applique is seen in the two examples which form Illustration 62. In the
one (A) it defines the clear-cut counterchange pattern; in the other
(B), being of a tint intermediate between the ground and the ornament,
it softens the contrast between them. An interesting technical point in
the design of this last is the way the cord outlining the leaves makes a
sufficiently thick stalk, coming together, as it naturally does, double
at the ends of the leaves.
[Illustration: 55. REVERSE COUCHING (BACK).]
This occurs again in Illustration 63, where the double threads which
form the stalks, though separately stitched down, are couched again at
intervals by bands crossing the two--at the springing of the stalks and
tendrils, for example, where joins inevitably occur. The cords forming
the central stalk are in one case looped.
Fantastic use has often been made of the looping of couched cord. The
Spanish embroiderers made most ornamental use of a wee loop at the
points of the leaves where the cord must turn; but the device of looping
may easily be used to frivolous purpose. A regularly looped line at once
suggests lace. A perplexing Chinese practice is to couch fine cord in
little loops so close together that they touch. A surface filled in
after this manner, as in the butterflies on Illustration 53, might pass
at first sight for French knots or chain-stitch: it is really another
method of all-over couching.
A double course of couching forms the outline in Illustration 92, one
of filoselle and one of cord, separately sewn; but the tendrils, which
are of silver thread, are sewn down both threads at a time with double
stitches, very obvious in the illustration. Over the couched silver
threads which form the main rib of the leaf a pattern is stitched in
silk.
_A propos_ of couching, mention must be made of a way of working used in
the famous Syon Cope by way of background, and figured overleaf
(Illustration 54). The ground stuff is linen, twofold, and it is worked
in silk, which lies nearly all upon the surface. The stitch runs from
point to point of the zigzag pattern; there it penetrates the stuff, is
carried round a thread of flax laid at the back of the material, and is
brought to the surface again through the hole made by the needle in
passing down. That is to say, the silken thread only _dips_ through the
linen at the points in the pattern, and is there caught down by a thread
of flax on the under-surface of the linen. The reverse of the work
(Illustration 55) shows a surface of flax threads couched with silk, for
which reason the method may be described as reverse couching. On the
face it gives an admirable surface diaper, flat without being
mechanical. It is easily worked with a blunt needle; with a sharp one
there would be a danger of splitting the stitch. It is a kind of work on
which two persons might be employed, one on either side of the stuff.
COUCHED GOLD.
In olden days silk does not appear to have been couched in the East. On
the other hand, it was the custom to couch gold thread in Europe at
least as early as the twelfth century; so that the method was probably
first used for gold, which, except in the form of thin wire or
extraordinarily fine thread, is not quite the thing to stitch with.
Besides, it was natural to wish to keep the precious metal on the
surface, and not waste it at the back of the stuff.
A distinguishing feature about gold is that by common consent it is used
double and sewn down two threads at a time. This is not merely an
economy of work; but, except in the case of thick cords or strips of
gold, it has a more satisfactory effect--why it is not easy to say.
Panels A, B, C, in the sampler, Illustration 56, are couched in double
threads, D in single cords.
Gold couching is there used, as it mostly is, to cover a surface. In
doing that, it is usual to sew the threads firmly down at the edges of
the forms and cut them very sharply off; but they may equally well be
carried backwards and forwards across the face of the stuff. The slight
swelling of the gold thread where it turns gives emphasis to the
outline; but the turning wants carefully doing, and the gold thread must
not be too thick. If you use a large needle (to clear the way for the
thread), the turning of the gold may take place on the back instead of
on the face of the material, but only in the case of very fine thread.
Gold threads often want stroking into position. This may be done with
what is called a "pierce"; but a good stiletto, or even a very large
needle, will answer the purpose. Sharply pointed scissors are
indispensable.
In solid couching the stitches run almost inevitably into pattern; and
it is customary, therefore, to start with the assumption that they will,
and deliberately to make them into pattern--to work them, that is to
say, in vertical, diagonal, or cross lines as at A, in zigzags as at B,
or in some more complicated diaper pattern as at C, where the stitching
is purposely in pronounced colour, that the pattern may be quite clearly
seen; at D it has more its proper value, that the effect of it may be
better appreciated. The pattern may, of course, be helped by the colour
of the stitching, and there is some art in making the necessary stitches
into appropriate pattern.
