III. Medieval Seal Bags Unravelled: An Interdisciplinary Collaboration

Introduction

Somewhat larger than the wax seals they still cover or once held, and made of textile, flax fibres, parchment, or leather, seal bags from medieval western Europe offer fascinating wrappings.¹ They hide the very objects that were originally meant to be seen, offering both validation and authentication of written agreements and exchanges held inside. These agreements and exchanges (known as charters or deeds) were written on parchment. The seal cord (a textile cord or parchment strip that connected charter and seal) would be threaded through the parchment, and finally the seal (an impression in warmed wax as a way of verifying the identity of the sender and authenticating the document’s contents) was added. It was only after sealed charters were created that some seals received their wrappings. Medieval seal bags have been studied by a number of art historians and seal experts, particularly in England.² Such wrappings come in a variety of materials, shapes, sizes, and quality. Sometimes these covers were added soon after the wax seal came into being.³ Others seem to have been added later, sometimes even centuries after the document was sealed.⁴ Research dedicated to these objects is still in its infancy, in part because seal bags are situated in between the areas of interest and expertise of art historians, historians, and archivists. Conservators and conservation scientists, who often have immediate access to objects, direct experience in handling them, and an interest in investigating their materiality, can play a crucial role in connecting these different disciplines.

Bringing together diverse expertise in collaborative research was one of the aims of the project “Out of the Bag: Unravelling Medieval Seal Bags through Cultural Studies and Scientific Analysis,” funded by the UK National Archives’ Strategic Research Fund in 2022–23. It brought together two conservation scientists (Lucía Pereira-Pardo and Ina Vanden Berghe), two archival records specialists (Paul Dryburgh and Elizabeth New), a textile expert (Ana Cabrera Lafuente), and an art historian (Jitske Jasperse) in order to better understand the materiality of seal wrappings. The goal of the technical characterisation of the textiles was twofold. On the one hand, the analysis aimed to shed light on the production context of these bags, including their date and geographical origin. On the other hand, this investigation could help determine their current condition and assess conservation risks, such as the dyes’ sensitivity to light. At the same time, studying the materiality of seal bags offered an excellent opportunity to give visibility to these often overlooked objects, as well as stimulate a debate about their possible meaning and function(s) as protective wrappers and signs of status.

Taking its cue from more recent debates in art history and archaeology, the project’s focus on materiality includes not just an analysis of the raw and worked materials our bags were made of, but—following approaches in the study of materiality—also addresses their social meaning.⁵ In the case of seal bags, this approach could consider the use of luxury fabrics as a sign of class and status, or various practices of their reuse. Just as importantly, materiality also entails an analysis of textile wrappings as part of sealed documents and the social contexts in which these documents were created and preserved. This holistic approach can help us to understand in more detail both medieval and ongoing conservation practices involving handling and safekeeping of the sealed written record.

Within our project, which ended in June 2023, the materiality of twelve medieval seal bags and wrappings from the collections of the National Archives, the British Library, and the London Metropolitan Archives has been characterised. This article will focus on two particular wrappings, which have not been published before, and their connecting sealed documents from the National Archives’ collection (Figs. 1 and 2). We discuss the specific contributions of each specialist to the project and their methodologies and specific vocabulary while also acknowledging the obstacles and learning moments. This article is an important result of “Out of the Bag” as it allows us to share the ways we have collaborated as well as to divulge our preliminary research results. However, the article is not necessarily the final stage of our project, but part of an ongoing communicative process between the researchers involved, as well as those interested in seals and textiles and their conservation.

Two Sealed Documents Issued by King Henry III of England

The two charters under consideration in this article are within the National Archives’ collection and were written in heavily abbreviated Latin in iron gall ink on parchment and sealed by King Henry III (r. 1216–72). They relate to privileges and grants claimed by and awarded to, respectively, the Benedictine priory of Lewisham (Kent), a daughter house of St Peter’s, Ghent in Flanders (E 42/524), and the Augustinian priory of Holy Trinity in Aldgate, London (E 42/529).⁶ In their materiality, they are engrossments of the highest quality: drafted by skilled clerks in the royal Chancery—the main secretariat—they are written on high-quality parchment in a neat, regular hand. Impressions in wax of the king’s great seal on the charters, though now damaged, are appended on silk cords, signifying the importance given to the transaction the charters recorded. Parchment tags were a more common and cheaper method of attachment used throughout administrations in England at this time.

The first document, awarded to the Benedictine priory of Lewisham, records a fascinating and unusual transaction in which King Henry III declares valid for Arnulph, prior of Lewisham, the written grant that his great-great-grandfather King Henry I (1100–35) purportedly made to the abbot and monks of St Peter, Ghent (Gaunt), at some point between 1114 and 1122.⁷ In his inspection and confirmation, dated 6 February 1229, Henry III remarkably and scathingly noted that, “by misfortune and lack of care of those handling it before the barons of the Exchequer, it happened that the seal appended to this charter had been torn from its tag.” The validation and authentication of written acts in England in the Middle Ages was asserted by the application of a seal, and so its accidental removal threatened the legal force of the contents.⁸ Henry III therefore publicly declared that his treasurer, Bishop Walter Mauclerc of Carlisle, and other barons of the Exchequer had inspected the charter wholly and undamaged, and that its tag had been torn in their presence, thereby asserting its value as if it had been unblemished. The king’s great seal was then affixed to his confirmation to ensure his grant and the privileges contained in the damaged charter of his great-great-grandfather would retain force.

Henry III’s seal is an impression from his first great seal matrix, the engraved silver die used to press the warm wax and make the seals, commissioned in 1218 and in use for another forty years.⁹ It shows on the obverse a king seated in majesty on a throne without a back (Fig. 3A and 3B). At his feet are two small lions. In his right hand is a sword and in his left an orb from which foliage rises and on top of which sits a cross. On the reverse is the royal warrior in full cry, riding his warhorse and brandishing his sword in one hand while holding a heraldic shield of the three leopards of England in the other. These classic images of majesty had developed over the previous century with the addition of heraldry and adjustments to regalia and armour and served, in Henry’s case, to disguise his youth when coming to the throne aged only nine in 1216. The seal attached to the Lewisham charter is damaged around the edge. Its impression was created by pressing two cakes of warmed, softened beeswax coloured green, likely using a copper-based pigment, between the two engraved metal plates of the seal matrix.¹⁰ It is attached to the parchment, itself folded into three on the vertical axis (330 x 285 mm) by silk cords, dyed red and threaded through the plica, the fold of the parchment made at the foot of the charter to reinforce its application. By the time this document was produced, cords and laces were generally reserved for the most important documents, particularly charters issued under the great seal.¹¹

Our second charter is a more straightforward document wherein Henry III confirms the numerous privileges and grants awarded to the Holy Trinity Priory in Aldgate by previous monarchs and multifarious donors.¹² It dates to 8 February 1227, and probably represents the priory’s desire to have their privileges confirmed by Henry, as he assumed full regal powers in January 1227, aged nineteen.¹³ As with the Lewisham charter, it is sealed using Henry’s first great seal matrix, but this time it was impressed into wax with a reddish-brown appearance. This may indicate the presence of either vermilion or red lead, which before degradation and darkening would have given a sparkling appearance. Like the Lewisham charter, the seal, of which a large central fragment survives, is appended on laces through the parchment plica.

