'As the sandals partly cover the feet and leave them partly bare,' says Rabanus, 'so the teachers of the Gospel should reveal part of the Gospel and should hide the rest, that the faithful and pious may have enough knowledge thereof, and the infidel and despiser may find no matter for blasphemy. And this kind of shoe warns us likewise that we should have a care to our flesh and our bodies in matters of necessity, not in matters of lust.'

Amalarius of Metz enters into further details, incidentally touching on some points of difference which obtained between the sandal of the bishop and that of the priest in his day—the first half of the ninth century. The following is a translation of his words:

'The difference in the sandal sets forth a difference in the minister. The offices of the priest and of the bishop are almost identical; but because there is a distinction in their titles and honours there is a distinction in their sandals, that we may not fall into error upon beholding them, which we might well do, owing to the similarity of their offices. The bishop has a band (ligatura) in his sandals, which the presbyter has not. It is the duty of the bishop to travel throughout the length and breadth of his diocese (parochia) to govern the inhabitants; and lest they should fall from his feet, his sandals are bound. The moral of this is, that he who mingles with the vulgar crowd must secure fast the courses of his mind (gressus mentis). The priest, who remains in one spot and offers the sacrifice there, walks more securely. The deacon, because his office is different from that of the bishop, needs not different sandals; he therefore wears them bound, because it is his to go on attendance. The subdeacon, because he assists the deacon, and has almost the same office, must have different sandals, that he be not thought a deacon. The inner meaning is this: Because the sandals set forth the way of the preacher, the sole, which is underneath, warns the preacher not to mingle with earthly matters. The tongue of white leather, which is under the "tread"[56] of the foot, shows that there ought to be the same separation, guiltless and guileless; that it may be said of him, "Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom there is no guile;" let him not be such as were the false apostles, who preached in malice and disputation. The tongue, which rises thence, and is separated from the leather of the sandals, sets forth the tongue of those who ought to bear good testimony to the preacher, of whom Paul said, "He must have a good report of them that are without." These are in the lower rank, and to some extent are separated from spiritual intercourse. The upper tongue is the tongue of the spirits (spiritalium), who lead the preacher into the work of preaching. These search into the past life of the preacher. But the sandals are bound round within with white leather; so must the desire of the preacher be pure before God, out of a clean conscience; and without appears the black, since the life of the preacher seems despised by them that are worldly on account of the myriad afflictions of this present life. The upper part of the sandal, through which the foot enters, is sewn together with many threads, that the two leather bands be not separated; for at first the preacher should apply himself to the many virtues and sayings of the Scriptures, that his outward acts may not be at variance with those which are secret and known to God only. The tongue of the sandals, which is over the foot, sets forth the tongue of the preacher. The line made by the craft of the shoemaker, stretching from the tongue of the sandal to its end, sets forth the perfection of the Gospel; the lines proceeding from either side, the law and the prophets, which are repeated in the Gospels; they are repeated at the middle line, which stretches to the end. The bands denote the mystery of Christ's Incarnation....'

We have given this strange mixture of mysticism and observation at length for several reasons. First, it emphasizes a curious distinction between the shoes of different orders of clergy which is not often brought into notice. Secondly, it gives a very full, though somewhat obscure, description of the sandal in the author's time. And thirdly, it exemplifies the absurd lengths to which an author can go who endeavours to extract hidden meanings from simple and easily explicable facts. Here Amalarius endeavours to extract solemn truths even from the seams which the maker found necessary in joining two pieces of leather together. If some modern writers on archaeological subjects took timely warning from such a melancholy example, we should have fewer wild theories and more facts.

It is sad that most of Amalarius' successors quietly put aside his elaborately argued piece of symbolism. Pseudo-Alcuin is content with the old idea of Rabanus, that the Gospel should be kept from what is earthy as the feet are kept from the ground, but not otherwise covered. Ivo practically quotes Rabanus word for word; and even Innocent III, who is usually original, has little further to offer beside the quotation: 'How beautiful are the feet of them that preach the gospel of peace!'

