A Semi-Conical Chasuble From the 1400's

Recently I came across this rather fetching chasuble that is thought to be of Italian and/or German origin, dated to sometime within the 1400's.  Many medieval chasubles can be rather 'busy,' covered as many often are, with all sorts of symbols and figures, but this particular chasuble caught my eye by virtue of the fact that it has a certain restraint to it; one that I personally find quite appealing. 

First and foremost we should discuss the colour. A modern will look at this chasuble and think of this as  liturgically blue, however as we have noted here before on various occasions (See: A Brief History of Liturgical Colours), looks can be deceiving. Certainly the medieval period saw a greater variety of coloured textiles used in vestment work, and one can even find some examples of blue being specified in some locations, but generally speaking blue textiles such as this were actually used as black or purple liturgically speaking. That might seem strange to us, spoiled as we are by the free-flowing availability of textiles, but earlier generations did not have this same luxury as we.

The velvet in question here is an example one of the most popular designs of the Renaissance. It follows the cammino-inferriata motif and type; a voided velvet that contains five-lobed corollas filled with pomegranates, thistles or other such designs. 

Shape-wise this particular chasuble is a typical medieval cut. It is not fully conical but rather semi-conical -- meaning that a portion of the bottom of the 'cone' has been cut away, though not so much that its length at the sides would not still reach past the arms and hands of whomever wears it. In that regard, when worn, this chasuble would still have had the iconic folds we associate with conical chasubles, while also having the practical benefit of requiring less fabric and being lighter and less clumsy to wear.

The velvet is of course quite striking, but it is the appliquéd Crucifixion scene found on the back of the chasuble that is the dominant design highlight. It features an older style of Cross that one sees turn up in the medieval period, featuring a rough hewn tree that still displays the cut limbs of the tree's former branches -- possibly a symbolic reference to Christ's own sacrifice and suffering. 

Beyond this, I'd like to also draw your attention to a few things as we look a a little more closely at some of the details found on the appliqué. 

The first is the amount of colour that can actually still be found on it. While the colours have evidently faded over the course of the centuries, if you take a closer look you will see that it has quite a bit of colour and shading in the design. This tells you something about how it might have looked in its heyday. 

The second thing I would draw your attention to is the delicate sophistication in the way the faces of the various figures are portrayed. There is a certain delicacy and emotion we can observe in these portrayals -- a quality not easily achieved or captured in works such as this, and certainly not at this point of history.  To my mind, this suggests extremely high end work.

Lastly, there is the careful attention to detail regarding to the Cross itself. It would be easy to make this a mere side note of the design, but here our artisans have created a rather detailed tree, complete with variations in colour and stylized textures meant to approximate the look and feel of bark and cut wood. 

If you look to the top of the Cross, you will see an image of God the Father, His right hand is held up in a gesture of benediction, crowned and holding an orb in his other -- symbolizing dominion over the world.

At the foot of the Cross, the Crucifixion scene is made complete by the inclusion of the images of the Beloved Disciple, St. John, shown supporting the figure of the sorrowful Blessed Mother, mourning the suffering and death of her son. 

Finally, I would invite you to observe one last point of construction. 

If you look at the main body of the chasuble, you will see that it is actually comprised of a disparate number of smaller rectangular pieces that have been quilted together to make the whole. This no doubt points to the fact that, as was so often was the case during these times, the fabric had been repurposed from some other previous use.

They certainly did a spectacular job of stitching all of these various parts and pieces together, creating a very well-crafted and noble work of liturgical art.

Photos: Victoria and Albert Museum

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