How and where exactly the documents were stored within the muniment rooms of the priory of Lewisham and the priory of Holy Trinity remains unclear due to the confiscation of the first in 1415 by King Henry V and the dissolution of the latter in the 1530s by King Henry VIII.¹⁴ In terms of their later archival and custodial history, both charters belong to the same archival series at the National Archives, E 42. This indicates that they are classified as “Ancient Deeds,” referring to land and property transactions recorded before ca. 1603, differentiated by the fine seals attached to them. They are two of the highest-status examples among over twenty thousand deeds stored for three centuries, from approximately 1540 to 1840, in the Chapter House of Westminster Abbey, as they are associated with royalty while the majority of these deeds series contain transactions between parties at lower levels of society. The Chapter House was one of the repositories of the English royal Treasury of Receipt and essentially the preferred location for secure storage of records and regalia of particular value to the crown. It was here, for example, where the iconic Domesday Book was once stored.¹⁵ Assigned the alphabetical series reference “AS” in ca. 1840/41 during a sort and indexing exercise led by the Assistant Keeper of Public Records Frederick Devon, the deeds were formally transferred to the Rolls House of the newly formed Public Record Office in 1859.¹⁶ They remained there until the 1990s before transfer to the new record office in Kew, which became the National Archives in 2003. The material importance of the Holy Trinity charter caused it to be flattened and moved to a conservation-grade acid-free envelope for storage in early 2010; access is now permitted only under invigilation at the archives. This contrasts to the Lewisham charter, which is folded into a small, white archive box likely created in the 1920s.¹⁷ Despite the flattening of the Holy Trinity charter, its original folds are still visible and part of its back is “dirty,” suggesting that this was the part that was touched the most, either by hands, other documents, or the wood of drawers and chests.

Beautifully Wrapped in Silk

But what of the remarkable seal bags in which the seals are housed? These are complex, multilayered objects, made of different textiles from the outer layer to the lining and paddings. The outer textiles of medieval seal bags are often made of more lavish and ornate fabrics than the lining and padding, which are typically made of more common and humble materials. However, there also are pouches that have the most expensive materials on the inside. One such example is the wrapper covering the seal of King Edward III (E 41/494), whose technical analysis has shown that the blue external covers were made of simple linen dyed with woad/indigo and the red lining was made with more expensive materials: silk dyed with an insect-based dye, such as kermes or cochineal.¹⁸

The seal bag belonging to the Lewisham charter, a red-pinkish wrapper decorated with white flower medallions hedged by an interlaced knot scroll, is perhaps the most eye-catching of the two bags studied. This is not just because of its rich colours and decoration (Fig. 4A), but also because it is in relatively good condition considering its age. Nevertheless, some tears and losses can be observed, particularly of the white weft in the back (Figs. 4B and 4C), stains in the lining (Fig. 4D), general soiling, as well as tarnishing of the silver thread and loss of the gilding (Figs. 4E and 4F). Fading becomes evident by comparing the intensity of the colours in hidden areas with those exposed to light (Figs. 4G and 4H).

The textile used for the outside layer of this bag is a samite, which is a compound twill silk, that is, a twill weave with two warps working separately.¹⁹ Both warps (ground and binding) are made of red silk and the two wefts are red and white, untwisted. The samite or compound twill has Chinese origins and arrived into the western Mediterranean area in Late Antiquity, becoming one of the weaves used for silk textiles in the Middle Ages.²⁰ Samites were often used during the eleventh and twelfth centuries, and they began to disappear during the thirteenth century when other weaves appeared, such as the cloth of Arista or lampas. There are, however, some fragments of samite found in London dating to the fourteenth century.²¹ Our two-coloured samite resembles some of the earliest surviving examples of this type of weave, which have more than two wefts and sometimes one with metallic thread. This type of decoration is common in silk textiles of Late Antiquity found in Egyptian necropoli and in medieval silks attributed to Byzantine workshops.²² An example of a similarly sumptuous samite is a silk fragment found in the Victoria and Albert Museum collection that is decorated with white geometrical and floral patterns against a purple background (Fig. 5).²³ Numerous other examples of this type of silk exist, which circulated widely throughout medieval Europe as can be inferred from fragments found in reliquaries and tombs.²⁴

Our Lewisham seal wrapping preserves one of the fabric’s selvedges, composed of three linen cords in plain weave or tabby (Fig. 4E). Running the weft thread through the warp creates “self-finished” edges (or selvedges) on the left and right, which keeps the fabric from unravelling and fraying. These edges of the cloth were rarely cut away, but were usually sewn together or folded in connecting areas of the garment. As a result, selvedges are often in good material condition (little discolouring, intact weave) and were therefore attractive pieces to repurpose. Interestingly, several bags and purses have the selvedges preserved as ways of reinforcing smaller pieces of fabric. It seems unlikely that this silk wrapping would have been a piece fresh from the loom. Due to its costly material (silk, multicoloured, metal thread) and its labour-intensive technique, this cover is more likely to be a leftover fabric or refashioned piece that no longer served its original purpose and belonged to an expensive garment or furnishing.

The bag is lined with a linen tabby and padded with yellow felt (Figs. 6A–6C). The choice for padding, which provided an extra level of protection, may have been influenced by the contents of the charter, confirming an earlier document that had lost its seal due to careless handling. This example demonstrates the fragile nature of seals that were attached to important documents using tags. The padding is held in place by a tablet-woven band along the edge, stitched to the colourful silk outside and the plain linen inside with a plait of green and gilded silver thread (Fig. 4G).

Turning to the seal wrapping appended to the Holy Trinity charter, we notice its differences when compared with the Lewisham bag in terms of colour, quality, technique, and condition (Figs. 2 and 7A–C). The Holy Trinity pouch is made of a silk cloth of Arista, also referred to as drap d’areste, draps de Larest, pannus de Areste, and pannus de arista,²⁵ lined with a woollen tabby or plain weave. The cloth of Arista consists of thin silk warps and several untwisted silk wefts woven on a double-faced twill that shows a characteristic pattern in the shape of a chevron or herringbone; arista is the Latin term for fishbone (Fig. 8C). The decoration of the bag is organised in thin horizontal, parallel bands of different silk wefts in the colours yellow, white, orange, and light green, and a wider band with orange lozenge medallions and a trefoil or fleur-de-lis on a dark blue background.

This weave was first identified by Donald King in 1968, and it appeared in inventories and accounts referring to textiles with a decoration of lozenge or “chevrons” dating from the first quarter of the thirteenth century to the beginning of the fourteenth century.²⁶ According to Sophie Desrosiers, there are different groups of cloth of Arista and two main workshops in the south of France and Iberia that primarily used this type of weave.²⁷ The cloth of Arista used for this seal bag belongs to group G1, with different known examples across Europe.²⁸ The aforementioned studies carried out by King and Desrosiers, who analysed the weave, show the importance of documentation of the weaving techniques.

The condition of this bag is poorer than the samite described before. The lightweight silk used for the exterior of the wrapping shows a loose weave and several tears. This layer has been untidily stitched to the white woollen tabby lining with coarse undyed thread, both around the edges of the fabric roundel but also straight across it. In some areas, this stitching is visible on the exterior surface as well as through the lining of the bag (Figs. 8A–C). No padding has been added to this bag. Instead, the remains of a semi-transparent yellow coating can still be seen on the back of the cloth through a large tear near the edge of the bag (Fig. 8D), likely applied to provide a reinforcement to the thin fabric. This technique has also been observed inside other seal bags with no thick padding, where waxy materials were applied to make the textile layers slightly more rigid.²⁹

Dye Analysis and Geographical Origin of the Textiles

The conservation scientist at the National Archives conducted the analysis of the materials of the two textile bags—including fibres, dyes, and metallic threads—on the outside of the bags, their linings, sewing thread around the bags’ borders, and, where accessible, the padding.

