CHAPTER XI.

ENGLISH EMBROIDERY.

Through the preceding chapters I have tried to moderate my predominant

interest in our national school of needlework, seeking to place it in

its just position alongside of the coeval Continental schools.

However, the more I have seen of specimens at home and abroad, the

more I have become convinced of the great superiority of our

needlework in the Middle Ages. As information about our own art must

be valuable to us, I give a short account of English embroidery.

In England our art, like our language, is mixed. Our early history is

one of repeated conquest, and we can only observe where style has

flowed in from outside, or has formed itself by grafting upon the stem

full of vitality already planted and growing. It is interesting to

seek its root.

There is every reason to believe, from the evidence of the animal

remains of the Neolithic Age (including those of sheep), that they

came with their masters from the central plateau of Asia.

The overlap of the Asiatic civilizations over the barbarism of

Northern Europe shows that Assyria[555] as well as Egypt was a highly

organized empire, and the Mediterranean peoples far advanced in the

arts of life, while the Neolithic man survived and lingered in

Britain, France, and Scandinavia. Yet, even at that early period, the

craft of spinning and the use of the needle were practised by the

women of Britain.[556]

Our first glimpses of art may have come to us by Phœnician traders,

touching at the Scilly Islands and thence sailing to the coasts of

Cornwall and Ireland. From Ireland we have curious relics as witnesses

of their presence--amongst others, jewellery connected by, or pendant

from, "Trichinopoly" chains, similar to those dug out of Etruscan

tombs, and which were probably imported into Ireland as early as the

sixth century B.C.[557]

In the Bronze Age the chiefs and the rich men wore linen or woollen

homespun. Fragments of these have been found in the Scale House barrow

at Rylston, in Yorkshire. Dr. Rock says that an ancient Celtic barrow

was opened not long ago in Yorkshire, in which the body was wrapped in

plaited (not woven) woollen material.[558] Before this time the Cymri

in Britain probably wore plaited grass garments; they also sewed

together the skins of animals with bone needles.

Dyeing and weaving were well understood in Britain before the advent

of the Romans. Hemp and flax, however, though native to the soil, were

not employed by the early Britons. Linen perhaps came to us first

through the Phœnicians, and afterwards through the Celts, and was

naturalized here by the Romans.

Anderson ("Scotland in Early Christian Times") gives a high place to

the forms of pagan art which prevailed in the British Isles, before

the Roman civilization; and differing from and influencing that which

came from Scandinavia. We must certainly allow that it was art, and

that it contained no Greek or other classical element. His

illustrations explain and give great weight to his theories.

Cæsar invaded England forty-five years B.C.[559] The Romans gave us

Christianity and the rudiments of civilization, but their attempts to

Romanize us met with little success. Probably they imported their

luxuries, and removed all they valued at the time of their exodus.

From them we know what they found and what they left in Britain.

Boadicea, Queen of the Iceni, the day of her defeat wore a tartan

dress (polymita) and an "embroidered" or "fur" mantle; probably the

fur was inside, and the skins embroidered outside. Dion Cassius,[560]

who describes Boadicea's motley tunic, says that the bulk of the

people wore what was apparently a chequered tartan. Semper says that

the early tribes of Northern Europe, like the North American Indians

of the present time, embroidered their fur wraps. The Emperor

Honorius, in the fourth century, made it illegal for Roman nobles to

wear extravagantly-worked fur robes; perhaps the report of Boadicea's

dress had set the fashion in Rome.

During the first four centuries of our era, all art in Britain must

have come from our Roman masters; and owing to their neglect of the

people they conquered, we benefited little by their civilization.

All that we know of their decorative art in Britain, is that it was,

with few exceptions, chiefly of small bronze statues, somewhat crude

and colonial, as appears from the remains of their architecture,

sculpture, mosaics, and tombs.[561] Of their textiles we have no

relics, and hardly know of any recorded, if we except the works of the

Empress Helena. See p. 316, _ante_. We must remember that, as she was

a British princess, it is likely that she had learnt her art at home,

and therefore that the women of England were already embroiderers as

early as the beginning of the fourth century.[562]

On the departure of the Romans, chaos ensued, till the Britons, who

had called in the Saxons to help them, were by them driven into Wales,

Brittany, and Ireland, which last they Christianized; and mingled the

art of the Germans and Celts with that of the Danes and Norsemen[563];

all which may be traced in the Irish remains to be seen in the

College Museum at Dublin and elsewhere. From the time that England

became Anglo-Saxon, literature, law, and art began to crystallize; and

when, under Egbert, one kingdom was formed out of the heptarchy, order

and a sense of beauty were in the course of development. Then came the

invasion of the Danes (ninth century), who robbed, destroyed, and

arrested all artistic improvement, till Alfred got rid of them for a

time. Early in the seventh century the women of England had attained

great perfection in needlework. This appears from a passage in a poem

by Adhelme, Bishop of Sherborne. He speaks of their shuttles, "filled

not with purple only, but with various colours, moved here and there

among the thick spreading threads."[564] He had himself a robe "of a

most delicate thread of purple, adorned with black circles and

peacocks." This may or may not have been woven in England, but at that

time weaving, as well as needlework, was the delight and occupation of

the ladies of the court and of the cloistered nuns.[565] The thralls

(slaves or serfs) were employed in weaving in the houses of the

nobles, probably they embroidered also.

Mrs. Lawrence sees reason to believe that in the seventh century, silk

and fine linen were the materials for altar decorations, vestments,

and dress; whereas the hangings of the house were of coarse canvas

adorned with embroidery in thick worsted.[566] She says the term

"broiderie" was reserved for the delicate works on fine grounds, in

silk and gold and silver thread, and enrichments in metal work.

Precious stones and pearls had already been introduced into the

Byzantine and Romanesque designs imported from Greece and Rome.

The English Dominican Friar, Th. Stubbs, writing in the thirteenth

century, describes in his notice of St. Oswald a chasuble of

Anglo-Saxon work, which exactly resembles that of Aix.[567] This is

splendidly engraved in Von Bock's "Kleinodien" amongst the coronation

robes of the Emperors of Germany, and is adorned with the richest

golden orphreys, imitating jewellers' work, enriched with pearls and

silver bells.

There is an Icelandic Saga of the thirteenth century which relates the

history of Thorgunna, a woman from the Hebrides, who was taken to

Iceland on the first settlement of the country by Norway, A.D. 1000.

She employed witchery in her needlework, and her embroidered hangings

were coveted by, and proved fatal to, many persons after her death,

till one of her inheritors burned them.[568]

[Illustration: Pl. 71.

One of the ends of the Stole of St. Cuthbert at Durham, which

together bear the inscription, "Aelfled fieri precepit pio

Episcopo Fridestano."]

English ecclesiastical art did not necessarily keep to Christian

subjects; for it is recorded that King Wiglaf, of Mercia, gave to

Croyland Abbey his splendid coronation mantle and "velum;" and that

the latter was embroidered with scenes from the siege of Troy.[569]

[Illustration: Pl. 72.

St. John.

St. Roger.

Durham Embroideries, tenth century.]

It was probably on account of such derelictions from orthodox subjects

of design that in the eighth century the Council of Cloveshoe

admonished the convents for their frivolous embroideries.[570]

In the eighth century our English work in illuminations and

embroideries was finer than that of any Continental school; and

therefore, in view of the great advance of these secondary arts, we

may claim that we were then no longer outer barbarians, though our

only acknowledged superiority over Continental artists was in the

workrooms of our women and the cells of our religious houses.

During the terrible incursions of the Danes, and the many troubles

that accrued from these barbarous and idolatrous invaders, the

convents and monasteries, especially those of the order of St.

Benedict, kept the sacred flame of art burning.[571] Both monks and

nuns wrote, illuminated, painted, and embroidered. They evidently

continued their relations with foreign art, for it is difficult to say

at what period the Norman style began to be introduced into England.

It was the outcome of the Romanesque, and of this, different phases

must have come to us through the Danes and the Saxons.

I cannot but dwell on the early life and springtide of our Anglican

Christian art, which in many points preceded and surpassed that of

other northern nations, as we arose from that period commonly called

the Dark Ages. Ours was a gradual development, adding to itself from

outer sources new strength and grace. The better perfection of details

and patterns was succeeded by Anglo-Saxon ingenuity and refinement in

drawing the human figure. The art, which was native to England, may be

judged by the rare examples that we possess, and of which we may well

be proud; though we must remember with shame how much was destroyed at

the Reformation. Enough however, remains to prove that our English art

of illumination of the ninth, tenth and eleventh centuries was very

beautiful, and we are not surprised therefore to find in the

embroideries of that period grace and artistic feeling.

The stole and maniple of the Durham cathedral library, which bear the

inscription "Aelfled fieri precepit pio Episcopo Fridestano," are of

the most perfect style of Anglo-Saxon design; and the stitching of the

silk embroidery and of the gold grounding are of the utmost perfection

of needlework art (plates 71, 72).

The history of this embroidery is carefully elucidated by Dr. Raine in

his "Saint Cuthbert." He says that Frithestan was consecrated bishop

in 905, by command of Edward the Elder, son of Alfred the Great.

Aelfled was Edward the Second's queen. She ordered and gave an

embroidered stole and maniple to Frithestan. After her death, and that

of Edward, and of the Bishop of Winchester, Athelstan, then king, made

a progress to the north, and visiting the shrine of St. Cuthbert, at

Chester-le-Street, he bestowed on it many rich gifts, which are

solemnly enumerated in the MSS. Cott. Brit. Mus. Claud. D. iv. fol.

21-6. Among these are "one stole, with a maniple; one girdle, and two

bracelets of gold." That the stole and maniple are those worked for

Frithestan by the command of his mother-in-law, Aelfled, may fairly be

said to be proved. These embroideries, worked with her name and the

record of her act, were taken from the body of St. Cuthbert in

1827.[572]

[Illustration: Pl. 73.

St. Dunstan's Portrait of himself in adoration. From his Missal in

the Bodleian Library, Oxford.]

Another and earlier Aelfled was the widow of Brithnod, a famous

Northumbrian chieftain. She gave to the cathedral of Ely, where his

headless body lay buried, a large cloth, or hanging, on which she had

embroidered the heroic deeds of her husband. She was the ancestress of

a race of embroiderers, and their pedigree will be found in the

Appendix.[573] At this time a lady of the Queen of Scotland was famed

for her perfect skill in needlework, and the four daughters of Edward

the Elder were likewise celebrated embroiderers.

