_Part 1._
STITCHES.
Stitches in needlework correspond to the touches of the pencil or
brush in drawing or painting, or to the strokes of the chisel in
sculpture. The needle is the one implement of the craft by which
endless forms of surface-work are executed. With a thread through its
one eye, it blindly follows each effort of its pointed foot, urged by
the intelligent or mechanical hand grouping the stitches, which, being
long or short, single or mixed, slanting, upright, or crossed, are
selected as the best fitted for the design and purpose in hand. The
word "stitches" does not, however, in this chapter represent merely
the plural of one particular process of needle insertion, but the
produce and effect of each different kind of stitch by grouping and
repetition, according to its most ancient nomenclature. That which is
astonishing is the endless variety of surface, of design, of hints and
suggestions, of startling effects, and of lovely combinations,
resulting from the direction of the needle and manipulation of the
materials, and differing from each other according to the power or the
caprice of the worker. But the machine is always the same--the
threaded needle strikes the same interval, forming the "stitch."
This venerable implement, _the needle_, has, through the ages, varied
but little in form. The attenuated body, the sharp foot, the rounded
head, and the eye to hold the thread, are the same in principle,
whether it is found in the cave-man's grave, formed of a fish's bone
or shaped from that of a larger animal; hammered of the finest bronze,
as from Egypt, or of gold, like those found in Scandinavia. A bronze
needle was lately discovered in the tomb of a woman of the Vikings in
Scotland, and its value is shown by its being placed in a silver case.
Steel needles were first made in England in 1545, by a native of
India. His successor, Christopher Greening, established a workshop in
1560 at Long Crendon, in Bucks, which existed there as a needle
factory till quite lately. The rustic poetic drama, entitled "Gammer
Gurton's Needle," performed at Ch. Coll., Cambridge, in 1566, was a
regular comedy, of which a lost needle was the hero. In those days the
village needle was evidently still a rare and precious possession.
[Illustration: Fig. 20.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, Bronze needles from Egyptian tombs now in British
Museum. 6. Cave-man's needle from the Pinhole, Churchfield,
Ereswell Crag. 7. Bone needle from La Madeleine, Dordogne.]
The art of embroidery consists of a design, which includes the
pattern, and the handicraft or stitches--the "motive" and the
"needlework."
In painting, as in sculpture, the first idea, as well as the last
touch, must come from the same head and hand. But in needlework it is
not so. The pattern is the result of tradition. It is almost always
simply a variation of old forms, altered and renewed by surrounding
circumstances and sudden or gradual periods of change.
However much the design may alter, rising often to the highest point
of decorative art, and as often falling back to the lowest and most
meaningless repetitions and imitations, the _stitches_ themselves vary
but little. The same are to be found in Egyptian and Greek specimens,
and the classical names are those used by mediæval writers, and have
come down to us, "floating like bubbles on the waves of time."
Sir George Birdwood[317] thinks that every kind of stitch is found in
traditional Indian work. I confess that I have not been able hitherto
to trace any of the "mosaic" stitches to India, nor do we ever see
them in Chinese or Japanese embroidery, which shows every other
variety. They are, however, occasionally found in Egyptian work.
The following is a list of stitches, under the nomenclature of
classical, Roman and mediæval authors:--
Opus Phrygionium or Phrygium. Passing or metal thread work.
Opus Pulvinarium. Shrine or cushion work.
Opus Plumarium. Plumage or feather work.
Opus Consutum. Cut work.
Opus Araneum or Filatorium. Net or lace work.
Opus Pectineum. Tapestry or combed work.
Here are two English lists of stitches; their quaintness must be my
excuse for copying them. The first is from Taylor, the water-poet's
"Praise of the Needle" (sixteenth century):--
"Tent work, raised work, laid work, prest work,
Net work, most curious pearl or rare Italian cut work,
Fine fern stitch, finny stitch, new stitch, and chain stitch,
Brave bred stitch, fisher stitch, Irish stitch, and queen's stitch,
The Spanish stitch, rosemary stitch, and maw stitch,
The smarting whip stitch, back stitch, and the cross stitch.--
All these are good, and these we must allow,
And these are everywhere in practice now."
The second list is from Rees' "Cyclopædia" (Stitches), 1819:--
"Spanish stitch,
Tent stitch on the finger,
Tent stitch in the tent or frame,
Irish stitch,
Fore stitch,
Gold stitch,
Twist stitch,
Fern stitch,
Broad stitch,
Rosemary stitch,
Chip stitch,
Raised work,
Geneva work,
Cut work,
Laid work,
Back stitch,
Queen's stitch,
Satin stitch,
Finny stitch,
Chain stitch,
Fisher's stitch,
Bow stitch,
Cross stitch,
Needlework purl,
Virgin's device,
Open cut work,
Stitch work,
Through stitch,
Rock work,
Net work, and
Lent work.
"All which are swete manners of work wroughte by the
needle with silke of all natures, purls, wyres, and weft
or foreign bread ('braid'), etc., etc."
_Part 2._
PLAIN WORK AND WHITE WORK.
We are told that the primal man and woman sewed in Paradise.
To "sew," in contradistinction to the word to "embroider," is derived
from the Sanskrit _su_, _suchi_, and thence imported into Latin,
_suo_.[318] To prove how highly esteemed needlework was among the
Romans, I may mention that the equivalent of the phrase "to hit the
right nail on the head" was _rem acu tangere_, "to touch the question
with the point of the needle."
"Plain work" is that which is necessary. As soon as textiles are
needed for covering and clothing, the means are invented for drawing
the cut edges together, and for preventing the fraying where the
material is lacerated by the shaping process. Hence the "seam," the
"hem," and all the forms of stitches that bind and plait. These
necessary stitches constitute plain needlework, and are closely
followed by decorative stitches, which in gradation cover the space
between plain needlework and embroidery.
Semper has given us his archæological theories for the origin of
needlework and its stitches.
These are his arguments, if not always his words. He says: "The seam
is one of the first human successful efforts to conquer
difficulties."[319]
A string, a ribbon, a band, may serve to keep together several loose
things; but by means of the seam, small things actually become large
ones. For example: a full-grown man can, by its help, cover himself
with a garment made of the skins of many small animals. When Eve sewed
fig-leaves together, she made of these small pieces a garment of
patchwork.
Acting on the principle of making a virtue of necessity, accepting and
adorning the severe facts of life, seams came to be an important
vehicle of ornament. The Gauls and Britons embroidered the seams of
their fur garments. "We may judge of the antiquity of the seam by its
universal and mythological meaning. The seam, the tie, the knot, the
plait, and the mesh are the earliest symbols of fate uniting
events."[320]
We find but little mention of plain work in mediæval writings. When
linen was worked for some honourable purpose, such as a gift to a
friend or a royal personage, it was generally embroidered or stitched
in some fancy fashion. Queen Elizabeth presented Edward VI., on his
second birthday, with a smock made by herself. Fine linen was about
this time constantly edged with bone laces.
Mrs. Floyer has written so well, and given us so much practical
information on plain needlework, that I feel it unnecessary to enter
at any length into the principles of plain sewing, as my theme is
needlework as decorative art.
