University of Nebraska - Lincoln DigitalCommons@University of Nebraska - Lincoln Textile Crossroads: Exploring European Clothing, Identity, and Culture across Millennia Centre for Textile Research 2024 Textiles, Dress and Politics: A Diachronic Perspective Through the Case Studies of Ancient Rome and Medieval Iceland Meghan Korten Zofia Kaczmarek Follow this and additional works at: https://digitalcommons.unl.edu/texroads This Article is brought to you for free and open access by the Centre for Textile Research at DigitalCommons@University of Nebraska - Lincoln. It has been accepted for inclusion in Textile Crossroads: Exploring European Clothing, Identity, and Culture across Millennia by an authorized administrator of DigitalCommons@University of Nebraska - Lincoln. 325 Textiles, Dress and Politics: A Diachronic Perspective Through the Case Studies of Ancient Rome and Medieval Iceland Meghan Korten and Zofia Kaczmarek Keywords: social status, wealth measurement, political influence, gender 1. Introduction People dress for more than just aesthetic reasons. Over the centuries, dress became a sign of human civilization, allowing us to identify the origin, gender, and status of the wearer. Textiles and clothing influence our body, posture, movements, and the way we are perceived by society. Textiles are also a tool used by people to further their agenda, that is why they found their place in the political life of many ancient and modern societies. According to Michel Foucault, power can be understood as a set of activities influencing the life of the other: It provokes, forbids, or permits, but it can also facilitate or hinder the actions of its subjects.1 We understand policy as a game that subjects play to gain and sustain their power. Dress is a material visualization of rules, laws, social order, and identity. It determines and protects the power status of the wearer.2 Thus, dress is a political statement. The idea that textiles and politics intertwine has long been an accepted fact. However, the idea that ‘political’ textiles and dress might have specific similar traits across time and place, became a pressing question during the conference on Clothing Identities organised by Working Group 2 of the EuroWeb Cost Action (“Clothing Identities Conference”, 6–8 May 2022, online, organized by Magdalena Wozniak, Cecilie Brøns, and Paula Nabais). In this chapter, we aim to examine the question of the relationship between clothing and political life, and whether there are any common traits that make certain textiles or forms of dress a power marker. For this purpose, two different states have been chosen as case studies: Rome in the time of the Republic and Early Empire, and Medieval Iceland. The first was vast and expansive, the second rather small and isolated. Despite the time difference, they both represent a preindustrial level of development. In both cultures, textiles and dress were significant symbols of status and wealth, as certified by well-known historical treatises3 and law codes.4 The first attempts to systematize and typologize the clothing of ancient Rome were already made during the nineteenth century.5 Over time, more systematic research would be undertaken, culminating in now classic monographs such as The World of Roman Costume (2001), Roman Dress and the Fabric of Roman 1 Foucault 1982, 183–184. Gherchanoc & Huet 2007, 14; cf. App. B. civ. 2.120. 3 On this subject see, for example: Flemestad 2022, Huet 2008; for law codes, see Laws of Early Iceland: Grágás, 2 vol. (1980; 2000) and Jónsbók: the Laws of Later Iceland (2010). 4 E.g. Cic. Leg. 2, 23, 59; Plin., Nat. Hist. 35, 197; Suet. Aug. 40.5; Edict. 5 Hope 1875. 2 In Textile Crossroads: Exploring European Clothing, Identity, and Culture across Millennia. Anthology of COST Action “CA 19131 – EuroWeb”. Kerstin Droß-Krüpe, Louise Quillien, & Kalliope Sarri, Editors. Zea Books, Lincoln, Nebraska, 2024. Copyright © 2024 by the authors. DOI: 10.32873/unl.dc.zea.1816 326 Culture (2008), Die Macht der Toga (2013), Greek and Roman Textiles and Dress: An Interdisciplinary Anthology (2014) or, more recently, Ursula Rothe’s work on The Toga and Roman Identity (2019).6 Studies of clothing and textiles in Medieval Iceland, on the other hand, have a much shorter tradition and lack standard typologies for clothing. Instead, Icelandic dress and textiles have mostly been included in wider Viking Age and Scandinavian research as part of its diaspora, especially for the earlier Medieval period, or included in descriptions of women’s work in histories of Viking Age women and specific textile production techniques.7 Icelandic-specific research has largely relied on studying textile fragments and tool remains for information on production techniques and technology. It has been less able to recover information on dress construction and materials, as often relevant evidence is lacking due to the poor survival of textiles and a dearth of iconography from this period. However, there has been some study of the textiles recovered from Iceland and Greenland (settled by Icelanders from the 11th century),8 analysis of textiles from archaeological excavations and museum collections,9 but more study of descriptions of dress and cloth in the Medieval written sources which survive from this period: The saga corpus, law codes, and other documentary sources.10 Few have considered these textiles in the context of politics and power, and there is a lack of classical monographs on Icelandic dress typologies; while the field of Icelandic studies is younger than Classical studies, the study of dress and textiles in Iceland is an even more recent addition. Research into Roman culture is based on a variety of different sources: Material, iconographical and literary. However, for the purpose of this chapter, only literary sources will be analyzed since they are a modern researcher’s guide to the underlying nature and motifs of the ancient dress code. Research on Icelandic history and culture is largely based on written sources and also archaeological 6 TEXTILE CROSSROADS research. For this chapter, only