A recent article in the newsletter of the British Society for the Turin Shroud1 explores the hypothesis that the Shroud is medieval on historical grounds, and dismisses it on the grounds that there is insufficient evidence to support it. Seven of the twelve pages are devoted to an assault on the integrity of Ulysse Chevalier and Herbert Thurston, who first publicised the 14th and 15th century documents regarding the Lirey expositions, and the next five are aimed at what “medievalists” think, which is mostly aimed at me, although Gary Vikan and Andrea Nicolotti get a look in. Although most of Jack Markwardt’s historical data is sound – he is a responsible and reliable historian – I don’t agree with the logic that leads him to conclude that the medieval hypothesis is weaker than the authenticist hypothesis.
Before looking at the article in detail, it may be worth setting out some ground rules, as it were. Firstly, I think we must agree that under the banner ‘medieval’ and ‘authentic’ ride a wide variety of contradictory opinions. Lack of universal agreement among medievalists cannot be used as any kind of argument against the general hypothesis any more than the even greater lack of agreement among authenticists. The expression “Medievalists are at odds….,” which opens two of Markwardt’s paragraphs, is entirely true, and entirely irrelevant.
Secondly, “a hypothesis is a supposition based on limited evidence,” as Markwardt begins, giving himself carte blanche to find that the limitations of the medieval evidence are insufficient to support the medieval hypothesis. I think he is on dangerous ground here, as his own hypothesis, that the Shroud moved to Antioch with St Peter, sojourned in Edesssa for a while, and then appeared in Constantinople, is even less well attested, or even suggested, by historical evidence. Of course, to any individual, his own evidence is entirely compelling, but the strength of a hypothesis lies in its acceptance by other scholars, and whether the “Quem Quaeritis” or the “Antioch” hypothesis (to be a bit more specific) is more widely accepted is an open question, I think.
Now, to specifics, and three people Markwardt spends some time in denigrating. It is unnecessary to dwell on Ulysses Chevalier and Herbert Thurston, who may or may not have been as duplicitous as claimed, because thanks to the former, all the documents on which they built their arguments are available to us, in their original Latin, online. Of Bishop Pierre d’Arcis, and his famous ‘memorandum,’ I have written elsewhere, but curiously, perhaps, we need not pay any attention to him at all. The earliest authoritative mentions of the Shroud, as we know, are a series of letters and bulls from Pope Clement in the late 1390s, permitting the display of a representation of the Shroud, as long as it was made clear that it was not the real thing. In fact, there is almost no evidence that the Shroud was ever considered as authentic by either its first owner, Geoffrey II de Charny, or the clergy of Lirey, or Pope Clement, or even Humbert de Villersexel in 1418, when it was transferred to his keeping, never to return. In fact, there is almost no evidence that the Shroud existed at all prior to about 1395 or so.
Really? you say. Don’t we know that it was first exhibited in about 1355, and that it was claimed by the Dean and Chapter of Lirey to be an authentic relic? Well, that depends what you think of Pierre d’Arcis, and his memorandum. Jack Markwardt considers the reverend bishop an out-and-out liar, and, since he did not even become a canon of Troyes until 1372, or bishop until 1377, all his allegations were “blatant hearsay.” That being so, we certainly couldn’t trust his claim that the cloth of c.1390 was the same as that of c.1350, nor even that the former cloth existed at all, let alone that it was ever exhibited as genuine.
Apart from the d’Arcis memorandum, the only possible reference to the Shroud in the 1350s is an open letter from Bishop Henri, extolling Geoffrey de Charny’s “sentiments of devotion, which he has hitherto manifested for the divine cult and which he manifests ever more daily. And ourselves wishing to develop as much as possible a cult of this nature, we praise, ratify and approve the said letters in all their parts – a cult which is declared and reported to have been canonically and ritually prescribed, as we have been informed by legitimate documents.”2
Not unreasonably, Markwardt contends that this unspecified “divine cult” must refer to something directly connected to Christ, and not, for example, the Virgin Mary, who is not herself “divine.” However, if Henri wished to develop “a cult of this nature” himself, then he can hardly have been referring to the Shroud, unless he wanted to make a copy of it, in which case there is nothing to suggest that the original wasn’t a reproduction either. Nor is there any evidence that any cult of the Shroud had been “declared and reported to have been canonically and ritually prescribed.”