Mrs. Floyer has, as it were, unpicked and unravelled every stitch in
plain work, till she has discovered and laid bare its intention, its
construction, and effect. She, has also given us rules made clear to
the dullest understanding, instructing us how to teach the young and
ignorant. She shows us the quickest and most perfect way of working
different materials for different purposes, and tells us how to select
them. I will, therefore, refer my readers to her most useful and
instructive books,[321] and pass on at once from the craft of plain
needlework, to stitches as the art of embroidery.
The link between plain and decorative work deserves attention. This
link is "white embroidery." I imagine it was not a very ancient form
of the art, and was practised first in mediæval days; when we begin to
have constant notices of it. The first white laces appear to have
followed close upon the first white embroideries.
There is a tomb of the fourteenth century in the Church of the Ara
Cœli at Rome, where the effigy of a knight lies on his bed, draped
with a sheet and a coverlet, both embroidered. These are evidently of
linen worked in white.[322] I give a drawing of them in illustration
(pl. 39).
From that date we find continually mention of such work by nuns and
ladies.[323] In England it was especially called "nuns' work" (plate
42). There is a great survival of this stitchery in Italy amongst the
peasantry. They have always adorned their smocks and aprons, and their
linen head-coverings, and the borders of sheets for great occasions,
with patterns in "flat stitches," "cut stitches," and "drawn work."
The Greek peasants do the same. In Germany will be found much curious
white embroidery, of designs which show their antiquity; and from
Spain we get "Spanish work" in black, on white linen, which is nearly
allied to the stitches of white work.
[Illustration: Pl. 39.
Embroidery imitated in marble on the tomb of a knight, in the Church
of the Ara Cœli, Rome.]
Lord Arundel of Wardour possesses a linen cover for a tabernacle (or
else it is a processional cloak) which is of the purest
Hispano-Moorish design, and unrivalled in beauty. It is
embroidered in Spanish stitches in white thread, on the finest linen,
and is intersected with fine lace insertion (pl. 40). It is said to
have been found in the time of Elizabeth with some other articles in a
dry well; among them a little satin shoe, of which the shape proves
its date to be of the end of Henry VIII.'s reign. Russian embroidery,
consisting of geometrical patterns in red, blue, and black thread, is
of this class.
[Illustration: Pl. 40.
Processional Cloak, time of Henry VIII., belonging to Lord Arundel
of Wardour.]
In England alone, the peasantry do no white work for home use, and we
must suppose it has never been a domestic occupation. Indeed, the love
of the needle is by no means an English national tendency, in the
lower classes. Nothing but the plainest work is taught in our schools.
Anything approaching to decorative art, with us, has been the
accomplishment of educated women, and not the employment of leisure
moments in the houses of the poor.
Semper, in "Der Stil,"[324] gives rules for white embroidery, and the
reasons from which he deduces them are good. He says, that allowing it
as a maxim that each textile has its own uses and its own beauties, we
should place nothing on linen which would militate against its
inherent qualities and merits; and that, as the great beauty of flax
is its smoothness and purity, all projections and roughnesses should
be avoided which would catch dust or throw a shadow. Carrying out this
idea, it would appear that satin, and not lace stitches are therefore,
the most suitable for this kind of decoration. The accepted rule for
selecting the stitch for each piece of work is this: on stout grounds
the thread should be round and rich, whereas delicate materials carry
best the most refined and shining thread work; and in embroidering the
smooth surface of linen fabrics, the flattest stitches are the most
appropriate.
_Part 3._
OPUS PHRYGIUM (_or gold work_).
Gold embroideries were by the Romans attributed to the Phrygians. All
gold work was vaguely supposed to be theirs, as all other embroidery
was included in the craft of the Plumarii in Rome.
It has been disputed whether needlework in gold preceded the weaving
of flat gold or thread into stuffs, or whether it was an
after-thought, and an enrichment of such textiles. I imagine that the
embroidery was the first, and that the after-thought was the art of
weaving gold. Babylonian embroideries appear to be of gold wire, as we
see them in the Ninevite marbles.
An instance of the way golden embroideries were displayed among the
Greeks is that of the Athenian peplos, which, as I have already said
(p. 32), was worked by embroideresses under the superintendence of two
Arrhephoræ of noble birth. It was either scarlet or saffron colour,
and blazed with golden representations of the battles of the giants,
or local myths and events in the history of Athens.[325]
The art of the Phrygians, who gave their name in Rome to all golden
thread-work, has come down to us through the classic "auriphrygium"
and the "orphreys" of the Middle Ages. Semper thinks that the flat
gold embroidery was the first invented.[326]
The Phrygians had attained to the utmost perfection in tissue ornament
when the Romans conquered them, and finding their art congenial to the
growing luxury of Rome, they imported and domesticated it; both the
people and their work retaining their national designation. Pliny,
ignorant of the claims of the Chinese, gave to the Phrygians the
credit of being the inventors of all embroidery.[327] The garments
they thus decorated were called "phrygionæ," and the work itself "opus
Phrygium." The term "auriphrygium," at first given to work in gold
only, was in time applied to all embroidery that admitted gold into
its composition; and hence the English mediæval term, "orphreys."
All the gold stitches now called "passing" came from Phrygia; Semper
attributes all the "mosaic stitches" to the Phrygians, calling them
"opus Phrygionium."[328] Gold stitches are splendidly exemplified in
the embroidered mantle of St. Stephen, of the ninth century. The only
somewhat earlier piece of mediæval gold embroidery with which I am
acquainted is the dalmatic of Charlemagne in the Vatican, richly
embroidered in fine gold thread; and the mantle of the Emperor Henry
II. in the Museum at Munich, worked by his Empress Kunigunda, who
appears to have been somewhat parsimonious in her use of the precious
material.
Almost all ecclesiastical and royal ancient embroideries were
illuminated with golden grounds--golden outlines or golden flat
embroideries. Later still, raised gold thread work has imitated gilt
carvings or goldsmiths' jewellery; and we feel that it was at once
removed from its place as embroidery, and became an elaborate
imitation of what should belong to another craft.[329] Such
deviations from the proper office and motive of needlework are so
dangerously near to bad style and bad taste, that they always and
inevitably have fallen into disrepute.
_Part 4._
OPUS PULVINARIUM (_or cushion work_).
This "opus pulvinarium" is not only to be found in Oriental work, but
it has also survived in a very few fragments from Egypt.[330] One of
these, in the British Museum, is worked on canvas, in wool and flax;
another in a white shining thread, resembling asbestos, on linen or
fine canvas. They are regular "canvas" or "cross" stitches, and
therefore, under mediæval nomenclature, would be classed as "opus
pulvinarium." This name must include all stitches in gold, silk, and
wool, whether Phrygian, Egyptian, or Babylonian in their origin,
excepting the flat and lace stitches (plate 41).
[Illustration: Pl. 41.
MOSAIC STITCHES.
1. Italian Pattern, sixteenth century. From Frida Lipperheide's
Musterbuch. 2. Scandinavian. Bock, i. taf. xi. 3. Egyptian.