literary sources are utilized, in particular law codes and examples from the Icelandic Family Sagas (Íslendingasögur) and Sturlunga saga compilation (Sturlunga saga). These sources provide insight into how this society used and regulated textiles, and their perceptions of such uses. 2. Representations of power The period of Roman domination in Europe is one of the most intriguing periods in the history of fashion. Spanning several centuries and covering the vast territories of Europe, it witnessed numerous changes in the way people dressed. Despite that, the toga became the main characteristic of a Roman citizen.11 It could be worn by every man who could legitimize his citizenship, and even some Roman allies.12 It was considered a power marker.13 One of the iconic stories of the beginning of the Republic illustrates this thesis perfectly: Cinncinatus was ready to embrace the power offered to him by the senate only after he put on a toga.14 As remarked by S. Stone,15 throughout the centuries of the existence of the Roman Empire, the toga evolved from a piece of clothing recognizable by and important to a small agrarian community, to an elaborate adornment of the elite who ruled over a vast territory of the known world. However, it is the end of the Republic and the beginning of the Principate when the most intriguing observations concerning political dress can be made, due to the abundance of the source material16 and the ubiquitous idea of resurrecting the ancestors’ mos maiorum. By the end of the Republican period, the division of Roman society into social classes was well established. Since all men who could call themselves Roman citizens were entitled to wear the toga, it became necessary to further emphasize not only the status, but also the specific type of power held by the togatus.17 This could be achieved through the color(s) of the attire, These are just a few, major examples of research undertaken worldwide, as it is impossible to cover in one paper the complete historiography of Roman dress and textiles. The reader will find more references throughout the text. 7 E.g., Ewing 2006; Jochens 1995; 1996; Norrman 2008; Friðriksdóttir 2013 2021; Guðjónsson 1990; Hákonardóttir et al. 2016. 8 Jørgensen 1992; Østergård 2004. 9 Hayeur-Smith 2003; 2015; 2020; Hilmarsdóttir et al. 2015. 10 Þorláksson 1988; 1991; Roscoe 1992; Sauckel 2019. 11 Ver., Aen. 1.282; Liv. 44.16; Juv., Sat. 1.96; cf. Goette 2013; Edmondson 2008, 26; Wilson 1924, 20. 12 Cardiel 2022; Rothe 2019, 106–107. 13 Sensu Rooijakkers 2016, 25. 14 Liv. 3.26.9–10; cf. Dighton 2014. 15 Stone 2001, 38. 16 Stone 2001, 17. 17 Rothe 2019, 101–122. E X P L O R I N G E U R O P E A N C L O T H I N G , I D E N T I T Y, A N D C U LT U R E A C R O S S M I L L E N N I A its length,18 bands on tunics and togas,19 accessories, or even shoes. Since the aim of this chapter is to discuss the role of textiles in politics, the accessories20 and shoes21 will not be dealt with. When it comes to the colors of Roman textiles and dress, there are two which can be associated with power: White and purple. White, or rather whitish (not dyed or bleached), was a basic toga color for all citizens (toga pura).22 The specially whitened23 toga (toga candida) was a sign of a candidate running for office.24 Being a candidate for the most prestigious state offices was a privilege unavailable to many of the inhabitants of the empire, including those with citizenship,25 as it depended on one’s origin and wealth. Therefore, the way the candidate presented himself had real importance. In his speech against Marcus Anthoninus Cicero was outraged by the inappropriate dress in which Anthony dared to address his fellow citizens while requesting their votes.26 Although Anthony’s choice of particular dress (Gallic in style) could have been to gain the favor of provincial voters, Cicero made it clear that there was only one suitable costume for a candidate,27 that marked his right to hold the office. This is also a very good example of the efforts undertaken by some of the elites to resurrect mos maiorum, the proper respect for the ways of Roman political life, and thus oppose the growing number of populists. Moreover, Anthony’s dress choice only stressed his undignified and un-Roman behavior. Purple has a long history as a color of power.28 Generally, it was found in bands and different types 18 of stripes.29 Purple bands on tunics were called clavi. What is of interest here is that there were two main types of purple clavi: lati (for those of senatorial rank) and angusti (for those of equestrian rank).30 They supposedly differed in width;31 however, as L. Bender Jørgensen argues,32 clavi of different sizes were worn by many inhabitants of the Roman Empire, including slaves. Those in power, i.e. priests and magistrates, were entitled to a toga with a purple border, called the toga praetexta. Censors wore an all-purple toga, and triumphators adorned themselves in the tunica palmata, a purple tunic with golden palm leaves in­woven into the textile, and the toga picta, purple with gold stars.33 They all were a clear sign, readable by the entire society, which signified the sacred gravitas and power of the Roman state.34 Moreover, there were different types of purple, but only the most expensive and desirable one, Tyrian purple,35 became subject to sumptuary laws.36 Another important aspect is the raw material. The toga was made of wool and, despite its significance, little attention was paid to the quality of its raw material.37 This is really surprising since, in the period discussed, Romans were well acquainted with methods for obtaining wool of good or even excellent quality,38 and otherwise paid much attention to the general appearance of the toga.39 Only during the time of Augustus did the finishing process come to be of importance.40 Last, but not least, for Romans it was not really how, but who prepared the toga. Deeply rooted in Stone 2001, 24 and footnote 59. Plut., Prae. ger. reip. 20.816A. 20 Stout 2001; Goette 2013. 21 Goldman 2001; Goette 2013. 22 Stone 2001, 15; Koortbojian 2008, 80; Rothe 2019, 23–24. 