For learning is better than house or land;
When land is gone and money is spent
Then learning is most excellent."
With the eighteenth century the beauty of the Samplers distinctly
declined. They became squarer, and were bordered with a running pattern,
and the whole canvas became more or less pictorial. Inevitably the end
of this art came. Ugly realistic bowpots with stumpy trees decorated the
picture in regular order. The alphabet still appeared, and moral
reflection seemed to be the aim of the worker rather than to make the
Sampler show beauty of stitchery. Quaint little maps of England are
often seen, surrounded with floral borders, but it remained to the early
nineteenth century to show how the Sampler became reduced to absurdity.
One of the quaintest and most amusing Samplers at South Kensington is a
12-inch by 8-inch example in woollen canvas and embroidered with
coloured silk. At the lower end is a soldier, a tiny realistic house, a
dovecot, any number of flowering plants, a stag and other animals. Above
is a band of worked embroidery enclosing the words, "This is my dear
Father." The remaining spaces are filled in with angels blowing
trumpets, double-headed eagle, peacocks and other birds, and baskets of
fruit. In spite of its absurdity, this little piece is far more
pleasant than the tombstone inscriptions which abound, and is, after
all, delightfully suggestive of home and affection.
[Illustration: EARLY ENGLISH "SAMPLER," SHOWING EMBROIDERY IN COLOURED
SILK.
(_S.K.M. Collection._)]
[Illustration: EARLY ENGLISH "SAMPLER," SHOWING BIRD'S-EYE EMBROIDERY
AND CUT AND DRAWN WORK.
(_S.K.M. Collection._)]
Another quaint piece at South Kensington is a sampler worked by poor
Harriet Taylor, _aged seven!_ At the top are four flying angels, two in
clouds flanking a crown beneath the letters "G. R." In the middle stands
a flower-wreathed arch, with columns holding vases of flowering plants;
above are the words, "The Temple of Fancy," and within an enclosed space
the following homily:
"Not Land but Learning
Makes a man complete
Not Birth but Breeding
Makes him truly Great
Not Wealth but Wisdom
Does adorn the State
Virtue not Honor
Makes him Fortunate
Learning, Breeding, Wisdom
Get these three
Then Wealth and Honor
Will attend on thee."
Then follows a house called "The Queen's Palace," standing in an
enclosed flower-garden. This masterpiece of moral philosophy from the
hands of a child of seven years is dated 1813.
An exaggerated conception of the value of old Samplers is very widely
spread. Only the seventeenth-century Samplers are really of consequence,
and these fetch fancy prices. In the sale-rooms a long narrow Sampler
of lace stitches and drawn-thread work would bring as much as a
handsome piece of lace. They are practically unattainable, and in this
case the law of supply and demand does not obtain. It is beyond the
needlewomen of the present day to imitate these old Samplers. Life is
too short, and demands upon time are so many and varied, that a lifetime
of work would result in making only one. Therefore, the fortunate owners
of these seventeenth-century Samplers may cherish their possessions, and
those less lucky possess their souls in patience, and hoard their golden
guineas in the hope of securing one. Twenty years ago a few pounds would
have been ample to secure a fine specimen, but £30 will now secure only
a short fragment.
During the last three years I have not seen a good Sampler at any London
Curio or lace shop, and none appear in the sale-rooms. The
eighteenth-century Samplers are comparatively common, the map variety
especially so, and can be purchased for a pound or so, but these are not
desirable to the collector.
X
THE WILLIAM AND MARY EMBROIDERIES
[Illustration: JACOBEAN WALL-HANGING WORKED IN COLOURED CREWELS ON LINEN
GROUND.
(_S.K.M. Collection._)]
X
THE WILLIAM AND MARY EMBROIDERIES
Queen Mary "a born needlewoman"--The Hampton Court
Embroideries--Revival of petit point--Jacobean hangings.