From Auberville's "Tissus," p. 1.]
Semper's term, "mosaic" stitches, is a good one, as it covers all that
are relegated into patterns in small square spaces, counted by the
threads of the textile on which they are laid.[331] He believes that
the mosaic patterns and cross stitches in needlework preceded the
tesselated pavements, and formed their first motive, though the stitch
now refers itself back to the mosaic, at least in name.
It is remarkable that in Chaldea and Assyria there still exist some
ruined walls, which are adorned with pilasters, panels, and other
architectural forms, covered with some sort of encaustic, imitating
textile patterns.[332] The effect is produced by means of a kind of
mosaic work of small nails or wedges of baked clay, with china or
glazed coloured heads. These are inlaid into the unbaked clay or
earth, of which the walls are constructed, and while binding it
together, give the effect of the surface being hung with a material
which has a pattern worked all over in cross stitch.
The Chinese, the Chaldeans, and the Assyrians long continued to show
in their buildings the tradition of this style of decoration. In Egypt
there has been found some unfinished mural painting where the plaster
has been previously prepared by dividing it into small rectangular
spaces, apparently on the principle of the canvas ground for cross
stitches.
The name "mosaic" stitch does not interfere with, or militate against
the classical appellation of _opus pulvinarium_, which means "shrine
work" or "cushion stitches." These appear to have been from the first
considered as the best suited for adorning cushions, chairs,
footstools, and the beds on which men reclined at their feasts, as
they are firmly-set stitches which will stand friction.
Most of the work now done in Syria, Turkey, Greece, and the
Principalities, shows different forms of the mosaic stitches; so also
does the national Russian work, which is Byzantine. All these designs
are conventional and mostly geometrical.
This work, in the East, is generally the same on both sides. We may
infer that the spoil anticipated by Sisera's mother, "the garments
embroidered on both sides, fit for the necks of those who divide the
spoil," was of this kind.
Thus we see that the "opus pulvinarium" has a very respectable
ancestry; and though it had somewhat degenerated in the early part of
our century, and had languished and almost died out under the name of
Berlin wool work, yet it has done good service through the days of
mediæval art down to the present time, both in England and throughout
Europe (pl. 42); and it will probably revive and continue to be
generally used.
Though the least available for historical or pictorial work, and not
by any means the best for flower-pieces (as the squareness of the
stitches refuses to lend itself to flowing lines or gradations of
colour, unless the stitches are extremely fine, and the work, in
consequence, very laborious), yet it finds its especial fitness in all
geometrical designs. It is also particularly well suited to heraldic
subjects.
A remarkable example of the use of cross stitches exists in the
borders of the Syon cope, in which the coats-of-arms are so executed.
This is of the thirteenth century; and besides these cushion stitches,
it exhibits all those which are grouped in the style called opus
Anglicum or Anglicanum.
[Illustration: Pl. 42.
Italian "Nun's Work," from a pyx cloth, sixteenth century.]
Many charming designs for this kind of stitch may be found in the old
German pattern-books of the Renaissance (Spitzen Musterbücher), and
also in those Venetian "Corone di Vertuose Donne" lately reprinted by
the Venetian publisher Organia. These are worthy of a place in every
library of art.
It would seem best to place the chain stitch named "tambour" in this
class, as it naturally assimilates with the plaited and cross
stitches. It is so called from the drum-shaped frame of the last
century in which it was usually worked.
_Part 5._
OPUS PLUMARIUM (_or plumage work_).
The "Opus Plumarium" is one of the most ancient groups, and includes
all flat stitches, of which the distinguishing mark is, that they
_pass_ each other, overlap, and blend together. "Stem," "twist,"
"Japanese stitch," and "long and short" or "embroidery stitch," belong
to this class, to which I propose to restore its original title of
plumage work.
The origin of the name is much disputed, but it is supposed to have
pointed to a decoration of plumage work, and we find that feathers
have been an element in artistic design from the earliest times. There
were patterns in Egyptian painting which certainly had feathers for
their motive (fig. 21, p. 208).
Semper, finding that birds'-skins were a recognized article for trade
in China, 2205 B.C.,[333] believes that they were used as onlaid
application for architectural decoration; and this is possible, for we
still obtain from thence specimens of work in different materials
partly onlaid in whole feathers, whereas sometimes the longer threads
of the feathers are woven by the needle into the ground web. In Her
Majesty's collection there are some specimens from Burmah--creatures
resembling sphinxes or deformed cherubim, executed in feathers,
applied on silk and outlined in gold. We have likewise from Burmah, in
the Indian Museum, two peacocks[334] similarly worked; the legs and
beaks are solidly raised in gold thread; and the outlines also are
raised in gold, giving the appearance of enamelling. The _cloisonné_
effect of brilliant colours, contrasted and enhanced by the separation
of the gold outlines, can be seen to perfection in specimens of the
beautiful Pekin jewellers' work, where the feathers are inlaid in gold
ornaments for the head and in the handles of fans. Nothing but gems
can be more resplendent.
[Illustration: Fig. 21.
Feather patterns, Egyptian.]
These survivals help us to understand the casual mention we find in
classical authors, of the works of the Plumarii, which appellation was
given at last to all embroiderers who were not Phrygians.[335]
We have other glimpses of Oriental feather-work in different parts of
India.[336]
The use of feathers is common in the islands of the Pacific. It is
native to the Sandwich islanders; and M. Jules Remy describes the
Hawaiian royal mantle, which was being constructed of yellow birds'
feathers through seven consecutive reigns, and was valued in Hawaii at
5,000,000 francs. A mantle of this description is the property of Lady
Brassey.
In Africa, ancient Egyptian art furnishes us with traditional feather
patterns and head-dresses; and Pigafetta tells us of costumes of
birds' skins, worn in the kingdom of Congo in the sixteenth century
for their warmth; sea-birds' feathers being highly esteemed.[337]
In America, where birds are most splendid, the art of the feather
worker was carried to the greatest perfection. It was found there by
the Spaniards, and recorded in all their writings for its beauty of
design and execution, and for its great value, equal to that of gold
and precious stones.
Though now looked down upon, as being a semi-barbarous style of
decoration, because it exists no longer except in semi-barbarous
countries, we must consider feather work as a relic of a past higher
civilization which has died out, rather than simply as the effort of
the savage to deck himself in the brightest colours attainable.
Feather-work is a lost art, but the name of "opus plumarium" remains,
and proves that it was still recognized as such in the days of Roman
luxury. The name survived when the practice was all but forgotten in
Europe,[338] and the art itself disused, probably, because the birds
of our continent rarely have any lovely plumage to tempt the eye.
But the glory of feather-work was found again in Mexico and Peru, and
the surrounding nations, in the sixteenth century--praised, exalted,
demoralized, and crushed out by the cruelties of conquest. The
Spaniards at first brought home beautiful garments and hangings,
representing gods and heroes, all worked in feathers.[339] Under their
rule the natives produced pictures agreeable to the taste of their
masters. Pope Sixtus V. accepted a head of St. Francis, which had been
executed by one of the ablest of the "amantecas" (the name for an
artist in feathers). Sixtus was struck with surprise and admiration at
the beauty and artistic cleverness of the work, and, until he had
touched and examined it closely, would not believe that plumage was
the only material used.