St. Dunstan, Archbishop of Canterbury, is said to have designed

needlework for a noble and pious lady, Aedelwyrme, to execute in gold

thread, A.D. 924.[574] He prepared and painted a drawing, and directed

her work.[575] I here give the portrait of our celebrated early

designer from the MS. in the Bodleian Library at Oxford, said to be

by his own hand, and which represents him kneeling at the feet of the

Saviour (plate 73).

Shortly before the Norman conquest, in the beginning of the eleventh

century, we have notices of sundry other very remarkable pieces of

work.

The Danish Queen Emma, daughter of Richard, Duke of Normandy, when she

was wife to Ethelred the Unready, and again during her second marriage

to Canute, gave the finest embroideries to various abbeys and

monasteries. Canute, being then a Christian, joined her in these

splendid votive offerings. To Romsey and Croyland they gave

altar-cloths which had been embroidered by his first queen,

Aelgitha,[576] and vestments covered with golden eagles. She worked

one altar-cloth on shot blood-red and green silk,[577] with golden

orphreys at the side and across the top. When one considers what the

life of poor Queen Emma was, one hopes that "Art the Consoler" came to

her in the form of her favourite craft, and that she did find

consolation in it.

Croyland Abbey seems to have been most splendidly endowed by the

Anglo-Saxon monarchs. There is continual mention in the records of

those times of offerings of embroideries and other Church apparels.

Queen Editha, the wife of the Confessor, dispensed beautiful works

from her own workrooms, and herself embroidered King Edward's

coronation mantle.

When in the eleventh century the Normans became our masters, they

found cathedrals, churches, and palaces which almost vied with their

own; likewise sculptures, illuminated books, embroidered hangings,

and vestments of surpassing beauty.

William of Poitou, Chaplain to William the Conqueror,[578] relates

that the Normans were as much struck on the Conqueror's return into

Normandy with the splendid embroidered garments of the Saxon nobles,

as with the beauty of the Saxon youth. Queen Matilda, who evidently

appreciated Anglo-Saxon work, left in her will, to the Abbey of the

Holy Trinity, "My tunic worked by Alderet's wife, and the mantle which

is in my chamber, to make a cope. Of my two golden girdles, I give the

one which is adorned with emblems to suspend the lamp before the great

altar."

I come now to the earliest large work remaining to us of the

period--the Bayeux tapestry. We must claim it as English, both on

account of the reputed worker, and the history it commemorates, though

the childish style of which it is a type is indeed inferior in every

way to the beautiful specimens which have been rescued from tombs in

Durham, Worcester, and elsewhere. They seem hardly to belong to the

same period, so weak are the designs and the composition of the

groups. Though Mr. Rede Fowke gives the Abbé de la Rue's doubts as to

the accepted period of the Bayeux tapestry, which he assigns to the

Empress Matilda, he yet leans to other equally good authorities who

consider the work as being coeval with the events it records.[579]

Mr. Collingwood Bruce is of the same opinion, and for this

reason--the furniture, buildings, &c., are all of the eleventh

century, and our ancestors were no archæologists, and always drew what

they saw around them. Mr. Bruce fancies the design to be Italian,

"because of the energetic action of the figures;" this seems hardly

justified when we look at the simple poverty of the style. Miss A.

Strickland suggests that the artist was perhaps Turold the Dwarf, who

has cunningly introduced his effigy and name. That the tapestry is not

found in any catalogue before 1369, is only a piece of presumptive

evidence against the earlier date, and cannot compete with the

internal evidence in its favour. On 227 feet of canvas-linen, twenty

inches wide, are delineated the events of English history from the

time of Edward the Confessor to the landing of the Conqueror at

Hastings. The Bayeux tapestry is worked in worsted on linen; the

design is perfectly flat and shadowless. The outlines are firmly drawn

with cords on thickly set stem-stitches. The surfaces are laid in flat

stitch. Though coarsely worked, there is a certain "maestria" in the

execution.

The word "orphrey" (English for auriphrigium or Phrygian gold

embroidery) is first found in Domesday Book, where "Alvide the maiden"

receives from Godric the Sheriff, for her life, half a hide of land,

"If she might teach his daughters to make orphreys."[580]

In the end of the eleventh century, Christina, Abbess of Markgate,

worked a pair of sandals and three mitres of surpassing beauty, sent

through the Abbot of St. Alban's to Pope Adrian IV., who doubtless

valued them the more because they came from his native England.[581]

[Illustration: Pl. 74.

English Patterns, chiefly from Strutt's "Royal and Ecclesiastical

Antiquities of England."

1. 1066. 2. 1092. 3. 1100. 4. 1171. 5. 1171. 6. 1189. 7. 1189. 8.

1361. 9, 10. 1377. 11. 1399. 12. 1422. 13. 1426. 14. 1440. 15.

1445. 16. 1416. 17. 1445. 18. 1477. 19. 1530. 20. 1272.]

[Illustration: Pl. 75.

1. Panel of a Screen in Hornby Church. Painted fifteenth century.

2. Dress pattern from painted glass. St. Michael's Church, York.

Fourteenth century.

3. A portion of the material of the Towneley Copes. Fifteenth

century.]

Of the twelfth century (1170) we have the robes and mitres of Thomas

à Becket at Sens; and another mitre of the period, white and gold, is

in the museum at Munich, with his martyrdom embroidered on one side,

and that of St. Stephen on the other. The gold needlework is so

perfect that it resembles weaving. It is recorded that a splendid

dress was embroidered in London for Elinor of Aquitaine, which cost

£80, equal to £1400 of the value of to-day.[582]

Rock ("Church of our Fathers," t. ii. p. 279) truly says that it is

shown by plentiful records and written documents, from the days of St.

Osmond to the time of Henry VIII., that the materials employed in

English ecclesiastical embroideries were the best that could be found

in our own country or in far-off lands, and the art bestowed on them

was the best we could learn and give. Various fabrics came from

Byzantine or Saracenic looms, which are described as damasked, rayed,

marbled, &c. The few surviving specimens fully justify the admiration

bestowed on them throughout Christendom.

Matthew Paris, in the reign of Henry III., says that Innocent III.

(1246), seeing certain copes and infulæ with desirable orphreys, was

informed they were English work. He exclaimed, "Surely England is a

garden of delight! In sooth this is a well inexhaustible! And where

there is so much abundance, from thence much may be extracted!"[583]

From the Conquest to the Reformation the catalogues of Church

vestments which are to be found in the libraries of York, Lincoln, and

Peterborough, show the luxury of ecclesiastical decoration. In Lincoln

alone there were upwards of 600 vestments wrought with divers kinds of

needlework, jewellery, and gold, upon "Indian baudichyn," samite,

tartarin, velvet, and silk. Even in reading the dry descriptions of a

common inventory, we are amazed by the lists of "orphreys of goodly

needlework," copes embroidered with armorial bearings, and knights

jousting, lions fighting, and amices "barred with amethysts and

pearls, &c. &c." The few I have named will give an idea of the

accumulation of riches in the churches, and the gorgeousness of

English embroideries.[584]

I have collected from Strutt's "Illustrations"[585] and other sources

a number of patterns for domestic hangings, copied from MSS. of

contemporary dates, covering about 400 years, from the time of Harold

to Edward IV. The hangings may have been more effective than appears

at first sight, if the materials were rich and enlivened with gold. I

give two textile designs which in their style are peculiarly English

(plates 74, 75).

Now we enter on the age of romance and chivalry, when all domestic

decorations began to assume greater refinement. Carpets from the East

covered the rushes strewn on the floors, and splendid tents were

brought home by crusading knights; and the decorative arts of northern

Europe were once more permeated with Oriental taste and design.

We know that in the so-called "days of chivalry," i.e. from the

Conquest till the beginning of Henry VIII.'s reign, needlework was the

occupation of the women left in their castles, while the men were away

fighting for the cross, for the king, for their liberties, or for

booty.

This period included the Crusades, the Wars of the Roses, wars with

France, and rebellions at home; and yet there was a taste for art,

luxury, and show spreading everywhere.[586]

The women were expected to provide, with their looms and their

needles, the heraldic surcoats, the scarves and banners, and the

mantles for state occasions.[587] They also worked the hangings for

the hall and chapel, and adorned the altars and the priests'

vestments. Alas! time, taste, and the moth have shared in the

destruction of these gauds. The taste for the "baroc" is a new

acquisition; no one cared for what was old, merely because it was old.

The rich replaced their hangings and their clothes when they became

shabby; the poor let them go to pieces, and probably burned the old

stuff and the embroideries for the sake of the gold thread, which was

of intrinsic value. But both in prose and poetry we read descriptions

of beautiful works in the loom, or on the frame, executed by fair

ladies for the gallant knights whose lives and prowess these poems

have preserved to us. I will give one quotation from that of Emare,

in Ritson's collection: "Her mantle was wroughte by a faire Paynim,

the Amarayle's daughter." This occupied her seven long years. In each

corner is depicted a pair of lovers, "Sir Tristram and Iseult--Sir

Amadis and Ydoine, &c., &c. These pictures were adorned with precious

stones." The figures were portrayed--

"With stonès bright and pure,

With carbuncle and sapphire,

Kalsèdonys and onyx clere,

Sette in golde newe;

Diamondes and rubies,

And other stones of mychel pryse."

The lady who owns this mantle is herself great in "workes of

broderie."

From the Conquest to the Wars of the Roses, England may claim to have

gradually acquired a higher place in art. Our architecture, sculpture,

manuscripts, and paintings were not surpassed on the Continent:

witness Queen Eleanor's crosses, and her tomb in Westminster Abbey;

and the portrait of Richard II., surrounded by saints and angels, at

Wilton House,[588] a picture which, preceding Fra Beato Angelico's

works by at least a quarter of a century, yet suggests his style,

refined drawing, and tender colouring. All who saw the frescoes found

in the Chapel at Eton College when it was restored, will remember

their extreme beauty, and regret that they were effaced, instead of

being preserved and restored. They were a lesson in what English art

was in the end of the thirteenth, during the fourteenth, and into the

beginning of the fifteenth centuries.

During the Wars of the Roses, when a duke of the blood-royal is said

to have begged his bread in the streets of the rich Flemish towns,

ladies of rank, more fortunate, were able to earn theirs by the work

of their needle.[589]

The monuments of the eleventh and twelfth, thirteenth and fourteenth

centuries, are our best authorities for the embroideries then worn.