One of the most convincing facts in arguments that there _is_ a revival
in the gentle art of needlecraft is that it has become the fashion to
drape our windows, cover our furniture, and panel our walls with printed
copies of the Old Jacobean needlework. Many people, knowing nothing
whatever about the history of needlework, wonder where the designs for
the printed linens which line the windows of Messrs. Liberty, Goodall
and Burnett's colossal frontages in Regent Street have been found. In
time amazement gives way to admiration for these quaint blues and
greens, roses and pale yellows, worked in great scrolls with exotic
flowers and still more exotic birds, and the funny little hillocks with
delightful little pagoda-like cottages nestling amongst them, and many
and various little animals which seem to keep perpetual holiday under
the everlasting blooms. The designs are taken bodily from the
historical hangings of the later seventeenth century. After the
abdication and flight of James II. to St. Germains, his daughter Mary
came over with her Dutch husband, William the Stadtholder--or, rather,
William came over and brought his wife, the daughter of the late king,
for William had no intention of assuming the style and life of Prince
Consort, but came well to the front, and kept there. It was not
"VICTORIA _and Albert_" in those days, but WILLIAM and MARY, who ruled
England, and ruled it well. William III. must have been a man of strong
personality, and he managed to quell all the rebellions of his reign,
and during the time he ruled over us the country settled down to a
peaceful state that has remained to the present time.
Queen Mary had quite sufficient employment in settling herself and her
household, and generally managing the domestic matters pertaining to the
new kingdom she had come into. She apparently had a very free hand in
rebuilding Hampton Court, which she particularly made her home,
absolutely pulling the interior down, and rebuilding and redecorating it
according to her own taste, which was not that of the Stuart persuasion
with its gorgeous magnificence, but the more homely and solid Dutch.
Very little of the original Hampton Court _interior_, built and
furnished by Cardinal Wolsey, exists. Just here and there we find
delightfully dark little dens with the original linen-fold panellings
and ceilings that are a ravishment to look upon; but mostly the rooms
are high, plain-panelled, and with the quaint ingle-nook fireplaces,
with shelves above, upon which Mary placed her lovely "blue and white"
porcelain which had been brought to her by the Dutch merchants who at
that time were the great traders of the sea.
[Illustration: ENLARGEMENT OF "JACOBEAN" SPRAY.
(_S.K.M. Collection._)]
Queen Mary ought to be regarded as the patron saint of English
needlewomen. She was happiest when employed furnishing every
bed-covering, every chair and stool, and supplying the hangings for her
favourite home. It is said that she spent her days over her embroidery
frame, knowing full well that affairs of State were in the capable hands
of her husband.
There are few relics left of her handiwork outside Hampton Court. She
left no dainty little book-covers, bags, or boxes, as her ideas were
fixed on larger pieces of embroidery. Had she lived in the Berlin-wool
picture days, she would have filled every nook and cranny with these
atrocities, as many humbler devotees to the needle have done to our own
knowledge. Needlework can become a _passion_, and certainly Queen Mary
must have possessed it.
After the complete collapse of the Stuart stump pictures, when every
vestige of loyalty seems to have been swept away with the hated James
II., the ancient Petit Point pictures came back into fashion. Very
clever work was put into them, but, alas! their scope was purely to
depict religious scenes of the rigorous kind. No dainty fairy-like
little people now ruled in pictured story, but actual representations of
Bible history.
The illustration of "The Baptism of the Ethiopian Eunuch by St. Philip"
is a fair sample of the needlework picture of this time. The picture is
a strange mixture of the early Stuart Petit Point, the Jacobean
wall-hanging, and the newly revived religious spirit. The duck-pond, the
swans and the water-plants might have been copied bodily from James I.'s
time. The paroquet and the flying bird, and the immense leaves and
blossoms, are direct from the wall-hangings, while the figures only too
surely foretell the coming dark days of needlecraft, when a Scripture
picture and a coarsely worked sampler were part of every girl's liberal
education. The work in this picture is extremely good, and it is
excruciatingly funny without intending to be so. The pretty little
equipage with its diminutive ponies surely was never intended to carry
either St. Philip or the Eunuch! The open book, with Hebraic
inscription, is very delightful. It brings to mind the Tables of the Law
rather than the light reading that the charming little Cinderella coach
should carry.
