EMBROIDERIES
The materials used as groundwork for mediæval embroideries were
rich in themselves. Samit was the favourite--shimmering, and woven
originally of solid flat gold wire. Ciclatoun was also a brilliant
textile, as also was Cendal. Cendal silk is spoken of by early
writers.
The first use of silk is interesting to trace. A monopoly, a veritable
silk trust, was established in 533, in the Roman Empire. Women
were employed at the Court of Justinian to preside over the looms,
and the manufacture of silk was not allowed elsewhere. The only
hindrance to this scheme was that the silk itself had to be brought
from China. But in the reign of Justinian, two monks who had been
travelling in the Orient, brought to the emperor, as curiosities,
some silkworms and cocoons. They obtained some long hollow walking
sticks, which they packed full of silkworms' eggs, and thus imported
the producers of the raw material. The European silk industry, in
fabrics, embroideries, velvets, and such commodities, may owe its
origin to this bit of monastic enterprise in 550.
Silk garments were very costly, however, and it was
not every lady in early times who could have such luxuries. It is
said that even the Emperor Aurelian refused his wife her request
for just one single cloak of silk, saying: "No, I could never think
of buying such a thing, for it sells for its weight in gold!"
Fustian and taffeta were less costly, but frequently used in important
work, as also were sarcenet and camora. Velvet and satin were of later
date, not occurring until the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries.
Baudekin, a good silk and golden weave, was very popular.
Cut velvets with elaborate patterns were made in Genoa. The process
consisted in leaving the main ground in the original fine rib which
resulted from weaving, while in the pattern these little ribs were
split open, making that part of a different ply from the rest of
the material, in fact, being the finished velvet as we now know
it, while the ground remained uncut, and had more the appearance
of silk reps. Velvet is first mentioned in England in 1295, but
probably existed earlier on the Continent.
Both Roger de Wendover and Matthew Paris mention a stuff called
"imperial:" it was partly gold in weave, but there is some doubt
as to its actual texture.
Baudekin was a very costly textile of gold and silk which was used
largely in altar coverings and hangings, such as dossals; by degrees
the name became synonymous with "baldichin," and in Italy the whole
altar canopy is still called a _baldachino_.
During Royal Progresses the streets were always hung with rich cloth
of gold. As Chaucer makes allusion to streets
"By ordinance throughout the city large
Hanged with cloth of gold, and not with serge,"
so Leland tells how the Queen of Henry VII. was conducted to her
coronation and "all the stretes through which she should pass were
clenely dressed... with cloths of tapestry and Arras, and some
stretes, as Cheepe, hanged with rich cloths of gold, velvetts,
and silks." And in Machyn's Diary, he says that "as late as 1555
at Bow church in London, was hangyd with cloth of gold and with
rich Arras."
The word "satin" is derived from the silks of the Mediterranean,
called "aceytuni," which became "zetani" in Italian, and gradually
changed through French and English influence, to "satin." The first
mention of it in England is about 1350, when Bishop Grandison made
a gift of choice satins to Exeter Cathedral.
The Dalmatic of Charlemagne is embroidered on blue satin, although
this is a rare early example of the material. At Constantinople,
also, as early as 1204, Baldwin II. wore satin at his coronation.
It was nearly always made in a fiery red in the early days. It
is mentioned in a Welsh poem of the thirteenth century.
Benjamin of Tudela, a traveller who wrote in 1161, mentions that
the Jews were living in great numbers in Thebes, and that they
made silks there at that time. There is record that in the late
eleventh century a Norman Abbot brought home from Apulia a quantity
of heavy and fine silk, from which four copes were made. French
silks were not remarkable until the sixteenth century, while those
of the Netherlands led all others as early as the thirteenth.
Shot silks were popular in England in the sixteenth century. York
Cathedral possessed, in 1543, a "vestment of changeable taffety
for Good Friday."
St. Dunstan is reported to have once "tinted" a sacerdotal vestment
to oblige a lady, thus departing from his regular occupation as
goldsmith to perform the office of a dyer of stuff.
Many rich mediæval textiles were ornamented by designs, which usually
show interlaces and animal forms, and sometimes conventional floral
ornament. Patterns originated in the East, and, through Byzantine
influence, in Italy, and Saracenic in Spain, they were adopted and
modified by Europeans. In 1295 St. Paul's in London owned a hanging
"patterned with wheels and two-headed birds." Sicilian silks, and
many others of the contemporary textiles, display variations of
the "tree of life" pattern. This consists of a little conventional
shrub, sometimes hardly more than a "budding rod," with two birds
or animals advancing vis-à-vis on either side. Sometimes these
are two peacocks; often lions or leopards and frequently griffins
and various smaller animals. Whenever one sees a little tree or
a single stalk, no matter how conventionally treated, with a
couple of matched animals strutting up to each other on either
side, this pattern owes its origin to the old tradition of the
decorative motive usual in Persia and in Byzantium, the Tree of
Life, or Horn. The origin of patterns does not come within our
scope, and has been excellently treated in the various books of
Lewis Day, and other writers on this subject.
Textiles of Italian manufacture may be seen represented in the
paintings of the old masters: Orcagna, Francia, Crivelli, and others,
who delighted in the rendering of rich stuffs; later, they abound
in the creations of Veronese and Titian. A "favourite Italian
vegetable," as Dr. Rock quaintly expresses it, is the artichoke,
which, often, set in oval forms, is either outlined or worked solidly
in the fabric.