[Illustration: 56. COUCHED GOLD SAMPLER.]
In fact the ornamentist, being an ornamentist, naturally takes advantage
of the necessity of stitching, to pattern his metallic surfaces with
diaper, using often, as in the scroll in Illustration 57, a diversity
of patterns, which gives at once varied texture and fanciful interest to
the surface. There is quite an epitome of little diapers in that
fragment of needlework; and one can hardly doubt that the embroiderer
found it great fun to contrive them. The flat strips of metal
emphasising the backs of the curves are sometimes twisted as they are
sewn.
The other diapers on the sampler, F, G, H, J, 56, are emphasised by the
relief given to them by underlying cords, purposely left bare in parts
to show the structure. These underlying cords must be firmly sewn on to
the linen ground, and if the stitching follows the direction of the
twist in them, the round surface is not so likely to be roughened by it.
By rights, the cords should be laid farther apart than in the sampler,
where the attempt to force the effect (for purposes of explanation) has
not proved very successful. An infinity of basket patterns, as these may
be called (basket _stitches_ they are not), may be devised by varying
the intervals at which the gold threads are sewn down, and the number of
cords they cross at a time.
[Illustration: 57. COUCHED SILVER.]
The central panel of the sampler (E) shows a combination of flat and
raised gold. The outline of the heart is corded; the centre of it is
raised by stitching, first with crewel wool and then with gold-coloured
floss across that (it is difficult to prevent _white_ stuffing from
showing through gold). This gives only a hint of what may be done in
the way of raised ornament upon a flat gold ground, and was done in
mediaeval work. A single cord may be sewn down to make a pattern in
relief, leafage, scrollwork, or what not, which, when the surface is all
worked over with gold, has very much the effect of gilt gesso. If, for
any reason, heavy work of this kind is to be done on silk or satin, that
must first be backed with strong linen.
In mediaeval and church work generally the double threads are usually
laid close together, forming, as in the diapers on sampler, a solid
surface of gold; and that was largely done in Oriental embroidery
too--in Chinese, for example, where, however, the threads, instead of
being couched in straight lines, follow the outlines of the design, and
are worked ring within ring until the space is filled, as in the
dragon's face, A, Illustration 58. There is here, as in the working of
his body, a certain economy of gold; a small amount of the ground is
allowed to show between the lines of double gold thread--not enough to
tell as ground, but enough to give a tint of the ground colour to the
metal. Further, in this more open couching the direction of the lines of
couching goes for more than in solid work. The pattern made by the gold
thread is here not only ornamental but suggestive of the scaly body of
the creature. It will be seen, too, how, in the working of the legs,
the relatively compact gold threads are kept well within the outline, by
which means anything like harshness of silhouette is avoided.
[Illustration: 58. COUCHED GOLD NOT QUITE SOLID.]
That this less solid manner was not confined to the far East is shown by
the Venetian valance, B, on the lower part of the page, which has very
much the appearance of gold lace.
A good example of outline (single thread) in gold is given in
Illustration 59, part of an Italian housing, which reminds one both in
effect and in design of damascening, to which it is in some respects
equivalent; only, instead of gold and silver wire beaten into black iron
or steel, we have gold and silver thread sewn on to dark velvet. The
design recalls also the French bookbindings of the period of Henri II.,
in which the tooled ornament was precisely of this character. The
resemblance is none the less that an occasional detail is worked more
solidly; but, in the main, this is outline work, and a beautiful example
of it. The art in work of that kind is, of course, largely in the
design. Gold thread work in spiral forms has very much the effect of
filagree in gold wire.
The next step is where the cords of gold enclose little touches of
embroidery in coloured floss, as in Illustration 91. These have the
value of so many jewels or bits of bright enamel. In fact, just as
outline work in simple gold thread resembles damascening or filagree, so
this outlining of little spaces of coloured silk suggests enamel. The
cord of the embroiderer answers to the cloisons of the enameller, the
surfaces of shining floss to the films of vitreous enamel.
[Illustration: 59. COUCHED OUTLINE WORK.]