IX. The Pall.—The pall is a symbol of jurisdiction, which is worn by the Pope, and by him bestowed upon all archbishops.

The material of which the pall is made is white wool. Both the shape of the vestment and its ornamentation have undergone modifications since it was invented, even during the mediaeval period itself. Its earliest appearance, and all that is known of its origin, is described in the preceding chapter. The folding of the pallium must have given a little trouble whenever it was put on; and this must before long have suggested the shape which meets us in the mediaeval pall: that of a loop of cloth with two tails projecting from opposite points in its circumference. A slight difference is observable between palls represented early and those represented late in the mediaeval period. In the former the branches are almost horizontal, passing round the arms between the shoulder and elbow; in the latter they pass over the shoulder. In the former case the pall resembles a T, in the latter a Y, whether seen from before or behind the wearer.

In whichever form it appears, however, the pall was secured in its place by pins. At first, when the vestments were of simple description, these pins could be run through pall and chasuble without doing much damage; afterwards, however, when enrichments were heaped upon the chasuble, these pins were not run into that vestment at all, but through loops provided for the purpose. It was discovered, however, that the pall in its latest development would stay in its place quite as well without pins as with them, and the loops were therefore abandoned. As the pins were generally made of gold, with heads of precious stones, some reluctance was felt at abandoning them altogether, and accordingly they sank into the position which the maniple and other vestments assumed—that of being ornaments.

The length of the pendent tails shows considerable variety at different times. They are extremely long—often extravagantly so—in monuments dating between the eleventh and fourteenth centuries. After that date they were curtailed, and at present are not more than a foot long. There is a little button of lead sewn into the ends of the tails to make them hang properly.

The pall never displayed that tendency to elaborate adornment which distinguished the other vestments of the mediaeval age. Doubtless the fact that all palls were made at Rome, and but few were made at a time, prevented any great change in fashion. Some differences are, notwithstanding, noticeable. In the earliest representations of tailed palls there is to be seen a single cross at the end of each tail; the same cross is to be seen worked on early oraria and mappulae. But in mediaeval and modern times there is a difference. At present the pall has six crosses, one on each tail and four on the oval, worked in black. In the middle ages we find sometimes four, sometimes as many as eight, worked in purple.

The history of each individual pall is curious. On the morning of St Agnes's Day (January 21) in each year, two lambs are sent into Rome each in a basket, the baskets being slung over a horse's back. These lambs are chosen with special reference to whiteness and goodness. The horse is driven to the palace of the Pope, who comes to a window and makes the sign of the cross over the lambs, which are then conducted to the church of St Agnes without the walls. Here, gaily adorned with flowers and ribbons, they are brought up to the altar, and kept there till mass is sung. After mass (formerly at the Agnus Dei) the celebrant blesses the lambs, which are then handed over to the charge of the canons of St John Lateran, by whom they are sent back to the Pope. The Pope hands them on to the dean of his subdeacons, who delivers them up to a nunnery, where they are kept and fed. When they are shorn, the wool is woven by the nuns into palls. On the eve of the day of St Peter and St Paul these palls are taken to St Peter's, and there blessed after evensong, after which they are shut up in a silver-gilt box to wait till they are wanted for bestowal on a new archbishop.

Each archbishop on election must go to Rome in person to receive the pall, unless prevented by serious obstacles—when the latter is the case it is solemnly sent to him by the Pope. He is not permitted to engage in any episcopal duty before receiving the pall; afterwards the vestment is worn only at High Mass on the following days: Nativity, St Stephen, St John, Circumcision, Epiphany, Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Holy Saturday, Easter Sunday, Monday and Tuesday, Ascension, Pentecost, Feasts of the Virgin, Nativity of St John the Baptist, all days of Apostles, All Saints, Dedications of Churches, principal local feasts in the diocese, Consecrations of Bishops, Ordinations of Clergy, Feast of the local Dedication, and the Anniversary of the wearer's consecration. The Pope, however, wears the pall at all times when he says mass.

The pall is the symbol of the archiepiscopal authority, therefore it may not be worn without express papal permission outside the limits of the jurisdiction of the archbishop.[57] When he dies, the pall is buried with him, but it is only placed on his shoulders if he be buried within his own province, otherwise it is folded and placed beneath his head.[58] The pall is the only vestment which may not be lent by one cleric to another.

We now come to a singular point in the history of the pall, and one which has so far baffled ecclesiologists to explain. Although the pall is generally regarded as the peculiar emblem of archbishops, and seems to have been kept for their especial and peculiar use by the rites which we have described, yet a few favoured bishops have from very early times been entitled to wear this vestment. The bishoprics which possess this privilege are those of Autun, Bamberg, Dol, Lucca, Ostia, Pavia, and Verona.