Almeria was a rich city in the thirteenth century, noted for its
textiles. A historian of that period writes: "Christians of all
nations came to its port to buy and to sell. From thence... they
travelled to other parts of the interior of the country, where
they loaded their vessels with such goods as they wanted. Costly
silken robes of the brightest colours are manufactured in Almeria."
Granada was famous too, a little later, for its silks and woven
goods. About 1562 Navagiero wrote: "All sorts of cloth and silks
are made there: the silks made at Granada are much esteemed all
over Spain; they are not so good as those that come from Italy.
There are several looms, but they do not yet know how to work them
well. They make good taffetas, sarcenet, and silk serges. The
velvets are not bad, but those that are made at Valencia are better
in quality."
Marco Polo says of the Persians in certain sections; "There are
excellent artificers in the cities, who make wonderful things in
gold, silk, and embroidery.... In veins of the mountains stones
are found, commonly called turquoises, and other jewels. There
also are made all sorts of arms and ammunition for war, and by the
women excellent needlework in silks, with all sorts of creatures
very admirably wrought therein." Marco Polo also reports the King
of Tartary as wearing on his birthday a most precious garment of
gold, while his barons wore the same, and had given them girdles of
gold and silver, and "pearls and garments of great price." This Khan
also "has the tenths of all wool, silk, and hemp, which he causes to
be made into clothes, in a house for that purpose appointed: for
all trades are bound one day in the week to serve him." He clothed
his armies with this tythe wool.
In Anglo-Saxon times a fabric composed of fine basket-weaving of
thin flat strips of pure gold was used; sometimes the flat metal
was woven on a warp of scarlet silk threads. Later strips of gilded
parchment were fraudulently substituted for the genuine flat metal
thread. Often the woof of gold strips was so solid and heavy that
it was necessary to have a silk warp of six strands, to support
its wear.
Gold cloth was of varying excellence, however: among the items in
an inventory for the Earl of Warwick in the time of Henry VI., there
is allusion to "one coat for My Lord's body, beat with fine gold;
two coats for heralds, beat with demi-gold."
It is generally assumed that the first wire-drawing machines were
made about 1360 in Germany; they were not used in England until
about 1560. Theophilus, however, in the eleventh century, tells
"Of the instruments through which wires are drawn," saying that
they consist of "two irons, three fingers in breadth, narrow above
and below, everywhere thin, and perforated with three or four ranges,
through which holes wires are drawn." This would seem to be a primitive
form of the more developed instrument. Wire drawing was introduced
into England by Christian Schutz about 1560. In 1623 was incorporated
in London, "The Worshipful Company of Gold and Silver Wire-Drawers."
The preamble of their charter reads thus: "The Trade Art of Drawing
and flattening of gold and silver wire, and making and spinning
of gold and silver thread and stuffe." It seems as though there
were some kind of work that corresponded to wire-drawing, earlier
than its supposed introduction, for a petition was sent to King
Henry VI. in 1423, by the "wise and worthy Communes of London, &
the Wardens of Broderie in the said Citie," requesting protection
against "deceit and default in the work of divers persons occupying
the craft of embroidery;" and in 1461 "An act of Common Council
was passed respecting the gold-drawers," showing that the art was
known to some extent and practised at that time. In the reign of
George II., in 1742, "An act to prevent the counterfeiting of gold
and silver lace and for the settling and adjusting the proportions
of fine silver and silk, and for the better making of gold and silver
lace," was passed.
Ecclesiastical vestments were often trimmed with heavy gold fringe,
knotted "fretty wise," and the embroideries were further enriched
with jewels and small plaques of enamel. Matthew Paris relates a
circumstance of certain garments being so heavily weighted with
gold that the clergy could not walk in them, and, in order to get
the solid metal out again, it was necessary to burn the garments
and thus melt the gold.
Jewelled robes were often seen in the Middle Ages; a chasuble is
described as having been made for the Abbot of St. Albans, in the
twelfth century, which was practically covered with plaques of gold
and precious stones. Imagine the unpleasant physical sensation
of a bishop in 1404, who was obliged to wear a golden mitre of
which the ground was set with large pearls, bordered with balas
rubies, and sapphires, and trimmed with indefinite extra pearls!
The body of St. Cecilia, who was martyred in 230, was interred in
a garment of pure woven gold.
The cloth of solid gold which was used for state occasions was
called "tissue;" the thin paper in which it was wrapped when it
was laid away was known as tissue paper, and Mr. William Maskell
states that the name has clung to it, and that is why thin paper
is called "tissue paper" to-day.
St. Peter's in Rome possessed a great pair of silver curtains,
which hung at the entrance to the church, given by Pope Stephen
IV. in the eighth century.
Vitruvius tells how to preserve the gold in old embroidery, or
in worn-out textiles where the metal has been extensively used.
He says: "When gold is embroidered on a garment which is worn out,
and no longer fit for use, the cloth is burnt over the fire in
earthen pots. The ashes are thrown into water, and quicksilver
added to them. This collects all particles of gold, and unites
with them. The water is then poured off, and the residuum placed
in a cloth, which, when squeezed with the hands suffers the liquid
quicksilver to pass through the pores of the cloth, but retains
the gold in a mass within it."