On the other hand, if the Shroud did exist in 1356 or so, and was denounced as a fraud by Bishop Henri, it seems odd that barely a year later Pope Innocent issued a bull to several listed bishops, asking them to acknowledge forty days indulgence granted to just about everybody who visited the chapel at Lirey, for whatever purpose, although it may be significant that among the long lists of Feast Days they might have attended, and gifts the might have donated, there is no mention at all of relics or the Shroud. I agree that this is a bit of a paradox, but do not think it confirms the existence of the Shroud. To Markwardt’s insistence that d’Arcis was lying about Bishop Henri’s inquiry and lying about the alleged craftsman confessing to making it, we have d’Arcis’s frank offer to provide all the evidence if the Pope asked for it, which would have been a risky offer if he didn’t in fact have any.
At this point we might stop and consider the value, if any, of “absence of evidence.” It is often quoted that “absence of evidence is not evidence of absence,” but this is not strictly accurate. Not seeing a fox in a wood is certainly not evidence that there are no foxes in the wood, but not seeing a horse in a stable is quite good evidence that the stable is empty. Everything depends on whether, if something exists, we should expect to have evidence of it. To me, it is highly significant that the Shroud, real or not, is not mentioned at all in any of the documents concerning the founding of the chapel at Lirey or the circumstances whereby pilgrims could get an indulgence by visiting it. I think the Shroud isn’t mentioned because it wasn’t there.
On the other hand there is also no evidence of the alleged “diligent enquiry” carried out by Bishop Henri, or of the craftsman who depicted the image of Jesus. This, to authenticists, is compelling evidence that no such enquiry ever took place; to me, however, it is simply one among hundreds of 14th century files from the diocese of Troyes of which there is now longer any trace, and signifies nothing. The decision is, in the last analysis, almost entirely subjective.
In order to downplay the apparently universal acceptance of the Lirey cloth as inauthentic, Markwardt dismisses the term “figure or representation” as a mere form of words, coined by Geoffrey II de Charny in ignorance of the Shroud’s true provenance, and copied by Pope Clement who knew even less. This is a largely meaningless argument. Whether the Shroud is authentic or not is disputed even today, and no form of words can make it one thing or the other. The medievalist argument is not that “figuram sive representacionem” defines the Shroud, but that it demonstrates the beliefs of those who so described it.
On page 11 of hs article Markwardt denies this, and claims that the various people who used the phrase were merely repeating Pope Clement’s use of it, not that they actually believed the Shroud was what they said. I think this argument weak. The phase is never used by Clement without appropriate context. In August 1398, he introduces the cloth as a “figuram sive representacionem” of the Shroud of the Lord, not the Shroud of the Lord bearing a “figuram sive representacionem” of his body, and in February the following year he insists that a loud clear pronouncement that “non est verum Sudarium Domini nostri Jhesu Xpisti, sed quedam pictura seu tabula facta in figuram seu representacionem Sudarii,” accompanies each ostentation, and warns local bishops that “figuram seu representacionem predictam non ostendunt ut verum sudarium Domini nostri Jhesu Xpisti, sed tanquam figuram seu representacionem dicti sudarii, quod fore dicitur ejusdem Domini nostri Jhesu Xpisti.” Six months later this is repeated. In omitting this context, and supposing that “figuram sive (or seu) representacionem” was nothing more than a formula which could mean either authenticity or artistry, Markwardt goes way beyond the bounds of inferential logic.
So much for d’Arcis, Pope Clement, and the shamelessly dishonest Ulysse Chevalier. “In 1978, Chevalier’s Mediaeval Hypothesis was entirely refuted when a scientific examination of the Shroud established that its image has not been painted, as Bishop d’Arcis had alleged. Ten years later, in 1988, three university laboratories radiocarbon-dated samples taken from a corner of the Shroud announced that its fabric had been manufactured between 1260 and 3090, thereby giving birth to a new, and scientifically based, Mediaeval Hypothesis.” What nonsense. Not only was Chevalier’s hypothesis not discredited by the inconsistent and contradictory discoveries of the STuRP scientists (though I’d agree that it was hardly strengthened), but the radiocarbon dating entirely supported it, not replaced it. Markwardt is certainly correct that it introduced some new circumstances, such that the Shroud must have been made at least twenty years before its first appearance in, say, 1355, and that its three laboratories’ dates were rather more dispersed than those of any of the control samples, and he was right to point out that a young man artistically creating the image in, say 1300, could be seventy or so by the time of Henri of Poitier’s enquiry, or more likely dead, but this was countered by somebody observing that the cloth could have been made considerably earlier than the image.
