After the death of Jean D'Albret a hundred years or more passed before
any Queen distinguished herself specially as a needlewoman, and by the
time Queen Mary, Princess of Orange, came to the throne, needlework as
an employment for the high-born had quite gone out of fashion.
She, however, seemed to have the love of it born in her. Every hour
not occupied with devotion and business was spent by her in all kinds
of needlework; in fact, she worked so well and so constantly that one
might have supposed she was earning her daily bread.
She regarded idleness as the greatest corrupter of human nature, and
she believed that if the mind had no employment it would create some of
the worst sort for itself.
She tried to impress this upon the ladies of her Court, who had fallen
into sad habits of idleness which, she assured them, not only wasted
their time, but exposed them to many temptations.
It was to remedy this and to imbue them with her love of work that she
assembled her ladies every day and worked with them for two or three
hours, and while thus employed, one was appointed to read aloud some
interesting book.
As usual, the Queen's example was followed by all classes of women and
girls in the kingdom, and it became as much the fashion to work as it
had been to be idle.
This example came in the very nick of time, for it was stated on good
authority, that "women had become quite mischievous from lack of
employment."
This action of the Queen, which seems but a small thing, was in reality
a great step towards bettering the age.
For proofs of this Queen's own beautiful work, one has only to go to
Hampton Court Palace where much of it is still to be seen.
(Before leaving the seventeenth century, I should like to mention a
quaint fact. It is, that a Catherine Sloper is buried in the cloisters
of Westminster Abbey--date 1620. Her epitaph is, "Exquisite at her
needle." I thought it so curious, standing alone as it does.)
Coming to the middle of the eighteenth century, we find a group of
royal needlewomen, most of whom found help and comfort in the art of
needlework.
What, for example, would poor Marie Antoinette, wife of Louis XVI.,
have done without it in prison, or Josephine, wife of Napoleon, in her
retirement, or Queen Charlotte in her domestic sorrow?
To begin with Marie Antoinette. She was devoted to needlework, even in
her happy and prosperous days. In her own private room at Versailles
the low chairs surrounding that in which she usually sat were always
full of workbaskets and bags containing wools, silks, and canvas;
these, together with the beautiful designs for the tapestry, were
bought at the firm of Dubuquoy.
The Queen's hands were never idle; she was like a busy bee always at
work even when chatting with friends and visitors or waiting with her
bonnet on for the King to walk with her.
Not only was she clever at embroidery and tapestry, but she could both
mend and make her dresses, her mantles, and under-linen; she could also
trim her hats and mend her shoes.
Madame Elizabeth, her sister-in-law, who was with her all through her
sorrow, was equally clever with her needle, and the two together have
left some beautiful work in silk and wool on canvas.
When she quitted her life at Versailles, she did not give up her
needlework; but inquietude and anxiety assailed her as she feverishly
sorted her wools in the Tuileries, hearing all the time the menaces and
threats of the howling crowd outside.
Both in the Tuileries and in the Temple the Queen and Madame Elizabeth
did very simple work, that is to say, work not requiring concentration
of thought, which would have been impossible for them under the
circumstances. One can picture them, silent and sad, with heads bent
and speaking little, while their needles passed in and out the canvas
watered with tears.
Yet so long as they were allowed to work there was some comfort left
them, something wherewith to beguile the time.
Pauline de Tourzelle, the daughter of the governess, was taken with the
Royal Family when they were imprisoned in the Temple, but she had no
dress save that she had on. As some of Madame Elizabeth's clothes had
arrived, she gave the girl one of her dresses, but it did not fit her,
therefore the Queen and Madame Elizabeth set to work and re-made it.
One of the pieces of work Marie Antoinette did in the Temple fell
into the hands of the Bernard family at Lille, by whom it is greatly
treasured.
The account of the way the Royal Family passed their time in the Temple
is very pathetic. When at four o'clock the King slept in his arm-chair,
the Queen and Princesses worked at their tapestry or knitting, while
the little Dauphin learnt his lessons, and after the King had retired
for the night they mended their clothes or those of the King and the
Dauphin.
It is stated that the King's coat became ragged, and as Madame
Elizabeth mended it, she had to bite off the thread with her teeth, as
the scissors had been taken away.
So long as they were allowed to employ themselves with needlework there
was comfort for them, and yet more, for by their work they were able
to keep up some sort of correspondence with their friends outside the
prison. It is just possible that the jailors had a suspicion of this.
Anyhow, the time came when all their sewing materials and tools were
taken from them and they were desolate indeed.
Subsequently when Marie Antoinette was removed to the Conciergerie, a
place of confinement of the lowest order, her suffering was greatly
increased at not being allowed to work. The jailors refused even
knitting-needles. At length the thought came to her of drawing out some
threads from the stuffing of her bed, which, with two wooden skewers,
she knitted into garters.
Some of the work done by Marie Antoinette and Madame Elizabeth during
the last two years of their lives is still in existence, and consists
of hangings six feet by four. The groundwork of the tapestry is in
black wool, with bouquets of flowers, roses, pinks, and convolvulus, on
coarse canvas.