The pall is represented on several monuments of bishops of these dioceses, e.g., the slab of Bishop Otto (1192) and the brass of Bishop Lambert (1399), both in Bamberg Cathedral. In illuminated manuscripts and elsewhere we often find figures of clerics of episcopal rank wearing the pall, but holding the crook-headed staff, commonly supposed to be the insignia of a bishop as distinguished from an archbishop; but as numerous examples exist to show that the latter notion (like the majority of popular ideas in archaeology) is erroneous, this combination proves nothing.

The peculiar circumstances distinguishing the pall from the rest of the ecclesiastical vestments would lead us to expect some remarkable disquisitions on its symbolism. This expectation is not disappointed. The cross on the back and front reminds the wearer to reflect piously and in a worthy manner on the Passion of the Redeemer, and holds up before the people the sign of their Redemption. Such is the old view, and it has at least the merit of simplicity and religious feeling. But, unfortunately, Amalarius, in his dissecting manner, draws a parallel between the pall and the golden plate of the Levitical High Priest; this clears the way for the extraordinary disquisition of the pseudo-Alcuin on the Tetragrammaton יהוח (as he inaccurately writes it), wherein Jod signifies 'principium,' He 'iste,' Vau 'vita,' and Heth 'passio'—'id est, iste est principium passionis vitae.' Honorius thinks, however, that the four letters typify the four arms of the cross. Innocent III and others tell us that the pall signifies that discipline with which archbishops should rule themselves and those set under them. As Innocent's account of the pall gives as full an account as can be obtained of the vestment and its ornamentation and fastenings, we give an abstract of it here:

'The pall which the principal bishops wear signifies the discipline with which archbishops should rule themselves and those set under them. By this the golden chain[59] is obtained which those receive who strive lawfully, of which Solomon saith, "My son, hear the instruction of thy father and forsake not the law of thy mother, for they shall be an ornament of grace unto thy head and chains about thy neck." For the pallium is made of white wool, woven, having a circle above constraining the shoulders, and two tails (lineae) hanging down on either side; moreover, there are four purple crosses, front and back, on the right and on the left. On the left side it is double, and single on the right.'[60] After a long moralization on these facts, he goes on: 'The three pins which are fixed in the pallium over the breast, on the shoulder and in the back, denote pity for his neighbour, the administration of his office, and the meting out of justice.... There is no pin fastened in the right shoulder,' because there is no trouble in everlasting rest. 'The needle is golden, sharp below, rounded above, enclosing a precious stone,' which bears a variety of meanings. If we may believe the Elizabethan reformers, the pall was an expensive item in an archbishop's insignia. Although Gregory I ordained that it should be given to the archbishop-elect freely, Jewel speaks of the Archbishop of Canterbury giving 5,000 florins (£1,125 at 4s. 6d. the florin) to the Pope for his pall, in addition to the first-fruits of his province; and Bullinger speaks of the pall being so dear that 'in gathering money for it' the archbishop often 'beggared his whole diocese.'

X. The Stockings, or buskins, seem to have been originally appropriated to the Pope alone, bishops being content with the somewhat scanty sandal already described. But by the time of Ivo of Chartres the caligae had taken their place among the articles in an episcopal wardrobe. He is the first writer who mentions them. In the middle ages they, like all the other vestments of which we have been treating, forsook their primitive simplicity and became enriched with elaborate ornamentation. They signify the need of framing the courses of their feet aright; and in that they reach to the knees, they indicate that the wearer should strengthen the feeble knees weakened by heedlessness, and hasten to preach the Gospel.

XI. The Subcingulum.—The discussion of this vestment will be more difficult than that of any other among the equipment of the clergy of the West. It is all but obsolete at the present day; there does not seem to be more than one representation of it extant, and that only shows a small portion of it in an unsatisfactory manner; and the references to it in ecclesiastical writers are few and far between.

In antiquarian or any other investigations it is invariably the best rule, when a puzzle is set for solution, to work backwards from the known to the unknown. We will follow this course in speaking of this vestment, and commence with a description of it as worn at the present day.