23 Deniaux 2003, 55; Flohr 2013, 62. 24 Rothe 2019, 102–103; Deniaux 2003, 51. 25 Wikarjak 1964, 241. 26 Cic., Phil. 2.76. 27 Ibid. 28 Reinhold 1970, especially 11, 28. 29 Reinhold 1970, 38 (footnote 2). 30 Bender Jørgensen 2011, 75. 31 E.g. Hor. Sat. 1.6.24–29; cf. Edmondson 2008, 27. 32 Bender Jørgensen 2011, 76. 33 Polyb. 6. 53. 34 Edmondson 2008, 28–29. 35 Plin., N.H. 9.135, 137; Ov. Ars. am. 3.169–171; Reinhold 1970, 44; Ginez & Martinez 2013. 36 Cic. Leg. 2, 23, 59; Livy 34.1–8; Reinhold 1970, 41; Napoli 2004, 123. 37 Wilson 1924, 34; Rothe 2019, 23. 38 Columella, Rust. 7.2.2–5.; 7.3.9–10; 7.4.1–6, cf. Wild 1970, 10. 39 Quint. Inst. 11.3.137–144. 40 Plin., N.H. 8.74, cf. Rothe 2019, 23. 19 327 328 Roman culture was the ideal of lanificia—the worker in wool.41 This ideal held that Roman women would provide the family with clothes that they made themselves. From the agreement made by Romulus with the Sabine women,42 through the examples of queen Tanquil43 and Lucretia,44 to Augustan propaganda,45 spinning and weaving became the only suitable work for the daughters and wives of Roman citizens. That is why it is so surprising that professional textile production was dominated by men (not spinning however 46).47 Nevertheless, ready-made clothes could have been more expensive than those prepared at home.48 Perhaps this is the reason why household textile production was encouraged; Cato the Elder lists looms for weaving the toga as an indispensable part of the furnishings in newly built possessions.49 Nevertheless, despite Roman authors 50 complaining that women had lost their interest in spinning and weaving, the term lanificia was still used to describe virtuous women. The toga was a very large, semi-circular piece of cloth, measuring five meters in length and 2.5 meters in width.51 Its draping was a complicated process,52 demanding assistance, especially when, at the beginning of the Imperial period, it gained an elaborate form.53 Glenys Davies associates this change with Augustus’ endeavor to make the toga a national costume, and thus his attempts to make it more visible.54 Soon enough, it became evident that the toga was now a ceremonial costume, associated with a strictly defined, official context. Roman culture was a culture of spectacle,55 and the toga was a perfect costume for the role of a statesman performing on a political 41 TEXTILE CROSSROADS stage.56 Martial 57 in his epigramates, Quintilian in his work on oratory,58 and Livius in his story about Cinncinatus 59 link the toga to civic life, Valerius Maximus to religious rites,60 with all of these activities performed for the benefit of onlookers. They allowed the inhabitants of the Eternal City to get acquainted with those who shaped the political life of Rome and bound the toga even more strongly to the idea of power. Clothing was also an important indicator of power in the small nation of Medieval Iceland, albeit in a different way, particularly since this society was structured differently to Roman society. There were no official titles to differentiate between men, as all were some form of farmer, but there were significant differences in wealth and social status, ranging from servants and farm workers, tenant farmers, and small and medium independent farmers, to large magnate estates. By the end of the 12th century AD, a small elite group dominated both politics and religion, and in this way controlled Medieval Icelandic society. While clothing is always an important indicator of wealth and status, as the style, color, and materials used reflect means and position, in Medieval Iceland it also quite literally was wealth in itself, since it was the main commodity currency, or money. This currency (lögeyrir, “legal currency”), known as vaðmál (“measure of stuff”), was a simple twill, woolen homespun cloth. This was the dominant type of cloth used for clothing and other textile needs. One unit of this currency was one by two meters of this woolen cloth. The reasons behind the use of this cloth as money are not entirely understood, but is likely linked to the availability of wool and labor, plus demand, in addition E.g. Larsson Lovén 1997; 2007. Plut., Rom. 19.9. 43 Plin., N.H. 8.196. 44 Livy, Epit. 1.57; Ov., Fast. 2.783–875. 45 Suet. Aug. 73. 46 Lovén 1998, 75. 47 Jones 1960, 188–189; Liu 2009, 91–92. 48 Wild 2003, 39. 49 Cat., Agr. 14.2. 50 E.g. Hor., Carm. 3.15; Pomeroy 1995, 140–141. 51 Stone 2001, 17; Granger-Tylor 1982, 10. 52 Cf. Harlow 2018, 161. 53 Rothfus 2010, 425–426; Stone 2001, 17; Granger-Tylor 1982, 10–11. 54 Davies 2018, 131. 55 Davies 2018, 131; Edmondson 2008, 39; Flaigg 2003. 56 Rothe 2019, 101. 57 Mart. 10.47.5; cf. Stone 2001, 17. 58 Quint., Inst. 11.3.137–149. 59 Liv. 3.26.9–10. 60 Val. Max. 1.1.11. 42 E X P L O R I N G E U R O P E A N C L O T H I N G , I D E N T I T Y, A N D C U LT U R E A C R O S S M I L L E N N I A to the local unavailability of coinage or weighed metals, and the significant distance from other places that produced them. Medieval Iceland lacked a formal aristocracy and did not answer to a king but instead was ruled by parliamentary law, with the first written law code, Grágás, written c. AD 1117. Wealth mostly took the form of landed property (estates, rather than coinage, extravagant houses, or luxury goods) which was measured using the standard of value based on homespun cloth, vaðmál. In this period, land was also the source of power and influence in society, as land ownership was what granted men the right to political participation and representation at the local and national p ­ arliament.61 This power was directly linked to publicly acknowledged expressions of wealth and ownership. Wealth, and therefore the right to participate in politics and gain access to power, was also visualized as an expression of an amount of cloth; cloth and money were inextricably linked, as not only was cloth the main currency, it was also the unit used to measure the value of all other goods, services, and landed property. The standard unit of measurement was the hundred (hundrað), that is 120 ells of homespun woolen cloth.62 