Lydia of Tyre: the first historical dyer

By Cheryl Kolander

Actually, the dyeworks was in Sidon, down the coast a bit. Situated next to a year-round stream, and right at the coast. This location gave access to unlimited sweet water for rinsing, and provided an inlet where the men could dock their dinghies laden with shellfish.

All this story hinges on a snail. A snail of the sea, its shell all curved into a conch, and in this case, with spines.

It is THE prototype of the ancient wind jewel symbol. From this elegant shell was extracted its simple creator: a humble slug. He only wanted to hide in that pretty shell, and munch seaweed all day.

Sad for him that deep inside his most secret part he makes a dye. A color he makes so nice and vibrant we call it Purple, which means “From The Sea”. All riches of men at this time in this place come from the sea.

Lydia did not begin her dyeworks. Her father had inherited it from his father, whom she barely knew as a stern and dour old man. Before that, the family’s claim to this bit of sea coast had been paid in Purple dyed cloth since before time existed in this land.

At that time the Murex, for so we call this sea snail, existed on the rocks, and was abundant. Easy pickings led to sloppy harvesting. With the introduction of money, greed drove people to over harvest. At Lydia’s time, the demand for Purple could only be met by dangerous dives by strong young men off boats, almost out of sight of land.

The men unloaded their net-fulls. Each snail was hand harvested. Now it would be hand crushed. The extracted meat was thrown into a large vat of rotting snail carcasses. Lydia’s dyeworks could boast vats that were centuries old, vats in great cauldrons of stone. Those old vats were heated, when needed to keep in check the odious ferment, by great rounded fire stones. These are specially selected hard stones, heated in a fire, then dropped into the liquid to make it boil.

The usual routine was to dye in the spring and autumn, when the air temperature is perfect on this Mediterranean coast. The ancient vats receive their new crop of dye, which is portioned out among them according to outstanding orders. Each vat is tended separately and each is adjusted to give a different nuance of Purple.

After a week of fermentation, some times only 5 days, its ready to dye. A grate is lowered into each vat to push down the undissolved bodies. In the clear liquid above, there is space to immerse the cloth.

For an even color it is necessary to constantly move the fabric. The dyer’s arms are stained purple. In that place at that time, this was a mark of distinction. Among the clans of workers, to have steady employ in the works of a dyer of the purple was like being maid to the Queen.

For Purple at that time was truly Royal Purple. Only the nobility of the Empire of Rome were allowed, by law, to wear this color. The Nobility of Rome included the great land owners, generals, politicians and wealthy families that grouped together to found, expand and then administer this empire. In an age when almost no one outside this patrician class could read, write, or sum beyond 10, some way had to be found to designate status. Style, and especially color of clothing is a universal world cultural mode of designating class.

In this case wearing of the Purple meant anyone and everyone had to feed you, shelter you and fully provide for you and your relatives, whilst traveling. To presume this position without authorization was punishable by death.

For Lydia it had been very hard to give up wearing this color. She had grown up with it. As a child she loved to stick her bare hands in the squishy goo. She liked the smell: It was warm and musky. It stayed on the cloth and made it smell so wonderful: like all the good food of the sea.

Especially she loved to watch the color turn. No one would think, when she took it out, that this pale and insipid yellow would soon turn radiant. She would watch it closely, even move out into the sun, but the exact change of that first clean cloth, from yellow to purple, she could never quite see. It didn’t change all at once. And it didn’t progress from yellow to orange to violet. No. It’s like parts, tiny patches, turned, flip flop from yellow to its opposite, while other tiny parts, still yellow, made the overall effect a lavendered beige.

All night it took, for the Purple to fully emerge. If a blue tone was wanted, the dyeing was done at the end of the night, most magically under a rising morning star. Then the color developed all day in full sun. This was the special blue color the Hebrews used to use in the sacred Taliths, the prayer shawl and all sacred cloths were specially woven with borders of this very special and sacred blue “Purple”.

The Romans put a stop to that. Indigo had to be substituted, as the Romans took complete monopoly of the shellfish purple trade. Lydia had to sell only to a Roman broker. She bristled that he, tho an underling, was allowed one thin band of Purple, woven into his toga. She was no longer allowed even to think about wearing it! Even though it was she herself who dyed it.

Of course she did not do the actual dye work anymore. She served her apprenticeship though. Her father was equally stern as her grandfather in that. Even though she was a woman. A female. A girl child. At the time women were considered to have “their sphere”. But many enterprises were run by women. Women had full equality in property rights so there was no barrier to her inheriting the Dyeworks, provided she could prove herself capable.

Lydia of Tyre was more than capable. She invented new colors and new ways of dying colors. Purple was the foundation of her reputation, but she exhibited a full range of colors with other dyes. She learned the secrets. Through her Roman contacts, and the ease with which Nobility traveled, she was
able to learn the secrets of dyers from other lands. She used Tin and other rare metals, where other dyers only knew of Alum. She added special roots- Madder-to her shellfish stew, and lime from the baked shells, to make a reddish hew.

Roman contacts she cultivated. Finally the wealthy man who would become her patron appeared. He had seen a cloth she had dyed, and become enchanted. “I must,” he declared, “see the Artist who developed this.”

Tyrian Purple is nothing if not life-filled. The color glows with richness. Never is it more scintillating then when dyed on silk. Lydia had dyed a thin silk, shining with the lustre only silk has. She had folded it and dyed it in such a way that part was blue Purple and part was reddish. Not only did the silk shimmer, the dye-work teased the eye with shifting patterns. In the folds’ depths it was almost black, on the highlights, a lavendered silver. Never had there been such a cloth.

Under her Noble Roman Patron, Lydia rapidly advanced. The dyeworks grew, added, expanded. She was glad to give work to so many of her countrymen, who suffered greatly under the oppressive and greedy hand of Rome.

She was sheltered from this. Not only was her dyeworks of utmost importance to Roman administration, being the only recognized badge of office, but she also had a powerful patron.

Jovial, they threw parties where Lydia made her trade connections. Her silk dyed Purple became the rage. Such silk now fetched more than its weight in gold. Those were the days, the decades passed. She could see the shellfish become more rare. Her patron died. But not before he arranged for her fondest wish: he obtained authority for Lydia to again wear her Purple.

Much had happened in her life. Much joy for her, much sorrow around her. She heard rumors of a Teacher in Jerusalem who preached a simple life: By now, her life had become more simple. Without an heir she had sold the dyeworks to a capable cousin, she had all she needed for the remainder of her life. She missed her former Patron and the discourses of his groups: philosophy, governance, religion. She liked to talk, people talked with her.

It happened rather suddenly. A friend of a friend: “could he stay with you a few days? He’s hurt, just shelter him a while; but don’t tell anyone, please?” Why did she even agree? Yet, in her privileged position she really didn’t think of potential consequences. “Of course, bring him in.”

In this way she met Paul. In this way she discoursed days with him, and many nights, till he mended, and went on his way.

Lydia became the foundation of one of the first congregations. Her house was the communal meeting place long after her death. Her Purples were sold, one by one, to support the teachings of the Prince of Peace. That input will be rewarded in the long run. That compassion and sharing can be the basis of community. That faith in good can make one feel whole and happy in life.

The Roman Empire lasted another 400 years, by that time all the Purple giving shellfish had been harvested. The Royal Purple Murex shellfish has been considered extinct since then.

Recently small colonies have been discovered and research is intense in Israel todiscover the secrets of its dye.

4 May 2006