First, the archives’ scientist analysed the materials applying a combination of non-invasive techniques. She used digital microscopy (Dinolite Edge), which allowed us to examine the morphology of the fibres and metal threads and the general condition of the materials under magnification. High-resolution multiband imaging (MBI, Microbox GmbH) aided the study of material distribution in the false colour ultraviolet (UV) light and infrared (IR) reflected images and phenomena of luminescence characteristic of some dyes in UV- induced visible luminescence images (UVL). Using fibre optics reflectance spectroscopy (FORS, ASD Labspec4) in the visible and near infrared range (400–2500 nm) supported the general identification of the type of dyes, and micro-fading tests (MFT, custom-made) determined the textiles’ sensitivity to light.³⁰

However, to correctly answer the question of the geographical origin of the textiles, the team needed a more precise identification of the dyes, which required the analysis of extracts from small thread samples with sensitive separation techniques such as High-Performance Liquid Chromatography (HPLC). Therefore, the conservation scientist, in consultation with the National Archives’ conservators and following the principles of Icon’s “Ethical Sampling Guidance” ³¹ carefully planned and proceeded to limited, minimal sampling. The conservation scientist took one fibre sample of a few millimetres in length per bag, from threads that presented loose ends. Guided by the textile experts and using the results of the non-invasive analysis, the sampling strategically targeted those colours that were potentially most informative about the geographical origin of the textiles, in this case the reddish hues. Specifically, in the Lewisham example she sampled the pink in the flowered pattern of the outside of the bag, and in the Holy Trinity bag the orange stripe. An additional sample of loose material from the yellow padding, accessible through a tear in the Lewisham bag, was also taken. Specialist scientists in the textile laboratories of KIK-IRPA in Brussels carried out in-depth analysis of these samples with HPLC with a Photodiode Array Detector (DAD) for accurate dye identification³² following the analytical protocol described by Ina Vanden Berghe and her colleagues.³³

The observations under the microscope and the characteristic features observed in the FORS spectra of these areas helped us to characterise the wrapping materials of the Lewisham seal bag. The bag, border, and cord were confirmed as silk, whereas linen was used for the lining and wool felt for the padding. The white silk also showed its characteristic bluish fluorescence under UV light. In terms of the dyes used, the red-pinkish silk is most likely not madder, considering the absence of madder’s characteristic pink fluorescence in the ultraviolet-induced visible luminescence (UVL) image (Fig. 9B). The FORS analysis of this pink area was not able to shed light on the type of dye, as it did not clearly show any diagnostic features (Fig. 9E, red spectrum), such as the characteristic absorption bands of either plant (ca. 510, 540 nm) or insect-based red dyes (ca. 520, 555 nm).³⁴ The analysis by HPLC-DAD of the dye used for the pink silk with the flowered pattern determined the presence of urolithin C (wavelength: 255 nm), which is the characteristic marker for dyeing with soluble redwood.³⁵ This refers to the use of the heartwood from tropical trees such as sappanwood (Caesalpinia sappan L.) from Southeast Asia or brazil- or pernambucowood (Caesalpinia brasiliensis L.) from South America. Because our bags are medieval textiles, made before American redwoods started to be imported to the European continent in the sixteenth century, sappanwood from Asia had to be the red dye source.³⁶ Combining this analytical information with the textile expertise of the team, we could determine that this pink and white samite would have been made in a Byzantine workshop from the eastern Mediterranean. A similar result has recently been observed in another medieval samite (1100 CE) from the tomb of Saint Canute in Odense (Denmark), where madder and sappanwood were identified by HPLC-DAD in a sample of red thread, and the textile has been attributed to a Byzantine workshop as well.³⁷

The white silk flowers on the front have been damaged, perhaps because this part of the wrapping was touched upon opening it. In any case, this wear reveals to us the red warp when observed under magnification. Partial detachment of the lining in some areas also discloses the yellow felt padding, which is fluorescent under UV light. Because FORS in general is not effective at differentiating yellow dyes, a small fibre sample from the padding was analysed by HPLC-DAD, identifying a yellow luteolin-based dye source. A wide range of plants have luteolin as their main dye, such as weld (Reseda luteola L.), sawwort (Serratula tinctoria L.), dyer’s broom (Genista tinctoria L.), chamomile species (Anthemis sp.), or other local equivalents.³⁸

The green thread used in the border of the bag is a mixture of a yellow dye, which is slightly fluorescent under UV light (such as weld), and an indigotin-based blue (woad/indigo), as it appears red in the false colour infrared reflected (IRRFC) image (Fig. 9C) and shows the asymmetric absorption band at ca. 660 nm typical of woad/indigo in the FORS spectrum (Fig. 9E, green spectrum). Careful observation under the microscope showed that what we now see as white silk with the naked eye is actually the core of what originally was a gilded silver thread, the delicate metallic leaf wrapped around the white silk core now extensively lost (Fig. 4E), with scarce remnants of gilding still in place (Fig. 4F). The presence of this still eye-catching border reveals the careful construction of the bag through the use of precious materials and contrasting colours. Since green is the complementary colour of red, the tablet-woven band offers a striking contrast with the red-pinkish silk, thereby highlighting the importance of the wrapper. That such carefully chosen materials and meticulous making of the bags was not necessarily the standard is clear from our analysis of the construction of the second seal bag, to be discussed next.

The overall condition of the Holy Trinity bag was poorer, and in contrast with the Lewisham seal wrapping, less care seems to have been put into its construction. For instance, the plain beige stitching around the edge is irregular and simple, with no decorative border, and the two fragments of textile on the front and back have not been correctly aligned to make the multicoloured bands appear horizontal on both sides (see Figs. 7A and B). When we analysed the materials of the Holy Trinity bag, the characteristic absorption bands in the FORS spectrum (Fig. 10A), the bluish fluorescence seen under UV (Figs. 10B–C), and examination under the microscope confirmed it was also made of silk. Observation under magnification revealed that the grey areas in the yellow stripes are actually tarnished metallic threads—with some remnants of gilding—wrapped around a plain core of silk used in combination with the yellow weft (Fig. 10D). The beige warp is clearly visible all across the textile (Fig. 10E). The non-invasive dye analysis has identified indigotin (woad/indigo) in the blue and green areas based in the FORS spectra (Fig. 10A, blue and green spectra) and a yellow dye fluorescent under UV light in the yellow and green stripes (perhaps weld) (Fig. 10B). HPLC-DAD analysis of the fibre sample from the orange area revealed that the dye used was a mixture of sappanwood and traces of indigo or woad (wavelength: 255 and 288 nm). Since cloth of Arista was only made in workshops in the south of France and the north of Spain,³⁹ this positive analytical identification of sappanwood confirms the early importation of this red dyestuff from Asia into southern European textile workshops, suggested by trade documents and tax lists that mention the purchase of sappanwood in France in 1085, in Ferrara (Italy) in 1193, and in Barcelona (Iberia) in 1280.⁴⁰

Radiocarbon Dating of the Seal Bags

Determining the time of production of the bags was key to establishing when the wrappings were likely added to the seals. Given that the dates present in the documents refer to the time of their writing and sealing, and that the textiles used for the bags could have been added at any point after the sealed document came into existence, the only option to precisely determine when the bags were made and attached to the sealed charters was the radiocarbon dating of a sample from structural areas of the bag, such as the sewing thread or the padding.