These pictures are not common, and we scarcely know whether to be
thankful for them or not. Unlike the early petit point, they were worked
in _worsteds_, whereas the early pictures were wrought in silk. The moth
has a natural affinity for wool, as we all know, and his tribe has
cleared off many hundreds of examples. Why so many of the old Jacobean
hangings remain is that they were worked for _use_, and not ornament,
and even after they ceased to be fashionable ornaments for sitting and
bed rooms, they were either relegated to the servants' quarters, or
given to dependants, who used them constantly, shaking and keeping
them in repair, as the eighteenth-century housewives liked to keep their
homes swept and garnished.
[Illustration: NEEDLEWORK PICTURE OF QUEEN ANNE PERIOD.
(_S.K.M. Collection._)]
It is strange to see these old Jacobean hangings (perhaps the drapery of
the now tabooed four-post bedstead), which might some thirty years ago
have been carried off for the asking, sell at Christie's for £800, as
happened in the dispersal of the Massey-Mainwaring sale last year. Even
a panel of no use except to frame as a picture, say 4 feet by 3 feet,
will fetch £30 and a full-sized bed-cover can only be bought for over
£100. The reason is not far to seek. The colouring and the drawing of
this fine old Crewel-work are exquisite (even though the design savours
of the grotesque), and Time has dealt very leniently with the dyes. I
endeavoured to match some of these old worsteds a little time ago, and
though able to find the colours, could not get the tone. After much
tribulation I was advised to hang the skeins of worsted on the trees in
the garden and _forget all about them_, and certainly wind and weather
have softened the somewhat garish worsteds to the soft, _fade_ colours
of the old work.
The same class of embroidery was executed during the reign of Queen
Anne, though she herself did little of it. Costly silks and brocades and
Venetian laces were the dress of the day, and no little dainty
accessories appear to have been made.
XI
PICTORIAL NEEDLEWORK OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY
[Illustration: A FINE "PAINTED FACE" SILK-EMBROIDERED PICTURE.
(_Author's Collection._)]
XI
PICTORIAL NEEDLEWORK OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY
The "painted faces" period--Method of production--Revival of
Scriptural "motifs"--Modern fakes--Black silk and hair copies
of engravings.
An immense number of pictures must have been worked during the
eighteenth century. Almost, we might say, no English home is without an
example. Much of the work is intensely bad, and only that Time has
tenderly softened the colours, and the old-time dresses add an element
of quaintness to the pictures, can they be tolerated. Works of art they
are not, and, indeed, were never intended to occupy the place their
owners now proudly claim for them. Just here and there a picture of the
painted face type is a masterpiece of stitchery, as in the example
illustrated, where every thread has been worked by an _artiste_. Looking
at this little gem across a room, the effect is that of a charming old
colour print, so tenderly are the lines of shading depicted. This is the
only picture of this class that I have seen for years as an absolutely
perfect specimen of the eighteenth-century silk pictures, though
doubtless many exist.
The discrepancy which is usually found is that, although the design and
outline is perfect, the faces and hands exquisitely painted, the
needlework part of the picture has been executed in a foolish,
inartistic manner, and no method of light and shade has been observed.
Some little time ago I published an article in one of the popular
monthly Magazines illustrating this same picture, and was afterwards
inundated with letters from correspondents from far and near sending
their pictures for valuation and--admiration! Not one of these pictures
was good, though there were varying degrees of _badness_. But in no
instance was the painted face crudely drawn or badly coloured.
The explanation is that just as the modern needlewoman goes to a
Needlework Depôt and obtains pieces of embroidery already commenced and
the design of the whole drawn ready for completion, so these old needle
pictures were sold ready for embroidering, the outline of the trees
sketched in fine sepia lines, the distant landscape already painted, the
faces and hands of the figures charmingly coloured, in many instances by
first-class artists. When we remember that the eighteenth century was
_par excellence_ the great period of English portrait painting and
colour printing, we can understand that possibly really fine artists
were willing to paint these exquisite faces on fine silk and satin, just
as good artists of the present day often paint "pot-boilers" while
waiting for fame.
[Illustration: EMBROIDERED SILK PICTURE OF "THE LAST SUPPER."
Eighteenth Century.