The surcoat of the Black Prince in Canterbury Cathedral is a

noteworthy example. The sculptured effigy on the tomb over which it is

suspended is absolutely clothed in the same surcoat, with the same

accidents of embroidery, as if it had been modelled from it.

In Worcester, when the archæologists opened King John's tomb in 1797,

they found him in the same dress and attitude as that portrayed on the

recumbent statue.[590] Dress was then extravagantly expensive, and

embroidered dresses were worn with borders richly set with precious

stones and pearls.

The Librate Roll of Henry III. gives us a list of embroiderers' names:

Alain de Basinge, Adam de Bakeryne, John de Colonia, &c.; and in the

wardrobe accompts of Richard II., William Sanstoune and Robert de

Ashmede are called the "Broudatores Domini Regis." These may have

been the artists to whom the orders were delivered, for in the Librate

Roll of Henry III. we find Adam de Baskeryne receiving 6_s._ 8_d._ for

a "cloth of silk, and fringe, purchased by our commands to embroider a

certain chasuble which Mabilia of St. Edmunds made for us." There were

certainly then purveyors and masters of the craft. Stephen Vigner, in

the fourteenth century, is so warmly commended by the Duke of Berri

and Auvergne to Edward III., that Richard II. appointed him his chief

embroiderer, and Henry IV. pensioned him for his skilful services.

John Garland, in the beginning of the thirteenth century, is a good

authority for the use by our women of small hand-looms. In these they

wove, in flax or silk (often mixed with gold), the "cingulæ" or

"blode-bendes" so often mentioned, supposed to be gifts between

friends for binding the arm, when blood-letting was so much in fashion

that the operation was allowed to assume a certain air of coquetry.

But the idea suggests itself that this was oftener the gift of the

fair weaver to her favoured lover, to fold round his arm as a scarf in

battle or tourney, to be ready in case it was needed for binding up a

wound, and had possibly served as a snood to bind her own fair hair.

There is an account of a specimen of this kind of weaving by M.

Léopold Delisle.[591] He describes the attachment of a seal to a grant

from Richard Cœur de Lion to Richard Hommet and Gille his wife,

preserved in the archives of the Abbey of Aunai, in the department of

Calvados. He considers it to be either French or English, and says it

was a "lac d'amour," or "tie of love," cut up to serve its present

purpose. It is woven with an inscription in white on a ground of

green, backed with pale blue, and the material is silk. The woven

legend is thus translated from the old French--"Let him perish who

would part us."

[Illustration: Opus Anglicanum, XIII. Century

British Museum]

The term "opus Anglicanum" is first recorded in the thirteenth

century, and is supposed simply to mean "English work." But there is

also good authority for its having been applied, on the Continent

especially, to a particular style of stitchery, of which the Syon cope

in the Kensington Museum is the best preserved great example known.

Its peculiarity consists in its fine split-stitch being moulded so as

to give the effect of a bas-relief; and this appears to have been

generally reserved for the medallions representing sacred subjects,

and especially employed in modelling the faces and the nude parts of

the figures delineated. The effect of this work has often been

destroyed, as time has frayed and discoloured the parts that are

raised, exhibiting the canvas ground, reversing the high lights, and

causing dark spots in their stead. This reversal of the intended

effect is an additional practical argument for the flatness of

embroidery.[592]

From the Librate Roll of Henry III. one can form an estimate of the

value of the "opus Anglicanum" in its day.[593] In 1241 the king gave

Peter de Agua Blanca a mitre so worked, costing £82. This would be,

according to the present value, £230.

The finest specimens of this English work are to be found on the

Continent, or have been returned from it.[594] They had either been

gifts to popes or bishops before the Reformation, or they had been

sold at that time of general persecution and pillage. Among the most

remarkable are the pluvial (called) of St. Silvester at Rome, the

Daroca pluvial at Madrid, the great pluvial at Bologna, and the Syon

cope, of which I have already spoken. The general idea and prevailing

design of these three great works are so singular, and yet so alike,

that they must have issued from the same workshop, and that was

certainly English.

In the Daroca cope the cherubim, with their feet on wheels, which are

peculiar to English design, and the angels (in the vacant spaces

between the framed subjects from the life of our Lord) have their

wings carefully done in chain split-stitch representing peacocks'

feathers, of which the silken eyes are stitched in circles, and then

raised with an iron by pressure, so as to catch a light and throw a

shadow. The ground is entirely English gold-laid work. This cope, so

markedly national in design and stitches, probably drifted to the

Continent at the time of the Reformation.[595]

[Illustration: Pl. 77.

Characteristic English Parsemé Patterns for Ecclesiastical

Embroideries.]

[Illustration: Pl. 78.

Dunstable Pall. Property of the Vicar of Dunstable _ex officio_.]

A wonderfully preserved specimen of the "opus Anglicanum," of which a

photogravure is here given, was lately presented by Mr. Franks to the

Mediæval Department of the British Museum (plate 76). In this may be

seen most of the characteristics of this work in the thirteenth

century; such as the angels with peacock feather wings, moulded by hot

irons; the features of all the figures similarly manipulated; the

beautiful gold groundwork, which in this instance is covered with

double-headed eagles; and lastly, the fashion of the beard on the face

of our Lord and of all the men delineated--the upper lip and round the

mouth being invariably shaven; whereas, in Continental work, the

beard is allowed to grow into the moustache, closely surrounding the

mouth. There are other peculiarities belonging to English design--such

as the angels rising between the shrine-work on the pillars out of a

flame or cloud pattern, and the pillars very often formed of twined

stems bearing vine-leaves or else oak-leaves and acorns. The

compartments which frame the groups, when they are not placed in

niches, are usually variations of the intersected circle and square.

Plate 77 shows the cherubim which from the thirteenth to the sixteenth

centuries are found on English ecclesiastical embroideries--also the

vase of lilies (emblematic of the Virgin), and the Gothic flowers

which are so commonly _parsemé_ over our mediæval altar frontals and

vestments.

[Illustration: Fig. 26.]

It appears that in the reign of Edward III. the people ingeniously

evaded the penalties against the excess of luxury in dress, by wearing

something that looked as gay, but was less expensive than the

forbidden materials; and which did not come under the letter of the

law. They invented a spurious kind of embroidery which was, perhaps,

partly painted (such examples are recorded). In the 2nd Henry VI.

(1422) it was enacted that all such work should be forfeited to the

king. The accusation was that "divers persons belonging to the craft

of Brouderie make divers works of Brouderie of insufficient stuffe and

unduly wroughte with gold and silver of Cyprus, and gold of Lucca, and

Spanish laton (or tin); and that they sell these at the fairs of

Stereberg, Oxford, and Salisbury, to the great deceit of our Sovereign

Lord and all his people." In those days any dishonest work or material

was illegal and punishable.[596]

This was, in fact, a protectionist measure in favour of the chartered

embroiderers, and gave them a slight taste of the advantages of

protection. For a time it was doubtless useful in keeping up the

standard of national work. Then followed further measures for the

benefit of the established monopolies. First, a statute in 1453 (Henry

VI.), forbidding the importation of foreign embroideries for five

years. This is re-enacted under Edward IV., Richard III., and Henry

VII.; and was partially repealed in the 3rd and 5th George III. While

we are on this subject, we may remark that in 1707, the importation of

embroidery was forbidden to the East India Company, and we closed our

ports to all manufactured Indian goods. The only artistic trade _now_

protected is that of the silversmith; no plate from foreign workshops

being permitted to enter England--not even do we allow Indian plate to

come in, except under certain conditions. This may be the reason that

our own plate is so very bad in design and execution, for want of

competition and example.

Protection is always more or less fatal to art. The Wars of the Roses

had injured our own best schools, and we needed refined imported ideas

to raise our standard once again. Perhaps, since embroidery had become

a regular industry, our markets were overstocked by home productions

which were outrivalled by the works from the Continent, and it was

distress that caused the plea for protection.

[Illustration: Pl. 79.

Pall of the Vintners' Company (sixteenth century).]

It is fair to say that some of the English works of that time, of

which we have specimens, are as good as possible. In the Dunstable

pall, for instance, the figures of which are perfectly drawn and

beautifully executed, the style is excellent and pure English (plate

78). The pall itself is of Florentine crimson velvet and gold brocade,

with the little loops of gold drawn through the velvet, showing the

loom from whence it came. The white satin border carries the

embroidery. It is a more perfect specimen of the later fourteenth

century work than the famous pall of the Fishmongers' Company, which

shows the impress of the Flemish taste, which was at its perfection in

the fifteenth. The style reminds us of that of the fine tapestries

from the St. Mary's Hall, Coventry, of which the subject is King Henry

VI. and Cardinal Beaufort praying. The Vintners' Company's pall is

also very fine (plate 79).

[Illustration: Henry VII.'s Cope from Stoneyhurst]

Of the time of Henry VII. we have the celebrated cope of Stoneyhurst,

woven in Florence, of a gold tissue, the design raised in crimson

velvet. It is without seam, and the composition which covers the whole

surface is the crown of England lying on the portcullis; and the Tudor

rose fills up the space with a magnificent scroll. The design is

evidently English, as well as the embroidery, which is, however, much

restored[597] (plate 80).

This is one of the "whole suite of vestments and copes of cloth of

gold tissue wrought with our badges of red roses and portcullises, the

which we of late caused to be made at Florence in Italy ... which our

king, Henry VII., in his will bequeathed to God and St. Peter, and to

the Abbot and Prior of our Monastery at Westminster,"[598] which were

designed for him by Torrigiano.

From the portraits of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries we can

judge of the prevailing taste in dress embroideries of that period,

which consisted mostly of delicate patterns of gold or silver on the

borders of dresses, and the linen collars and sleeves. Of this style I

give a small sampler, from Lord Middleton's collection. We have a good

many specimens of the work of these centuries, both ecclesiastical and

secular. They had still a Gothic stamp, which totally disappeared in

the beginning of the sixteenth century in the new style of the

Renaissance.

[Illustration: Fig. 27.

Sampler, from Lord Middleton's collection.

Time, Henry VIII.]

The next great change throughout northern Europe affecting all the

conditions of life, most especially in England, was caused by the

Reformation, which swept away both the art and the artist of the

Gothic era. The monasteries which had fostered painting, illumination,

and embroidery, and the arts which had been so passionately devoted to

the Church, were doomed. George Gifford, writing to Cromwell of the

suppression of a religious house at Woolstrope, in Lincolnshire, after

praising that establishment says, "There is not one religious person

there, but what _can_ and _doth_ use either embrotheryng, wryting

bookes with a fayre hand, making garments, karvynge, &c."[599]

In the general clearance the churches and shrines were swept, though

never again garnished, and the survivals have to be painfully sought

for, and are so few that a short catalogue will tell them all.