There are beautiful hangings and bed furniture at Moritzburg, near
Dresden, said to have belonged to Montezuma. They were given to
Augustus the Strong, King of Poland, by a king of Spain.
In the seventeenth century, and later, feather work was still an art
in Mexico, the convents continuing to preserve its traditions.
Bustamente says that this industry was still in operation in the
beginning of our century. The Mexican Museum preserves specimens of
the last three hundred years, from the time of the conquest of Mexico.
There is in the Cluny Museum, in Paris, a beautiful triptych,
evidently of the sixteenth century. It is worked in feathers, with
delicate outlines in fine gold thread. Nothing can exceed the
tenderness and harmony of the colouring in shades of blue, and warm
and cool brown tints. This is probably a survival of that lost art of
Mexico which was carried on in their convents, and may have been a
copy of a treasured relic of European art.
Among the few noteworthy specimens that have survived, is the mitre of
St. Carlo Borromeo at Milan, described by M. F. Denis as being both
artistic and beautiful. He tells us in his Appendix that even now, a
tissue of feathers is woven in France, as soft and flexible as a silk
damask; and rivalling the Mexican scarlet feather fabric, which the
Spaniards admired so greatly. He also speaks of the inlaid feather
work, invented by M. Le Normant of Rouen, in the last century, and
afterwards continued in Paris by his English pupil, Mr. Levet, who
sold two of his works to the then Duke of Leeds, in 1735. The first is
a vase of flowers, the second a peacock, designed by M. Oudry (peintre
du Roi). Both of these, framed as screens, are now at Hornby Castle.
Unfortunately feathers are, by their nature, most attractive to that
greatest destroyer, next to Attila--the moth. Ghirlandajo called
mosaic in marble and glass, "painting for eternity;" we may call
feather work, "painting for a day."
From the essays of M. Ferdinand Denis,[340] much may be learned of the
_arte plumaria_ of the Mexicans and their neighbours of Brazil,
Guatemala, Peru, and Yucatan, and the land of the Zapotecas, &c.,
where it was also cultivated. He says that their civilization is so
mysterious that we have as yet no means of judging whence came their
art.
Fergusson suggests the similarity between Central Asian and Central
American art, both in architectural forms and plastic and sculptured
remains. He thinks that its tradition was transmitted from Asia to
America in the third and fourth centuries of our era. If so, it was an
unlucky moment for the recipients, as the art of Asia, as well as that
of Europe, was then at its lowest and most debased phase; perhaps,
however, the more fit for the fertilization of that of a perfectly
barbarous people. There is something fascinating in the suggestions on
this subject in Mr. Donelly's "Atlantis;" but when conjecture is only
founded on tradition, and without proof, we must not take it into
serious consideration.
Having proved the universal use of feathers, it is not difficult to
appreciate the causes which suggested everywhere the transfer of this
decorative art to another craft, employing less perishable materials.
Embroidery probably followed it closely and absorbed it throughout
Asia and in Egypt; and the survivals now are only an accidental
specimen, a tradition, and a name.[341]
The name "Plumarii," for the embroideries, is thus fully accounted
for, and we need seek no further elucidation. It was commonly used in
classical Roman times. "Opus plumarium" seems to have become the
legitimate term for all needlework. The Plumarii were the
embroiderers, whether their work was in wool, or thread, or in silk
(at a later period),[342] with or without admixture of gold or silver
(as the Argentarii were the jewellers).
The article on the word "plumarius" in Hoffman's Lexicon,[343] after
describing two kinds of Plumarii, Phrygians and Babylonians, proceeds
to say, "These latter, who wove garments and hangings of various
colours, were called 'Plumarii;' but though this name was at first
confined to craftsmen who wove patterns in the shape of feathers, in
course of time the name was extended to those artists who, with the
needle or by painting, embellished robes."[344]
The "opus plumarium" included, as I before said, all flat stitches;
and I repeat that "feather application" was certainly its first
motive; and next came the stitches that conveyed the same desired
effect, though a new material was employed, fitted for the needle,
which, having served its apprenticeship in "plain work," now came to
the front as a decorative agent.
Painting with the needle began with an attempt to model with it; the
lay of stitches being so arranged as to give the whole effect of
light and shadow, so as to delineate the forms without changing the
shades of the material used. I give on the opposite page some Japanese
birds, which will explain what I mean. The stitches are so
intelligently placed as absolutely to give the forms of the birds
imitated. They represent plumage, and a more artistic representation
cannot be imagined. (Pl. 43.)
The same stitch which we find prevailing in China and Japan as plumage
work, is employed in embroidering flowers. Here satin, stem, and
plumage stitches are blended together, and excellent decorative
effects are produced; but the texture of flowers is not to be
imitated, as is that of the plumage of birds. "Satin" stitch is a more
restricted form of plumage stitch; and "stem" is another variety of
these flat stitches, very useful in its place. I therefore have
assigned the name of "plumage stitch" to that hitherto called
"embroidery" or "long and short" stitches; and I give the term
"plumage work" to include all the "flat" stitches.
Practically, it is allowed that these flat stitches, especially the
plumage stitch, give most scope for freedom in needlework, as they are
laid on at once, and according to the inspiration of the worker, and
may cover the outline and efface it. The stitches are not counted, and
have more of the nature of touch than any others, as their length,
thickness, and closeness may be varied at will. The artist's design
thus admits of interpretation according to the taste and feeling of
the needlewoman.
[Illustration: Pl. 43.
Japanese Opus Plumarium.]
_Part 6._
OPUS CONSUTUM (_or cut work_).
This is "Patchwork," or "Appliqué" ("inlaid" and "onlaid"). Vasari
calls it "Di commesso," and says that Botticelli invented it for the
use of Church banners, as being much more effective than any other
style of work, or even than painting, as the outlines remained firm
(non si stinguano), and were not affected by the weather (as in
painted cloths) and were visible on both sides of the banner.
Botticelli drew with his own hand the baldachino of Or San Michele,
and the embroideries on a frieze carried in procession by the monks of
Santa Maria Novella; he died 1515. Perhaps he may have revived the art
of application in his own day.