Since a few milligrams of material are needed for radiocarbon dating, taking the samples from the loose ends of the stitching of either of the bags was deemed a highly invasive procedure that could compromise the stability of the objects. As an alternative, after examining the bags, the yellow felt padding inside of the Lewisham bag appeared easily accessible from a large tear in the textile. The scientist and conservators considered this area adequate for sampling because it provided material that was free from handling contamination (this is part of an archival collection that is handled by the public) that would interfere with the radiocarbon dating. Moreover, this part was hidden from view and had abundant loose material that was easy to collect without altering the stability of the bag. A sample of 9 mg was taken wearing gloves and cleaning the tools and container thoroughly to prevent contamination. The sample was radiocarbon dated by Beta Analytic laboratories using Bayesian analysis⁴¹ and the INTCAL20 Database.⁴²

The results of the radiocarbon dating of the padding sample of the Lewisham bag provided a date in the range 1156–1266 cal AD (794–684 cal BP) with 94.4% probability. The sealed charter of Henry III to which this seal bag is attached dates from 1229, which falls within the time window of the dating of the textile. Could the bag thus have been made and attached to the seal cord when the charter was presented to the Benedictine priory at Lewisham or in the thirty years afterwards at the latest? While it is true that repurposed textiles were added decades or even centuries later to seals, there is some evidence that occasionally seal pouches were added soon after the sealed documents were issued.⁴³ We can therefore not brush aside the possibility that at Lewisham the wrapping was added soon after the arrival of the document.

Dressing Up: Wrappers as Markers of Status

Precisely because seal bags are often shrouded in mystery in terms of their manufacture, and because so much remains unknown concerning medieval archival circumstances, seal wrappings are often considered as (early) modern additions. However, their varied appearance and execution suggest that there is no one-size-fits-all solution regarding the making and meaning of these pouches. When their materials, colours, and careful creation visually match the sealed document—as with the Lewisham charter—we may contemplate the possibility that these wrappings were purposely made to underscore the document’s and its owner’s status. That these pouches were crafted from reused fabrics (or even scraps) and are of small size does not necessarily speak against this idea.

Rather than dressing real-size bodies, furniture, and buildings, our red-pinkish silk sprinkled with white flowers clothed the miniature regal body that was impressed onto the wax seal. The importance of dress to kings becomes clear from Henry III’s seals. Although the two specimens of his first great seal discussed in this paper are very worn, a more intact example—also preserved at the National Archives—shows that Henry was dressed splendidly (Fig. 3). Over a long, tight-fitting sleeved undergarment (cote), Henry dons a shorter-sleeved tunic (bliaud) girded by a belt. On his shoulders rests a mantle that is closed at the front by a cord and generously draped over his knees, showing off the amount of fabric that went into the making of his cloak. The manner in which Henry III’s dress is represented adheres to that of his royal forebears John, Richard, and Henry II (although some details do differ), thus underscoring his legitimate kingship. This makes it hard to assess to what extent Henry III is depicted in contemporary clothing. There is, however, no doubt that dress—both imagined and real—fashions identity.

Regrettably, none of Henry III’s garments have survived, but lists of royal expenditure give us an impression of his taste for textiles. At his court, Adam de Basing, a London draper, frequently delivered silk textiles and garments to the king. Archival documents reveal that he supplied, for example, two pieces of cloth worth 26 shillings 5 pence,⁴⁴ which were reworked into smaller liturgical vestments, as well as the border of a hat for Henry’s son Edward.⁴⁵ On the occasion of the wedding of his sister Isabella to Emperor Frederick II, Henry provided her with many sumptuous garments, including cloth of Arista.⁴⁶ Unfortunately, the descriptions of the roll of cloth are general and do not reveal any details about colours and patterns. This is also the case with the cloth Henry III ordered to be distributed in commemoration of his recently deceased sister, Queen Joan of Scotland. Among the fabrics he sent were sixteen silk cloths of Arista (pannis sericis de aresta), each worth 11 shillings 6 pence. It seems, however, that they were not woven with gold, as gold is explicitly mentioned for six other silk cloths that were significantly more expensive (each worth 35 shillings).⁴⁷ Actually, as can be judged from our own bag, cloths of Arista are extremely thin and light, and therefore not as expensive as others, such as lampas or velvets. Yet it was a fashionable textile among the secular and ecclesiastical elites of twelfth- and thirteenth-century Europe.⁴⁸

Much like Henry’s dress—whether represented on his seals or recorded in the royal inventories—the textile covering his seal was not merely a protective device, but also a sign of preciousness, status, and identity. Not unlike clothing garments, the seal wrapping seems to have been purposely chosen to complement the colour of the seal cords. Although now somewhat faded, the braided cords of silk still reveal their red colour, which after testing turned out to be insect based, just like the silk of the matching bag. The insect-dyed silk cords and silk wrapping are indicative of the prestige of the issuing authority, King Henry III, as well as the importance of his confirmation of an antique grant.

Towards a Sensory Experience of Seal Bags

In addition to the bags’ protective function or their value as markers of status, we can also contextualise seals’ wrappings in terms of the sensory and emotive experiences they may have induced.⁴⁹ As Amanda Luyster has shown in her analysis of a seal bag from Canterbury Cathedral, the bag’s first haptic manipulation entailed the cutting of fabric, which was refashioned into a carefully made wrapping with needle and thread.⁵⁰ We take this haptic experience a step further by foregrounding that the two bags discussed here were constructed in such a way that they could be pushed up along the cord, and the front of the wrappings would be flipped back so that the (now damaged) regal and enthroned body of Henry III would emerge. There is thus an active and participatory dimension to these objects that is suggestive of their “inspective” qualities, even though we cannot establish at which moments the wrappings would have been put into place. Yet if desired, the seals could be shown. Concealment and revelation are aspects that are integral to the functioning of wrappings, which, whatever their appearance, “act on their contents or the perception of their contents.”⁵¹

True, we cannot know or prove what medieval elite persons, whether the witnesses to the making of the charter, the prior and monks at Lewisham, or the barons present at the Exchequer, may have felt while handling the documents. We embrace this ambiguity to try to tell a richer story of the past, which also includes an understanding of people as sensuous beings whose engagements with materials, such as documents, seals, and wrappings, evoked feeling and affect. The unpacking of the seal and the (un)folding of the charter required its user to become part of the experience. The preciousness of the wrapping signalled the importance of the document inside waiting to be revealed. Although eyewitnesses to the writing of the charters would have been privy to its contents, they may not have known details about the seal, such as its colour or condition. In later centuries, people opening each bag may have had less idea about its contents. Nonetheless, after the Lewisham and Holy Trinity seal covers had been partially removed, this haptic experience perhaps was accompanied by awe: “the king’s seal is still there!” Possibly followed by a sigh of disappointment: “the seal is damaged (but fortunately still recognizable)!” A seal’s presence and legibility mattered, as has been pointed out in our discussion of the broken seal tag on a charter issued by Henry I, which caused Henry III to issue the Lewisham charter. Seals authenticated and validated the agreement and made them legally binding. Perhaps the fear of loss enticed the brothers at Lewisham and Holy Trinity to create protective covers. Because these obscured the seals from immediate vision, it likely generated a feeling of curiosity for those who were not aware of the contents of either the bags or the charters.

The ongoing use and handling of the Lewisham document over the course of an extended period of time is evidenced by notes on its back, which offer clues to its archival history. A note, likely of fifteenth-century origin, reads in Latin “Levesh(a)m (et) Grenewich / abbati de Gaunt.” A second note from the sixteenth century reads, “Grenewych et Leues. J Pa.” The former note presumably relates to its storage with the other muniments of Lewisham Priory that came into royal hands by Henry V’s act to dissolve alien priories in England during his war with France.⁵² The latter might be a note made after other muniments of monastic houses, including those of Holy Trinity Aldgate, had been swept up into royal hands via Henry VIII’s dissolution of the monasteries in the 1530s and 1540s.

