In the fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth centuries, splendid tapestries of Arras, and hangings even of cloth of gold, were common as palatial decorations. Sometimes we have a glimpse of less ambitious hangings; for instance, in the London house of Sir Andrew Larkynge, Knight, in the fifteenth century, the hall was hung with sage-green panels, bordered with gold “darned work,” and the “parler” with sage-green, bordered with crimson.
French embroidered hangings were very fine in the sixteenth century. Jeanne d’Albret, the mother of Henri IV., was a great patroness of such works. Miss Freer tells us that—
“When Jeanne and Antoine took possession of the Castle of Pau, they found their new abode rich in works of art and splendid decorations. The refined taste of Marguerite d’Angoulême was visible everywhere. Jeanne’s presence-chamber was adorned with hangings of crimson satin, embroidered by the hand of Marguerite herself. The embroidery represented a passage from the history of the Queen’s own life.”
“During the hours which the Queen allowed herself for relaxation, she worked tapestry, and discoursed with some one of the learned men whom she protected.”
“The Queen daily attended the afternoon sermon, preached by her chaplains in rotation. Often, however, weary with the excess of her mental labours, and lulled by the drowsy intonation of some of these ministers, the Queen slept during part of the discourse. Jeanne always felt severe reproach of conscience when she had thus involuntarily yielded to fatigue; and finding the inclination grow upon her, she demanded permission from the Synod to work tapestry during the sermon. This request was granted; and from thenceforth, Queen Jeanne, bending decorously over her tapestry-frame, and busy with her needle, gave due attention to the rambling addresses of her preachers.”
“Comme elle (Jeanne d’Albret) estoit grandement adonnée aux devises, elle fit de sa main de belles et grandes tapisseries, entre lesquelles il y a une tente de douze ou quinze pièces excellente qui s’appelle les Prisons brisées, par lesquelles elle donnoit à connôistre qu’elle avoit brisé les liens et secoué le joug de la captivité du Pape. Au milieu de chaque pièce, il y a une histoire du Vieu Testament qui resent la liberté, comme la délivrance de Suzanne, la sortie du peuple de la captivité d’Egypte, l’élargissement de Joseph. Et à tous les coins il y a des chaisnes rompues, des menottes brisées, des strapades et des gibbets en pièces, et par-dessus en grosses lettres ce sont ces paroles de la deuxième aux Corinthiens, ch. iii.: Ubi spiritus, ibi libertas.”[460]
Cluny boasts a most curious suite of hangings from the Chateau de Boussac, of the early part of the fifteenth century, which are charming, quaint, and gay, and historically and archæologically interesting. They tell the story of the “Dame au Lion.”
Modern French tapestries, from the manufactories of the Savonnerie, the Gobelins, and elsewhere, are decorative to the highest degree. Nothing can be more festive than these works of the time of Louis XIII., XIV., and XV., framed in white and gold, carved wood, or stucco, reflected in mirrors, and lighted by crystal or glass chandeliers and girandoles. Such hangings have nothing in common with those of early times; they are not temporary coverings of bare spaces, but panels in decorated walls, where they form an integral part of the architectural composition and design. They do not merely serve to give warmth, comfort, and colour to desolate halls, as did those ancient tapestries belonging to the furniture of the great man who sent them on before him from palace to palace, carrying them away with his baggage lest some one else should do so in his absence. These were probably merely attached by loops and nails, as one sees in country villas or castles in Italy to this day.
We find that the Italians in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries often hung their walls with upright strips of work, in the guise of pilasters. The walls were thus divided into panelled spaces, which separated pictures, statues, and cabinets, of which the style did not agree in juxtaposition. These pilasters were generally of “opus consutum,” or “appliqué” in its different forms. Above, next to the cornice, and below, next to the dado, or even touching the floor, they were connected by borders of similar work. The spaces between were mostly filled in with rich brocades or velvets of one colour, so as to make the best backgrounds for the artistic treasures grouped against them. Sometimes fine tapestries filled the intervening spaces, and sometimes splendid embroideries. There is a beautiful example of this sort of decoration at Holland House, where the dining-room is adorned with pilasters worked on velvet in gold and coloured silks, with tapestries between them. This is Florentine work, of the sixteenth or beginning of the seventeenth century.
Hangings entirely in needlework, to cover large spaces, are rare, but a few are to be found all over Europe in museums, palaces, and private houses, which are interesting as objects of art. The genealogical tree of the Counts of Kyburg, designed in the sixteenth century, and carried to France as plunder, and now restored to its home near Zurich, is a remarkable instance of a piece of needlework that deserved the value placed on it. Many splendid pieces of embroidered tapestries are at the Cluny Museum. The beatitudes of St. Catherine, from the castle at Tarrascon, and the hangings worked in appliqué and flat stitches with portraits of Henri IV., Jeanne d’Albret, &c., are monuments of industry, and design; and are very beautiful.