There are, however, much earlier examples of patchwork, of which the
first and most remarkable is the Egyptian funeral tent of Queen
Isi-em-Kheb, mother-in-law of Shishak, who besieged and took Jerusalem
three or four years after the death of Solomon, B.C. 980. It may be
described as a mosaic, or patchwork of prodigious size, made of
thousands of pieces of gazelles' skins, dyed, and neatly sewn together
with threads of colour to match, resembling the stitching of a glove,
the outer edges bound with a cord of twisted pink leather, sewn on
with stout pink thread (pl. 44). The colours are described as being
wonderfully preserved, when it is remembered that they are nearly as
old as the Trojan War; though perhaps their preservation is less
surprising than that the flowers wreathed about several royal mummies
of the same period should have shown their colours and forms when the
cases were first opened, so as to be recognized as blue larkspur,
yellow mimosa, and a red Abyssinian flower, massed closely together on
the foundation of a strong leaf cut in zigzags. Among the flowers lay
a dead wasp, whose worthless little form and identity were as
perfectly preserved as those of the mighty monarch on whose bosom it
had completed its short existence. The tent itself consists of a
centre or flat top, divided down the middle, and covered over one
half with pink and yellow rosettes on a blue ground; on the other half
are six large vultures, each surrounded with a hieroglyphic text which
is really an epitaph. The side flaps are adorned first with some
narrow bands of colour; then with a fringe pattern; then with a row of
broad panels, red, green, and yellow, with a device or picture and
inscription in the two other colours; on this border there are
kneeling gazelles, each with a pink Abyssinian lotus blossom hanging
to its collar. The rest of the side flaps and the whole of the front
and back flaps are composed of large squares, alternately pink and
green. This, for its antiquity, its style, its stitchery, materials,
and colours, is a most interesting work of early art, and an example
of the perfection to which it had attained. It is remarkable how much
variety of effect has been produced with only four colours, by the
artistic manner of placing and contrasting them. To our more advanced
taste, however, the whole effect of the contrasting colours is
inharmonious and gaudy, though certainly striking and typical.[345]
Another piece of Egyptian application, from the Museum at Turin, is a
pretty leaf pattern cut out in red stuff, laid on a white ground, and
worked down with a darker outline of the same colour.[346]
[Illustration: Fig. 22.
Piece of appliqué in red stuff and red outlines from Egypt.]
[Illustration: Pl. 44.
Funeral Tent of Isi-em-Kheb. From Villiers Stuart's "Funeral Tent
of an Egyptian Queen."]
We have an instance of ancient "application" of about 600 years
later, Greek in its beauty of design and execution. Alas! we can only
ascertain, from tattered fragments taken out of a tomb in the Crimea,
that it was parsemé with figures on horseback or in chariots. The
border is very beautiful. Compare the fragments of which we have
obtained a copy with the mantle of Demeter, from a Greek vase, and you
will perceive how the styles correspond (Pl. 16, Fig. 23). The ground
material is of the finest woven wool, of a deep violet or purple
colour, enriched with application of another fine woollen fabric of a
most brilliant green, worked down, outlined and embroidered in white,
black, and gold-coloured wool, apparently in stem stitches.[347] The
accompanying illustration gives the effect and general design of the
outer border only, in which the applied leaf is worked down in red,
gold, and white.
It is much to be regretted that the centre of the mantle is so
tattered and discoloured that it is impossible to do more than
ascertain that the design that is embroidered on it consists of
figures on horseback or in chariots, in spirited attitudes. The second
and broader border is to be found (pl. 17).
[Illustration: Fig. 23.
Narrow border of a Greek mantle.]
"Opus consutum" cannot in any sense perhaps be the name of a stitch or
stitches. But it applies to a peculiar style of embroidery employing
certain stitches. It is the term given to all work cut out of plain or
embroidered materials, and applied by "working down" to another
material as grounding. It includes all raised and stuffed application
in silk, woollen, and metal thread work. It has been given to all work
in which the scissors are active agents, whether in cutting out the
outlines or in incising the pattern, as in much of the linen and
muslin embroideries of our day, now called "Madeira work," of which a
great deal was made in the first part of the century by English ladies
who designed and collected patterns from each other, and gave the
produce of their industry as gifts to their friends for collars,
cuffs, and trimmings.[348]
"Cut work" is named by Chaucer, and is constantly to be found in
inventories from his time to the beginning of the last century. At
Coire, in the Grisons, is a very beautiful chasuble, of which the
orphrey is of the school of the elder Holbein or Lucas Cranach,
applied and raised so as to form a high relief. The figures are
covered with satin and embroidered. The chasuble itself is of fine
Saracenic silk, woven with golden inscriptions in broad stripes. The
colours are brown, crimson, and gold.
[Illustration: Wall Pilasters
Appliqué Cut work, Italian XVI. Cent^ry
Property of Countess Somers]
In the later Middle Ages, a good deal of this work was executed in
Germany for wall hangings; figures were cut out in different
materials, and embroidered down and finished by putting in the details
in various stitches. As art they are generally a failure, being more
gaudy than beautiful. This, however, is not necessarily the case, for
there is at the Hotel Cluny a complete suite of hangings of the time
of Francis the First, partly applied and partly embroidered, which
are beautiful in design and colouring, especially the fruit and
trophies in the borders.
In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries cut work was much employed
in Italy for large flowered arabesque designs, commonly in velvet or
silk, making columnar wall hangings, which are often very effective;
giving the rooms an architectural decoration, without interfering with
the arrangement of works of art, pictures, statues and cabinets,
placed in front of them. Besides, it was supposed that the utmost
effect of richness was thus accomplished with the least labour, and
very large spaces and very high walls covered, without losing anything
of beauty by distance, as must be the case when the work's highest
merit is in the delicacy of the stitches and the details of form. (Pl.
45.)
The Earl of Beauchamp has inherited a most beautiful suite of hangings
of "appliqué work;" silks of many kinds are laid on a white brocade
ground with every possible variety of stitch, forming richly and
gracefully designed patterns; and showing to what cut work can aspire.
A great deal of "opus consutum" has been done in the School of Art
Needlework, in the way of restoration of old embroideries. Here may be
seen copies of different models of many periods; amongst other British
specimens, part of a bed at Drumlanrig, in which James I. slept. In
this work the application is cut out, raised and stuffed, and
"couched" with cords, and the whole thing is as stiff, strong,
conventional, and enduring as if it were a piece of upholstery that
was carpentered yesterday, instead of being needlework of at least 250
years ago.
One of the most remarkable large works of this style that exists was
shown in 1881, at the South Kensington Museum, during the Spanish
Exhibition.[349] It was of the kind called "on the stamp." This was a
landscape seen between columns wreathed with flowers and creepers. In
the foreground couched a stag, the size of life--a wonderful
reproduction of the hide of the creature in stitches. The relief is so
high that the columns appear to be circular by the shadows they throw;
and the stag is stuffed so as to be raised about six inches. The work
is superb, and causes pleasure as well as wonder; and yet, in spite of
the beauty of the design, and the richness of the materials--gold,
silver, silk, and wool profusely used--it is a divergence from the
legitimate art of embroidery, and is simply the attempt of the
needlewoman to combine again the arts of sculpture and painting with
the help of so inadequate an implement as the needle. Therefore,
except as being a marvellous and beautiful curiosity, it is a failure;
it is not art.[350]
Practically, cut work is the best mode of arriving at splendid effects
by uniting rich and varied tissues.[351] The Italian curiosity vendors
know this well, and often cut up the remnants and rags of rich stuffs,
old faded silks, and scraps of gold and silver tissues, and with them
copy fine old designs, and sell them as authentic specimens of such
and such a date.