Due to their utilitarian nature, these objects would have been subjected to handling early in their object history. Contemporary displays within museum settings do not allow for similarly haptic experiences of these objects. Close examination of the Lewisham bag revealed hidden areas in the inner border of the bag that preserved a brighter red hue compared to the pink of the outside, likely indicating that fading of the dye has occurred over time due to exposure to light. This is not surprising considering that sappanwood, known to be prone to fading, has been identified in this bag. The current sensitivity to light of the pink dye was assessed by means of microfading tests.⁵³ Three pink areas were tested and the average colour change at the end of the experiment was below one “Just Noticeable Difference” (JND),⁵⁴ which can be assessed as medium photosensitivity.⁵⁵ The relative lightfastness of the pink silk might actually be explained because most of the fading of the sappanwood has already occurred. Therefore, we can speculate that medieval viewers would have seen a more intense red bag with bright white decorations.

Bagging Seals: Medieval Monastic Storage

When were these eye-catching wrappings added by the monastic communities that had their privileges and grants (re)confirmed? Examination by textile experts and material analysis indicate that both fabrics were very likely produced in the first decades of the thirteenth century, which makes it feasible that they were added not long after the sealed charters were written. The sizes of both bags are large enough to have contained the seals of Henry III when they were still in good condition and would have measured ca. 98 mm in diameter; today, in their damaged state, the seals are slightly smaller in size. This implies that the wrappings were added at a point when his seals were still largely complete. It is also an indication that seal bags only held relative protective value, since they did not help to fully preserve the seals. This limitation was pointed out by Elizabeth New, who argued that the micro-climates within the bags enhance the deterioration of the wax.⁵⁶

The textile covers may have secured the seals while peacefully stored in chests, drawers or on shelves—an issue we know little about in the case of our materials. The two seal bags discussed here draw attention to the adjoining wax seals due to their colourful fabrics and visually striking patterns, a visual emphasis that would have been lost if the seals had simply been tucked safely away within the folded charter document.

The commonality of seal bags that contributed to an atmosphere of “wrapping frenzy” is indicated by their frequency in other ecclesiastical charter collections. The archive of Canterbury Cathedral Priory, for example, houses sixty-one bags, of which thirty-nine were inventoried in 1934.⁵⁷ No longer attached to the sealed documents they once embellished, many of these seal bags are not much more than circular pieces of silk fabric, an impression highlighted by their display as unfolded pieces, which can be seen on the cathedral’s website.⁵⁸ The separation of documents, seals, and bags complicates our understanding of the function and meaning of the pouches, but future analysis may offer more insights into the process of wrapping in a monastic context.⁵⁹

Why at Canterbury these specific seals were clothed in this colourful silk is unclear. Status cannot have been the main criterion, as Canterbury houses many more royal charters and thus potentially had many more royal wax bodies to cover. Although all pertain to the cathedral’s priory, the documents deal with very different matters and can therefore not be linked “thematically.” Perhaps they were stored together in the same chests or on shelves and therefore received similar bags, but it also possible that the selection was random, depending solely on the available fabric. Their shape and size, however, were not haphazard, as shown by the example of three bags once belonging to royal documents issued in 1193, 1313, and 1316 (Figs. 11–13).⁶⁰ These dates indicate that the covers were added some point after 1316. So, here we have an example of at least one seal (that of 1193) that received its wrapping, which has not yet been convincingly dated, much later. The wrappings perfectly fit the seals they once covered; round ones for King Edward II (d. 1327) and an ogival envelope for that of Eleanor of Aquitaine, queen of England (d. 1204), the standard seal shape for royal and noble women in the twelfth century.⁶¹ This suggests that the wrappings were made with some care. The Canterbury bags confirm the ecclesiastical desire to use opulent wrappers of the type we have already encountered at Lewisham and Aldgate. The specimens discussed here, and many more that could be added, highlight the variety of non-European and European sumptuous fabrics that were worn, displayed, and reused by their medieval elite owners.

At the same time, many questions remain unanswered. Could the wrappings in Canterbury also have held administrative or archival functions? The absence of additional labels, such as pieces of parchment with medieval reference numbers or other identifiers, makes this hard to establish. Perhaps the bags held tags, not unlike other treasured items such as the silks discussed by Luyster, who emphasized the importance of labels as a way of organizing storage and as a way to document their origins and significance.⁶² We know of such medieval tags on plain bags once belonging to French Cistercian monasteries.⁶³ Unfortunately, we know little about the storage of our two bags in the muniment rooms at the priory of Lewisham in Kent and Holy Trinity at Aldgate in London, in part because of the dissolution of the monasteries in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Nevertheless, it seems unlikely that such splendidly covered seals would have been permanently hidden from view, especially if we consider them material devices that helped differentiate between the charters as means of identification. Although the broader social implications of the bags (their intangible “materiality”) falls beyond the scope of this article, they are a somewhat curious feature of the charters. Future research may provide more insight into the broader social, cultural, or political nature of the pouches.

Concluding Remarks

The interdisciplinary nature of this project has benefited the technical analysis of the materials enormously. The cooperation of individuals with different specialities helped inform decisions concerning sampling methods in particular, including the need for sampling and the areas to be sampled. This approach reduced the number of samples needed, thereby minimising damage to the objects and maximizing the information to be extracted from the analysis. We strategically targeted the pink and orange areas of the textiles for in-depth dye analysis by UHPLC because red dyes are key to determining the geographical origin of textiles. In addition, the collaboration with both textile experts and medievalists was instrumental for a more accurate and nuanced interpretation of the technical analysis. Combining the analytical results regarding the textiles with the dating and contents provided by the sealed documents allowed us to draw conclusions about the dating of the wrappings and the ways medieval people tried to preserve their seals and visually highlight their importance. Sharing research about medieval weaving techniques and early traditions of textile production yielded a much more robust classification of the textiles. Further clarity about the seal bags was gleaned in conjunction with the contents of the charters and the results of the radiocarbon dating. Ultimately, archivists, art historians, historians, and conservation science experts would not have been able to reach a fuller understanding of these wrappings without academic and scientific synergy.

The main challenge of our project was to establish a common baseline knowledge of each discipline involved, so we could understand each other and avoid making assumptions. This meant that we had to clearly define and explain the technical terminology used by each discipline: from types of weave to spectroscopic techniques, from charter terminology to medieval dress. In the preparatory phase of this article, we had multiple conversations about the meaning of words and the interpretation of the outcomes of the technical analysis. The result has been an interdisciplinary dialogue, with our observations informing and complementing each other. Our holistic approach to the two seal wrappings informed us about their materials and early histories, but also allowed us to showcase their possible aesthetic and administrative functions. The visual appeal of the wrappings may well have served as a classifying system in medieval monastic storage practices; a topic that merits further investigation and ideally would include material-technical analysis. Our personal experiences in research and writing have been enriched from this collaboration, which aimed to create a flowing narrative in which our different disciplines would be woven together.

From the technical and material analysis underpinning this article, we have suggested that the seal wrappings were likely added by the monasteries whose privileges the seals authenticate. Clearly, royal grants were among the most important and treasured—literally—muniments held by religious communities. Since seals could be damaged or lost by poor handling or storage and were one of the most visually appealing elements of the document, their wrapping within a beautiful and recognisable purse or bag added lustre. We might speculate that the bags acted both as a means of reference and reverence—note the exquisite mussel-shaped bag housing the surviving seal of the saintly archbishop Thomas Becket that belonged to Holy Trinity Priory—and a visual spectacle to accentuate the value of the contents.⁶⁴ Further research is, of course, needed but early indications suggest that in England the presence of seal bags of such beauty reflect a monastic provenance.