(_S.K.M. Collection._)]
Angelica Kauffmann's style was often copied. Is it too much to believe
that some of these charming faces may have been from her hands? We know
that she painted furniture and china, therefore why not the faces of the
needlework pictures so nearly akin to her own work?
The eighteenth-century costume was particularly adapted to this pretty
work. We cannot imagine the voluminous robes of Queen Mary or Queen Anne
in needle-stitchery, but the soft, silky lawns of the Georgian periods,
the high-waisted bodices, the _bouffant_ fichus and the flowing
head-dresses, all were specially easy and graceful to work. Many of the
pretty children Sir Joshua loved to paint were copied. "Innocence" made
a charming picture, and several of the less rustic Morland pictures were
copied.
We would imagine that when the beginnings of the picture were so
glorious the needlewoman would have made some endeavour to work up to
it. But, alas! it was not so. Though often the stitching is neat and
small, not an idea of shading seems to have entered the worker's mind,
and whole spaces, nay, a complete garment, are often worked solid in one
tone of colour! On the whole there is far more artistic sense and
feeling in the Stump pictures it is the fashion to deride.
Not always were dainty pastoral and domestic scenes worked. Very ghastly
creations are still existent of scriptural subjects. Coarsely worked in
wool, instead of silk, or in a mixture of both. The painting is still
good, but the work and the subjects are execrable! "Abraham about to
sacrifice Isaac," on the pile of faggots already laid, and Isaac bound
on it, with a very woolly lamb standing ready as a substitute, was a
favourite subject. "Abraham dismissing Hagar and Ishmael," with a
malignant-looking Sarah in the distance, vies with the former in
popularity. "The Woman of Samaria," and "The Entombment," are another
pair of unpleasant pictures which we are often called upon to admire.
The best of these pictures were worked in fine floss silk, not quite
like the floss silk of to-day, as it had more twist and body in it, with
just a little fine chenille, and very tiny bits of silver thread to
heighten the effect. The worst were worked in _crewel_ wools of crude
colours. Fortunately, the moth has a special predilection for these
pictures, and they are slowly being eaten out of existence, in spite of
being cherished as heirlooms and works of art.
Another pretty style which we seldom meet with was some part of the
picture covered with the almost obsolete "ærophane," a kind of chiffon
or crape which was much in request even up to fifty years ago. A certain
part of the draperies was worked on the silk ground, without any attempt
at finish. This was covered with ærophane, and outlined so as to attach
it to the figure. This again was worked upon with very happy effects,
very fine darning stitches making the requisite depth of shading. The
illustration shows the use of this, but this cannot be said to be a very
good specimen.
[Illustration: "PAINTED FACE" SILK-EMBROIDERED PICTURE.
Eighteenth Century.
(_Author's Collection._)]
These painted face, silk-worked pictures are the only needlework
examples the collector _need to beware of_, as they are being reproduced
by the score. The method of working in the poorer specimens is very
simple, and it pays the "faker" to sell for £2 or £3 what takes,
perhaps, only half a day to produce. When a well-executed picture is
produced it is worth money, but so far I have seen none, except at the
Royal School of Needlework, where the copying of old pictures of the
period is exceedingly well done, and not intended to deceive. The
prices, however, are almost prohibitive, as no modern needlework picture
is worth from £15 to £30. They are, after all, only copies, and in no
sense of the word works of art.
During the eighteenth century, also, a fashion set in of adorning
engravings with pieces of cloth, silk, and tinsel. At best it was a
stupid fancy, and was responsible for the destruction of many fine old
mezzotints and coloured prints. The hands, face, and background of an
engraving were cut out, and pasted on a sheet of cardboard, pieces of
some favourite brocaded gown, perhaps, were attached to the neck and
shoulders, tiny lace tuckers were inserted, and gorgeous jewellery was
simulated by wretched bits of tinsel trimming. The realism of the Stuart
stump picture was never so atrocious as this baleful invention, which
was as meretricious as a waxwork show.