I was once requested to give an opinion as to the date of a curtain
border bought in Italy, and on consideration I gave the following
verdict: "The design is of the sixteenth century; the applied velvet
and gold cord, of the seventeenth century; the brocaded silk ground,
eighteenth century; the thread with which the whole was
worked--machine-made silk thread (English)--middle of nineteenth
century." The whole effect was excellent, and very antique.
This art of "application" is the distinctive part of the "opus
consutum," and it is the best and most economical method for
restoration of old embroideries, of which the grounding material is
generally worn out long before the stitches laid upon it. Much
beautiful work has thus been rescued from annihilation, and restored
to use from its long imprisonment in the boxes and drawers of the
garret and store-room. But it is cruel to transfer historical or
typical works, and so puzzle the artist and the historian.
It is so troublesome to embroider on velvet or plush, or gold tissues,
that application is the easiest and most effective mode of dealing
with these fabrics.[352] The outlines laid down in cord have the best
effect, while binding the edges and securing them from fraying, and it
is almost certain that the eye receives most pleasure, in flat art,
from a defined outline, which satisfies it; where there are no cast
shadows, it lifts the work from the background, and separating the
colours, it enhances their beauty. It would appear, however, as a
rule, that either black or gold metal should invariably be employed,
because they do not interfere with any colour they approach. White is
distracting and aggressive. The Greeks sometimes used gold colour
instead of gold, as we see in the mantle from the Crimea already
referred to; but this is not nearly so agreeable to the eye as pure
gold.
A great deal of modern "opus consutum," or application cut work, has
been done in Constantinople of late years. The designs in general, are
not artistic; nor are the colouring and materials very commendable.
The onlaid material is, in general, sewn down with chain stitches, and
cut out afterwards.
_Part 7._
LACE.--OPUS FILATORIUM OR ARANEUM.
Mrs. Palliser says that from the earliest times the art of lace-making
has been so mixed up with that of needlework, that it is impossible to
enter upon the one without naming the other. This is, in fact, what
she has done, showing the intimate connection between the two in her
charming work on lace, where much information about embroideries in
general, may be found in the introduction.[353]
M. Blanc also considers that there is but a slight transition between
embroidery and guipure, which he says was the first lace.[354] As all
the earliest specimens and designs for guipure were Venetian, the art
was, therefore, probably an Italian invention, though an Oriental
origin has sometimes been attributed to it. The objection to this last
theory is that we find no ancient specimens, and no modern
continuation of such work in the East.
The word "guipure" is a stumbling-block. It has been applied to many
forms in the varying art of lace-making; which same variableness has
caused its nomenclature to assume the terms belonging to other textile
arts where they approach or touch each other, (as in netting, fringes,
or embroideries). The nearest approach to laces before the thirteenth
century was more in the nature of what we now call guimp.[355]
Embroidery differs from lace, in that it is worked on already woven
tissues; whereas lace is manufactured at once, both ground and
design.[356] But the link between the two is not missing.
In the twelfth century they worked "opus filatorium," which consisted
of embroidery with the needle on linen, of which half the threads had
been drawn out, and the remainder were worked into a net by knotting
them into groups, then dividing, and knotting them again.[357] There
is a piece of work described in an old catalogue quoted by Rock. "St.
Paul's, London, had a cushion covered with knotted thread: Pulvinar
copertum de albo filo nodato." Here lace and embroidery touch each
other.[358] Sir Gardiner Wilkinson notices some early Egyptian work in
the Louvre as "a piece of white network pattern, each mesh containing
an irregular cubic figure." This sounds much like lace-work.
It may be fairly asserted that the term "embroidery" embraces the
craft of lace-making, as almost all ancient and much modern lace is
simple embroidery, and formed entirely by the needle.
Some kinds of lace, however, are made by plaiting and twisting the
threads attached to bobbins round pins which are previously arranged
in the holes of a pattern, pricked on parchment or glazed paper.[359]
The original motive and idea of lace is a net. The patterns called by
the ancients "de fundata," are netted designs meshed. You will see
them constantly in Egyptian and Greek art, both in wall painting and
textile decoration. Homer speaks of golden cauls, and so does
Isaiah,[360] as adorning women's heads. They also mention nets of
flax.
The capitals of the brazen columns adorned with "nets of chequer work"
in Solomon's Temple are very curious.[361] And the author of "Letters
from Italy, 1776," tells of the garment of a statue at Portici, edged
with a border resembling fine netting. Egyptian robes of state appear
to have been sometimes trimmed with an edging of a texture between
lace and fringe.[362]
Lace has been made of many materials in many ways. We may instance
"passementerie," made with bobbins (bone lace), with or without pins,
or with the needle only, by hand. The materials have been gold,
silver, silk, thread (these two last white or coloured), the fibres of
plants, and human hair.[363] A lace called "yak" is made of wool or
hair.
Bone laces in gold and silver, or the two mixed and interchanged, are
continually mentioned in the inventories of the fifteenth, sixteenth,
and seventeenth centuries. Bed hangings, chair and cushion covers, and
table cloths were constantly trimmed with gold and silver bone lace,
and fringes of the same.[364] Laces in coloured silks were made in
Spain and the Balearic Isles late in the last century.[365]
In 1542, a sumptuary law was passed in Venice, forbidding the metal
laces embroidered in silk to be wider than "due dita," i.e. about two
inches. This paternal interference in the details of life is truly
Venetian. It was intended to "protect the nobles and citizens from
injuring themselves and setting a bad example."
Perhaps this strict rule was relaxed in favour of crowned heads and
royal personages; for there is at Ashridge, among the relics of Queen
Elizabeth's enforced visit, a toilet-cover of red and gold striped
silk, with a trimming of lace, four inches broad, of Venice gold and
silver lace embroidered in coloured silk. Specimens of these laces are
rare, owing to the intrinsic value of the metal. We must suppose the
origin of these golden trimmings to belong to a very early period. A
piece of gold wire lace guimp was lately found in a tomb near Wareham,
and is supposed, with reason, to be Scandinavian.[366]
M. Blanc describes lace as a "treillage" or network, and says it is
made in three ways. You may complete the ground first, and then work
the pattern with the needle. This he calls lace "pure et simple;" and
he considers that it differs from guipure in that the latter consists
of flowers and arabesques worked separately, and then connected with
bars, lines, or meshes. This guipure is the second mode of
lace-making.[367] The third is by machinery; but this has the inherent
defect of all machine-made fabrics, to a practised eye; i.e. a certain
rigidity and coldness in the exactly repeated forms, in which the
human touch is wanting. It is curious how in art, even a "pentimento"
is valuable, recalling the hand that erred as well as created; the
attention that strayed, or reconsidered the design.[368]
M. Blanc, speaking of the beauty of point d'Alençon, praises it
especially as being entirely needlework. He names the different modes
of lace-making, and judges their merits. Of needle-made lace he says:
"And the value of this lace not only arises from its representing a
considerable amount of labour, but also because nothing can replace in
human estimation the fabrics produced by a man's, and still less by a
woman's handicraft. However the hand may have been restrained by the
necessity of faithfully following, on green parchment, the designs
imagined and traced by another person, there is always, even in
copying an outline, an individuality, an imperceptible deviation to
the right or to the left, above or below the tracing, which impresses
on the design the accent of strength or weakness, of indecision or
determination."[369] I would add, of intelligence or stupidity; of
knowledge or ignorance.