The rest of the article hinges on the value of “Absence of Evidence.” Mostly Markwardt insists that absence of evidence is evidence of absence, whereas I don’t. He sees no horse in the stable, I see no fox in the wood. Furthermore, I’m not trying to use what evidence there is to show that the Shroud is medieval; I’m trying to find out an appropriate context for it. In this, my methodology, I believe, exactly reflects his own in attempting to find an early Christian and Byzantine context for an authentic Shroud, except that my sources are more solid and require less distortion, I believe.
In countering the evidence adduced to support the speculation that the Shroud was associated with the Quem Quaeritis rite, Markwardt seems to think that he has thus reduced it to a meaningless guess, and even to imply that because it hasn’t been proved, it has thereby been refuted, but, as I hope we will see, I don’t think that’s true. And some of his counters are simply farcical.
So here we go:
“[The Quem Quaeritis] claim lacks historical basis, as documents and tradition do not reference the employment of a sizable and/or imaged shroud stage prop in any Quem Quaeritis drama or provide even a hint of any church, monastery, or cathedral having commissioned, owned, or gifted such a cloth.”
By Markwardt’s own admission, “there are detailed accounts of the scripting and staging of many hundreds of performed Quem Quaeritis dramas.” These were performed in churches, and no doubt he would agree that some of them were large (The Use of Hereford, for example, describes the Quem Quaeritis rite from Hereford Cathedral, and there are many others), and a substantial proportion of them are recorded as involving a representation of the shroud. This is certainly “a hint” that churches, monasteries and cathedrals either “commissioned owned, or had had had gifted” such a cloth. He is correct that there is no mention of a “sizeable” cloth (although there is a painting of four angels holding up a very large cloth on the side of the Easter Sepulchre of Baar), but there is no mention of a small cloth either, or a middle-sized cloth. It is wrong to equate the absence of quoted dimensions with the absence of any particular size. What is more sensible is that there is no mention of an imaged cloth. There is no reason why the clerical rubrics should specify an image, and the absence of such a mention certainly does not refute the argument, but it would be wonderfully supportive if they did.
But what about this:
“As illustrated by Antonio Tempesta’s famous engraving of 1613, seven to nine men were required to lift and fully extend, possibly with the support of a railing, the fourteen-foot-long Shroud for its display to the public, and it simply beggars belief that, in the thirteenth and/or fourteenth centuries, and with no support denoted in the stage directions, one or two clerics fully extended the shroud for the viewing of a congregation.”
This is ludicrous to the point of absurdity. Clearly Markwardt has never made a bed or laid a table. The Shroud weighs a couple of kilograms, and if it wasn’t so long a single monk could easily hold it up for inspection. Two would be the most needed. The idea that nine men were actually required is ridiculous. [Bit of a personal sideline: my day job currently involves laying 12-foot tablecloths, and I carry as many as I need on one arm.]
Markwardt goes on to complain that mediaevalists have not attempted to explain:
Q. “Why a church, monastery, or cathedral would have commissioned the manufacture of a cloth so poorly suited for use as a stage prop…”
A. Any church choosing to use a prop (and there were hundreds – see above) would have had to get one from somewhere. The Shroud is ideally suited as a stage-prop, being sturdily made, long and thin, so as to be easy to hold out in front of an altar, and imaged to give the impression of being a shroud. Exactly the opposite of an actual shroud, in fact.
Q. “Why they would’ve paid the exorbitant costs incidental to manufacturing and imaging a cloth…”
A. The cloth itself was quite expensive to set up and the thread very fine, but not excessively so for a large church. The image was not expensive at all, being created from readily-available material by an in-house craftsman.
Q. “Why there is no record of any similar cloth having been commissioned for such use…”
A. This is one of the enduring mysteries of medieval painted textiles. From numerous inventories, wills and accounts of decorations of all kinds, it is clear that ‘painted’ or ‘stained’ cloth was extremely common throughout Europe, and throughout the Middle Ages. Scarcely a handful remain. Somewhere among the historical documents, there may yet be found something more explicit than the “aulter cloth’ Mked wt sylke, in the Middis or lorde beyng in the sepulcre, in lenth’e iiij elles & qt” (i.e. a fourteen-foot cloth with an image of the dead Christ on it), already discovered; the fact that I haven’t found one yet does not prove, or even indicate, that no such cloth existed.4
Q. “How a former stage prop shroud, even one that had been displayed in an enclosed monastery, could possibly have been later successfully passed off as Jesus’ authentic burial linen…”
A: It wasn’t successfully passed off as Jesus’ authentic burial linen for very long. If d’Arcis is telling the truth that it was ever attempted to be so passed off, it was rapidly suppressed.