An early allusion to asbestos woven as a cloth is made by Marco
Polo, showing that fire-proof fabrics were known in his time. In
the province of Chinchintalas, "there is a mountain wherein are
mines of steel... and also, as was reported, salamanders, of the
wool of which cloth was made, which if cast into the fire, cannot
burn. But that cloth is in reality made of stone in this manner,
as one of my companions a Turk, named Curifar, a man endued with
singular industry, informed me, who had charge of the minerals in
that province. A certain mineral is found in that mountain which
yields threads not unlike wool; and these being dried in the
sun, are bruised in a brazen mortar, and afterwards washed, and
whatsoever earthy substance sticks to them is taken away. Lastly,
these threads are spun like ordinary wool, and woven into cloth.
And when they would whiten those cloths, they cast them into the
fire for an hour, and then take them out unhurt whiter than snow.
After the same manner they cleanse them when they have taken any
spots, for no other washing is used to them, besides the fire."
In the Middle Ages it would have been possible, as Lady Alford
suggests, to play the game "Animal, Vegetable, or Mineral" with
textiles only! Between silk, hemp, cotton, gold, silver, wool,
flax, camel's hair, and asbestos, surely the three elements all
played their parts.
Since the first record of Eve having "sewn fig leaves together to
make aprons," women have used the needle in some form. In England,
it is said that the first needles were made by an Indian, in 1545,
before which time they were imported. The old play, "Gammer Gurton's
Needle," is based upon the extreme rarity of these domestic implements,
and the calamity occasioned in a family by their loss. There is a
curious old story about a needle, which was supposed to possess
magic powers. This needle is reported to have worked at night while
its owner was resting, saving her all personal responsibility about
her mending. When the old lady finally died, another owner claimed
this charmed needle, and began at once to test its powers. But, do
what she would, she was unable to force a thread through its obstinate
eye. At last, after trying all possible means to thread the needle,
she took a magnifying glass to examine and see what the impediment
was, and, lo! the eye of the needle was filled with a great tear,--it
was weeping for the loss of its old mistress, and no one was ever
able to thread it again!
Embroidery is usually regarded as strictly a woman's craft, but in
the Middle Ages the leading needleworkers were often men. The old
list of names given by Louis Farcy has almost an equal proportion of
workers of both sexes. But the finest work was certainly accomplished
by the conscientious dwellers in cloisters, and the nuns devoted
their vast leisure in those days to this art. Fuller observes:
"Nunneries were also good shee-schools, wherein the girls of the
neighbourhood were taught to read and work... that the sharpnesse
of their wits and suddennesse of their conceits (which even their
enemies must allow unto them!) might by education be improved into
a judicious solidity." In some of these schools the curriculum
included "Reading and sewing, threepence a week: a penny extra
for manners." An old thirteenth century work, called the "Kleine
Heldenbuch," contains a verse which may be thus translated:
"Who taught me to embroider in a frame with silk?
And to draw and design the wild and tame
Beasts of the forest and field?
Also to picture on plain surface:
Round about to place golden borders,
A narrow and a broader one,
With stags and hinds lifelike."
A study of historic embroidery should be preceded by a general knowledge
of the principle stitches employed.
One of the simplest forms was chain stitch, in which one stitch
was taken through the loop of the stitch just laid. In the Middle
Ages it was often used. Sometimes, when the material was of a loose
weave, it was executed by means of a little hook--the probable
origin of crochet.
Tapestry stitch, of which one branch is cross-stitch, was formed by
laying close single stitches of uniform size upon a canvas specially
prepared for this work.
[Illustration: EMBROIDERY ON CANVAS, 16TH CENTURY, SOUTH KENSINGTON
MUSEUM]
Fine embroidery in silk was usually executed in long smooth stitches
of irregular length, which merged into each other. This is generally
known as satin stitch, for the surface of the work is that of a satin
texture when the work is completed. This was frequently executed
upon linen, and then, when the entire surface had been hidden by the
close silk stitches, it was cut out and transferred on a brocade
background, this style of rendering being known as appliqué. Botticelli
recommended this work as most durable and satisfactory: it is oftenest
associated with church embroidery. A simple appliqué was also done
by cutting out pieces of one material and applying them to another,
hiding the edge-joinings by couching on a cord. As an improvement
upon painted banners to be used in processions, Botticelli introduced
this method of cutting out and resetting colours upon a different
ground. As Vasari says: "This he did that the colors might not
sink through, showing the tint of the cloth on each side." But
Dr. Rock points out that it is hardly fair to earlier artificers
to give the entire credit for this method of work to Botticelli,
since such cut work or appliqué was practised in Italy a hundred
years before Botticelli was born!
Sometimes solid masses of silk or gold thread were laid in ordered
flatness upon a material, and then sewn to it by long or short
stitches at right angles. This is known as couching, and is a very
effective way of economizing material by displaying it all on the
surface. As a rule, however, the surface wears off somewhat, but
it is possible to execute it so that it is as durable as embroidery
which has been rendered in separate stitches.
In Sicily it was a common practice to use coral in embroideries
as well as pearls. Coral work is usually called Sicilian work,
though it was also sometimes executed in Spain.