Author Bios

Jitske Jasperse, Instituto de Historia, CSIC, Madrid. jitske.jasperse@cchs.csic.es

Lucía Pereira-Pardo, Instituto de Ciencias del Patrimonio (INCIPIT), CSIC, Santiago. lucia.pereira-pardo@incipit.csic.es

Ana Cabrera Lafuente, Turespaña, Ministerio de Industria y Turismo. acablaf@gmail.com

Paul Dryburgh, The National Archives, London. paul.dryburgh@nationalarchives.gov.uk

Elizabeth New, Department of History and Welsh History, Aberystwyth University, Wales. ean@aber.ac.uk

Ina Vanden Berghe, The Royal Institute for Cultural Heritage (KIK-IRPA), Brussels. ina.vandenberghe@kikirpa.be

Additional information

Research for this article was carried out by Jitske Jasperse, Instituto de Historia, CSIC (RyC2021-033251-I) and Lucía Pereira-Pardo, Instituto de Ciencias del Patrimonio, CSIC (RYC2021-034643-I) within the Ramón y Cajal Program, funded by MCIN/AEI/10.13039/501100011033 and European Union NextGenerationEU/PRTR.

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Notes

1. We are grateful to the editors of Materia for their careful reading and insightful comments, as well as to the two anonymous reviewers for their thoughtful and stimulating observations. This article is one of the results of “Out of the Bag: Unravelling Medieval Seal Bags through Cultural Studies and Scientific Analysis,” PIs Jitske Jasperse and Lucía Pereira Pardo, ref. 514–SRF project “Out of the Bag,” funded by the Strategic Research Fund 2022–2023 of the National Archives, Kew, UK. ↩︎

2. For art historical approaches, see Gale R. Owen-Crocker, “Seal Bags,” in Encyclopedia of Medieval Dress and Textiles in the British Isles, c. 450–1450, ed. Gale Owen-Crocker, Elizabeth Coatsworth, and Maria Hayward (Leiden: Brill, 2012), http://dx.doi.org/10.1163/2213-2139_emdt_COM_55; Pamela Tudor-Craig and Lisa Monnas, “A Seal Bag of 1400 at Burghley House,” in England and the Continent in the Middle Ages: Studies in Memory of Andrew Martindale, Harlaxton Medieval Studies 8, ed. John G. Mitchell (Stamford: Shaun Tyas, 2000), 238–48; Frances Pritchard, “Two Royal Seal Bags from Westminster Abbey,” Textile History 20, pt. 2 (1989): 225–35; Michael J. Chandler and Donald B. King, “Two Charters and Seal-Bags of 12 Edward II,” The Guildhall Miscellany 2 (1960): 20–22; John Bromley, “Two Armorial Seal-Bags of the Fourteenth Century,” The Coat of Arms 5 (1959): 177–79; Gertrude Robinson, H. Urquhart, and Alice Hindson, “Seal Bags in the Treasury of the Cathedral Church of Canterbury,” Archaeologia 84 (1935): 163–211. A recent article on seal wrappings deals with a document from Sankt Gallen, Switzerland; see Corinne Mühlemann, “Kostbar bekleider: Die Siegelhüllen eines Ablassbriefes aus dem Stiftarchiv St. Gallen,” in Objekt(ge)schichten: Festschrift für Birgitt Borkopp-Restle, ed. Nora Baur, Annette Kniep, and Daniela C. Maier (Affalterbach: Didymos-Verlag, 2023), 44–53.

   For historians in Great Britain, see P. D. A. Harvey and Andrew McGuinness, A Guide to British Medieval Seals (London: British Library & Public Record Office, 1996), 21–22; Elizabeth A. New, Seals and Sealing Practices, Archives and the User 11 (London: British Record Association, 2010), 23–25; John A. McEwan and Elizabeth A. New, Seals in Context: Medieval Wales and the Welsh Marches (Aberystwyth: Aberystwyth University, 2012), 18, 22 (no. 7). ↩︎

3. For example: the wrapping covering the seal of Empress Matilda, London, The British Library, Add Ch 75724; seal wrapping attached to Richard the Lionheart’s Sicilian charter from Canterbury Cathedral Priory, ChAnt/C/76 (1191); and Robinson, Urquhart, and Hindson, “Seal Bags in the Treasury,” 175–76. See also the two embroidered bags attached to charters issued by Edward II (1319), London Metropolitan Archives, COL/CH/01/025 and COL/CH/01/026. ↩︎

4. For example: the wrapping of the seal of Thomas Becket, TNA, E 40/4913. See Jitske Jasperse and Lucía Pereira Pardo, “Beautifully Wrapped in Silk: Medieval Seal Bags Unravelled,” The National Archives Blog, 22 December, 2022, https://blog.nationalarchives.gov.uk/medieval-seal-bags/. ↩︎

5. See, for example, Roberta Gilchrist, “The Materiality of Medieval Heirlooms: From Sacred to Biographical Objects,” in Mobility, Meaning and Transformation of Things: Shifting Contexts of Material Culture through Time and Space, ed. Hans P. Hahn and Hadas Weiss (Oxford: Oxbow, 2013), 170–82; Elina Gertsman, “Matter Matters,” in Feeling Things: Objects and Emotions Through History, ed. Stephanie Downes, Sally Holloway, and Sarah Randles (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018), 27–42; Amanda Luyster, “Reassembling Textile Networks: Treasuries and Re-collecting Practices in Thirteenth-Century England,” Speculum: A Journal of Medieval Studies 96, no. 4 (2021): 1039–78. ↩︎

6. TNA, E 42/524 https://discovery.nationalarchives.gov.uk/details/r/C4853045; TNA, E 42/529 https://discovery.nationalarchives.gov.uk/details/r/C4853050. ↩︎

7. The charter is printed in transcript and analysed by Professor Richard Sharpe: Charters of William II and Henry I Project, accessed January 2, 2024, https://actswilliam2henry1.files.wordpress.com/2016/10/h1-gent-2016-1.pdf, no. 2. A summary of the original copy made in the Charter Roll of Henry’s Chancery (TNA, C 53/21, m. 12) is also printed in Calendar of Charter Rolls Preserved in the Public Record Office, vol. 1, 1226–1257 (London: His Majesty’s Stationery Office, 1903), 91; Monasticon Anglicanum: A history of the abbies and other monasteries, hospitals, friaries, and cathedral and collegiate churches, with their dependencies, in England and Wales … originally published in Latin by William Dugdale, 6 vols. in 8, ed. John Caley, Henry Ellis, and Bulkeley Bandinel (London: Harding and Lepard, 1817–30), 6:987–88. ↩︎

8. Paul Brand, “Seals and the Law in the Thirteenth Century,” in Seals and Their Context in the Middle Ages, ed. Phillipp R. Schofield (Oxford: Oxbow, 2015), 111–19, esp. 111–13; New, Seals and Sealing Practices; Harvey and McGuinness, Guide to British Medieval Seals. ↩︎

9. Thomas Alexander Heslop, “English Seals in the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries,” in Age of Chivalry: Art in Plantagenet England, 1200–1400, ed. Jonathan Alexander and Paul Binski (London: Royal Academy of Arts, 1987), 114–17, no. 193; Alfred Benjamin and Allan Wyon, The Great Seals of England (London: Elliot Stock, 1887), 21–22; Paul R. Dryburgh, Royal Seals: Images of Power and Majesty from the National Archives (Barnsley: Pen & Sword History, 2020), 39–41. ↩︎