The greater part of the fine embroideries which escaped the

"iconoclastic rage" of the Reformation, and the final sweep of the

Puritans, are to be seen now in the houses and chapels of the old

Roman Catholic families, who have either preserved or collected them;

also in the museums of our cathedrals, and spread about the Continent.

For instance, at Sens are the vestments of Thomas à Becket, and at

Valencia, in Spain, there are yet in the chapter-house a chasuble and

two dalmatics, brought from London by two merchants of Valencia, whose

names are preserved--Andrew and Pedro de Medina. They purchased them

at the sale of the Roman Catholic ornaments of Westminster Abbey in

the time of Henry VIII. They are embroidered in gold, and represent

scenes from the life of our Lord. The background of one is a

representation of the Tower of London.

In 1520 was held the famous tournament of the Field of the Cloth of

Gold.[600] Here came all England's chivalry surrounding their splendid

young king; followed by squires and men-at-arms, and carrying with

them tents, banners, and hangings covered with devices and mottoes.

Their own dresses, of rich materials and adorned with embroidery (as

well as the housings of their horses), vied in ingenuity and splendour

with those of the still more luxurious court and following of Francis

I., the French king. The tradesmen and workmen and workwomen in

England were driven crazy in their efforts to carry out the ideas and

commands of their employers. It is recorded that several committed

suicide in their despair. It was worse than the miseries caused by a

Court Drawing-Room now. Ingenuity in devices was the order of the day.

Francis and his "Partners of Challenge" illustrated one sentimental

motto throughout the three days' tourney. The first day they were

apparelled in purple satin, "broched" with gold, and covered with

black-ravens' feathers, buckled into a circle. The first syllable of

"corbyn" (a raven) is _cor_, a "hart" (heart). A feather in French is

_pennac_. "And so it stode." The feather in a circle was endless, and

"betokened sothe fastnesse." Then was the device "Hart fastened in

pain endlesse."

The next day the "Hardy Kings" met armed at all points. The French

king and his followers were arrayed in purple satin, broched with gold

and purple velvet, embroidered with little rolls of white satin, on

which was written "Quando;" all the rest was powdered with the letter

L--"Quando Elle" (when she). The third day the motto was laboriously

brought to a conclusion. Francis appeared dressed in purple velvet

embroidered with little white open books; "Liber" being a book, the

motto on it was, "A me." These books were connected with worked blue

chains; thus we have the whole motto: "Hart, fastened in pain

endlesse, when she delivereth me not of bondes." Could painful

ingenuity go further? On the English side we have similar devices.

Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, the bridegroom of the Dowager Queen of

France, Henry's sister, was clothed on one side in cloth of frise

(grey woollen), on which appeared embroidered in gold the motto,--

"Cloth of frise, be not too bold

That thou be match'd with cloth of gold."

This parti-coloured garment was on the other side of gold, with the

motto,--

"Cloth of gold, do not despise

That thou be match'd with cloth of frise."

Besides mottoes, cyphers and monograms were the fashion, embroidered

with heraldic devices. These particulars we find in Hall's account of

the tournament, with a detailed description of the golden tent in

which the monarchs met, and which gave its name ever after to the

plain near Guisnes, where the jousts were held. What we read of its

construction recalls the Alexandrian erections, of which I have spoken

already, as well as their hangings and embroideries.

[Illustration: Pl. 81.

English Specimens of Spanish Work. Time of Henry VIII. Lord

Middleton's Collection.]

[Illustration: Pl. 82.

English Specimen. Spanish Work. Henry VIII. Louisa, Lady Waterford's

Collection.]

Incrustations of pearls and precious stones gave a dazzling brilliancy

to the tent, divided into many rooms, and adapted to the climate of

the north. It covered a space of 328 feet. Hall describes the tent,

the jousts, and the splendid apparel belonging to this last chapter of

the magnificence of chivalry. Brewer remarks that magnificence was, in

those days, often supposed to be synonymous with magnanimity (at any

rate, it was erected into a royal virtue). "The Mediæval Age," he

says, "had gathered up its departing energies for this last display of

its favourite pastime, henceforth to be consigned without regret to

the mouldering lodges of the past."[601]

We cannot say how much of French taste was imported from this meeting

of French and English luxury. The spirit of the Renaissance, fresh

from Italy, was reigning in France, but we had also in Italy our own

emissaries. John of Padua was probably only one of many Englishmen who

travelled to learn and improve themselves in their special crafts.

Catherine of Aragon introduced the Spanish taste in embroidery, which

was then white or black silk and gold "lace stitches" on fine linen

(plate 81). This went by the name of "Spanish work," and continued to

be the fashion down to and through the reign of Mary Tudor, who

remained faithful to the traditions of her mother's and her

grandmother's work[602] (plate 82). Catherine of Aragon had learned

her craft from her mother, Queen Isabella, who always made her

husband's shirts. To make and adorn a shirt was then an artistic feat,

not unworthy of a queen. Isabella instituted trials of needlework

amongst her ladies. In the days of her disgrace and solitude,

Catherine turned to her embroidery for solace and occupation. She came

forth to meet the Cardinals Wolsey and Campeggio with a skein of red

silk round her neck.[603] Taylor, the water poet, says,--

"Virtuously,

Although a queen, her days did pass

In working with her needle curiously."

At Silbergh Castle, in Westmoreland, was a counterpane and toilet

embroidered by Queen Catherine.

Anne of Cleves brought with her the taste for Flemish and German

Renaissance designs; and all the cushion stitches were in vogue. The

Renaissance borders for dress were mostly worked in gold on coloured

silk on the linen collars and cuffs. Holbein's and other contemporary

portraits illustrate this peculiarity of the costumes of the time. The

women's head-dresses also carried much fine, beautifully designed, and

delicate work.

In the reign of Henry VIII. fine hangings were worked and woven in

England; the royal inventories give us an idea to what extent.

Cardinal Wolsey's walls were covered with splendid embroideries,

besides the suites of tapestries still adorning the hall at Hampton

Court. One room was hung with embroidered cloth of gold.

Mary Tudor, as I have said, was Spanish in all her tastes, and we

have lists of her "smocks" all worked in Spanish stitches, black and

gold, or black silk only.[604] This taste, following the political

tendencies of the time, entirely disappeared under Elizabeth. It

survives, however, in peasant dress in the Low Countries.

Queen Elizabeth spent much of her time in needlework. She herself had

received the education of a man, as well as her cousin, Lady Jane

Grey; and doubtless many women were taught at that time Greek and

Latin, and to study philosophy, mathematics, and the science of music,

as a training for serious life. Elizabeth studied and embroidered too;

at any rate, she stood godmother to many pieces of embroidery, which

are to be seen still in the houses she visited or occupied.

While at Ashridge, and afterwards as a prisoner at Hatfield, she so

employed herself; and among the specimens of work of the sixteenth

century exhibited at South Kensington in 1873, were her shoes and cap,

worked in purl, a semainière in the same stitch, also cushion-covers

in divers cushion stitches, and a portmonnaie in exquisitely fine

satin-stitch; all of which articles, and many more, were left by her

at Ashridge when she was hurried away in the dead of night to

Hatfield.[605]

The character of the Renaissance of the sixteenth century, just

released from the trammels of Gothic traditions, was somewhat lawless

in England, being unchastened by the classical element which entirely

controlled the movement in Italy.

The queen's dress soon departed from the severe simplicity which she

at first affected, and every part of her costume was covered with

flowers, fruit, and symbolical designs; while serpents, crowns,

chains, roses, eyes and ears crowded the surfaces of the fine

materials of her dresses. These symbolical designs were rich without

grace, and ingenious rather than artistic, although their workmanship

was perfect. In Louisa, Lady Waterford's collection we find a jacket

for a slight girl's figure, of white linen, covered with flowers,

fruit, and berries, all carried out in satin and lace stitches. There

are butterflies with their wings disengaged from the ground; pods

bursting open and showing the round seeds or peas; caterpillars

stuffed and raised; all these astonish us by their quaint perfection,

and shock us by their naturalistic crudeness of design, and the utter

want of beauty or taste in the whole effect. The impression left on

the mind is, how dear it must have cost the pocket of the purchaser

and the eyes of the workers. There are, however, exceptions to these

defective poor designs; and in the same collection is a cushion-cover

worked in gold and silver plate, purl and silk, on a red satin ground,

which is as good as possible in every respect, and is purely English

in style. The stitches and materials are most refined and varied.

Purl, which was a newly made material imported from Italy and Germany,

was then in much vogue, and we have seen a few fine specimens of it,

that have been imitated from the Italian cinque-cento raised and

stuffed needlework, which are very curious and almost very

beautiful,--only one feels that the same effect could have been

produced by simpler means. This work is characteristic of the reigns

of Henry VIII., Elizabeth, and James I. We have needlework of another

most unhappy queen of this date. Poor Mary, Queen of Scots, tried to

soften Elizabeth's heart towards her prisoner by little gifts of her

own embroideries.[606]

We have no account of the cause of the incorporation of the

Embroiderers' Company by Queen Elizabeth,[607] in the third year of

her reign, Oct. 25th, 1561, confirmed by James II., April 12th, 1686,

which is still a London guild. It received the lions of England as a

special favour. The arms are thus blazoned: "Palée of six argent and

azure on a fess gules, between three lions of England pass. gardant

or. Three broches in saltire between as many trundles (i.e. quills of

gold thread), or. Crest: on a wreath a heart; the holy dove displayed

argent, radiated or. Supporters: two lions or (guttée de sang). Motto:

'Omnia Desuper.' Hall, 20, Gutter Lane." There were branches,

incorporated and bearing the arms, at Bristol and Chester, in 1780.

(See Appendix.)

[Illustration: Fig. 28.

Arms of Embroiderers' Guild.]

In the reign of James I. it was the fashion to do portraits in

needlework, stitched flat or raised. Some are artistic in design and

execution, but they are mostly ridiculously bad.