The modern subcingulum is reserved for the exclusive use of the Pope. It takes the form of a girdle, passed round the alb, and having on the left side a maniple-like appendage. This seems to have been the form which it had in the end of the fourteenth century, for in an 'Ordo Missae Pontificalis,' published by Georgi,[61] we read: 'Primo induit (pontifex) sibi albam, deinde cinctorium cum manipulo ad sinistram partem.' In the century before this Durandus, in his 'Rationale Divinorum Officiorum,' writes: 'Sane a sinistro latere pontificis ex cingulo duplex dependet succinctorium'[62] —a doubled 'apron' hangs on the left hand side; and he likens it to a quiver, in the course of an elaborate comparison between the episcopal vestments of his time and the spiritual armour of the Christian.

The subcingulum (also called 'succinctorium') must have adopted this form about the middle of the thirteenth century. At the beginning of that century we find that it had its use, and was not a mere ornament. In the 'Ordo Romanus' of Cencio de Sabellis, written at the end of the twelfth century,[63] is a description of the new Pope's taking possession of the Church of St John Lateran. He is there described as being 'girt with a belt of crimson silk, hanging from which is a purple purse (bursa) containing twelve precious stones and some musk.' These all had their symbolical meaning: the belt denoted purity, the purse almsgiving, the stones the apostles, the musk 'a good odour in the sight of God.'

Innocent III, writing at the commencement of the thirteenth century, describes the vestment as peculiar to bishops, but does not refer to it as peculiar to popes; neither, be it noticed, does Cencio. The last restriction may have crept in one or two centuries after Innocent. He does not enter into many details concerning it, but he clearly distinguishes it from the zona, or girdle, which denotes continence, as the subcingulum signifies abstinence.[64]

About this time a fresco was executed on the wall of the Sagro Speco at Subiaco, which remains till the present day. It represents a Pope fully vested, but under the folds of the chasuble on either side is a fretted ornament which is certainly not part of any of the ordinary vestments of any rank of clergy. There is no alternative but to regard Dr Rock as correct in considering this ornament as part of the subcingulum.

This being granted, the subcingulum is seen to be a girdle, from either side of which depends a lozenge-shaped 'lappet.' We shall meet with a similar lappet in the ἐπιγονάτιον of the Greek Church. Only portions of these lappets are to be seen in the fresco in question, but enough is apparent to show them to be lozenge-shaped.

The testimony of Cencio points to these lappets being, not mere ornaments, but bags or purses hung to the belt; and this brings us to another stage in the evolution of this vestment. We know that through the middle ages a bag called a gypcière hung at the belts of civilians, and served the double purpose of purse and pocket. It is but natural to suppose that the early clergy found such appendages useful even in divine service. Let us now go yet further, and see whether confirmation of these theories awaits us.

Honorius of Autun in 1130 writes: 'The subcingulum, also called perizona or subcinctorium, is hung doubled about the loins; this signifies zeal in almsgiving,' etc.

Note, in this passage, the expression 'hung doubled.' This can only refer to the 'lappets' being hung one on each side. And the 'almsgiving,' which Honorius asserts this vestment to signify, suggests a purse.

Other writers, in the century preceding Honorius, write to the same effect; and even as early as the tenth century, in a manuscript of the mass, we find a distinction drawn between the 'cingulum' and the 'baltheum' in the prayers said while vesting.

In short, it seems probable that the subcingulum, with its appendages, is, like several other sacerdotal vestments, a modification into an ornament of something which had been designed for some natural requirement. When the maniple became too narrow and too richly embroidered to be of the slightest use as a handkerchief, it cannot be supposed that the priest did entirely without some resource; some plain piece of cloth must surely have been employed in its place, and some pocket must then have been required in which to place it. Again, some receptacle must have been wanted in which to place those comforting metal 'apples' in which hot water was placed when the day was cold; and the thumbstall or ponser, the thimble designed to keep the oil which adhered to his thumb after it had been dipped in the chrism, from greasing any of his vestments. It seems only natural to suppose that the subcingulum was originally designed to supply these wants.

XII. The Rational.—This ornament, obsolete now, was assumed by the ecclesiastics of the early years of the middle ages, in direct imitation of the breastplate of the ephod worn by the Jewish High Priest.

It consisted of a wooden brooch, overlaid with enamelled metal, which was fastened high up on the breast of the chasuble, and seems commonly to have been worn when there was no central orphrey on that vestment.

The shape and ornamentation of the rational varied altogether with the caprice of the artist who designed it. Examples are extremely rare in inventories of cathedral goods, if, indeed, they occur at all. It is probable that they were catalogued together with the morses of copes, with which they were practically identical in appearance.

