights in a real bed (even if shared), and some decent meals washed down with ale.

Michael's second trip to London, in 1443, was under very different circumstances. He was now an experienced master-mariner, and a senior officer, a Homo de Conseio, selected by a panel chaired by the Doge. In London, he is likely to have been wined and dined by the Lord Mayor, and by the masters of those livery companies whose members traded with the Venetians: the Broderers, Haberdashers, Drapers, Woolmen and Vintners. He is unlikely to have spoken much English, but Venetian traders had permanent offices in London, which would have provided translators.

At sea, his responsibilities seem to have included the training of the Nochieri, men (some of them of noble birth), who were being prepared for careers as master-mariners. His book is, in large part, a training manual, encompassing ship-building; rigging; navigational and commercial mathematics; and sailing directions for voyages around the Mediterranean and Atlantic coasts. It may have played a role in securing his promotion to a senior post, and he seems to have sold it to another mariner on his retirement, an item of considerable value.

Diagram showing the construction of a ship's hull, from the Book of Michael of Rhodes (image is in the Public Domain).

A galley under construction, from the Book of Michael of Rhodes (image is in the Public Domain).

Diagram showing lateen sails, from the Book of Michael of Rhodes (image is in the Public Domain).

Mathematical calculations, from the Book of Michael of Rhodes (image is in the Public Domain).

Michael of Rhodes belonged to one of the last generation of mariners who sailed without charts. A draftsman of not inconsiderable talent, his book includes nothing that looks remotely like a map. Although he does not mention a compass, he probably did use one, but he would not have had a sextant, astrolabe or telescope. He would have followed the coastlines, using a Portolan (a list of landmarks - his book includes several of these, including one for the English Channel), making relatively frequent stops to take on fresh water, and other supplies, and using trigonometry (his book includes the relevant tables) to keep track of his position between anchorages.

A mock coat of arms gives us a rare insight into Michael's sense of humour. The turnips on either side may refer to the diet on board his ships, whilst the mouse firmly in control of a cat is an appropriate emblem for a man who has risen from humble origins to the top of his trade (image is in the Public Domain).

Written on paper (cheaper, and lighter, but less durable, than vellum), Michael's book is a remarkable survival. Although in private ownership, it has been extensively studied by academics, and a facsimile has been published, together with a full transcription and translation. It is one of the most important primary sources for anyone wishing to understand navigation, commerce, and applied mathematics in the Late Medieval Age.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mark Patton blogs regularly on aspects of history and historical fiction at http://mark-patton.blogspot.co.uk. His novels, Undreamed Shores, An Accidental King, and Omphalos, are published by Crooked Cat Publications and can be purchased from Amazon.