The East India Company was founded in 1560, under Elizabeth, and

obtained the monopoly of the Anglo-Indian trade, under Cromwell, in

1634. This would have been the moment for encouraging a fresh

importation of Oriental taste into our degenerate art. Cromwell's own

service of plate was scratched over ("graffito") with a childish and

weak semi-Indian, semi-Chinese design; and we must accept this as

typical of the artistic Oriental knowledge of that day. Grafted on the

style of James I., it shows, however, that Indian ideas were creeping

in and sought for, if not understood in high places, under the

auspices of the East India Company. Needlework alone was excluded from

all benefit. From that date, for 150 years, Indian manufactures

were imported, _with the exception of embroidery_, which was

contraband by the ancient statutes. This accounts for our faint and

ignorant imitations of Indian work, and the extreme rarity of the true

specimens to be met with in England, unless of a later period.

[Illustration: Cushion cover Temp. Queen Elizabeth

XVI. Century]

But our Aryan instincts have always led our English tastes towards

conventional naturalism. Although we have lost the rules and

traditions which converted natural objects into patterns, we are

continually, in our style, leaning and groping in their direction, and

twining flowers, those of the field by preference, into

semi-conventional garlands and posies.

In the seventeenth century, when James I. was king, protection had

done its worst. The style of work called "embroidery on the stamp" was

then the fashion. This sort of work in Italy continued to be artistic,

but the English specimens that have survived from this reign are

mostly very ugly. Continental art had ceased to influence us, and bad

taste reigned supreme, except in our architecture, which had

crystallized into a picturesque style of our own called "James I.,"

and was the outcome of the last Gothic of Henry VIII. and the Italian

style of Edward VI. and Elizabeth. But the carvings of that phase of

architecture were semi-barbarous. Nothing could have been poorer than

their composition, or coarser than their execution, and the needlework

of the day followed suit. Infinite trouble and ingenuity were wasted

on looking-glass frames, picture frames, and caskets worked in purl,

gold, and silver. The subjects were ambitious Solomon and the Queen of

Sheba, and James and Anne of Denmark,[608] and other historical

figures were stuffed with cotton or wool, and raised into high

relief; and then dressed and "garnished" with pearls; the faces either

in painted satin or fine satin stitch; the hair and wigs in purl or

complicated knotting. Windsor Castle as a background for King James

and King Solomon alike, pointed the clumsy allegory, and the lion of

England gambolling in the foreground, amid flowers and coats-of-arms,

filled up the composition.

The drawing and design were childish, and show us how high art can in

a century or less slip back into no art at all. Any one comparing the

Dunstable or the Fishmongers' pall with one of the best caskets of

this period would say that the latter should have preceded the former

by centuries. In James I.'s time, ignorance of all rules of

composition was added to the absence of any sort of style.[609] I give

the illustrations of the time of James I. Plate 83 is a cushion from

Hatfield House, rich and rather foolish, with tiny men filling in the

corners left vacant by large flowers, caterpillars, &c.

Charles I. gave a raised embroidered cope to the Chapter of Durham, of

this description of work.[610]

[Illustration: Pl. 84.

English embroidered curtain (James I.), at Cockayne Hatley, Beds.]

[Illustration: Pl. 85.

Embroidered Hangings. Crewels on Linen. Hardwicke Hall.]

The other fashionable work of that day had its merits. It was the

custom to embroider hangings or linen in crewels. Considering how

often in this book and my preceding lectures I have said that this

style of work was common (even in the early days of Egypt and

Assyria), it may well be said, when was it _not_ the fashion? and I

must answer, "only since the days of Queen Anne." It seems as if

before that time our designs for work were partially influenced by the

fine Indian specimens which had surreptitiously crept into England.

Some of these are very cleverly executed. Huge conventional trees grow

from a green strip of earth carrying every variety of leaf and flower

done in many stitches. The individual leaf or flower is often very

beautiful. On the bank below, small deer and lions disport themselves,

and birds twice their size perch on the branches (plate 84).[611] But

even where the work is finest, the incongruities are too annoying. The

modern excuse for it, "that it is quaint," does not reconcile us to

its extravagant effect. To be quaint in art is, as I have said before,

to be funny without intending it; and these curtains are funny by

their absence of all intention or perspective, and when hung they

make everything in the room look disproportionate to the unnatural

size of the foliage. (Plate 85.) Specimens of this work are to be

found in most English country houses. It has lasted till now, partly

because the crewels first manufactured in the sixteenth century were

of an excellent quality, and secondly, because there was no gold to

make it worth any one's while to destroy them; so the old hangings

went up into the attics in all the disgrace of shabbiness, and have

come down again as family relics. Even the moths have been deprived of

their prey, by these curtains having served for the beds of the

household, so that they have been kept for their nearly 300 years of

existence, aired and dusted. Much of this work has been recovered from

farmhouses and cottages in tolerable preservation. In many cases the

flowers have survived the stout linen grounds on which they were

worked. The Royal School of Needlework has often been commissioned to

restore and transfer the crewel trees on to a new backing. The

hangings and the curtains I have described, prevailed from the end of

Elizabeth's reign to that of Queen Anne, and gradually deteriorated.

The stitches, of which the variety at first was infinite, had given

place to a coarse uniform stem stitch--"gobble stitch." The materials

also were of inferior quality, and less durable, so that the latest

specimens are in general in the worst condition.

It is remarkable how little the beautiful Continental work influenced

our English school. We were enjoying perfect protection, and were

clumsily taking advantage of our security from all competition. In the

Italian palaces this was the moment of the finest secular embroideries

in satin stitches, gold and silver, and "inlaid" and "onlaid"

appliqués. Likewise in Spain and Portugal the Oriental work,

especially that executed at Goa, filled the palaces and the convents

with gorgeous hangings, carpets, table-covers, and bed furniture. We

feel it painful to contrast with these our own shortcomings in art,

and our faded glories.

The fact is, that, owing to our art-killing protectionist laws,

embroidery had the misfortune to be treated at that time as textile

manufacture, and not as art at all.

In the reign of William and Mary, Dutch taste had naturally been

brought to the front.[612] This included Japanese art, or imitations

of it, and also had something of late Spanish. The Georges brought

into England, and naturalized a rather heavy work, in gold and

silver--the design being decidedly a German "Louis Quatorze"--richly

stitched and heavily fringed, and much employed on court dresses and

on state furniture. We have seen royal beds and court suits which show

very little difference in style. It does not appear that this was

worked by ladies. It has, somehow, a professional look.

[Illustration: Fig. 29.

Part of James II.'s Coronation Dress.

From an old Print.]

Occasionally, however, we meet with pieces of exceptionally beautiful

work of the end of the seventeenth and early part of the eighteenth

centuries. The style is the most refined Louis Quatorze, but the work

is actually English. The white satin coverlets belonging to the

Marquis of Bath and the Duke of Leeds are not to be exceeded in

delicacy and splendour. The embroidered dresses of the Duke and

Duchess of Buckingham, in Westminster Abbey (early eighteenth

century) are of this description.

From Queen Anne to George III., a great deal of furniture was covered

with the different cushion stitches, either in geometrical or

kaleidoscope patterns, or else displaying groups of flowers or

figures, quaint and sometimes pretty. These designs are generally,

however, wanting in grace, and their German feeling shows them to be

the precursors of the Berlin wool patterns.

When the crewel-work hangings ceased to be the fashion, home work took

another direction. All the ladies imitated Indian dimity patterns, on

muslin, in coloured silks or thread, with the tambour-frame and

needle;[613] but in 1707 the "Broiderers' Company," we presume, found

that the Indian manufactures were engrossing the market, and a fresh

statute was obtained, forbidding the importation from India of any

wrought material. This cruel prohibition carried its own punishment.

The Indian trade was ours, and we might have adapted and assimilated

the Indian taste for design. We might have brought over men and women

great in their most ancient craft, and so produced the most splendid

Indo-English School. The Portuguese at least sent out their own silks

and satins to be worked at Goa; _we_ threw away our chance, and signed

the death-warrant of our art.

About the middle of the last century, several ladies, notably Miss

Linwood, Miss Moritt, of Rokeby, and Mrs. Delany, copied pictures in

worsteds. Some of these are wonderfully clever and even very pretty,

but they are rather a painful effort of pictorial art under

difficulties, than legitimate embroideries. These pictures would have

served the purpose of decoration better as medallions in the centres

of arabesque panels, than framed and glazed in imitation of oil

paintings. Some of the followers of this school produced works that

are shocking to all artistic sense, especially as seen now, when the

moths have spoiled them. They can only be classed with such abortive

attempts at decoration as glass cases filled with decayed stuffed

birds, and vases of faded and broken wax flowers.

I may record with praise the efforts of Mrs. Pawsey,[614] a lady who

started a school of needlework at Aylesbury. She was patronized by

Queen Charlotte; and for her she worked the beautiful bed at Hampton

Court, of purple satin, with wreaths of flowers in crewels touched up

with silk, which look as if they might have been copied from the

flower-pieces of a Dutch master. The execution is very fine, and

reminds one of the best French work of the same period. Mrs. Pawsey

taught and helped ladies to embroider in silk and chenille, as well as

crewels, and in many country houses we can recognize specimens of her

style; usually on screens worked in silk and chenille, with bunches of

flowers in vases or baskets, artistically designed.

This was our last attempt at excellence, immediately followed by the

total collapse of our decorative needlework, and the advent of the

Berlin wool patterns.

POSTSCRIPT.

A postscript to this chapter will perhaps be acceptable to those who

have taken an interest in the "History of English Embroidery," and who

will therefore care to know about the revival which has filled so many

workshops with what is now called "Art Needlework."

There was a public demand for something better than the worsted

patterns in the trade, and the Royal School of Art Needlework rose and

tried to respond to that call by stimulating original ideas and

designs, and imitating old ones in conformity with modern

requirements. The difficulties to be overcome were at first very

great. The old stitches had all to be learned and then taught, and the

best methods to be selected; the proper materials had to be studied

and obtained--sometimes they had to be manufactured. Lastly, beautiful

tints had to be dyed; avoiding, as much as possible, the gaudy and the

evanescent.

The project of such a school was first conceived in the autumn of

1872.

Lady Welby, herself an accomplished embroideress, had the courage to

face all the difficulties of such an undertaking. A small apartment

was hired in Sloane Street, and Mrs. Dolby, who was already an

authority on ecclesiastical work, gave her help. Twenty young ladies

were selected, and several friends joined heartily in fostering the

movement.