The word 'Rationale' first meets us in the expression 'rationale judicii,' used in the Vulgate passim as a translation of the τὸ λογεῖον τῆς κρίσεως, by which the Septuagint expressed the breastplate of the ephod. In the early Church writers the word 'judicii' was dropped and 'rationale' used alone, but always to denote the Jewish ornament. When pseudo-Alcuin wrote, in the tenth or eleventh century, the ecclesiastical rational was quite unknown, for he says: 'Pro rationali summi pontifices, quos archiepiscopos dicemus, pallio utuntur'—a statement which he would certainly not have made if anything less unlike the rational than the pallium had been known to him. Ivo of Chartres, too, knows nothing of the Christian ornament, for although he does not say definitely that the Jewish rational corresponded to the pallium, he says that it corresponded to an ornament conceded (concessum) to the chief bishops of his time—an expression which would define the pallium, but certainly not the rational. Honorius of Autun is the writer in whom we first meet with direct and unequivocal mention of the ornament; and he begins his remarks upon it by definitely stating: 'Rationale a Lege est sumptum'—Lege, of course, being the Levitical law. This gives us very closely the limits of date between which the rational was assumed—some time between 1100 and 1130.

The rational, if we may accept the testimony of the monuments, gradually died out about the fourteenth or fifteenth century. It seems never to have been universal, and an actual rational is one of the rarest ecclesiological treasures a collector can possess.

XIII. The Mitre.—Like that of the subcingulum, the history of the mitre is a curious piece of evolution; but, unlike the subcingulum, the mitre can be traced through all its history in an unbroken chain of literary references, monumental effigies, and actual specimens.

The word mitra (Gk. μίτος, a thread) is applied in the transitional period to a female head-dress, and even St Isidore of Seville makes use of the word in that sense. The Septuagint, however, occasionally translates the expression for the cap of the high priest by μίτρα; at other times they use the word κίδαρις, which they also apply to the cap of the second order of the Jewish priesthood. The Vulgate follows the Septuagint, sometimes using mitra, sometimes cidaris, and occasionally tiara.

The advocates of an origin in primitive antiquity for Ecclesiastical Vestments make much of two passages which are certainly obscure, and would seem to indicate that in apostolic times 'bishops' wore a gold plate upon their heads. These passages are in a letter sent by Polycrates of Ephesus to Victor, bishop of Rome, about the year 200 A.D., in which he alludes to St John as 'having become a priest wearing the gold plate' ἐγενήθη ἱερεὺς τὸ πέταλον πεφορηκώς;[65] and in the writings of Epiphanius of Salamis (circa 400 A.D.), in which he says of James, the brother of Our Lord, that he was a priest after the ancient rite, and was permitted to wear a gold plate—ἱερατεύσαντα αὐτὸν κατὰ τὴν παλαιὰν ἱερωσύνη εὕρομεν ... καὶ τὸ πέταλον ἐπὶ τῆς κεφαλῆς ἑξῆν αὐτῷ φερεῖν,[66] citing the authority of Eusebius, Clement, and others. These statements are so hopelessly vague and confused that very little can be made out of them, but it has been pointed out that (i) the passages in which they occur are largely allegorical, (ii) that the πέταλον seems to refer to the gold plate of Jewish priesthood, and that the expression 'priest with the πέταλον' probably was used currently in the early years of Christianity, much as 'mitred abbot' is by us at the present day. In any case, as Dr Sinker says,[67] it 'is plain enough that if St John and St James, or either of them, did wear this ornament, it was an ornament 'special to themselves' and ceased with them, affecting in no sense the further use of the church.'

Other passages, supposed to refer to this or similar practices, bearing dates between the fourth and sixth centuries, are found on examination to have no real bearing on the question. The number of extracts from writers of that time which have been brought forward to prove the antiquity of the mitre is considerable; but those which can at all bear consideration apart from their contexts are all vague, unconvincing and inconclusive; some, indeed, are so obviously figurative that their production is only an amusing illustration of the straits to which the believers in the elaboration of primitive ritual are reduced. And the evidence of Tertullian on the other side is very clear—'quis denique patriarches, quis prophetes, quis levites, aut sacerdos, aut archon, quis vel postea apostolus aut evangelizator aut episcopus invenitur coronatus?'[68]

In the face of this quotation it is not easy to see what to make of the passages in St Jerome and elsewhere, in which a bishop is addressed by the expression 'corona vestra,' much as we use the words 'your lordship' now. Dr Rock argues from this that bishops, even so early as the fifth century, wore a circlet or crown of gold at Divine service. If so, the use must have been confined to Rome, for otherwise the Toletan or other councillors would surely have given us definite information concerning it.