Some of these hangings were acquired by Rome in 1881.
The Empress Josephine, wife of Napoleon Buonaparte, both loved and
excelled in the art of needlework, and it certainly was of the greatest
possible comfort and solace to her during the years of her retirement.
Like Marie Antoinette, she always worked at her embroidery or tapestry
when receiving her most intimate friends, and chatting with them late
in the evening.
After her separation from Napoleon she took up her abode in beautiful
Malmaison, where, between botany and needlework, she spent most of her
time. The hangings of the saloon were entirely her own work, and the
exquisite furniture of her drawing-room was upholstered in embroidery
and tapestry worked by herself and her ladies in previous happy years.
Needlework was not infrequently put on one side during the evening
hours, in order that Josephine, her ladies, and guests, might make lint
for the Sisters of Charity, who were greatly in need of it for the
wounded soldiers.
We now come to our Queen Charlotte, wife of George III. Had it not
been for the intense delight she took in the cultivation of decorative
needlework, the art itself might have been forgotten.
She was not only very fond of needlework, but exceedingly anxious that
the Princesses should excel in the art.
In the room where she usually sat with her family were some cane-bottom
chairs, and as an amusement in their play hours she taught the little
Princesses the different stitches on this rough substitute for
canvas. As the children grew older a portion of each day was devoted
to needlework, and with their mother for teacher they became very
accomplished needlewomen.
The Queen herself embroidered the dresses which the Princesses wore
on the coming of age of the Prince of Wales. They were white crêpe
embroidered with silver.
She worked several sets of chairs, which are now at Frogmore and
Windsor. These she did in her early days. Later in life she employed
herself almost entirely with knitting.
The Princess Royal, when only ten years old, was such an accomplished
needlewoman that she worked a suit of rich embroidery for her brother,
the Prince of Wales, which he wore on his birthday.
Queen Charlotte used to find the strict English Sunday hang heavily
on her hands. Her industrious fingers "ached," as she said, "for
employment. If I read all day my poor eyes get tired. I do not like to
go to sleep, so I lock my door that nobody may be shocked, and take my
knitting for a little while, and then I read a good book again."
Her chief delight was needlework. When in the morning the weather was
unfavourable, her Majesty occupied herself with needlework, and in the
afternoon she worked while the King read to her.
When it was known that the British troops in Holland required flannel
waistcoats to screen them from the severe cold and insalubrity of
the soil, the Queen Charlotte sent to London immediately for a large
quantity of flannel, and she and the elder Princesses cut out several
dozens on the very day it was sent. The poor in the neighbourhood of
Windsor were employed in making the waistcoats.
One of her most important acts in connection with needlework was the
establishment of an institution for training and educating in an
accomplished manner the daughters of poor clergy and decayed tradesmen.
She purchased a house and grounds in Buckinghamshire, where a lady of
high attainments was placed at a salary of £500 a year to instruct the
pupils in plain needlework, embroidery, and tapestry.
The work done in this institution was exquisite. For example, the
dresses worn at Court on New Year's Day, 1787, by Queen Charlotte
and the two elder Princesses were made there. The state bed of Queen
Charlotte, together with several ottomans now in Hampton Court Palace,
which are highly-finished pieces of embroidery, were executed by the
pupils in this school.
Few people knew how much good Queen Charlotte did in a quiet way.
One never thinks of Catherine II. of Russia as devoting any time to
needlework, yet we find that she worked and presented to Voltaire a
likeness of herself, which he placed in his chamber at Ferney. It is
still in existence in Ferney, but very much faded, and instead of
hanging on the wall as formerly in the place of honour, it is now
placed in a dark corner of the room.
Once again needlework took a back place until our Queen Adelaide
introduced it as a fashion, and required of all ladies who were invited
guests at her Court that they should be good needlewomen, otherwise she
could not receive them.
It was a bold thing to do even for a queen, but it turned out well,
causing ladies who took it up for convenience to become skilled workers
and to like the occupation. Queen Adelaide herself was a beautiful
needlewoman, and set an example to all her people.
Thus we have seen how our queens have kept alive the useful and
ornamental art of needlework--an art invented by woman and kept going
by her for the necessities, comfort, and ornament of the whole peoples
of the world.
Dr. Johnson says: "Women have a great advantage, viz., that they may
take up with little things without disgracing themselves; a man cannot
except by fiddling." I suppose he refers to needlework.
It is an occupation that allows the thoughts and tongue of the worker
full liberty; indeed, it is woman's pretty excuse for thought.
We have noted its power in the lives of the highest of the land--how
it soothes sorrow, calms the troubled mind, and causes solitary hours
to pass more pleasantly, and, as asserted by some rude man, it keeps
us women out of mischief. But whatever it does or does not do, it is
without doubt a gentle, graceful, elegant, and feminine occupation.
These papers would not be complete without mentioning the work of our
dear Queen Victoria, who in her moments of leisure knits warm garments
for the poor. These may be seen in many a cottage round about Balmoral.
CHRONICLES OF AN ANGLO-CALIFORNIAN RANCH.
BY MARGARET INNES.