The garments worn by the Byzantines were very ornate; they were
made of woven silk and covered with elaborate devices. In the fourth
century the Bishop of Amasia ridiculed the extravagant dress of his
contemporaries. "When men appear in the streets thus dressed," he
says, "the passers by look at them as at painted walls. Their clothes
are pictures, which little children point out to one another. The
saintlier sort wear likenesses of Christ, the Marriage of Galilee,
and Lazarus raised from the dead." Allusion was made in a sermon:
"Persons who arrayed themselves like painted walls" "with beasts and
flowers all over them" were denounced!
In the early Dark Ages there was some prejudice against these rich
embroideries. In the sixth century the Bishop St. Cesaire of Arles
forbade his nuns to embroider robes with precious stones or painting
and flowers. King Withaf of Mercia willed to the Abbey of Croyland
"my purple mantle which I wore at my Coronation, to be made into
a cope, to be used by those who minister at the holy altar: and
also my golden veil, embroidered with the Siege of Troy, to be
hung up in the Church on my anniversary." St. Asterius preached to
his people, "Strive to follow in your lives the teachings of the
Gospel, rather than have the miracles of Our Redeemer embroidered
on your outward dress!" This prejudice, however, was not long lived,
and the embroidered vestments and garments continued to hold their
popularity all through the Middle Ages and the Renaissance.
It has been said on grave authority that "Woman is an animal that
delights in the toilette," while Petrarch, in 1366, recognized the
power of fashion over its votaries. "Who can see with patience,"
he writes, "the monstrous fantastical inventions which people of
our times have invented to deform rather than adorn their persons?
Who can behold without indignation their long pointed shoes, their
caps with feathers, their hair twisted and hanging down like
tails,... their bellies so cruelly squeezed with cords that they
suffer as much pain from vanity as the martyrs suffered for
religion!" And yet who shall say whether a "dress-reform" Laura would
have charmed any more surely the eye of the poet?
Chaucer, in England, also deplores the fashions of his day, alluding
to the "sinful costly array of clothing, namely, in too much superfluity
or else indisordinate scantiness!" Changing fashions have always been
the despair of writers who have tried to lay down rules for æsthetic
effect in dress. "An Englishman," says Harrison, "endeavouring
some time to write of our attire... when he saw what a difficult
piece of work he had taken in hand, he gave over his travail, and
onely drue a picture of a naked man unto whom he gave a pair of
shears in the one hand and a piece of cloth in the other, to the
end that he should shape his apparel after such fashion as himself
liked, sith he could find no garment that could please him any
while together: and this he called an Englishman."
Edward the Confessor wore State robes which had been beautifully
embroidered with gold by his accomplished wife, Edgitha. In the
Royal Rolls of Edward III., in 1335, we find allusion to two vests
of green velvet embroidered respectively with sea sirens and coats
of arms. The tunics worn over armour offered great opportunities to
the needleworker. They were richly embroidered, usually in heraldic
style. When Symon, Bishop of Ely, performed the ceremony of Churching
for Queen Philippa, the royal dame bestowed upon him the gown which
she wore on that occasion; it is described as a murrey-coloured
velvet, powdered with golden squirrels, and was of such voluminous
pattern that it was cut over into three copes! Bridal gowns were
sometimes given to churches, as well.
St. Louis of France was what might be called temperate in dress.
The Sire de Joinville says he "never saw a single embroidered coat
or ornamented saddle in the possession of the king, and reproved
his son for having such things. I replied that he would have acted
better if he had given them in charity, and had his dress made of
good sendal, lined and strengthened with his arms, like as the
king his father had done!"
At the marriage of the Lord of Touraine in 1389, the Duke of Burgundy
presented magnificent habits and clothing to his nephew the Count
of Nevers: among these were tunics, ornamented with embroidered
trees conventionally displayed on their backs, fronts, and sleeves;
others showed heraldic blazonry, while a blue velvet tunic was
covered with balas rubies set in pearls, alternating with suns
of solid gold with great solitaire pearls as centres. Again, in
1390, when the king visited Dijon, he presented to the same nephew a
set of harnesses for jousting. Some of them were composed largely of
sheets of beaten gold and silver. In some gold and silver marguerites
were introduced also.
Savonarola reproved the Florentine nuns for employing
their valuable time in manufacturing "gold laces with which to
adorn persons and houses." The Florentine gold lace was very popular
in England, in the days of Henry VIII., and later the art was taken
up by the "wire-drawers" of England, and a native industry took the
place of the imported article. Among prohibited gowns in Florence
was one owned by Donna Francesca degli Albizi, "a black mantle of
raised cloth: the ground is yellow, and over it are woven birds,
parrots, butterflies, red and white roses, and many figures in
vermilion and green, with pavilions and dragons, and yellow and
black letters and trees, and many other figures of various colours,
the whole lined with cloth in hues of black and vermilion." As
one reads this description, it seems as though the artistic sense
as much as conscientious scruples might have revolted and led to
its banishment!
Costumes for tournaments were also lavish in their splendour. In
1467 Benedetto Salutati ordered made for such a pageant all the
trappings for two horses, worked in two hundred pounds of silver
by Pollajuolo; thirty pounds of pearls were also used to trim the
garments of the sergeants. No wonder Savonarola was enthusiastic
in his denunciation of such extravagance.
Henry VIII. had "a pair of hose of purple silk and Venice gold,
woven like a caul." For one of his favoured lady friends, also,
there is an item, of a certain sum paid, for one pound of gold
for embroidering a nightgown.