The Sturlunga saga compilation (written c. 12th to 13th centuries AD) includes examples of this cloth being used in such economic contexts. For example, it is stated that the estate of Þórir Þorsteinsson and his wife Þorlaug Pálsdóttir was valued at four hundred hundreds (fjögur hundruð hundraða) when they left Iceland to travel to Rome on a pilgrimage in AD 1172.63 Another example, from AD 1117, tells of a woman named Björg offering Þorgils Oddason a payment of twelve hundreds of vaðmál (tólf hundruð vaðmála) for legal services to defend the case of her husband’s killing at the law court.64 Cloth, therefore, was treated as currency here in all applicable senses, as wealth was constantly expressed as an amount of woolen homespun cloth in these M ­ edieval sources. As vaðmál was Iceland’s main export trade good from the 11th to 14th centuries AD, this domestic currency is often referenced in the context of exported 61 329 commodities in the written sources, using terms such as cargo (varningr), trade goods (vöru), or as a unit of cloth (hundrað), in addition to homespun cloaks (vararfeldr) being shipped abroad. In the 14th-century AD Fljótsdæla saga, Þorvald Þ ­ iðrandisson was traveling abroad with cargo which was lost when the ship was wrecked off the Shetlands. His cargo was later discovered among other treasures hidden in a cave. His goods were recognizable as distinct from others in the trove there and are specifically called Icelandic wares (islenzkur varningr). The saga presents vaðmál in such a way that this cloth was visually identifiable as an Icelandic product, but also that Iceland was conceptually distinct from other places as a polity.65 As the main export product, this term for simple woolen cloth was also used in the Medieval Ice­ landic written sources to identify Icelanders and Icelandic products abroad, using the cloth material to visualize a distinction between them and others, and to set them apart as a different people. The early 13th-­century AD short story Hreiðars þáttr tells of two brothers, Hreiðar Þorgrímsson and his merchant brother Þórð, who traveled from Iceland to Norway, where they met King Magnús goði ­Óláfsson (r. AD 1035–1047) and were invited to his court. When dressing to meet the king, Hreiðar’s brother advised him to wear the proper clothing, and that they could afford fine clothes (góðan búning) which would meet the king’s courtly standards. However, Hreiðar refused to buy fine clothing (skrúðklæðin) and instead dressed in clothing made of ordinary homespun (­vaðmál­sklæði), which was simple but presentable. Hreiðar was dressed differently from the Norwegian courtiers and was mocked for this.66 This visualizing of an Icelander in simple homespun wool vaðmal clothing, as compared to the finer fancy clothing of foreigners, such as Norwegians, functions to visualize the newly-arrived Icelander as separate and distinct from the differently dressed Norwegian courtiers. In this way, the author portrays clothing made of this woolen material as simple and suited to a farming society, and distinctive from the more elaborate clothing of foreigners. This was perhaps a moral The minimum property qualification for a single householder was owning property valued at two cows per each household member that they supported; this householder also had to pay annual assembly dues at the rate agreed at the local assembly with the chieftain. Grágás I, 125, 58. 62 Medieval Iceland used the long hundred, where one hundred equaled 120, and a hundred hundreds would equal 14,440. 63 The Saga of Hvamm-Sturla, 104; Hvamm-sturla saga, 91. 64 The Saga of Þorgils and Hafliði, 35; Þorgils saga og Hafliði, 14. 65 The Saga of the People of Fljotsdal, 384, 386, 389; Fljótsdæla saga, 223, 227, 228, 230–231. 66 Hreiðars þáttr, 48. 67 The oldest version of this tale is found in Morkinskinna (GkS 1009 fol. M), a saga of Norwegian kings (from AD 1025 330 commentary on excess or intended to emphasize the poverty of Iceland at the time compared to their neighbors. At the very least, clothing encapsulates the view of Iceland held by this Medieval saga’s author as a society distinct from Norway, even though their two cultures were still strongly connected, and many Icelanders’ ancestors had arrived from Norway only a few centuries previously.67 Beyond money, the term vaðmál was also used to describe a specific type of cloth in the written sources, referring to ordinary homespun woolen cloth woven as a twill structure. When referring to clothing worn in Iceland, this cloth was used to describe simple, ordinary clothing and did not signify a higher social status; rather it usually signified either the clothing of youths, poor persons, or working clothing. One example is found in 13th-century AD Brennu-Njáls saga, which describes the 10th-­ century AD chieftain Gunnar Hámundarson dressing down in homespun clothing to disguise himself as a peddler, wearing a cowled (váskufl) overtop with a russet-striped homespun tunic (söluváðarkyrtil mórendan), worn over his good clothes (góðu klæða), although later in the story, one man recounts that he saw gold lace and red fabric (eitt gullhlað ok rautt klæði) peeking out of Gunnar’s sleeve.68 This chieftain was successful in hiding his higher social status of chieftain-farmer by wearing homespun clothing suited to a lower-social-­status traveling salesman over the top of his own clothing, that was of higher quality material and color.69 The Icelandic homespun woolen cloth, therefore, can be seen to have visualised identity and expressed power. In its use as currency, cloth expressed access to power in politics, acting as a benchmark for political status. The cloth and clothing terminology used TEXTILE CROSSROADS in Medieval literature also expressed identity, both in terms of visualizing social status through dress, and as an identifier used to distinguish this polity from other countries with shared cultural backgrounds, showing how dress reflects social meaning. 