Q: “Why the Shroud’s former clerical owner would have remained silent as it was being presented to Christians as an authentic relic and credited with effectuating miraculous cures…”
A: Maybe he did, which is why Bishop Henri suppressed it. Or maybe he didn’t hear about it. The reason would be interesting, but is hardly diagnostic.
Q: “Why the Shroud’s use as a stage prop was discontinued…”
A: Maybe the image had deteriorated, or the church changed its liturgy. The reason would be interesting, but is hardly diagnostic.
Q: “Why in the world a former stage prop would have been given to Geoffrey de Charny or the Lirey dean…”
A: I think at this point the words “stage prop” are inappropriate. A crucifix, from the Quem Quaeritis point of view, is also a stage prop. The Shroud may have had pedagogic value, or a symbolic value, or the image could have been washed off completely (perhaps that was tried) and the cloth used as an altar cloth. The reason would be interesting, but is hardly diagnostic.
None of this is particularly relevant, of course. Markwardt’s point is that I cannot unequivocally demonstrate a medieval provenance for the Shroud from historical documents, and that therefore, the medieval hypothesis must be discarded. He’s quite wrong. I have never claimed to prove a particular provenance, and have always said that what I am seeking is a context. Eventually, if I’m lucky, as the hole in the contextual evidence gets smaller and smaller, it may become so Shroud-shaped that it constitutes provenance, but I’m well aware that I’m not there yet. In order to stop this happening, Markwardt will have to do better than show me, or his readers, the hole. We know it all too well. We do not know where, or when, or why, or how, the Shroud was made. We can, however, provide plenty of possible answers, and evidence to support those possibilities. More definitive evidence is missing, but then, in this field, absence of evidence really isn’t evidence of absence.
“The historical record is totally silent,” says Markwardt, regarding any factory capable of manufacturing a fourteen-foot cloth with a three-to-one herringbone weave during the 13th or 14th century.” On the other hand the historical record is full of records of fourteen-foot cloths woven in diaper, which is very similar. The existence of the cloths presupposes the existence of places where they were made.4
“The historical record is totally silent,” says Markwardt, regarding any method, artist, or craftsman capable of producing the Shroud’s image during the thirteenth or fourteenth century.” No, it isn’t. There are several artist’s compendiums, such as Cennino Cennini’s ‘Libro dell’Arte,’ or the 30 recipes for “steyning” in MS34 Add. in Gloucester Cathedral Library, many of which could produce the subtle monochrome colouration of the Shroud.5
All this being so, I couldn’t disagree more with Markwardt’s summation: “Clearly, the varying, and oft-conflicting, speculations of Mediaevalists neither constitute historical evidence upon which a hypothesis can be sufficiently based, nor do they satisfactorily answer why, when, where, by whom, and how the Shroud was manufactured and between 1260 and 1320, nor do they provide the Shroud with a viable history between its medieval manufacturer and its public exhibition.”
I think he has the start the wrong way round. No speculations constitute evidence; it is the historical evidence that provides ample grounds for speculation. Being speculations, they are not definitive, but they do provide satisfactory possible answers to all the questions he poses. We know of the Quem Quaeritis rite and the ‘stage-prop’ Shrouds, we know of long cloths, of steyned cloths, and of numerous possible recipes for steyning them. We know that for a hundred years, nobody thought of the Shroud as anything but cunningly depicted. We know that it first appeared without provenance, and without sanction, unlike all the other relics we know.
And we know that it radiocarbon dates to the late Middle Ages.
1 ‘The Medieval Hypothesis of the Shroud of Turin,’ Jack Markwardt,
Newsletter of the British Society for the Turin Shroud, Issue 99, 2024.
2 This document is reproduced in Promptuarium sacrarum antiquitatum Tricassinae dioecesis, page 422V, by Nicholas Camuzat, published in 1610.
4 See my “iiij elles & qt,” at medievalshroud.com/iiij-elles-qt/
5 See also Late medieval artists’ recipes books (14th-15th centuries) by Mark Clarke, Brepols Publishers, 2013.