Applique embroidery is constantly edged with gold or silver thread. An
effective, if rather rude, example of this, the thread here again
double, is given in Illustration 60.
In couching more than one thread at a time there is a difficulty in
turning the angles. The threads give, of necessity, only gently rounded
forms. To get anything like a sharp point, you must stop short with the
inner thread before reaching the extreme turning point, and take it up
again on your way back. What applies to two threads, applies of course
still more forcibly to three.
The colour with which gold thread is sewn is a question of considerable
importance. If the stitches are close enough together to make solid
work, they give a flush of colour to the gold. Advantage is commonly
taken of this both in mediaeval and Oriental work to warm the tint by
sewing it down with red. The Chinese will even work with a deeper and a
paler red to get two coppery shades. White stitching pales the gold,
yellow modifies it least, green cools it, and blue makes it greener. The
closer the stitches, the deeper the tint, of course.
[Illustration: 60. APPLIQUE--SATIN ON VELVET.]
You can get thus various shades of gold out of the same thread, and even
gradation from one to another, as may be seen in a great deal of
Spanish work of the 16th century, in which the gold ornament is often
quite delicately shaded from yellowish gold to ruddy copper on the one
hand, and to bronzy green on the other. Similar use may be made of
vari-coloured silks in couching white or other cord; but gold reflects
the colour much better than silk, and gives much more subtle effects.
The Flemings and Italians of the early Renaissance went further. They
had a way of laying threads of gold and sewing them so closely over with
coloured silk that in many parts it quite hid the gold. Only in
proportion as they wanted to lighten the colour of the draperies in
their pictorial embroideries did they space the stitches farther and
farther apart, and let the gold gleam through. Except in the high lights
it did not pronounce itself positively. The effect is not unlike what is
seen in paintings of the primitive school, where the high lights of the
red and blue draperies are hatched with gold. The practice of the
embroiderer may be reminiscent of that, or that may be the origin of the
primitive painters' convention. It is more as if the embroiderer wanted
to represent a precious tissue, a stuff shot with gold.
Illustration 80 gives part of a figure worked in this way, relieved
against a more golden architectural background rendered by the very same
double threads of gold which run through the figures. In the
architecture, however, they are couched in stitches which are never so
near as to take away from the effect of the gold. The two degrees of
obscuring or clouding gold by oversewing are here shown in most
instructive contrast. The cords, as usual, are laid in horizontal
courses. That was the convenient way of working; but it resulted in a
corded look, which has very much the appearance of tapestry; and there
is no doubt that resemblance to tapestry was in the end consciously
sought. That the method here employed was laborious needs no saying; but
it gave most beautiful, if pictorial, results.
APPLIQUE.
Embroidery, it has been shown, is much of it on the surface of the
stuff, not just needle stitches, but the stitching-on of
something--cord, gold thread, or whatever it may be. And instances have
been given where the design of such work was not merely in outline, but
where certain details were filled in with stitching. Yet another
practice, and one more strictly in keeping with the onlaying of cord,
was to onlay the solid also, applying, that is to say, the surface
colour also in the form of pieces of silk cut to shape.
Patterns of this kind may be conceived as line work developing into
leafy terminations, the APPLIQUE only an adjunct to couching
(Illustration 63); or they may be thought of as massive work eked out
with line: the applique, that is to say, the main thing, the couching
only supplementary (Illustration 92). An intermediate kind is where
outline and mass--couching and applique--play parts of equal importance
in the scheme of design (Illustration 60).
Couched cord or filoselle is useful in covering the raw edge of the
onlay, not so much masking the joints as making them sightly.
Applique must be carefully and exactly done, and is best worked in a
frame. It is almost as much a man's work as a woman's. Embroidery proper
is properly woman's work; but here, as in the case of tailoring, the man
comes in. The getting ready for applique is not the kind of thing a
woman can do best.
The finishing may sometimes be done in the hand, and very bold, coarse
work may possibly be worked throughout in the hand, and outlined with
buttonhole-stitch (chain-stitch is not so appropriate); but when a
couched outline is employed it must be done in a frame, and, indeed,
work with any pretensions to finish is invariably begun and finished in
the frame.