3. Textiles and law Roman state law concerning clothing can be roughly divided into commands and prohibitions. The commands included Augustus’ legislation, the intention of which was to make the toga an even stronger marker of citizenship. His lex Iulia theatralis (20–17 BC) forbade those who refused to come to the theater in white togas from sitting alongside Roman citizens.70 Similarly, Augustus ordered the aediles not to let anyone into the forum unless they wore the toga.71 The effectiveness of these laws is disputed, but the fact is that, at the turn of the eras, special measures had to be taken in order to force citizens to wear the toga, even in official contexts. Augustus’ attempts to enforce the wearing of the toga should also be considered in their specific historical context. Augustus came to power after a long-­ lasting period of civil war, which is why wearing the toga in the heart of the Roman state, the Forum ­Romanum, had the function of symbolically uniting society, torn apart by the events of previous decades. The sumptuary laws and prohibitions were concerned mainly with raw materials and dyes. The Romans would introduce limitations on certain types of luxury goods in the form of special taxes72 and bans. In AD 16, Tiberius forbade male citizens from wearing silk.73 Silk was considered an unmanly fabric, and therefore not suitable for Roman statesmen. However, the earliest sumptuary laws concerned purple. to 1157) written c. AD 1200, and this manuscript dates to c. AD 1275, only a decade after Iceland’s submission to the Norwegian crown. The tale itself might have originated earlier and separately from this manuscript, and perhaps was only written down c. AD 1200. This tale is considered fictitious, with only the two kings (Magnús góði Óláfsson and Haraldr harðráði) as known historical figures (Faulkes 2011, 9–10). Regardless, the tale provides insight into the historical attitudes of Medieval authors with regard to the social role of clothing in both their own and historical times. 68 Njals saga, 26, 28; Brennu-Njáls saga, 59. Söluváð refers to a grade of vaðmál for sale, and mórendan refers to a type of vaðmál that has russet-colored stripes. 69 Gunnar had disguised himself, on the advice of his friend Njáll Þorgeirsson who was an expert in law, as part of a plot to recover Gunnar’s kinswoman’s dowry from her ex-husband Hrútr. In this disguise as a merchant, he was able to infiltrate Hrútr’s household and trick him into revealing how the dowry could be legally recovered. After he recovered this dowry, he was considered to have won great honor from the lawsuit, and honor was an essential element for political status in Medieval Iceland. 70 Suet. Aug. 44, cf. Edmondson 2008, 23. 71 Suet. Aug. 40. 72 Plut., Vit. Cat. Mai. 18.2; cf. Flemestad 2022, 92. 73 Tac., Ann. 2.33; Dio 57.15.1. 74 Cic. Leg. 2, 23, 59. E X P L O R I N G E U R O P E A N C L O T H I N G , I D E N T I T Y, A N D C U LT U R E A C R O S S M I L L E N N I A Its use was restricted by the first written law, the Laws of Twelve Tablets,74 but it was during the reign of Nero (AD 56–68) that Tyrian purple was given its royal status.75 The emperor restricted its use only to the court.76 Later, the emperors introduced even more sumptuary laws,77 but these few examples suffice to show that the most desirable and expensive materials used in textile production became the objects of Roman state law. It is also evident that people holding ultimate power, i.e. the dictators and, later, the emperors, were looking for a monopoly on rare and costly products, so as to strengthen their message of power. There are no records of sumptuary laws concerning the toga, although variants considered too fanciful were condemned.78 In Medieval Icelandic law, we can see legal regulations for personal clothing allowances in a clause from the law code Jónsbók, where, just as in the earlier law code Grágás where wealth and property determined access to political power, here wealth also dictated differences in clothing allowances. While sumptuary laws are normative prescriptions, they range according to sociocultural context, and can reveal consumer and bodily practices. Sumptuary laws served as tools for social competition and the visualization of status, stimulated new styles and aesthetics, enforced support for local industries over foreign imports, and upheld religious or moral norms.79 This late-13th-­ century AD legal clause, which restricted what items of clothing and materials a man could wear according to the value of property he owned, reflects its sociocultural context of a period of great social change and power struggles. Restrictions on clothing by regulating clothing allowances by wealth, with the exception of specific types of people were seen as a step toward helping to stabilize society through reinforcing social distinctions. Jónsbók was a new law code that was introduced to Iceland in AD 1281 by the law-reforming King Magnús Hákonarsson (r. AD 1263–1280), just decades after Iceland had submitted to Norway as 75 331 a tributary nation, as it was necessary for Icelandic law to be amended to fit with Norwegian law.80 This law code was implemented during a period of social upheaval and change, especially with the changes wrought by a period of civil war (the Sturlunga era, AD 1220–1262/4) that saw increased concentration of wealth, property, and power into the hands of a small elite, while the majority of the population grew poorer and tenancy increased. Submission to the ­Nor­wegian crown resulted in the ruling chieftaincy system (goðar) being replaced by district sheriffs (sg. sýslumaður) and the king’s governor (hirðstjóri), who held the position in return for a percentage of the royal income coming from the country, including tax revenue. At the same time, there was conflict over the control of church estates (staðar) between religious and secular leaders, resulting in the church gaining increased authority, property, and power.81 In sum, the late 13th century AD was a period of great political upheaval and social change, with the inhabitants of Iceland becoming poorer and holding less power than in the previous centuries, yet they still retained their own legal code. The Jónbsók sumptuary law has a clause that specifies what clothing men could wear according to how much property they owned, using the cloth-currency unit hundrað: “And make this known to all men: anyone who has twenty hundreds and not less; whether he is married or not, may wear a jacket with a hood made of costly material; and whoever has forty hundreds may wear in addition a tunic made of costly material; whoever has eighty hundreds may wear in addition a coat or a cloak with a hood, double lined, yet not with gray fur; whoever has one hundred hundreds, he may wear freely all of this clothing; except learned men may wear whatever clothing they wish, as may the king’s retainers who have all the weapons which they are required to have. Cf. Reinhold 1970, 50, 53–56, 59–60. Suet. Ner. 32. 