The unrivalled excellence of English woollen cloths was made manifest
at an early period. There was a fabric produced at Norwich of such
superiority that a law was passed prohibiting monks from wearing it,
the reason being that it was considered "smart enough for military
men!" This was in 1422. The name of Worsted was given to a certain
wool because it was made at Worsted, a town in Norfolk; later the
"worsted thread" was sold for needleworkers.
Ladies made their own gold thread in the Middle Ages by winding
a fine flat gold wire, scarcely of more body than a foil, around
a silk thread.
Patches were embroidered into place upon such clothes or vestments
as were torn: those who did this work were as well recognized as
the original designers, and were called "healers" of clothes!
Embroidered bed hangings were very much in order in mediæval times
in England. In the eleventh century there lived a woman who had
emigrated from the Hebrides, and who had the reputation for witchcraft,
chiefly based upon the unusually exquisite needlework on her bed
curtains! The name of this reputed sorceress was Thergunna. Bequests
in important wills indicate the sumptuous styles which were usual
among people of position. The Fair Maid of Kent left to her son her
"new bed curtains of red velvet, embroidered with ostrich feathers
of silver, and heads of leopards of gold," while in 1380 the Earl
of March bequeathed his "large bed of black satin embroidered with
white lions and gold roses, and the escutcheons of the arms of
Mortimer and Ulster." This outfit must have resembled a Parisian
"first class" funeral! The widow of Henry II. slept in a sort of
mourning couch of black velvet, which must have made her feel as if
she too were laid out for her own burial!
A child's bedquilt was found mentioned in an inventory of furniture
at the Priory of Durham, in 1446, which was embroidered in the
four corners with the Evangelistic symbols. In the "Squier of Lowe
Degree," a fifteenth century romance, there is allusion to a bed,
of which the head sheet is described "with diamonds set and rubies
bright." The king of England, in 1388, refers, in a letter, to "a bed
of gold cloth." Wall hangings in bedrooms were also most elaborate,
and the effect of a chamber adorned with gold and needlework must
have been fairly regal. An embroiderer named Delobel made a set
of furnishings for the bedroom of Louis XIV. the work upon which
occupied three years. The subject was the Triumph of Venus.
In South Kensington Museum there is a fourteenth century linen cloth
of German workmanship, upon which occurs the legend of the unicorn,
running for protection to a maiden. An old Bestiary describes how
the unicorn, or as it is there called, the "monocerus," "is an
animal which has one horn on its head: it is caught by means of
a virgin." The unicorn and virgin, with a hunter in pursuit, is
quite a favourite bit of symbolism in the middle ages.
Another interesting piece of German embroidery in South Kensington
is a table cloth, worked on heavy canvas, in heraldic style: long
decorative inscriptions embellish the corners. A liberal translation
of these verses is given by Dr. Rock, some of the sentences being
quaint and interesting to quote. Evidently the embroideress indulged
in autobiography in the following: "And she, to honour the esquire
her husband, wished to adorn and increase his house furniture, and
there has worked, with her own hand, this and still many other
pretty cloths, to her memory." And in another corner, "Now follows
here my own birthday. When one wrote 1565 my mother's heart was
gladdened by my first cry. In the year 1585 I gave birth my self
to a daughter. Her name is Emilia Catharina, and she has been a
proper and praiseworthy child." Then, to her children the following
address is directed: "Do not forget your prayers in the morning. And
be temperate in your pleasures. And make yourselves acquainted with
the Word of God.... I beseech you to be sincere in all matters. That
will make you great and glorious. Honour everybody according to his
station: it will make you honourably known. You, my truly beloved sons,
beware of fiery wines... you, my truly beloved daughters, preserve
and guard your honour, and reflect before you do anything: many have
been led into evil by acting first and thinking afterwards." In
another compartment, a lament goes up in which she deplores the
death of her husband. "His age was sixty and eight years," she says.
"The dropsy has killed him. I, his afflicted Anna Blickin von
Liechtenperg who was left behind, have related it with my hand in
this cloth, that might be known to my children this greater sorrow
which God has sent me." The cloth is a naïve and unusual record of
German home life.
Ecclesiastical embroidery began in the fourth century. In earliest
days the work was enhanced with quantities of gold thread. The shroud
in which St. Cuthbert's body was wrapped is a mass of gold: a Latin
inscription on the vestments in which the body was clad may be thus
translated: "Queen to Alfred's son and successor, Edward the Elder,
was one Aelflaed, who caused this stole and maniple to be made for a
gift to Fridestan consecrated Bishop of Winchester, A. D. 905." The
maniple is of "woven gold, with spaces left vacant for needlework
embroidery." Such garments for burial were not uncommon; but they
have as a rule perished from their long residence underground.
St. Cuthbert's vestments are splendid examples of tenth century
work in England. After the death of King Edward II., and his wife
Aelflaed, Bishop Frithestan also having passed away, Athelstan, as
King, made a pilgrimage to the shrine of St. Cuthbert and bestowed
these valuable embroideries there. They were removed from the body
of the saint in 1827. The style of the work inclines to Byzantine.
The Saxon embroideries must have been very decorative: a robe is
described by Aldhelme in 709, as "of a most delicate thread of
purple, adorned with black circles and peacocks." At the church at
Croyland some vestments were decorated with birds of gold cut out
and appliqué and at Exeter they had "nothing about them but true
needlework."