H.R.H. the Princess Christian of Schleswig-Holstein gave her name as

President, and her active co-operation.[615]

The school grew so fast, that for want of space for the work-frames,

it had to remove into a larger house, No. 31, Sloane Street, and

finally in the year 1875 it found its present home in Exhibition Road,

when the Queen became its Patron. In 1878 the Association was

incorporated under the Board of Trade, with a Managing and a Finance

Committee, and a salaried manager to overlook the whole concern.

From 100 to 150 ladies at a time have there received employment. Their

claims were poverty, gentle birth, and sufficient capacity to enable

them to support themselves and be educated to teach others.

Branch schools have been started throughout the United Kingdom and in

America.[616]

The education of the school has been much assisted by the easy access

to the fine collections of ancient embroideries in the Kensington

Museum, and by the loan exhibition of old artistic work, which was

there organized in 1875, at the suggestion of H.R.H. the President;

and since then there have been three very interesting loan exhibitions

in the rooms of the Royal School.

It was, indeed, necessary that the acting members should avail

themselves of every means of instruction, in order to fit themselves

for the task they had undertaken. They were expected at once to be

competent to judge all old work, to name its style and date, and even

sometimes its market value. They were to be able to repair and add to

all old work; to know and teach every stitch, ancient and modern; and

produce designs for any period, Gothic, Renaissance, Elizabethan,

James I., or Queen Anne; besides contemporary European work,--all

different, and each requiring separate study.

Some important works have been produced which will illustrate what has

been said:--

1. A suite of window curtains for her Majesty, at

Windsor (style, nineteenth century; sunflowers).

2. Curtains for a drawing-room for the Duchess of

Buccleuch: crimson velvet and gold appliqué (Louis

Quatorze).

3. Curtain for Louisa, Lady Ashburton: coloured silk

embroidery on white satin (Venetian, sixteenth century).

4. Curtain, also for Louisa, Lady Ashburton: brown

velvet and gold appliqué (_Italian_).

5. Dado for the Hon. Mrs. Percy Wyndham: linen and

crewels. Peacocks and vines (_Mediæval_).

6. Furnishings and hangings for state bedroom for

Countess Cowper, Panshanger: crimson satin, embroidered

and coloured silks (_Chinese_).

7. Curtains for music gallery for Mr. Arthur Balfour:

blue silk, appliqué, velvet, and gold (_Italian_).

The earnest attempt to produce an artistic school of embroidery met

with recognition and help from the highest authorities. Sir F.

Leighton granted permission for appeals to his judgment. Mr. Burne

Jones, Mr. Morris, Mr. Walter Crane, and Mr. Wade gave original

designs.

We cannot guess whether the taste which has sprung up again so

suddenly will last. Perhaps its catholicity may prolong its

popularity, and something absolutely new in style may be evolved,

which shall revive the credit of the "opus Anglicanum." Of one thing

we may be sure--that it is inherent in the nature of Englishwomen to

employ their fingers. And the busy as well as the ignorant need a

guide to the principles of design, as well as the technical details of

the art of embroidery. This should be supplied by the Royal School of

Art Needlework, which by inculcating careful drawing, by reviving old

traditions and criticizing fresh ideas, becomes a guarantee for the

improvement of domestic decorative design.

FOOTNOTES:

[555] "The people of Babylon, the Accadians, had a

written literature and a civilization superior to that

of the conquering Assyrians, who borrowed their art of

writing, and probably their culture, which may have been

the centre and starting-point of the western

civilization of Asia, and therefore the origin of our

own. Accadian civilization was anterior to that of the

Phœnicians and the Greeks, and is now received in

these later years as the original form, and become again

the heritage of mankind. It has been said that Assyrian

art was destitute of originality, and to that of the

Accadians, which they adopted, we ourselves owe our

first customs and ideas. Four thousand years ago these

people possessed a culture which in many of its details

resembles that of our country and time."--"Assyrian Life

and History," p. 66, by M. Harkness and Stuart Poole.

[556] "The arts of spinning and the manufacture of linen

were introduced into Europe and drifted into Britain in

the Neolithic Age. They have been preserved with but

little variation from that period down to the present

day in certain remote parts of Europe, and have only

been superseded in modern times by the complicated

machinery so familiar to us.... The spindle and distaff

are proved by the perforated spindle-whorls, made of

stone, pottery, or bone, commonly met with in Neolithic

habitations or tombs. The thread is proved, by

discoveries in the Swiss lakes, to have been made of

flax; and the combs that have been found for pushing the

threads of the warp on the weft show that it was woven

into linen on some sort of loom."--Boyd Dawkins' "Early

Man in Britain," p. 275.

[557] I am aware that the presence of the Phœnicians

(or Carthaginians) on our coasts has been disputed; but

I think that the evidence of the Etruscan ornaments I

have mentioned gives more than probability to the truth

of Pliny's account of the expedition of Himilco from

Gades, 500 B.C. By some he is supposed to have been a

contemporary of Hanno, and of the third century B.C.

There is some confusion in the imperfect record of the

voyage; but it is difficult to interpret it otherwise

than that he touched at several points north of Gaul.

(See Boyd Dawkins' "Early Man in Britain," pp. 457-461;

see also Perrot and Chipiez, "L'Histoire de l'Art dans

l'Antiquité," t. iii.; "Phénicie et Cypre," p. 48.) For

a contrary opinion, see Elton's "Origins of English

History." Elton ascribes the first knowledge of the

British islands to the voyage of Pytheas in the fourth

century B.C.; he acknowledges that the geography of

Britain was well known to the Greeks in the time of

Alexander the Great. We owe to Pliny and Strabo the few

fragments from Pytheas that have been rescued from

oblivion, and to Pliny the notices of Himilco. (See

Bouillet's "Dictionnaire d'Histoire et de Géographie.")

[558] See Rock's Introduction to "Textile Fabrics," p.

xii.

[559] I give the following amusing tradition, which was

probably founded on the celebrity of the English pearl

embroidery of the Anglo-Saxon times, of which much went

to Rome:--

"Then Cæsar, like a conqueror, with a great number of

prisoners sailed into France, and so to Rome, where

after his return out of Brytaine, hee consecrated to

Venus a surcote of Brytaine pearles, the desire whereof

partly moved him to invade this country."--(Stow's

"Annales," p. 14, ed. 1634.) Tacitus, in the Agricola

12, says that British pearls are grey and livid.

[560] See Rock's Introduction to "Textile Fabrics," p.

xii.

[561] These are the poor results of the Roman invasion

and neglect of Britain during their occupation. The

second invasion of Britain by the Romans, under

Claudius, was caused by the squabbles between the chiefs

of the different tribes. Comnenus, the prince of the

Atrebates, was at war with the sons of Cunobelinus

(Cymbeline). He took his grievances to Rome, and the

Roman legions were despatched to settle the matter, and

to dazzle the world by the echoes rather than the facts

of the triumphant victories in the land of the "wintry

pole." Claudius marched with elephants clad in mail, and

bearing turrets filled with slingers and bowmen,

accompanied by Belgic pikemen and Batavians from the

islands in the Rhine, A.D. 44. The dress of Claudius on

his return from Britain was purple, with an ivory

sceptre and crown of gold oak leaves. One officer alone

was entitled to wear a tunic embroidered with golden

palms, in token of a former victory. The Celts, the

Gauls, the Gaels, the Picts, the Scots, and the

Saxons,--all crowded and settled in Britain when the

Romans left it in 410, after nearly four hundred years

of misgovernment. (See Elton's "Origins of English

History," pp. 306-308.)

[562] Semper, "Der Stil," pp. 133, 134. See Louis

Viardot, "Des Origines Traditionnelles de la Peinture en

Italie" (Paris, 1840), p. 53, note. Also see "Les Ducs

de Bourgogne," part ii. vol. ii. p. 243, No. 4092.

Muratori was born in 1672; and he says the Empress

Helena's work was in existence in the beginning of the

eighteenth century. (See p. 316, _ante_.)

[563] When St. Augustine (546) came to preach to the

Anglo-Saxons, he had a banner, fastened to a cross,

carried before him, on which was embroidered the image

of our Lord. (See Mrs. Lawrence's "Woman in England,"

pp. 296, 297.) Probably this was Roman work.

[564] Quoted by Mrs. Lawrence, "Woman in England," p.

49, from one of Adhelme's Latin poems. Adhelme, Bishop

of Sherborne, died in 709, having been thirty years a

bishop. He wrote Latin poems, of which the most

important, in praise of virginity, is in the Lambeth

Library, No. 200. The MS. contains his portrait. See

Strutt's "English Dresses," ed. Planché.

[565] An Anglo-Saxon lady named Aedelswitha, living near

Whitby, in the sixth century, collected a number of

girls and taught them to produce admirable embroideries

for the benefit of the monastery. (See Rock's "Church of

our Fathers," p. 273; also his Introduction to

"Textiles," p. xxvii.) Bock speaks of Hrothgar's

tapestries, embroidered with gold, of the thirteenth

century. See Appendix 8. But the earliest English

tapestry I have seen is that in York Minster, in which

are inwoven the arms of Scrope, 1390. Wright says of the

Anglo-Saxon women, "In their chamber, besides spinning

and weaving, the ladies were employed in needlework and

embroidery, and the Saxon ladies were so skilful in this

art, that their works were celebrated on the

Continent."--"History of Manners in England during the

Middle Ages," by Thomas Wright, p. 52.

[566] See Mrs. Lawrence's "Woman in England," i. p.

296-7.

[567] See Rock's "Church of our Fathers," ii. p. 272,

quoting Th. Stubbs. "Acta Pontif. Th. ed. Twysden," 1.

ii. p. 1699; also Bock's "Liturgische Gewänder," i. p.

212, and p. 325 _ante_.

[568] Appendix 9.

[569] This could hardly have been intended originally

for an ecclesiastical purpose. It sounds as if it were a

stray fragment from Græco-Roman art, rather than a

survival of the classical legend employed as a pretty

motive for decoration. Wiglaf's veil is named by

Ingulphus. See Strutt's "English Dresses," pp. 3, 7. See

also "Historia Eliensis," l. 2, ed. Stewart, p. 183.

[570] See Rock's "Textile Fabrics," p. xxi.; also for

Council of Cloveshoe, see his "Church of Our Fathers,"

p. 14.

[571] The Benedictines drained the marshes of

Lincolnshire and Somersetshire to employ the poor in the

eighth century. St. Bennet travelled to France and

Italy, and brought back from his seven journeys cunning

artificers in _glass_ and stone, besides costly books

and copies of the Scriptures, in order (as is expressly

said by Bede) that the ignorant might learn from them,

as others learned from books. See Mrs. Jameson's

"Legends of the Monastic Orders," pp. 56, 57.

