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.

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.

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.

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."

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.