77 Edmondson 2008, 32–33. 78 E.g. Sen. Ep. 114.21. 79 Rublack & Riello 2019, 13–15. 80 Iceland had had its own law since the early 10th century AD, when the national assembly (alþing) adopted an oral law based on the ancient law of early Norse settlers. It was first written down in AD 1117–1118, and is now known as the Grágás law code. It heavily influenced the AD 1281 Jónsbók law code, with about 56% of the law drawn directly or indirectly from Grágás. An earlier law code, Jarnsíða, had been unsuccessfully introduced in AD 1271. Jónsbók, xv. 81 Karlsson 2000, 83–84, 96. 82 Jónsbók, 153. 76 332 TEXTILE CROSSROADS And those men who have traveled abroad are allowed to wear the clothing which they themselves bring back while they last, even if they have less property than what was said before, but they shall not buy more clothing than was stipulated before. But if someone wears finery who has less property or otherwise than here is indicated, then he is fined two ounce-units for each piece of clothing he wears beyond what the law indicates, unless the clothing is given to him.”82 This sumptuary law was concerned with people living beyond their means by wearing clothing that was too expensive for their social and financial standing, so-called “fancy dress” (skrúðklæði). These legal clothing allowances were regulated based on personal wealth, but in this case the cloth was both being regulated through sumptuary laws and was also the standard by which the clothing allowances were regulated. It uses the unit for the cloth measure, the hundred, following the main standard for valuation discussed above, the vaðmál type of cloth. This clause yields interesting information as to what types of clothing were considered more expensive or luxurious, and thus acted as visible displays of wealth in this society. This law was concerned with clothing (klæði) made of “costly material” (skrúð), and sets down specific regulations for the types of garments that were made of this costly material (jackets with hoods, tunics, coats or cloaks with hoods that are double lined), which are ­presumably listed in ascending value. The costly material likely refers to imported fabric, as the main type of cloth in this period, the woolen homespun vaðmál, was made in a range of coarse to fine fabrics. 83 While some linens and finer grades of woven woolen cloth were produced domestically, significantly more, and other types of fabric like silk besides, would have been imported on ships and offered for sale or trade by merchants, or were brought back by Icelanders returning from abroad. 83 This sumptuary law shows an attempt at social control by dictating what “fancy clothes” could be worn according to financial status, yet frames it so that it seems to have been implemented out of a concern for the availability of financial aid for the poor (fátæki): “Be it known to all men about the objectionable practice which men have taken into custom in this land more than in any other poor land regarding too fancy dress: many are troubled by large debts, and, therefore, lack many necessary things, but the indigent need their help and, because of this, many lie outside frozen to death.”84 It is important to note that there was a kind of social welfare system, whereby each district’s (­hreppur) landowners were required to support the poor and landless.85 This law therefore reflected the responsibilities held by the community and shows the elite and lawmakers attempting to protect their own assets from being overextended by the needs of too many poorer people. It shows real anxieties about money and social support in a geographically isolated society, where there was a narrow margin of survival in this harsh environment. The clause also stipulates the types of people who were exempt from the law: Scholars, travelers, the king’s men, and recipients of gifts. Each of these exemptions would not have expected to be supported by the local community, as they also belonged to different communities. Learned men (lærðir menn) refers to clerical education, and would therefore be men of the religious community, under the bishop’s jurisdiction and not directly under secular law.86 Travelers (þeir menn ok sem utan hafa farit) were those who had gone abroad and brought clothing back with them; presumably they would have had the means to support themselves on such a journey. The king’s men (handgeingnir menn) refers to the Norwegian king’s retainers, men who, in Iceland, acted on the king’s Hayeur Smith 2020, 32. Jónsbók, 153. 85 An AD 1305 amendment stipulated that every landowner had an obligation to support the poor, and were required to host a poor person one night for every ten hundreds of property he owned, to a maximum of ten nights. Jónsbók, 413. 86 Bishop Árni Þorláksson, who was opposed to the clergy adopting Jónsbók, had created a new church law (Kristinréttr nýi) after the Staðarmál conflict (between church and secular leaders over the custody of church estates [staðar] created by chieftains building churches on their own estates, and who had therefore received a portion of the tithe) which stipulated the separation of secular and church property, so the church could administer all its property without lay interference. Patzuk-Russel 2021, 30. 87 George 2008. 