[572] See Raine's "St. Cuthbert," pp. 50-209. Mr. Raine

describes it as being "of woven gold, with spaces left

vacant for needlework embroidery." Beautifully drawn

majestic figures stand in niches on rainbow-coloured

clouds, and the effect is that of an illumination of the

ninth century. The style is rather Greek or Byzantine

than Anglo-Saxon. For further notices of St. Cuthbert's

relics, see chapter on Materials, _ante_; also see

Rock's "Introduction," p. cxvii.

[573] Appendix 10.

[574] See "Calendar of the Anglican Church," by J. H.

Parker (1851): "St. Dunstan was not only a patron of the

useful and fine arts, but also a great proficient in

them himself; and his almost contemporary biographers

speak of him as a poet, painter, and musician, and so

skilled a worker in metals that he made many of the

church vessels in use at Glastonbury."

[575] See Rock's "Church of our Fathers," p. 270.

[576] Strutt's "English Dresses," p. 70, quoted from

Ingulphus' "History of Croyland Abbey."

[577] Shot, or iridescent materials, were then and had

been some time manufactured at Tinnis in Egypt, a city

now effaced. It was called "bouqualemoun," and employed

for dresses and hangings for the Khalifs. See Schefer's

"Relations du Voyage de Nassiri Khosrau," p. cxi. The

original was written in the middle of the eleventh

century.

[578] See Duchêsne's "Historiæ Normanorum." Fol. Paris,

1519.

[579] Queen Matilda was not the originator of the idea

that a hero's deeds might be recorded by his wife's

needle. Penelope wove the deeds of Ulysses on her loom,

and it is suggested by Aristarchus that her peplos

served as an historical document for Homer's "Iliad."

See Rossignol's "Les Artistes Homériques," pp. 72, 73,

cited by Louis de Ronchaud in his "La Tapisserie," p.

32. Gudrun, like the Homeric woman, embroidered the

history of Siegfried and his ancestors, and Aelfled that

of the achievements of her husband, Duke Brithnod. The

Saga of Charlemagne is said to have been embroidered on

twenty-six ells of linen, and hung in a church in

Iceland.

[580] Domesday ed. Record Commission, under head of

Roberte de Oilgi, in co. Buckingham. See also another

entry under Wilts, where "Leivede" is spoken of as

working auriphrigium for King Edward and his Queen.

[581] Canon Jackson, writing of embroidery, says: "That

this was cared for in the great monasteries at this

early date appears from a MS. register of Glastonbury

Abbey in the possession of the Marquis of Bath. It is

called the Liber Henrici de Soliaco, and gives an

account of the affairs of that abbey in A.D. 1189

(Richard I.)." There was a special official whose

business it was to provide the monastery with church

ornaments generally, and specially with "aurifrigium,"

or gold embroidery, on vestments. For this a house and

land, with an annual allowance of food, was set apart.

Another tenant also held some land, to which was

attached the obligation to find a "worker in

gold."--Letter from Canon Jackson to the Author.

[582] See Mrs. Lawrence's "Woman in England," vol. i. p.

360. She quotes an entry from Madox, a sum of £80 (equal

to £1400 of to-day) for an embroidered robe for the

Queen, paid by the Sheriffs of London.

[583] Matthew Paris, "Vit. Abb. St. Albani." p. 46;

Rock, "Church of our Fathers," vol ii. p. 278.

[584] See Mrs. Dolby's Introduction to "Church

Vestments."

[585] Strutt's "Royal and Ecclesiastical Antiquities of

England," ed. mdcclxxiii.

[586] Though the work was domestic, the materials came

from the East and the South; and while the woven gold of

Sicily and Spain was merely base metal on gilded

parchment, our laws were directed to the preservation of

pure metals for textile purposes.

[587] Matthew Paris, "Hist. Angl.," p. 473, ed. Paris,

1644. See Hartshorne's "Mediæval Embroideries," pp. 23,

24.

[588] The reproduction by the Arundel Society of this

picture will familiarize those who care for English art

with what is, perhaps, its finest example, next to the

crosses of Queen Eleanor. It has been erroneously

attributed to Van Eyk, but it is undoubtedly English.

That its art is contemporary with the time of Richard

II., is shown by the design and motives of the woven

materials and embroidery in which the king and his

attendant saints are clothed. They remind us of the

piece of silk in the Kensington Museum, into which are

woven (probably in Sicilian looms) the cognizance of the

King's grandfather, the sun with rays; that of his

mother Joan, the white hart; and his own, his dog Math.

This is a good example of the value of an individual

pattern. It helps us to affix dates to other specimens

of similar style.

[589] See Miss Strickland's mention of the Countess of

Oxford in her "Life of Queen Elizabeth of York," p. 46.

[590] From the fragments found, it appeared that King

John's mantle was of a strong red silk. Till lately,

when it was effaced by being completely gilt, the mantle

on the recumbent effigy was of a bright red, bordered

with gold and gems. See Greene's "Worcester," p. 3,

quoted in the "Report of the Archæological Association

of Worcester," p. 53.

[591] "Notice sur les Attaches d'un Sceau," par M.

Léopold Delisle (Paris, 1854); and also Rock's

Introduction to "Textile Fabrics," p. xxii.

[592] The opus Anglicanum often included borders and

orphreys set with jewellers' work (or its imitation,

worked in gold thread), gems, and pearls.

[593] Edward III. had from William de Courtenay an

embroidered garment, "inwrought with pelicans, images,

and tabernacles of gold. The tabernacles were like

niches, with pinnacles and roofs."

[594] Bock, "Liturgische Gewänder," i. p. 211, says

there is a piece of opus Anglicanum in the treasury of

Aix-la-Chapelle, called the Cope of Leo III.

[595] For further notice of the "opus Anglicanum," see

chapter (_ante_) on ecclesiastical embroideries.

[596] Appendix 11.

[597] The orphreys are probably not the original work.

[598] "Testamenta Vetusta," ed. Nicholas, t. i. p. 33.

[599] Woolstrope, Lincolnshire. Collier's

"Ecclesiastical History of Great Britain," v. p. 3 (ed.

Lothbury). This proves that the monks sometimes plied

the needle.

[600] See Hall's "Union of the Houses of York and

Lancaster," pp. lxxv-lxxxiii.

[601] See Brewer's "Reign of Henry VIII.," vol. i. pp.

347-376.

[602] In the Public Record Office is an inventory of

Lord Monteagle's property, 1523 A.D.; amongst other

things, is named a piece of Spanish work, "eight

partletts garnished with gold and black silk work." This

Spanish work is rare, but the description reminds us of

a specimen belonging to Louisa, Marchioness of Waterford

(Plate 82)--a square of linen, worked with ostriches,

turkeys, and eagles in gold and black silk stitches. See

Mrs. Palliser's "History of Lace," pp. 6, 12.

[603] Quoted from Cavendish by Miss Strickland, "Queens

of England," iv. p. 132.

[604] "The invalid queen, in her moments of

convalescence, soothed her cares and miseries at the

embroidery frame. Many specimens of her needlework were

extant in the reign of James I., and are thus celebrated

by Taylor, the poet of the needle:--

"'Mary here the sceptre sway'd;

And though she were no queen of mighty power,

Her memory will never be decay'd,

Nor yet her works forgotten. In the Tower,

In Windsor Castle, and in Hampton Court,--

In that most pompous room called Paradise,--

Whoever pleases thither to resort,

May see some works of hers of wondrous price.

Her greatness held it no disreputation

To hold the needle in her royal hand,

Which was a good example to our nation

To banish idleness throughout the land.

And thus this queen in wisdom thought it fit;

The needle's work pleased her, and she graced it.'

"According to Taylor, Mary finished the splendid and

elaborate tapestry begun by her mother."--Miss

Strickland's "Life of Mary Tudor," v. p. 417.

[605] "After the action at D'Arbre de Guise, Elizabeth

(of England) sent to Henri IV. a scarf embroidered by

her own hand. 'Monsieur mon bon frère,' wrote the queen,

'its value is naught in comparison to the dignity of the

personage for whom it is destined; but I supplicate you

to hide its defects under the wings of your good

charity, and to accept my little present in remembrance

of me.'"--"Henri IV.," by Miss Freer, p. 311.

[606] In the year 1683 the Marchese Luca Casimiero degl'

Albizzi visited England, and his travels were recorded

in manuscript by Dr. A. Forzoni. At Windsor he observed

over a chimney-piece a finely wrought piece of

embroidery--"un educazione di fanciulli"--by the hands

of Mary Queen of Scots.--Loftie's "History of Old

London;" also article on "Royal Picture Galleries," by

George Scharf, p. 361 (1867).

[607] "The Company of the Embroiderers can make appear

by their worthy and famous pieces of art that they have

been of ancient use and eminence, as is to be seen in

divers places at this day; but in the matter of their

incorporation, it hath relation to the fourth year of

Queen Elizabeth."--Stow's "Survey of London and

Westminster," part ii. p. 216; also see Edmonson's

"Heraldry," vol. i. (1780). "The Keepers, Wardens, and

Company of the Broiderie of London.... 2 keepers and 40

assistants, and the livery consists of 115 members. They

have a small but convenient hall in Gutter

Lane."--Maitland's "History of London," book iii. p.

602.

[608] The fashion of this work began much earlier, for

we find in the inventory of "St. James's House, nigh

Westminster," 1549: "42 Item. A table wherein is a man

holding a sword in his one hand and a sceptre in his

other hand of needlework, partly garnished with seed

pearl" (p. 307).

[609] The merit or blame of this rounded padded work (a

caricature of the raised embroidery of the opus

Anglicanum) is often erroneously awarded to the "nuns of

Little Gidding." The earliest specimens we know of this

"embroidery on the stamp" are German. At Coire in the

Grisons, at Zurich (see chapter on ecclesiastical art),

and in the National Museum at Munich are some very

beautiful examples. The Italians also executed elaborate

little pictures in this manner; but I cannot praise it

however refined in execution or beautiful the design. I

have seen no English specimens that are not beneath

criticism; they are only funny.

[610] In the Calendar of the State Papers Office

(Domestic, Charles I., vol. clxix. p. 12), Mrs. H.

Senior sues the Earl of Thomond for £200 per annum, her

pay for teaching his daughter needlework. Mrs.