Not so popular, but far better, were the pictures worked on white silk
with black silk and hair. There were no artistic aspirations about
these--they were copies in black and white of the engravings of the
day, just as a pen-and-ink or pencil copy might be made. Very dainty
stitchery was put in them, the stronger parts of the lines being in fine
black silk, the finer and more distant being worked in human hair of
various shades from black to brown. Occasionally golden and even white
hair is used, and the effect is often that of a faded engraving. The
silk ground on which these little pictures were worked is, however,
often cracked with age, and many pretty specimens are ruined. The
illustration shows an example of the type of picture, and depicts
"Charlotte weeping over the Tomb of Werther."
[Illustration: BLACK SILK AND HAIR PICTURE.
Imitation of Engraving. Eighteenth Century.
(_Author's Collection._)]
XII
NEEDLEWORK PICTURES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY
XII
NEEDLEWORK PICTURES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY
Entire decline of needlework as an art--Miss Linwood's
invention!--The Berlin-wool pictures--Lack of efficient
instruction--Waste of magnificent opportunity at South
Kensington Museum.
It were kindest to ignore 19th century needlework, but in a book
treating of English embroidery something must be said to bridge over the
time when Needlecraft as an Art was _dead_. During the earlier part of
the century taste was bad, during the middle it was beyond criticism,
and from then to the time of the "greenery-yallery" æsthetic revival all
and everything made by woman's fingers ought to be buried, burnt, or
otherwise destroyed. Indeed, if that drastic process could be carried
out from the time good Queen Adelaide reigned to the early "eighties" we
might not, now and ever, have to bow our heads in utter abjection.
The originator and moving spirit of this bad period was Miss Linwood,
who conceived the idea of copying oil paintings in woolwork. She died
in 1845. Would that she had never been born! When we think of the many
years which English women have spent over those wickedly hideous
Berlin-wool pictures, working their bad drawing and vilely crude colours
into those awful canvases, and imagining that they were earning undying
fame as notable women for all the succeeding ages, death was too good
for Miss Linwood. The usual boiling oil would have been a fitter end!
Miss Linwood made a great _furore_ at the time of her invention, and
held an exhibition in the rooms now occupied by Messrs. Puttick &
Simpson, Leicester Square. Can we not imagine the shade of the great Sir
Joshua Reynolds, whose home and studio these rooms had been, revisiting
the glimpses of the moon, and while wandering up and down that famous
old staircase forsaking his home for ever after one horrified glance at
Miss Linwood's invention?
Not only Miss Linwood, but Mrs. Delany and Miss Knowles made themselves
famous for Berlin-wool pictures. The kindest thing to say is that the
specimens which are supposed to have been worked by their own hands are
considerably better than those of the half-dozen generations of their
followers. During the middle and succeeding twenty years of the
nineteenth century the notable housewife of every class amused herself,
at the expense of her mind, by working cross-stitch pictures with
crudely coloured wools (royal blue and rose-pink, magenta,
emerald-green, and deep crimson were supposed to represent the actual
colours of Nature), on very coarse canvas. Landseer's paintings were
favourite studies, "Bolton Abbey in the Olden Times" lending itself to a
choice range of violent colours and striking incidents. Nothing was too
sacred for the Berlin-wool worker to lay hands upon. "The Crucifixion,"
"The Nativity," "The Flight into Egypt," "The Holy Family" were not only
supposed to show the skill of the worker, but also the proper frame of
mind the embroideress possessed. Pleasing little horrors such as the
"Head of the Saviour in His Agony," and that of the Virgin with all her
tortured mother love in her eyes were considered fit ornaments for
drawing-room, which by the way were also adorned with wool and cotton
crochet antimacassars, waxwork flowers under glass, and often
astonishingly good specimens of fine Chelsea, Worcester, and Oriental
china.
Never was the questions of how "having eyes and yet seeing not" more
fully exemplified. The nation abounded in paintings, prints, fine
needlework, and the product of our greatest period of porcelain
manufacture. Fine examples were at hand everywhere. Exquisite prints
belonging to our only good period, the eighteenth century, were common;
yet rather than try their skill in copying these, the needlewomen, who
possessed undoubted skill, enthusiasm, and infinite patience, preferred
to copy realistic paintings of the Landseer school and the highly
coloured prints of the Baxter and Le Blond period.