But on silk weaving by our women in small hand-looms, a very important witness, especially about several curious specimens in this collection, is John Garland, born at the beginning of the thirteenth century in London, where his namesakes and likely of his stock, were and are known. First, a John Garland, A.D. 1170, held a prebend’s stall in St. Paul’s Cathedral.[39] Another, A.D. 1211, was sheriff, at a later period.[40] A third, a wealthy draper of London, gave freely towards the building of a church in Somersetshire.[41] A fourth, who died A.D. 1461, lies buried in St. Sythe’s;[42] and, at the present day, no fewer than twenty-two trades-men of that name, of whom six are merchants of high standing in the city, are mentioned in the London Post Office Directory for this year 1868. We give these instances as some have tried to rob us of John Garland by saying he was not an Englishman, though of himself he had said: “Anglia cui mater fuerat, cui gallia nutrix,” &c.
[39] Dugdale’s St. Paul’s, p. 264.
[40] Liber de Antiq. Legibus, pp. 3, 223.
[41] Leland’s Itinerary, t. 7, p. 99.
[42] Stowe’s Survey, B. iii. p. 31.
In a sort of very short dictionary, drawn up by that writer, and printed at the end of “Paris sous Philippe Le Bel,” edited by M. H. Geraud, our countryman says: “Textrices quæ texunt serica texta projiciunt fila aurata officio cavillarum et percuciunt subtemina cum linea (lignea?) spata: de textis vero fiunt cingula et crinalia divitum mulierum et stole sacerdotum.”[43] Though short, this passage is curious and valuable. From it we learn that, besides the usual homely textiles, those more costly cloth-of-gold webs were wrought by our women, and very likely, among their other productions—cingula—were those “blodbendes,” the weaving of which had been forbidden to ankresses and nuns; perhaps, too, of those narrow gold-wrought ribbons in this collection, pp. 24, 33, 38, 217, 218, 219, 221, &c., some may have been so employed by our high-born dames on occasion of their being bled, since as late as the sixteenth century some seasons were deemed fit, others quite unfitting for the operation. Hence, in his Richard II. act 1, scene i. Shakespeare makes the king to warn those wrath-kindled gentlemen, Bolingbroke and Norfolk:
Our doctors say this is no month to bleed.
[43] Ib. 607.
And our most popular books in olden time, one the Shepherd’s Kalendar, speaking about the signs of the zodiack, tell us which of the twelve months are either good, evil, or indifferent for blood-letting.
John Garland’s “cingula” may also mean those rich girdles or sashes worn by our women round the waist, and of which we have one in this collection, [No. 8571], p. 218. Of this sort, is that border—amber coloured silk and diapered—round a vestment found in a grave at Durham, and like “a thick lace, one inch and a quarter broad—evidently owing its origin, not to the needle, but to the loom,” &c.[44] For the artist wishful to be correct concerning the head-gear of ladies from Anglo-Saxon times till the end of the later Plantagenets, this collection can furnish examples of those bands in those narrow textiles spoken of by our John Garland. For an after-period those bands are shown on the statuary, and amid the limning in illuminated MSS. of the thirteenth century; as instances of the narrow girdle, may be viewed a lady’s effigy, in Romney church, Hants; and that of Ann of Bohemia, in Westminster Abbey; both to be found in Hollis’s Monumental Effigies of Great Britain; for the band about the head, the examples in the wood-cuts in Planchè’s British Costumes, p. 116.