[Sidenote: TO WORK APPLIQUE]
To work applique you want, in fact, two frames--one on which to mount
the material to be embroidered, and another on which to mount the
material to be applied. The backing in each case should be of smooth
holland. This is stretched on to the frame, and then pasted with stiff
starch or what not; the silk or velvet is laid on to it and stroked with
a soft rag until it adheres, and is left to dry gently. When dry, the
outlines of the complete design are traced upon the one, and those of
the details to be applied upon the other. (You may paste, of course,
silks of two or three colours upon one backing for this.) The stuff to
be applied is then loosened from its frame, the details are cleanly cut
out with scissors, or, better still, a knife (in either case sharp), and
transferred to their place in the design on the other frame. There they
are kept in position by short steel pins planted upright into the stuff
until you are sure they fit, and then tacked firmly down, with care that
the stitches are such as will be quite covered by the final couching,
chain stitch, or whatever is to be your outline.
In the case of silk or other delicate material, peculiar care must be
taken that the paste is not moist enough to penetrate the stuff; but an
experienced worker has no fear of that.
A firm outline is a condition of applique, and couched cord fulfils it
most perfectly. Much depends upon a tasteful and tactful choice of
colour for it. You fatten your pattern by outlining it with a colour
which goes with it (Illustration 62, B). You thin it by one which goes
into the ground. Very subtle use may be made of a double outline or of a
corded line upon couched floss. There is a double outline to the
ornament in Illustration 92: the inner one next to the yellow satin
applique is of gold, the outer one next the crimson velvet ground is of
white sewn with pale blue. This gives emphasis to the bold forms of the
leafage. The mid-rib there is of silver couching; the minor veinings are
stitched in silk, and are rather insignificant.
[Illustration: 61. APPLIQUE PANEL BY MISS KEIGHLEY.]
The less there is of extra stitching on applique the better as a rule.
It disturbs the breadth, which is so valuable a characteristic of onlay.
In no case is much mixing of methods to be desired; but if applique is
to be supplemented, it had best be with couching, which is not so much
stitching as stitched down, itself another form of applied work.
Applique of itself is not, of course, adapted to pictorial work, but
that in association with judicious stitching and couching it may be used
to admirable decorative purpose in figure design is shown by Miss Mabel
Keighley's panel, Illustration 61. What an artist may do depends upon
the artist. Miss Keighley's panel indicates the use that may be made of
texture in the stuff onlaid.
Applique is especially appropriate to bold church work, fulfilling
perfectly that condition of legibility so desirable in work necessarily
seen oftenest from afar. Broadly designed, it may be as fine in its way
as a piece of mediaeval stained glass, and it gives to silk and velvet
their true worth. The pattern may be readable as far off as you can
distinguish colour.
[Illustration: 62. A. COUNTERCHANGE. B. APPLIQUE.]
Applique work is thought by some to be an inferior kind of embroidery,
which it is not. It is not a lower but another kind of needlework, in
which more is made of the stuff than of the stitching. In it the craft
of the needleworker is not carried to its limit; but, on the other
hand, it makes great demands upon design. You cannot begin by just
throwing about sprays of natural flowers. It calls peremptorily for
treatment--by which test the decorative artist stands or falls.
Effective it must be; coarse it may be; vulgar it should not be; trivial
it can hardly be; mere prettiness is beyond its scope; but it lends
itself to dignity of design and nobility of treatment. Of course, it is
not popular.
A usual form of applique is in satin upon velvet. Velvet on satin (B,
Illustration 62) is comparatively rare; but it may be very beautiful,
though there is a danger that it may look like weaving.
Silk upon silk (figured damask) is shown in Illustration 63, designed to
be seen from a nearer point of view, and less pronounced in pattern
accordingly. The strap work, applied in ribbon, is broken by cross
stitches in couples, which take away from the severity of the lines. The
grape bunches are onlaid, each in one piece of silk, the forms of the
separate grapes expressed by couching. The French knots in the centre of
the grapes add greatly to the richness of the surface. The leaves are in
one piece. It would have been possible to use two or three, joining them
at the veins.
[Illustration: 63. APPLIQUE--SILK ON SILK DAMASK.]