84 E X P L O R I N G E U R O P E A N C L O T H I N G , I D E N T I T Y, A N D C U LT U R E A C R O S S M I L L E N N I A authority and answered to the king rather than Icelandic law, such as the governor (hirðstjóri) who governed Iceland on the king’s behalf. Of course, clothing that was gifted lay outside one’s own expenditure, and would not have been a drain on personal resources. All of these exempted men were in uncommon circumstances and not subject to typical social restrictions, nor were they persons expected to depend on the local community for support in hard times. They were also not necessarily the landowners who were expected to contribute to the support of the commune’s dependents. Because of these exemptions, we can consider the persons in these social classes as distinct from, or parallel to, those subject to the wealth-specific regulations. We can also consider this legal clause as a way to regulate social order in a system without a formal hierarchy, and little real differences in terms of visual expressions of wealth. As Iceland remained a rural farming country until the modern period, all inhabitants lived or worked on farms, and there were no grand estates on par with those on the European continent. There was never an aristocracy in Iceland, and there was limited and controlled access to foreign imports or luxuries, as even the harbours and trading site had their access controlled by landowners. Power, in Medieval Iceland, came from land ownership and property equaled wealth, especially as there was a set amount of landed property available. Clothing was therefore one of the few ways to visualize these social differences, with specific articles of “fancy clothing” able to visually communicate measurable personal wealth and elite status. This sumptuary clause could be used by the elite to reinforce and materialize their higher social status, setting themselves apart from the rest of society by wearing “fancy clothing” articles and measuring their wealth in terms of a cloth standard. However, this could also be seen as a target to aim for in order to move up the social hier­archy as, in theory, this was a society of social equals, as all were farmers, whether landowner, tenant, or bonded laborer. 88 4. Textiles against power Being the emblem of citizenship, the toga also had its “dark side”.87 First of all, it could be considered a rather uncomfortable piece of clothing. Its measurements and draping disabled one arm and prevented fast and extensive movements.88 In this way, the toga took control over the wearer, limiting their power over their own body and expression. Secondly, despite the two famous plebeian secessions (494 BC and 449 BC), as well as numerous laws introducing new rights for the poorer and lower-class citizens, Roman society was not equal. One of the best examples of this is the institution of clientship. In exchange for financial support and protection, some citizens, often freedmen, visited their patrons every morning to offer their services. During elections, they were obliged to follow their patrons to the forum and accompany him in all his daily activities.89 They would have to serve their patrons while clad in the toga.90 In this case, the toga should be rather understood as a symbol of the clients’ servitude, while still enforcing the message of power for the elites of the Roman Republic.91 Finally, in ancient Rome, laws and cultural customs were also transgressed in order to protest against those ventures of the authorities which were considered harmful to the Republic. For this purpose, it would seem that the toga pulla — the black, mourning robe — was best suited.92 It was supposed to be worn only during funerary rites, so donning it in another context was considered at least controversial.93 The color of this clothing, standing out among the ubiquitous white, but also other bodily rites connected to mourning,94 directed attention to the wearer and his pleas. Despite the fact that his actions could have been misunderstood,95 by the end of the Roman Republic, this way of protesting seems to have been the most common. The reign of Augustus put an end to these practices, but as the Imperial period brought Pax Romana and new territories, it opened different possibilities for contesting the political reality, especially for the youth. They were not as keen to follow Quint., Inst. 11.3.138, 11.3.143. Cic., Comment. pet. 9.34, 37–38. 90 Edmondson 2008, 23–24; George 2008, 96–97, cf. Harlow 2018, 162. 91 George 2008, 99, 107–108. 92 Rothe 2019, 103–105; Edmondson 2008, 30–31; cf. Plut., Cat. Min 6.3; Cic., Vat. 30–31; Cic., Red. Sen. 12, 31. 93 Cic., Vat. 30. 94 Cic., Red. Sen. 12. 95 E.g. Cic., Vat. 32. 96 Juv. 2.159–170; 3.67–68. 89 333 334 the rules of modest, Republican dressing and looked toward foreign fashion.96 The toga was, therefore, becoming more and more a ceremonial costume, bound still stronger to Roman politics. Textiles can be seen as social products, a tool used by the elite for access to politics and therefore power, but it is also a lens that reveals the indirect power of women in powering society. While power in ­Medieval Iceland came from the public prestige of wealth and landed property, indirect power could also be found in the production of this cloth-wealth, in the weaving of this fabric currency by women. In this case, a cloth currency shows how, if we look at power as more than a position of influence, but also the ability to influence and shape society, women and the product of their work, the cloth currency, was interwoven into and fueled practically all levels of society, from the household to national politics.97 This cloth commodity currency was the bar against which those who wished to represent and participate in the political arena of the local and national assemblies, the highest social position and seat of power, were measured. It was used to express property values, requiring landowners to own a minimum amount of land and movable wealth valued in this cloth currency, with that movable wealth including physical cloth. Land was a limited resource, with only about 103,000 km2 to be shared among