In the "Liber Eliensis," in the Muniment room at Ely, is an account
of a gift to the church by Queen Emma, the wife of King Knut, who
"on a certain day came to Ely in a boat, accompanied by his wife
the Queen Emma, and the chief nobles of his kingdom." This royal
present was "a purple cloth worked with gold and set with jewels
for St. Awdry's shrine," and the Monk Thomas assures us that "none
other could be found in the kingdom of the English of such richness
and beauty of workmanship."
The various stitches in English work had their several names, the
opus plumarium, or straight overlapping stitches, resembling the
feathers of a bird; the opus pluvarium, or cross stitch, and many
others. A great deal of work was accomplished by means of appliqué
in satin and silk, and sometimes the ground was painted, as has
already been described in Italian work. In the year 1246 Matthew
Paris writes: "About this time the Lord Pope, Innocent IV., having
observed that the ecclesiastical ornaments of some Englishmen,
such as choristers' copes and mitres, were embroidered in gold
thread, after a very desirable fashion, asked where these works
were made, and received in answer, 'England.' Then," said the Pope,
"England is surely a garden of delight for us; it is truly a never
failing Spring, and there where many things abound much may be
extorted." This far sighted Pope, with his semi-commercial views,
availed himself of his discovery.
In the days of Anastatius, ecclesiastical garments were spoken of
by name according to the motive of their designs: for instance,
the "peacock garment," the "elephant chasuble," and the "lion cope."
Fuller tells of the use of a pall as an ecclesiastical vestment,
remarking tersely: "It is made up of lamb's wool and superstition."
Mediæval embroiderers in England got into certain habits of work, so
that there are some designs which are almost as hall-marks to English
work; the Cherubim over the wheel is especially characteristic, as
is also the vase of lilies, and various heraldic devices which are
less frequently found in the embroidered work of European peoples.
The Syon Cope is perhaps the most conspicuous example of the mediæval
embroiderer's art. It was made by nuns about the end of the thirteenth
century, in a convent near Coventry. It is solid stitchery on a
canvas ground, "wrought about with divers colours" on green. The
design is laid out in a series of interlacing square forms, with
rounded and barbed sides and corners. In each of these is a figure
or a scriptural scene. The orphreys, or straight borders which go
down both fronts of the cope, are decorated with heraldic charges.
Much of the embroidery is raised, and wrought in the stitch known
as Opus Anglicanum. The effect was produced by pressing a heated
metal knob into the work at such points as were to be raised. The
real embroidery was executed on a flat surface, and then bossed up
by this means until it looked like bas-relief. The stitches in every
part run in zig-zags, the vestments, and even the nimbi about the
heads, are all executed with the stitches slanting in one direction,
from the centre of the cope outward, without consideration of the
positions of the figures. Each face is worked in circular progression
outward from the centre, as well. The interlaces are of crimson, and
look well on the green ground. The wheeled Cherubim is well developed
in the design of this famous cope, and is a pleasing decorative bit of
archaic ecclesiasticism. In the central design of the Crucifixion,
the figure of the Lord is rendered in silver on a gold ground. The
anatomy is according to the rules laid down by an old sermonizer,
in a book entitled "The Festival," wherein it is stated that the
body of Christ was "drawn on the cross as a skin of parchment on a
harrow, so that all his bones might be told." With such instruction,
there was nothing left for the mediæval embroiderers but to render
the figure with as much realistic emaciation as possible.
The heraldic ornaments on the Syon Cope are especially interesting
to all students of this graceful art. It is not our purpose here
to make much allusion to this aspect of the work, but it is of
general interest to know that on the orphreys, the devices of most
of the noble families of that day appear.
[Illustration: DETAIL OF THE SYON COPE]
English embroidery fell off greatly in excellence during the Wars
of the Roses. In the later somewhat degenerate raised embroidery,
it was customary to represent the hair of angels by little tufted
curls of auburn silk!
Many of the most important examples of ancient ecclesiastical embroidery
are in South Kensington Museum. A pair of orphreys of the fifteenth
century, of German work (probably made at Cologne), shows a little
choir of angels playing on musical instruments. These figures are
cut out and applied on crimson silk, in what was called "cut work."
This differed entirely from what modern embroiderers mean by cut
work, as has been explained.
The Dalmatic of Charlemagne is given by Louis Farcy to the twelfth
century. He calls it the Dalmatic of Leo III. But Lady Alford claims
for this work a greater antiquity. Certainly, as one studies its
details, one is convinced that it is not quite a Gothic work, nor
yet is it Byzantine; for the figures have all the grace of Greek
work prior to the age of Byzantine stiffness. It is embroidered
chiefly in gold, on a delicate bluish satin ground, and has not
been transferred, although it has been carefully restored. The
central ornament on the front is a circular composition, and the
arrangement of the figures both here and on the back suggests that
Sir Edward Burne Jones must have made a study of this magnificent
dalmatic, from which it would seem that much of his inspiration
might have been drawn. The composition is singularly restful and
rhythmical. The little black outlines to the white silk faces, and
to the glowing figures, give this work a peculiarly decorative
quality, not often seen in other embroideries of the period. It is
unique and one of the most valuable examples of its art in the world.