St Isidore of Seville, in his treatise 'De Officiis Ecclesiasticis,' book ii, chap. vii, describes the tonsure as indicative of the priesthood and the regal nature of the church, the shaven part of the head representing the hemispherical cap of the Jewish priests, and the circlet of hair representing the coronet of kings. It is true that he is not speaking definitely of bishops, but the fact that he is absolutely silent respecting a crown of any kind other than the crown of hair—for which he expressly uses the word corona—is at least presumptive evidence that the crown of gold was not worn in his day. The prophecy of King Laoghairé's druids affords a very curious corroboration of this; see post, p. 128.

The earliest representation that Dr Rock can adduce of an ecclesiastic wearing this circlet is a figure in the Benedictional of St Aethelwold, an MS. of the tenth century at Chatsworth. Here we have a figure, the brows of which are certainly encircled with a gold band set with precious stones. As Marriott points out, however, this is probably more of a secular than an ecclesiastical nature, and may indicate the royal rank to which bishops at that time frequently laid claim.

Menard, after a careful study of ancient liturgies, came to the conclusion that the mitre was not in use in the church prior to the year 1000. Contemporary art bears out this statement. Probably the earliest genuine representation of a bishop wearing a head-dress to which any importance can be attached from a liturgical point of view is an illumination of St Dunstan[69] in an MS. (Claud. A 3) in the British Museum. This is of the early years of the eleventh century. It shows us a simple cap, low and hemispherical in shape, without the least trace of the cleft now invariably associated with the episcopal headgear.

The fashion seems to have changed with considerable rapidity, and the cleft very soon began to make its appearance. Its first beginning was a very shallow, blunt depression between two low, blunt, rounded points, one over each ear—in fact, a depression such as would naturally be made in a soft cloth cap by passing the outstretched hand gently across the crown. This change was not long in giving place to another and more important modification. The mitre was turned so that the horns appeared one in front, one behind, and they were raised a little higher than before, and, instead of being rounded, were made of a triangular form. The mitre in this shape is that universally represented in MSS. of the twelfth century.

Little difference in shape is traceable in the mitres of the thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth or sixteenth centuries. During these four hundred years the mitre increased considerably in size, but it was reserved for the seventeenth century to stereotype the final modification in form. Hitherto the two horns of the mitre had as a general rule been in the shape of plain triangles, bent round so as to adapt themselves to the outline of the head; the mitre was thus cylindrical in outline. By the seventeenth century, however, the triangles had been made spherical, so that the mitre assumed the form of a pair of parentheses, or of a barrel, which it still possesses.[70] By this time it had grown to a considerable height—some eighteen inches.

When the mitre was a plain cloth cap it was kept in position by two ribbons, which were knotted at the back of the head. The end of these ribbons are well shown in the figure of St Dunstan. But the ribbons very early lost their usefulness and became simple ornaments, and the ubiquitous embroiderer was not long in seizing on these infulae, or lappets, and enriching them with needlework to the best of her ability.

The mitre was originally made of plain white linen, and until about the twelfth century continued to be so; it was occasionally, though by no means always, elaborately decorated with needlework. Such simplicity, however, was not consistent with the spirit of the age which followed, and we find that in the thirteenth century the mitre was made of silk, and invariably overlaid either with embroidery or pearls and other jewels. To such a length was this enrichment carried at last in England, that we read that Henry VIII removed from Fountains Abbey, among other treasures, a silver-gilt mitre set with pearl and stone—weight seventy ounces!

Although properly belonging to the seventh chapter, in which the ritual uses of the various vestments which we have been describing will be discussed, it is necessary here to detail the three classes into which mitres are divided. Unlike other vestments, which are classified according to the particular liturgical colour which predominates in their embroidery, mitres are classified according to the manner in which they are ornamented. The background, when it can be seen at all, is white. A mitre which is simply made of white linen or silk, with little or no enrichment, is called a mitra simplex; one ornamented richly with embroidery, but without precious metals or stones, is called a mitra aurifrigiata; and one in which precious metals and stones are employed in its decoration is called a mitra pretiosa. The different times at which these different kinds of mitres are worn will be noted in their proper place in Chapter VII.