Hutchinson, in her Memoir, says she had eight tutors

when she was seven years old, and one of them taught her

needlework. This shows how highly this accomplishment

was still considered in the days of Charles I. and the

Commonwealth. Later, Evelyn speaks of the "new bed of

Charles II.'s queen, the embroidery of which cost £3000"

(Evelyn's Memoirs, January 24, 1687). Evelyn says of his

own daughter Susanna, who married William Draper: "She

had a peculiar talent in designe, as painting in oil and

miniature, and an extraordinary genius for whatever

hands can do with a needle." See Evelyn's "Memoirs,"

April 27, 1693; also see Mrs. Palliser's "History of

Lace," pp. 7, 8.

[611] The tree-pattern, already common in the latter

days of Elizabeth, reappeared on a dress worn by the

Duchess of Queensberry, and described by Mrs. Delany;

she says, "A white satin embroidered at the bottom with

brown hills, covered with all sorts of weeds, and with a

brown stump, broken and worked in chenille, and

garlanded nasturtiums, honeysuckles, periwinkles,

convolvuluses, and weeds, many of the leaves finished

with gold." Mrs. Delany does not appreciate this ancient

pattern.

[612] Queen Mary only knotted fringes. Bishop Burnett

says: "It was strange to see a queen work so many hours

a day." Sir E. Sedley, in his epigram on the "Royal

Knotter," says,--

"Who, when she rides in coach abroad,

Is always knotting threads."

Probably it was the fashion, as Madame de Maintenon

always worked during her drives with the king, which

doubtless prevented her dying of _ennui_!

[613] I quote from the _Spectator_, No. 606: "Let no

virgin receive her lover, except in a suit of her own

embroidery."

[614] Her style was really legitimate to the art. It was

flower-painting with the needle. Miss Moritt copied both

figures and landscapes, with wonderful taste and

knowledge of drawing. Miss Linwood's and Mrs. Delany's

productions are justly celebrated as _tours de force_,

but they caused the downfall of the art by leading it on

the wrong track.

[615] Lord Houghton alludes to H.R.H.'s patronage of the

revival of embroidery in his paraphrase of the "Story of

Arachne," p. 238, _ante_.

[616] "Opposed to the 'utility stitches' are the art

needlework schools that have branched out in many

directions from New York.... The impulse that led to

their formation was derived from South Kensington

(England), and affords a striking instance of the

ramifications of an organization."--_Atlantic Monthly_

("Women in Organization"), Sept., 1880.

FINIS.

APPENDICES.

APPENDIX I., TO PAGE 105.

_By Ch. T. Newton._

Though the embroidered and richly decorated textile fabrics of the

ancients have perished, all but a few scraps, we may form some idea of

the richness and variety of Greek female attire from the evidence of

the inventories of dedicated articles of dress which have been

preserved for us in Greek inscriptions.

In the Acropolis at Athens have been found a number of fragments of

marble on which are inscribed lists of various female garments

dedicated, for the most part, in the Temple of Artemis Brauronia, in

the Archonship of Lykurgos, B.C. 338-35. These articles were thus

carefully registered because they formed part of the treasures

dedicated to the gods of the Acropolis, which it was the duty of the

state to guard, and to commit to the custody of officers specially

selected for that duty. One of these fragments is in the Elgin

Collection at the British Museum, and has been published by Mr. Hicks

in the "Collection of Ancient Greek Inscriptions in the British

Museum," Part 1, No 34; and the entire series has since been given to

the world in the "Corpus Inscriptionum Atticarum" of the Academy of

Berlin, ii., Part 2., Nos. 751-65.

The material of these garments seems to have been either linen or fine

woollen; the colours white, purple, or some shade of red, mostly used

as a border or in stripes; or a shade of green, the tint of which is

described as "frog colour," saffron, or sea-green.

The borders and patterns noted remind us of those represented on the

garments of figures in vase pictures, such as the embattled border,

the wave pattern, and certain patterns in rectangular compartments. A

group of Dionysos pouring out a libation while a female serves him

with wine, and a row of animals, are also noted among the ornaments.

The inscription, "Sacred to Artemis," woven into the fabric of the

garment, occurs twice. Gold, as an ornament fixed on the dress, is

mentioned in these entries. It is noted that some of these dresses

served to deck the statue of the goddess herself. Most of the garments

are the _chiton_ or tunic, flowing to the feet; the _chitoniskos_, a

shorter and more ornamental garment worn over it; and the mantle,

_himation_. Pieces of cloth or rags are also mentioned among the

entries; these were probably the remnants of cast-off garments

dedicated by their wearers. Some of the dresses are described as

embroidered with the needle.

In the worship of the Artemis Brauronia, certain Athenian girls

between the ages of five and ten were solemnly dedicated to the

goddess every five years. In publishing the inventory in the British

Museum already referred to, Mr. Hicks remarks, "It may have been the

custom sometimes to dedicate to the goddess the garments worn by

children at their presentation, just as we know that the garments in

which persons had been initiated at the Greater Eleusinia were worn by

them until threadbare, and then dedicated to some god. If so, the

number of children's clothes mentioned in our inventory is easily

explained. Or were these the clothes of children cut off by Artemis in

infancy, such as bereaved mothers nowadays often treasure for years,

having no temple wherein to dedicate them?" Mr. Hicks further remarks

that it was usual for the bride before marriage to dedicate her girdle

to Artemis; and at Athens the garments of women who died in childbirth

were likewise in like manner so dedicated. It is probably on account

of such dedications that Artemis was styled Chitonè--the goddess of

the _chiton_.

Another list of vestments is preserved in an inscription found at

Samos, and published by Carl Curtius in his "Inschriften u. Studien

zur Geschichte von Samos," pp. 17-21. The garments in this list were

dedicated to the goddess Herè (Juno) in her celebrated temple at

Samos. The entries relate chiefly to articles of female attire, but

some few are dedicated to the god Hermes. Some of these articles were

doubtless worn by the deities themselves on festive occasions, when

their statues were decked out. The toilet, _kosmos_, of goddesses was

superintended by a priestess specially chosen for that purpose. She

was called _kosmeteira_, or "Mistress of the Robes."

In the Samian list of garments, those which are embroidered or

ornamented with gold are specially noted. Some of the tunics are

described as Lydian. Curtains or hangings are also mentioned in this

list. These must have been used to ornament the interior of the

temple, or to screen off the statue of the goddess on the days when

she was withdrawn from the gaze of the profane. Such hangings were,

probably, a main cause of the conflagrations by which Greek temples

were from time to time destroyed in spite of the solidity of their

walls.

APPENDIX II., TO PAGE 210.

In the Castle of Moritzburg, built by Augustus the Strong, Elector of

Saxony and King of Poland, is a quaint apartment, on the walls of

which are hung rugs of feather-work, of which the borders are adorned

with set patterns of fruit and flowers, and the colouring is as soft

as a Gobelins tapestry. The feathers are woven tightly into the warp,

in the same manner as the tufts are set in a velvety carpet; forming a

surface as delicate as silk to the touch. There are four high-backed

chairs covered with the same work in smaller patterns. But what is

especially remarkable is an immense canopy, like that of a state bed,

with urn-shaped ornaments of stiff feathers at the corners; and a

pretty bell-shaped fringe of scarlet feathers. The same ornament edged

a large rug like those on the wall, thrown over what at first appeared

to be a bed; but on examination it was found to be a rough wooden

platform, said to be the throne of Montezuma. The story is that

Augustus the Strong went to Spain incognito at the age of eighteen, in

search of adventures, and distinguished himself at a bull-fight. When

the king (Charles II.) heard the name of the young hero, he gave him a

hospitable reception, and afterwards sent these Mexican treasures to

him as a token of friendship.

APPENDIX III., TO PAGE 237.

_Story of Arachne, abridged by Earl Cowper from Ovid's Metamorphoses._

Arachne's tale of grief is full:

Her father was of low degree;

No thought beyond his crimson'd wool,

His daughter and his wife had he.

The wife had fill'd an early tomb,

The daughter lived--and all the land

Of Lydia boasted of her loom,

Her needle, and her dexterous hand.

To watch her task the nymphs repair

From fair Timolus' vine-clad hill;

They deem the work divinely fair,

The maid when working fairer still.

The softness of the fleecy ball,

By skilful fingers taught to flow

In lengthening lines--they watch'd it all--

And round and round the spindle go.

Wondering, they view the rich design:

Ah, luckless gift! ah, foolish pride!

'Twas Pallas taught the art divine,

But this the haughty maid denied.

"Me taught," she cried, "by Pallas! Me

By Pallas! Let the goddess first

Accept my challenge. Then, should she

Surpass me, let her do her worst."

Vain, impious words! The goddess came

In likeness of an ancient crone,

With grizzled locks and tottering frame,

And spoke with warning in her tone.

"Though matchless in thine art," she cried,

"Though first of mortals, tempt not fate.

Age makes me wise. Thou hast defied

A goddess. It is not too late."

The unhappy maid, with madness blind,

Replied, and scarce restrain'd the blow.

"'Tis plain, old woman, that your mind

Is drivelling to address me so.

"Some daughter or some slave may want

Your counsel. Let her but appear,

This mighty Pallas whom you vaunt!"

The goddess answer'd, "She is here."

She spoke, and lo! that ancient crone

Was young and fair, and tall and proud:

--The nymphs fell prostrate. She alone--

Arachne--neither shrank nor bow'd.

One blush quick came and pass'd away,

Hovering as clouds, when night is done,

Grow rosy at the dawn of day,

Then whiten with the rising sun.

She did not shrink--she did not pause--

But headlong to destruction ran;

And thus the strife ordain'd to cause

Such dark calamity began.

Each for the contest takes her stand--

The goddess here, the mortal there--

And each proceeds with skilful hand

The means of victory to prepare.

The beam each loom supports full well,

And to the loom the warp is tied;

Nor will I now forget to tell

The reed that doth the warp divide.

The woof the shuttle in doth bring,

The nimble fingers guide its way;

And still from either work-frame ring

The blows inflicted by the slay.

Each to her bosom binds her vest:

The arms of each, quick moving, feel

No sense of toil, no need of rest,

For weariness is quench'd by zeal.

And all the gorgeous tints of Tyre

In varying shades are mingled there;

And every hue the sun's bright fire

Can kindle in the showery air,--

When the wide rainbow spans the sky;

The bow whose colours, in the end

So different, yet so like when nigh,

In harmony's own concord blend,--

And precious threads of glittering gold

Enrich the growing web. But say!

What ancient tale by each was told?

What legend of an earlier day?