It is now in the Treasury of the Vatican. When Charlemagne sang the
Gospel at High Mass on the day of his Coronation, this was his
vestment. It must have been a strangely gorgeous sight when Cola di
Rienzi, according to Lord Lindsay, took this dalmatic, and placed it
over his armour, and, with his crown and truncheon, ascended to the
palace of the Popes!
A very curious Italian piece of the fourteenth century is an altar
frontal, on which the subjects introduced are strange. It displays
scenes from the life of St. Ubaldo, with some incidents also in
that of St. Julian Hospitaler. St. Ubaldo is seen forgiving a mason
who, having run a wall across his private grounds, had knocked
the saint down for remonstrating. Another scene shows the death
bed of the saint, and the conversion of a possessed man at the
foot of the bed: a lady is throwing her arms above her head in
astonishment while the evil spirit flies from its victim into the
air. Later, the saint is seen going to the grave in a cart drawn
by oxen.
[Illustration: DALMATIC OF CHARLEMAGNE]
The peacock was symbolical both of knightly vigilance and of Christian
watchfulness. An old Anglo-Norman, Osmont, writes: "The eye-speckled
feathers should warn a man that never too often can he have his
eyes wide open, and gaze inwardly upon his own heart." These
dear people were so introspective and self-conscious, always looking
for trouble--in their own motives, even--that no doubt many good
impulses perished unnoticed, while the originator was chasing mental
phantoms of heresy and impurity.
Painting and jewelry were sometimes introduced in connection with
embroideries. In the celebrated Cope of St. John Lateran, the faces
and hands of the personages are rendered in painting; but this
method was more generally adopted in the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries, when sincerity counted for less than effect, and when
genuine religious fervour for giving one's time and best labour to
the Lord's service no longer dominated the workers. Gold thread was
used extensively in English work, and spangles were added at quite
an early period, as well as actual jewels set in floral designs.
The finest work was accomplished in the Gothic period, before the
Renaissance came with its aimless scrolls to detract from the dignity
of churchly ornament.
In the sixteenth century the winged angels have often a degenerate
similitude to tightly laced coryphées, who balance themselves upon
their wheels as if they were performing a vaudeville turn. They
are not as dignified as their archaic predecessors.
Very rich funeral palls were in vogue in the sixteenth century. A
description of Prince Arthur's burial in 1502 relates how numerous
palls were bestowed, apparently much as friends would send wreaths
or important floral tributes to-day. "The Lord Powys went to the
Queere Doore," writes Leland, "where two gentlemen ushers delivered
him a riche pall of cloth of gould of tissue, which he offered to
the corpse, where two Officers of the Armes received it, and laid it
along the corpse. The Lord Dudley in like manner offered a pall...
the Lord Grey Ruthen offered another, and every each of the three
Earls offered to the corpse three palls of the same cloth of gould...
all the palls were layd crosse over the corpse."
The account of the obsequies of Henry VII. also contains mention
of these funeral palls: the Earls and Dukes came in procession,
from the Vestry, with "certain palls, which everie of them did
bring solemnly between their hands and coming in order one before
another as they were in degree, unto the said herse, they kissed
their said palls... and laid them upon the King's corpse." At Ann
of Cleves' burial the same thing was repeated, in 1557. Finally
these rich shimmering hangings came to be known in England as "cloth
of pall," whether they were used for funerals or coronations, for
bridals or pageants.
The London City Guilds possessed magnificent palls; especially
well known is that of the Fishmongers, with its kneeling angels
swinging censers; this pall is frequently reproduced in works on
embroidery. It is embroidered magnificently with angels, saints,
and strange to say, mermaids. The peacock's wings of the angels
make a most decorative feature in this famous piece of old
embroidery. The Arms of the Company are also emblazoned.
French embroiderers are known by name in many instances; in 1299
allusion was made to "Clement le Brodeur," who furnished a cope for
the Count of Artois, and in 1316 a magnificent set of hangings was
made for the Queen, by one Gautier de Poulleigny. Nicolas Waquier was
armourer and embroiderer to King John in 1352. Among Court workers in
1384 were Perrin Gale, and Henriet Gautier. In the "Book of Rules"
by Etienne Boileau, governing the "Embroiderers and embroideresses
of the City of Paris," one of the chief laws was that no work should
be permitted in the evening, "because the work of the night cannot
be so good or so satisfactory as that accomplished in the day."
When one remembers the facilities for evening lighting in the middle
ages, one fully appreciates the truth of this statement.
Matthew Paris, in his Life of St. Alban, tells of an excellent
embroideress, Christine, Prioress of Margate, who lived in the
middle of the twelfth century. In the thirteenth century several
names occur. Adam de Bazinge made, in 1241, by order of Henry III.
of England, a cope for the Bishop of Hereford. Cunegonde, Abbess
of Goss, in Styria, accomplished numerous important works in that
period. Also, Henry III. employed Jean de Sumercote to make jewelled
robes of state.
On a certain thirteenth century chasuble are the words
"Penne fit me" (Penne made me), pointing to the existence of a
needleworker of that name. Among the names of the fourteenth century
are those of Gautier de Bruceles, Renier de Treit, Gautier de Poulogne,
and Jean de Laon, while Jean Harent of Calais is recorded as having
worked, for Mme. d'Artois, in 1319, a robe decorated "a bestelettes
et a testes." These names prove that the art had been taught in
many cities and countries: Ogier de Gant, Jean de Savoie, Etienne
le Hongre, and Roger de Varennes, all suggest a cosmopolitan and
dispersed number of workers, who finally all appeared in Paris.
