[Flavius Magnus Aurelius Cassiodorus Senator, “Variae”, lib. I, ep. 2, 537-540 AD.]
Written by Cassiodorus in the name of King Theodoric to Theonius.
We are informed by Count Stephen that the work of preparing the purple for the sacred (i.e. royal) robes, which was put under your charge, has been interrupted through reprehensible negligence on your part. There must be neglect somewhere, or else the wool with its milk-white hairs would long before now have imbibed the precious quality of the adorable murex. If the diver in the waters of Hydruntum had sought for these murex-shells at the proper season, that Neptunian harvest, mixed with an abundant supply of water, would already have generated the flame-bright liquid which dyes the robes that adorn the throne. The colour of that dye is gay with too great beauty; 'tis a blushing obscurity, an ensanguined blackness, which distinguishes the wearer from all others, and makes it impossible for the human race not to know who is the king. It is marvellous that that substance after death should for so long a time exude an amount of gore which one would hardly find flowing from the wounds of a living creature. For even six months after they have been separated from the delights of the sea, these shell-fish are not offensive to the keenest nostrils, as if on purpose that that noble blood might inspire no disgust. Once this dye is imparted to the cloth, it remains there for ever; the tissue may be destroyed sooner than part with it. If the murex has not changed its quality, if the press (torcular) is still there to receive its one vintage, it must be the fault of the labourers that the dye is not forthcoming. What are they doing, all those crowds of sailors, those families of rustics? And you who bear the name of Count, and were exalted high over your fellow-citizens on purpose that you might attend to this very thing, what sacrilegious negligence is this which you are manifesting in reference to the sacred vesture? If you have any care for your own safety come at once with the purple, which you have hitherto been accustomed to render up every year. If not, if you think to mock us by delay, we shall send you not a constrainer but an avenger.
How easy was the discovery of this great branch of manufacture! A dog, keen with hunger, bounding along the Tyrian shore, crunched the shells which were cast up there. The purple gore dyed his jaws with a marvellous colour; and the men who saw it, after the sudden fashion of inventors, conceived the idea of making therewith a noble adornment for their kings. What Tyre is for the East, Hydruntum [Otranto] is for Italy—the great cloth-factory of Courts, not keeping its old art (merely), but ever transmitting new improvements.