This is not the first time, and will certainly not be the last, that I
shall have sought to impress on the needlewoman the fact that her
individuality cannot fail to be strongly marked in her work; and I
would urge her to carry out the suggestions that her experience and
her taste afford her, while seeking to render faithfully the original
motive of the designer. In lace-making, as in all art, the interest
and the life, as it were, is imparted to each specimen by the
attention and thought bestowed upon it.
Mrs. Palliser shows us, by her beautiful illustrations, how much
variety may be given to designs for lace-making, which have changed
with each period of contemporary art, and are markedly distinctive of
their nationalities.
Mr. A. Cole's lectures on lace, his volume of photographs, and M.
Seguin's valuable work, are full of information.
M. Urbani de Gheltof's "Technical History of Venetian Laces,"
translated into English by Lady Layard, is a beautiful little book and
a worthy imitation of the ancient lace-books of the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries.[370]
The subject has been so thoroughly discussed by adepts in connection
with its revival as a local industry in its original cradle, that I
will confine myself to a few observations on its history and its place
in decorative art.
Fringes, Knotting, Netting, Knitting, Crochet, Tatting, and
Lace-making, are all parts of the same branch of ornamental
needlework. They are all "trimmings," in the sense of being decorative
edges to more solid materials. They are not available as coverings for
warmth or decency; but they serve to give the grace of mystery to the
object they drape or veil. They soften the outlines and the colours
beneath them, while they permit them to peep through their meshes.
They are hardly to be included in what is called high art, having more
affinity with grace, refinement and coquetry, than with æsthetic
culture or noble thought.
This tendency in lace work may be the reason that the masculine mind
does not, in general, appreciate these lovely textures, but rather
despises them (even when the designs are beautiful and ingenious), as
being flimsy and deficient in honest intention; whereas women have
always greatly prized them for their delicacy and refinement, and
their great value, on account of the time, trouble, and eyesight
expended upon them. Their knowledge of stitches also enables them to
appreciate their variety, and the taste shown in their selection and
arrangement for carrying out each design.
Lace stitches are almost innumerable.[371] Upwards of a hundred are
named, and their variations are endless. But a volume would not
suffice us for entering into the details of the craft; many of its
stitches have been imported into embroideries in gold, silk, and
crewels; and such adaptations are always allowable, provided the
effect is good.
We have every reason to believe that the claims of Venice as the first
and original school of lace-making have been satisfactorily
proved.[372] Genoa, Florence, Milan, especially the last,[373]
followed suit. Germany, France,[374] and Spain soon started their
schools; but Lady Layard believes that Spain received all her
inspiration and the greater part of her laces from Venice, which
likewise sent teachers to France and to Brussels--or rather, we may
say, had many first-class workwomen decoyed from her manufactories to
assist in starting rival industries in other countries.[375]
The first pattern-books were printed in Venice in the sixteenth
century; and these "Corone di belle e virtuose donne," as they are
sometimes entitled,[376] were imitated in France and Germany.
Venice was proud of her industry, and of the noble ladies who fostered
it. It is recorded in the "Virtù in Giocco of Giovanna Palazzi" that
Giovanna Dandolo, or "la Dandola," (wife of the Doge Malapiero,) was
the first patroness of Venice laces. She also fostered the art of
printing in Venice, and is spoken of as a "principessa di gran'
spirito, ne di private fortune," and her memory is cherished in
connection with these proofs of her patriotism. We hear also that
Morosin or Marosin, wife of the Doge Marin Grimani, patronized
Venetian lace-making. Her forewoman, or _maestra_, was a certain
Cattina Gardin, and through her the art was settled at Burano, where
it has been so lately revived.
At the Cathedral of Burano, is kept in the sacristy, perhaps the
finest existing piece of artistic lace of the sixteenth century. It
contains many groups of figures from the history of our Lord,
beautiful both in design and execution, worked in "Punti Fogliami,"
and filled in with exquisite tracery. This was the border of an
antipendium.
Mrs. Palliser laments the extinction of the art in Venice, and says
that but one woman of the old craft had survived; but her elegy was
premature, as that old woman, by name Cencia Scarpariola, has lived to
see hundreds of girls at Burano reviving all the old traditions,
having learnt from her the secrets of the "mestiere," or "mystery."
Under the patronage of the Princess Margherita, now Queen of Italy,
and with the active help and superintendence of Countess Adriana
Marcello and Princess Giovanelli, most beautiful laces are now made in
every old point, French and Flemish, as well as Venetian. Pezzi,
merli, and merletti are executed in the different styles which include
all lace-making, and of which we here give a list from M. de Gheltof's
book:--
Net lace.
Cut lace.
Open lace.
Flowered lace.
Knotted lace.
Darning or square netting.
Venice point.
Burano point.
Drawn lace.[377]
Embroidered linen.[378]
The price of these laces is very high, but not beyond their value when
we consider the vast amount of skilled labour bestowed on them. We are
often told that old lace is cheaper than new, as an absurd fact,
because the antiquity of lace is supposed to add to its value. Yes,
but principally as an object of archæological interest; whereas that
which is being made now is supporting by its daily wage the
needlewoman and her family, and perhaps providing for her old age;
and as the strain on the eye is very heavy, many lace-workers early in
life lose their sight, at least for all the purposes of their
craft.[379] For these reasons we cannot say that the prices required
for such luxurious trimmings are unreasonable. Zanon da Udine gives us
an idea of how costly they were in old times. He says that Giuseppe
Berardi, a lace merchant in Venice, made a profit of 75,000 francs on
a commission for a set of lace bed-hangings for the wedding of Joseph
II., Emperor of Germany, which proves the high prices paid for the new
laces of their day.
Blond laces, which take their turn occasionally as fashionable
trimmings, veils, and Spanish mantillas, are so called from their
original Venetian name, "merletti biondi," pale laces. De Gheltof
derives this appellation from the celebrated collar of Louis Quatorze,
and fancies it was made of the fair hair of the workers; but this is
only vague conjecture. The term was applied in the seventeenth century
to laces in silk, gold, and silver--never to thread laces. I confess I
do not find the reason for the name, but accept De Gheltof's
information that it was given by the authority of the magistrates of
Mercanzia in 1759.
This is but a very slight sketch of the history of lace. Venice being
its birthplace, and likewise the busy scene of its rehabilitation, I
have lingered over its school, and left but little space for the
discussion of those of Spain, Flanders, Belgium, and France. But these
have been thoroughly investigated, and their individual merits are
well appreciated, both as antique and modern dress decoration.
I have already said that the lace schools in France were instituted by
Colbert, who placed one at Auxerre, under the especial care of his
brother, the bishop of that city. Louis Quatorze made it one of his
splendid caprices, and not only set the example, but forced the
fashion into this luxurious and extravagant channel.