René d'Anjou had in his employ a worker in embroidery, named Pierre
du Villant. This artist executed a set of needlework pieces for
the Cathedral of Angers, of such important proportions that they
were known collectively as "La Grande Broderie." In 1462, when
they were put in place, a special mass was performed by way of a
dedication. The letter which accompanied this princely donation
contained the following sentences: "We, René, by the Grace of God...
give... to this church... the adornments for a chapell all composd
of golden embroidery, comprising five pieces" (which are enumerated)
"and an altar cloth illustrated with scenes from the Passion of
Our Saviour.... Given in our castle in Angers, the fourth day of
March, 1462. René."
[Illustration: EMBROIDERY, 15TH CENTURY, COLOGNE]
In 1479 another altar frontal was presented. Two other rich chapels
were endowed by René. One was known as La Chapelle Joyeuse, and the
other as La Grande Chapelle des Trépassés. It is likely that the
same embroiderer executed the pieces of all these.
A guild of embroiderers was in standing in Seville in 1433, where
Ordinances were enforced to protect from fraud and otherwise to
regulate this industry. The same laws were in existence in Toledo.
One of the finest and largest pieces of embroidery in Spain is
known as the Tent of Ferdinand and Isabella. This was used in 1488,
when certain English Ambassadors were entertained. The following
is their description of its use. "After the tilting was over, the
majesties returned to the palace, and took the Ambassadors with
them, and entered a large room... and there they sat under a rich
cloth of state of crimson velvet, richly embroidered, with the
arms of Castile and Aragon."
A curious effect must have been produced by a piece of embroidery
described in the inventory of Charles V., as "two little pillows
with savage beasts having the heads of armed men, and garnished
with pearls."
After the Reformation it became customary to use ecclesiastical
ornaments for domestic purposes. Heylin, in his "History of the
Reformation," makes mention of many "private men's parlours" which
"were hung with altar cloths, and their tables and beds covered
with copes instead of carpetts and coverlids."
Katherine of Aragon, while the wife of Henry VIII., consoled herself
in her unsatisfactory life by needlework: it is related that she
and her ladies "occupied themselves working with their own hands
something wrought in needlework, costly and artificially, which she
intended to the honour of God to bestow upon some churches."
Katherine of Aragon was such a devoted needlewoman, in fact, that on
one occasion Burnet records that she stepped out to speak to two
ambassadors, with a skein of silk about her neck, and explained that
she had been embroidering with her ladies when they were announced.
In an old sonnet she is thus commemorated:
"She to the eighth king Henry married was
And afterwards divorced, when virtuously,
Although a queen, yet she her days did pass
In working with the needle curiously."
Queen Elizabeth was also a clever embroiderer; she worked a book-cover
for Katherine Parr, bearing the initials K. P., and it is now in
the Bodleian Library at Oxford.
Mary Queen of Scots was also said to be skilful with her needle;
in fact it seems to have been the consolation of most queens in
their restricted existence in those centuries. Dr. Rock considers
that the "corporal" which Mary Queen of Scots had bound about her
eyes at the time of her execution, was in reality a piece of her own
needle-work, probably wrought upon fine linen. Knight, in describing
the scene in his "Picturesque History of England," says: "Then the
maid Kennedy took a handkerchief edged with gold, in which the
Eucharist had formerly been enclosed, and fastened it over her eyes;"
so accounts differ and traditions allow considerable scope for varied
preferred interpretation.
It is stated that Catherine de Medicis was fond of needlework,
passing her evenings embroidering in silk "which was as perfect
as was possible," says Brantôme.
Anne of Brittany instructed three hundred of the children of the
nobles at her court, in the use of the needle. These children produced
several tapestries, which were presented by the queen to various
churches.
The volatile Countess of Shrewsbury, the much married "Bess of
Hardwick," was a good embroideress, who worked, probably, in company
with the Queen of Scots when that unfortunate woman was under the
guardianship of the Earl of Shrewsbury. One of these pieces is
signed E. S., and dated 1590.
A form of intricate pattern embroidery in black silk on fine linen
was executed in Spain in the sixteenth century, and was known as
"black work." Viscount Falkland owns some important specimens of
this curious work. It was introduced into England by Katherine of
Aragon, and became very popular, being exceedingly suitable and
serviceable for personal adornment. The black was often relieved
by gold or silver thread.
The Petit Point, or single square stitch on canvas, became popular
in England during the reign Elizabeth. It suggested Gobelins tapestry,
on a small scale, when finished, although the method of execution
is quite different, being needlework pure and simple.
In Elizabeth's time was incorporated the London
Company of Broderers, which flourished until about the reign of
Charles I., when there is a complaint registered that "trade was
so much decayed and grown out of use, that a great part of the
company, for want of employment, were much impoverished."
Raised embroidery, when it was padded with cotton, was called Stump
Work. This was made extensively by the nuns of Little Gidding in
the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Decided changes and
developments took place in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries,
in all forms of embroidery, but these are not for us to consider
at present. A study of historic samples alone is most tempting,
but there is no space for the intrusion of any subject much later
than the Renaissance.