10. Though blue-green in appearance, a close-up examination shows clear, brighter green areas of damage exposing the copper-based pigment, possibly verdigris, with which the wax had been dyed. For recent analysis of the materiality of English medieval great seals, see Elke Cwiertnia, Adrian Ailes, and Paul Dryburgh, “The Materiality, Color, and Size of the Great Seals of England: 1100–1300,” in A Companion to Medieval Seals, ed. Laura Whatley (Leiden: Brill, 2019), 19–56. ↩︎

11. New, Seals and Sealing Practices, 21. ↩︎

12. By this charter, Henry grants that Holy Trinity would be free from subjection to Waltham Abbey (Essex) and to all other churches save the cathedral church of St Paul in London, as per the charters of the founder Queen Matilda; King Henry I, her husband; and King Henry II. He also confirmed Matilda’s grant of the Aldgate with its soke and two parts of the rent of the city of Exeter (Devon) and, together with other bounds of their territories in London, the custody of the hospital by the Tower of London, which the prior and convent held from the grant of King Stephen and Matilda, his wife, as well as other lands and churches held of the honour of Boulogne. The prior and convent also received confirmation of a number of other properties and rights granted by the Empress Matilda and numerous members of elite English society in the twelfth century. See TNA, E 42/529. ↩︎

13. David A. Carpenter, The Minority of Henry III (London: Methuen, 1990), 124. ↩︎

14. For Lewisham, see “Alien Houses: The Priory of Lewisham,” in A History of the County of Kent, vol. 2, ed. William Page (London: Victoria County History, 1926), 238, British History Online, accessed 6 December 2023, http://www.british-history.ac.uk/vch/kent/vol2/p238. For Holy Trinity, see “Austin Canons: Priory of Holy Trinity or Christchurch, Aldgate,” in A History of the County of London, vol. 1, London Within the Bars, Westminster and Southwark, ed. William Page (London: Victoria County History, 1909), 465–75, British History Online, accessed 6 December 2023, http://www.british-history.ac.uk/vch/london/vol1/pp465-475 ↩︎

15. TNA, https://discovery.nationalarchives.gov.uk/details/r/C562. ↩︎

16. John D. Cantwell, The Public Record Office, 1838–1958 (London: Her Majesty’s Stationery Office, 1991). For a fuller history of the Treasury of the Receipt, see F. Palgrave, The Antient Kalendars and Inventories of His Majesty’s Exchequer, 3 vols. (London: George Eyre and Andrew Spottiswoode, 1836).  ↩︎

17. No specific note or date of repair is available, but the boxing is similar to that of similar deeds within the series from the same decade. ↩︎

18. TNA, E 41/494, https://discovery.nationalarchives.gov.uk/details/r/C5877793. ↩︎

19. Due to limited physical access to the Lewisham and Holy Trinity seal wrappings, the textile expert could not carry out an in-depth analysis of the fabrics’ thread count and weave structure. The type of weave was determined on high-resolution photographs and microscopy images. ↩︎

20. For samite, see Karel Otavský and Anne E. Wardwell, Mittelalterliche Textilien II: Zwischen Europe und China (Riggisberg: Abbegg Stiftung, 2011); Ana Muthesius, Studies in Silk in Byzantium (London: Pindar, 2004); Marielle Martiani-Reber, Musée Historique des Tissus: Soieries sassanides, coptes et byzantines, Vème‒XIème siècles (Paris: Réunion des Musées Nationaux, 1986). ↩︎

21. For the date through archaeological deposits, see Elisabeth Crowfoot, Frances Pritchard, and Kay Staniland, Textiles and Clothing, c. 1150–1450 (London: HMSO, 1992), 101. ↩︎

22. Antoine De Moor, Sabine Schrenk, and Chris Verhecken-Lammens, “New Research on the So-called Akhmim Silks,” in Textiles in situ: Their Find Spots in Egypt and Neighbouring Countries in the First Millennium, Riggisberger Berichte 13, ed. Schrenk (Riggisberg: Abegg-Stiftung, 2006), 85–94. ↩︎

23. London, Victoria & Albert Museum, https://collections.vam.ac.uk/item/O270790/woven-silk/ ↩︎

24. For example, Regula Schorta, “Textilreliquien und textile Reliquienhüllen,” in “Kunst und Liturgie im Mittelalter,” Kunst + Architektur in der Schweiz 56, no. 1 (2005): 12–19; Julia L. Galliker, Middle Byzantine Silk in Context: Integrating the Textual and Material Evidence (PhD diss., University of Birmingham, Centre for Byzantine, Ottoman and Modern Greek Studies, 2014); Ana Cabrera Lafuente, “Textiles from the Museum of San Isidoro (León): New Evidence for Re-evaluating Their Chronology and Provenance,” in “The Medieval Iberian Treasury in the Context of Cultural Interchange,” ed. Therese Martin, special issue, Medieval Encounters 25, no. 1–2 (2019): 59–95. ↩︎

25. For the standard use of vocabulary according to CIETA, see http://vocabulaire.cieta.fr/en/aresta-arista-cloth-of; Sophie Desrosiers, “Draps d’areste (II): Extension de la classification, comparaisons et lieux de fabrication,” Soieries medievales: Technique et culture 34 (1999): 89–119. ↩︎

26. Donald King, “Two Medieval Textile Terms: ‘draps d’Ache,’ ‘draps de l’Arrest,’” Soieries médiévales: Techniques et Culture 34 (1999): 83–88; first published in Bulletin du CIETA 27 (1968). ↩︎

27. Desrosiers, “Draps d’areste (II),” 114–17. ↩︎

28. Desrosiers, 111, table 7. ↩︎

29. TNA, E 41/494, https://discovery.nationalarchives.gov.uk/details/r/C5877793. ↩︎

30. More details about the instruments and experimental conditions used can be found in L. Pereira-Pardo, N. Johnston, R. Mitchell, and A. Margey, “The Materiality of the Early Modern Maps of Ireland at the National Archives: Bridging History of Cartography and Heritage Science,” in Maps and Colours: A Complex Relationship, ed. Diana Lange and Benjamin van der Linden, Mapping the Past 3, ed. Bram Van Nieuwenhuyze and Iason Jongepier (Leiden: Brill, 2023), 199–216. ↩︎

31. Anita Quye and Matija Strlič, “Ethical Sampling Guidance,” The Institute of Conservation (Icon)–Heritage Science Group, January 2019, https://icon.org.uk/groups/heritage-science/guidance-documents. ↩︎

32. Ina Vanden Berghe and M. Vandorpe, “KIK-IRPA Dye Analysis Report of Medieval Seal Bags from the Collection of the National Archives,” DI 2023.15086, received 28.03.2023, unpublished. ↩︎

33. Ina Vanden Berghe, M. Gleba, and U. Mannering, “Towards the Identification of Dyestuffs in Early Iron Age Scandinavian Peat Bog Textiles,” Journal of Archaeological Science 36 (2009): 1910–21. ↩︎

34. Maurizio Aceto et al., “Characterisation of Colourants on Illuminated Manuscripts by Portable Fibre Optic UV-Visible-NIR Reflectance Spectrophotometry,” Analytical Methods 6, no. 5 (2014): 1488, https://doi.org/10.1039/c3ay41904e. ↩︎

35. D. A. Peggie et al., “Historical Mystery Solved: A Multi-Analytical Approach to the Identification of a Key Marker for the Historical Use of Brazilwood (Caesalpinia spp.) in Paintings and Textiles,” Analytical Methods 10 (2018): 617–23. ↩︎

36. D. Cardon, Natural Dyes: Sources, Tradition, Technology and Science (London: Archetype, 2007), 274–88. ↩︎

37. Poul Grinder‑Hansen, Ulla Kjær, Morten Ryhl‑Svendsen, et al. “Textiles and Environment in the Showcase Containing Saint Canute the Holy († AD 1086): Radiocarbon Dating and Chemical Interactions,” Heritage Science 8, no. 95 (2020): 1–19. ↩︎