In Spain, lace was made to look its best by being worn stretched over
the great hoops of the "Guard-Infante;" and the fashion spread all
over Europe. The white laces, resembling carved ivory or those in gold
and silver, which remind one of solid jewellers' work, when spread
over the surface of these fortified outworks, guarding from all
approach the persons of the Infantas of Spain, assume in the portraits
by Velasquez, a dignity which is in keeping with their value. The
splendid designs show brilliantly on a background of scarlet, rose
colour, or black silk; and that which, hanging loosely, looks only
tawdry and ragged, had a magnificent effect when thus displayed.
For ecclesiastical purposes, these grand solid laces seem most
appropriate, being effective in large spaces, and easily seen at a
distance, hanging over the edge of the altar, as a border to the linen
cloths, or finishing the white alb of the officiating priest.
One cannot but agree with M. Blanc, who points out that each piece of
lace had its intention, and that a fashionable ball-dress trimmed with
the edging of an antique altar-cloth in loops, is in false taste, to
say no worse of the misappropriation.
Though we have had no schools of lace in England (unless we can call
our imitative industries schools), we have samplers of the time of
Queen Elizabeth, and down to the middle of the last century, showing
that drawn lace and cut lace were regularly taught, probably as an
accomplishment, by Italians. The laces of Devonshire and the Isle of
Wight (called Honiton) form a group totally distinct from those of
Northamptonshire, Bedfordshire, and Oxfordshire, which last are very
simple cushion bobbin-laces.
From the sixteenth century English ladies have, for their amusement,
made cut laces. Still, we must confess we have no national style of
lace, and the only enduring ones have been those of France and
Belgium, which have always kept the lead since their establishment,
though fluctuating in design with the varying fashions of each epoch.
Perhaps the reason of their longevity is that they have followed
always the taste of their day. That of our time being decidedly
archæological, ancient patterns are now the most successful.
There is a kind of embroidery darned-work, called "Limerick lace,"
which is said to be only made in Ireland, and being partly
machine-made, is not pure lace, and therefore little esteemed. Very
fine thread laces have been produced at Irish work schools; but no
commercial result has followed. Clever imitations of Venice point have
come from Ireland lately, called "raised crochet." This is a novelty,
and it is extremely fine and beautiful work.
[Illustration: Pl. 46.
Egyptian "Gobelins," Woven and Embroidered.]
The Exhibition of Irish Lace in London (June, 1883), shows how
widespread have been the efforts of Irish ladies to employ the
peculiar genius of the sister island for delicate work with the
needle, which has always been shown in their beautiful embroideries on
muslin and cambric. It appears that every kind of lace, except,
perhaps, Brussels point, has been made in Ireland within the last 180
years; but as in each case the effort was always that of one
individual woman, the school fell away when she died.
The names of these ladies are now worthily recorded in the official
catalogue of the exhibition, with photographs of the specimens
produced under their superintendence and care. Perhaps a permanent
industry may crown, however late, their exertions to help the women of
Ireland.
_Part 8._
TAPESTRY--OPUS PECTINEUM.
It is necessary to define precisely what is meant by the word
"tapestry."[380] The term has been applied to all hangings, and so
caused confusion between those that are embroidered with a design, on
a plain or brocaded woven material, and those which are inwoven with
the design from the first.[381] This latter was called in classical
language, "opus pectineum," because it was woven with the help of a
comb (the "slay"),[382] to push the threads tight between each row of
stitches; and the individual stitches were put in with a sort of a
needle, or by the fingers only, and laid on the warp. It was thus
practised by the Egyptians, by the Persians, Indians, and Peruvians;
and in Egypt was often finished by embroidery. (Pl. 46.) In Egyptian
tombs we have evidence of their tapestry, from the mural paintings
representing men and women weaving pictures in upright looms. The
comb which served to push the threads together after the stitches were
laid in is sometimes found in the weaver's tomb.
We have, in the British Museum, pieces of "opus pectineum" from
Saccarah, in Egypt; and also fragments from a Peruvian tomb, of
barbarous design, but the weaving is equal to the Egyptian; and both
resemble the Gobelins weaving of to-day. Whence came the craft of the
Peruvians?
Tapestry is woven in two ways, by a high or by a low-warp loom
(_haute-lisse_ or _basse-lisse_), vertical or horizontal. The "slay"
is the implement which is peculiar to the craft. I shall not enter
into any description of the mode of working the looms, as this has
been thoroughly well done by masters of the art.[383] But I would call
attention to the Frontispiece, copied from a Greek vase, where
Penelope is portrayed sitting by her _haute-lisse_ frame. I also refer
the reader to the illustration from the Rheims tapestries, in which a
mediæval artist shows the Blessed Virgin weaving at one that is
horizontal or "basse-lisse." (Pl. 47.)
[Illustration: Pl. 47.
Portion of a Tapestry Hanging. Cathedral. Rheims. The Virgin weaves
and embroiders at a _basse-lisse_ frame.]
For the best information I have been able to obtain regarding tapestry
weaving, I must acknowledge my indebtedness to M. Albert Castel's
"Bibliothèque des Merveilles."[384] He has given great care to the
consideration of this subject, and has collected good evidences to
prove his conclusions, which I willingly accept _en bloc_. Of course
he has chiefly dealt with the French branch of the art, and with the
Flemish, from which it immediately descends. He begins, however, by
quoting Pliny, to prove the antiquity of weaving, and gives a verse of
Martial's to this effect: "Thou owest this work to the land of
Memphis, where the slay of the Nile has vanquished the needle of
Babylon."[385]
Homer makes Helen weave the story of the siege of Troy; this may have
been partly embroidered; and there are some pieces of woven tapestry
introduced most ingeniously into the web of a linen shirt or garment,
of which the sleeve is in the Egyptian department of the British
Museum, proving that figures were pictured by weaving quite as early
as the date of Troy, and unmistakably finished with the needle (Plate
18); at any rate, as early as the days of Homer. Arachne's web was
interwoven with figures. She and Minerva rivalled each other in
ingenious design and perfect execution. The description of the
beautiful hangings they wove, the glorious colours with their
tenderly graduated tints, and the graceful borders, appear to be
almost prophetic of the highest efforts of the looms of the
Gobelins.[386][387] Arachne's name is derived from the Hebrew word
for weaving, "Arag."
It appears that the town now called Arras, but anciently Nomenticum,
was always a centre of the trade of the weavers;[388] for Flavius
Vopiscus, writing in A.D. 282, says that thence came the Byrri--woven
cloaks with hoods, which were much in vogue amongst all classes in the
later Roman Empire. The craft of weaving, which flourished in the
Flemish and other adjacent countries, seems to have become native to
that soil, and to have clung to it, surviving many historical
cataclysms.[389]
Though in the fifth century the inhabitants of that country were
transported wholesale to Germany by the Vandals, and among them those
of the town of Arras, yet, thanks to the monasteries, there was a
survival and a revival; the craftsmen grouping themselves round the
religious houses. Specimens as models were brought from the East.
Aster, Bishop of Amasis (a town in Asiatic Turkey), describes these
Oriental hangings in one of his homilies. He says that animals and
scenes from the Bible were woven on white grounds.[390]