The application of leather to velvet, as in Illustration 94, allows
modification in the way of execution, and of design adapted to it.
Leather does not fray, and needs, therefore, no sewing over at the edge,
but only sewing down, which may be done, as in this case, well within
the edge of the material, giving the effect of a double outline. The
Chinese do small work in linen, making similar use of the stitching
within the outline, but turning the cut edge of the stuff under; it
would not do to leave it raw. On a bolder scale, but in precisely the
same manner, is embroidered the wonderful tent of Francois Ier., taken
at the battle of Pavia, and now in the Armoury at Madrid--obviously Arab
work. Something of the kind was done also in Morocco, which points to
leather work as the possible origin of this method.
Another ingenious Chinese notion is to sew down little five-petalled
flowers (turned under at the edges) with long stamen stitches radiating
from a central eye of knots.
INLAY, MOSAIC, CUT-WORK.
A step beyond the process of onlaying is INLAY, where one material is
not laid on to the other, but into it, both being perhaps backed by a
common material. The process is, in fact, precisely analogous to that
inlay of brass and tortoiseshell which goes by the name of its inventor,
Boule. The work is difficult, but thorough. It does not recommend itself
to those who want to get effect cheaply. The process is suited only to
close-textured stuffs, such as cloth, which do not fray.
[Sidenote: TO WORK INLAY.]
The materials are not pasted on to linen, as in the case of applique.
The cloth to be inlaid is placed upon the other, and both are cut
through with one action of the knife, so that the parts cannot but fit.
The coherent piece of material (the ground, say, of the pattern) is then
laid upon a piece of strong linen already in a frame; the vacant spaces
in it are filled up by pieces of the other stuff, and all is tacked down
in place. That done, the work is taken out of the frame, and the edges
sewn together. The backing can then, if necessary, be removed; and in
Oriental work it generally was.
Inlay lends itself most invitingly to COUNTERCHANGE in design, as seen
in the stole at A, Illustration 62. Light and dark, ground and pattern,
are there identical. You cannot say either is ground; each forms the
ground to the other. And from the mere fact of the counterchanging you
gather that it is inlaid, and not onlaid.
[Sidenote: TO WORK COUNTERCHANGE.]
Prior to inlaying in materials which are at all likely to fray, you
first back them with paper, thin but tough, firmly pasted; then, having
tacked the two together, and pinned them with drawing-pins on to a
board, you slip between it and the stuff a sheet of glass, and with a
very sharp knife (kept sharp by an oilstone at hand) cut out the
pattern. What was cut out of one material has only to be fitted into the
other, and sewn together as before, and you have two pieces of inlaid
work--what is the ground in one forming the pattern in the other, and
_vice versa_. By this ingenious means there is absolutely no waste of
stuff. You get, moreover, almost invariably a broad and dignified
effect: the process does not lend itself to triviality. It was used by
the Italians, and more especially by the Spaniards of the Renaissance,
who borrowed the idea, of course, from the Arabs.
[Illustration: 64. INLAY IN COLOURED CLOTHS.]
In India they still inlay in cloth most marvellously, not only
counterchanging the pattern, but inlaying the inlays with smaller
patternwork, thus combining great simplicity of effect with wonderful
minuteness of detail. They mask the joins with chain-stitch, the
colour of it artfully chosen with regard to the two colours of the cloth
it divides or joins. Further, they often patch together pieces of this
kind of inlay.
Inlay itself is a sort of PATCHWORK. You cut pieces out of your cloth,
and patch it with pieces of another colour, covering the joins perhaps,
as on Illustration 64, with chain stitch, which gives it some
resemblance to cloisonne enamel, the cloisons being of chain-stitch.
Where there is no one ground stuff to be patched, but a number of
vari-coloured pieces of stuff are sewn together, they form a veritable
Mosaic, reminding one, in coloured stuffs, of what the mediaeval glaziers
did in coloured glass. Admirable heraldic work was done in Germany by
this method; and it is still employed for flag making. The stuffs used
should be as nearly as possible of one substance. In patchwork of
loosely-textured material each separate piece of stuff may be cut large,
turned in at the edge, and oversewn on the wrong side.
[Illustration: 65. CUT-WORK IN LINEN.]