38. Cardon, Natural Dyes, 167–202. ↩︎

39. Sophie Desrosiers, “Draps d’areste (II),” 89–119; King, “Two Medieval Textile Terms,” 83–88. ↩︎

40. R. W. Dapson and C. L. Bain, “Brazilwood, Sappanwood, Brazilin and the Red Dye Brazilein: From Textile Dyeing and Folk Medicine to Biological Staining and Musical Instruments,” Biotechnic & Histochemistry 90, no. 6 (2015): 401–23. ↩︎

41. C. Bronk Ramsey, “Bayesian Analysis of Radiocarbon Dates,” Radiocarbon 51, no. 1 (2009): 337–60. ↩︎

42. Paula J. Reimer et al., “The IntCal20 Northern Hemisphere Radiocarbon Age Calibration Curve (0–55 cal kBP),” Radiocarbon 62, no. 4 (2020): 725–57. ↩︎

43. See note 3. ↩︎

44. The currency of medieval England was the silver penny (denarius) but monetary value was usually expressed in units of pounds (librae), shillings (solidi), and pence (denarii). Twelve pence made a shilling and twenty shillings a pound. In ca. 1270, the earliest year for which calculations can be made on the National Archives Currency Converter, 26s. 5d. equated to the wages of 132 skilled tradesmen; https://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/currency-converter/#currency-result, accessed 10 July 2023. ↩︎

45. Crowfoot, Pritchard, and Staniland, Textiles and Clothing, 106, with reference to CLR, 1245–1251, 123. ↩︎

46. Benjamin Wild, “The Empress’s New Clothes: A Rotulus Pannorum of Isabella, Sister of King Henry III, Bride of Emperor Frederick II,” Medieval Clothing and Textiles 7 (2011): 11, 20, 22. See also Luyster, “Reassembling Textile Networks,” 1046–60, for Henry III’s textile gifts to Westminster Abbey and the textiles his sister Isabella brought with her to Germany, where she married Frederick II. ↩︎

47. Liberate Rolls, TNA, C 62/12, membrane 10; Pipe Roll, TNA, E 372/81, rot. 15, m. 1; image available at http://aalt.law.uh.edu/AALT4/H3/E372no81/aE372no81fronts/IMG_4547.htm. The London price of a cloth of Areste rose from 11s. 6d. in 1238 to 14s. in 1246, but had fallen again to 8s. by 1256; see King, “Two Medieval Textile Terms,” 85. ↩︎

48. Crowfoot, Pritchard, and Staniland, Textiles and Clothing, 105–7; Gale R. Owen-Crocker, María Barrígnon, Naḥum Ben-Yehuda, and Joana Sequeira, eds., Textiles of Medieval Iberia: Cloth and Clothing in a Multi-Cultural Context (Woodbridge: Boydell, 2022), 57–59. ↩︎

49. Karen Dempsey and Jitske Jasperse, “Multisensorial Musings on Miniature Matters,” in “Getting the Senses of Small Things / Sinn und Sinnlichkeit kleiner Dinge,” ed. Dempsey and Jasperse, special issue, Das Mittelalter: Perspektiven mediävistischer Forschung 25, no. 2 (2020): 249–70. ↩︎

50. Luyster, “Reassembling Textile Networks,” 1044, 1068–72. ↩︎

51. Laurence Douny and Susanna Harris, “Wrapping and Unwrapping, Concepts and Approaches,” in Wrapping and Unwrapping Material Culture: Archaeological and Anthropological Perspectives, ed. Douny and Harris (Walnut Creek, CA: Left Coast, 2014), 16. ↩︎

52. A History of the County of Kent (London: Victoria County History, 1926), II, 238, British History Online https://www.british-history.ac.uk/vch/kent/vol2/p238 ↩︎

53. See Vincent Laudato Beltran, Christel Pesme, Sarah K. Freeman, and Mark Benson, “Microfading Tester: Light Sensitivity Assessment and Role in Lighting Policy,” Guidelines (Los Angeles: Getty Conservation Institute, 2021), http://hdl.handle.net/10020/gci_pubs_microfading_tester. This technique consists in shining a small spot (300 microns in diameter) of intense light on the object for 10 minutes, and recording any changes in the visible reflectance spectrum during the test. The results are expressed as colour change (delta E, 1976 and 2000 formulae) and equivalence to blue wool (BW) standards of known light sensitivity. If colour change approaches the limit that is perceivable to the eye (1 Just Noticeable Difference (JND) of dE00=1.5) the test is immediately stopped; therefore, it can be considered a non-invasive technique. Extrapolating these experimental results to common museum lighting conditions over longer periods of time is helpful to inform lighting policies for exhibitions, establishing a conventional preservation target of not more than 1 JND over fifty years. ↩︎

54. dE76=1.29 (standard deviation (SD)=0.06) and dE00=1.03 (SD=0.07), which in both cases is equivalent to a light sensitivity between that of BW2 and BW3 standards and less than 1 JND (0.76 and 0.69, respectively). ↩︎

55. Extrapolating these results to common lighting museum conditions (50–100 lux), the colour change after displaying the bag would be small enough as to remain within the preservation target (below 1 JND (dE00=1.5) after fifty years). ↩︎

56. McEwan and New, Seals in Context, 18. ↩︎

57. Robinson, Urquhart, and Hindson, “Seal Bags in the Treasury”; Anna Muthesius, “The Exotic Near-Eastern Silks at Canterbury Cathedral,” in Studies in Byzantine, Islamic and Near Eastern Silk Weaving, ed. Anna Muthesius (London, 2008), 98–115. A new study on the seal bags in Canterbury is in progress. ↩︎

58. https://ims.canterbury-cathedral.org/viewcontainer.tlx?containerid=1476, accessed 15 February 2023. ↩︎

59. These are bags no. 6 (document ChAnt/C/54, dated 1316), no. 13 (document ChAnt7C/49, dated 1193), and no. 14 (document ChAnt/E/121, dated 1313). The two fourteenth-century charters still have their seals on silk cords, but the twelfth-century seal has disappeared from the document together with its leather tag. These documents can all be found in the Canterbury Cathedral Archives Online Catalogue. https://ims.canterbury-cathedral.org/viewcontainer.tlx?containerid=23825591351. ↩︎

60. A detailed description of the textile is in Robinson et al., “Seal Bags,” 176–79, 185–86. ↩︎

61. Jitske Jasperse, Medieval Women, Material Culture, and Power: Matilda Plantagenet and Her Sisters (Leeds: Arc Humanities, 2020), 48–62. ↩︎

62. Luyster, “Reassembling Textile Networks,” 1052–56. ↩︎

63. Such labels are known for Clairvaux; see Arnaud Baudin, “Conserver la mémoire dans la filiation de Clairvaux: Usages et pratiques archivistiques dans cinq abbayes de Champagne (XIIe–XVe siècle),” in Les pratiques de l’écrit dans les abbayes cisterciennes (XIIe–milieu du XVIe siècle): Produire, échanger, contrôler, conserver, Actes du colloque international (Troyes-Abbaye de Clairvaux, 28–30 October 2015), ed. Arnaud Baudin and Laurent Morelle (Paris: Somogy éditions d’art Aube en Champagne, 2016), 209–10. For an image, see https://medievalwritings.atillo.com.au/decoration/sealindex.htm ↩︎

64. Jasperse and Pereira Pardo, “Beautifully Wrapped in Silk.” ↩︎