its inhabitants and, in the specific period of the law code discussed in this chapter (c. AD 1281), it had become concentrated into the hands of a few families after an extensive and deadly period of civil war (the Sturlunga period, c. AD 1180 to 1262/4). This has been the traditional conception of politics in Medieval Iceland among scholars, that the elite, male political players held all the power through rights granted due to land ownership. The production of this social product, the cloth commodity currency, means that women could be understood to have indirectly powered the political game by weaving the fabric currency that underwrote Medieval Icelandic society and by the use of a femalecoded product to measure wealth. Weaving in Medieval Iceland was women’s work; it was performed in the domestic realm, and the farm was the source of its raw material, wool.98 The legal regulation of cloth 97 TEXTILE CROSSROADS as currency, controlling the standards for production for sale or trade, was conducted in the public male realm of politics. However, while these legal standards were enforced in a public, legal, male power domain, the actual production of this cloth was regulated by the female weavers, as ultimately they possessed the skills and knowledge to be able to produce cloth that met these standards. Thus, this cloth currency transgressed the traditional boundaries, as the women weaving the homespun cloth were producing physical money, and female textile production occurred in the domestic sphere, not the public male sphere of politics and power. In controlling the production of cloth-currency, women held more power than it would first appear, if we expand or alter the conventional conception of power, as top-down, hierarchical control based on land ownership, to consider power as an action or the ability to influence one’s society, rather than just an object to be possessed.99 Here, we see an unconscious powering of society, as women’s textile production in the hidden abode of the household facilitated the machinations of the visible modes of power. That is to say, given that this cloth was used as currency, the less visible members of the household who processed, spun, and wove it were no less important than the visible male political players, since the product of their work powered the economy, influencing its internal functioning and provided Iceland with the means to interact with the outside world through politics, trade, culture, and more; women powered the political game with this “women’s” product. This power of women, both as producers of an economic resource used as currency and as the physical repositories of textile production knowledge and know-how, should be acknowledged as being an effective force that made a difference to the world of Medieval Iceland. With this textile and their productive work, they generated the fuel that powered its political system. By conceptualizing power this way, we can recognize women’s production within this society (as textile crafts or handverk — “handicrafts” — was the domain of women within a certain class) as a source of power, because of the textile’s significant influence on the nation. This cloth Beard 2017, 52. Of course, this coincides with the work of other members of the household during other stages of textile production, and the raw wool was a physical output from the farmer’s land. Sheep were owned by the farm owner, and shepherding was the work of his household members, whether contract laborers, servants or family members, male or female. The sheep grazed on his land or in the hinterlands of his property. 99 Beard 2017, 87. 100 Stone 2001. 98 E X P L O R I N G E U R O P E A N C L O T H I N G , I D E N T I T Y, A N D C U LT U R E A C R O S S M I L L E N N I A was both the currency that stood behind every transaction and the unit used to measure value, including land — the means through which men’s power was measured in this period. 5. Conclusion As this chapter has aimed to demonstrate, textiles influenced politics in the past, especially through the relationship between what was worn and political life. Both case studies prove that, despite the temporal and geographical distance, similarities existed. The textiles in question also had similar traits, where colors and raw materials played the most important role. Interestingly enough, they did not have to be luxurious nor expensive; for the purpose of political life, it was sufficient to use the materials which were available at hand. It was the methods of adorning textiles and the ideas that stood behind them that made them power markers. Textiles materialised the way in which people thought about themselves, opposed “our group” against “the other”, thus facilitating the formation and maintenance of group identities. Sumptuary laws often concerned those materials which were of foreign origin. In Rome, textiles were never a measure of wealth per se, though they did enter home inventories, and some of them certainly had a value and were unavailable to those with a lower income. The visualization of political power was a toga, a large, woolen cloak, whose color and decorative bands communicated additional messages of the power held by the wearer. The toga also became an important signifier of identity, a national100 costume of sorts, allowing not only easy recognition of the ruler of the world, but also differentiating Roman citizens from the rest of the inhabitants of the Empire. For Icelandic textiles, the choices of material and colors to signify individual status and group identity were less significant, but rather textiles were more significant as a form and measure of wealth through the cloth commodity currency. Yet textiles did serve in the written sources to identify Icelanders as distinct from others in the Norse diaspora, as a signifier of a distinct Icelandic identity. The laws concerning dress, both in Ancient Rome and Medieval Iceland, had the role of stabilizing and uniting the entire society, as well as introducing visible distinctions of power. 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