Queen Elizabeth spent much of her time in needlework. She herself had received the education of a man, as well as her cousin, Lady Jane Grey; and doubtless many women were taught at that time Greek and Latin, and to study philosophy, mathematics, and the science of music, as a training for serious life. Elizabeth studied and embroidered too; at any rate, she stood godmother to many pieces of embroidery, which are to be seen still in the houses she visited or occupied.
While at Ashridge, and afterwards as a prisoner at Hatfield, she so employed herself; and among the specimens of work of the sixteenth century exhibited at South Kensington in 1873, were her shoes and cap, worked in purl, a semainière in the same stitch, also cushion-covers in divers cushion stitches, and a portmonnaie in exquisitely fine satin-stitch; all of which articles, and many more, were left by her at Ashridge when she was hurried away in the dead of night to Hatfield.[605]
The character of the Renaissance of the sixteenth century, just released from the trammels of Gothic traditions, was somewhat lawless in England, being unchastened by the classical element which entirely controlled the movement in Italy.
The queen’s dress soon departed from the severe simplicity which she at first affected, and every part of her costume was covered with flowers, fruit, and symbolical designs; while serpents, crowns, chains, roses, eyes and ears crowded the surfaces of the fine materials of her dresses. These symbolical designs were rich without grace, and ingenious rather than artistic, although their workmanship was perfect. In Louisa, Lady Waterford’s collection we find a jacket for a slight girl’s figure, of white linen, covered with flowers, fruit, and berries, all carried out in satin and lace stitches. There are butterflies with their wings disengaged from the ground; pods bursting open and showing the round seeds or peas; caterpillars stuffed and raised; all these astonish us by their quaint perfection, and shock us by their naturalistic crudeness of design, and the utter want of beauty or taste in the whole effect. The impression left on the mind is, how dear it must have cost the pocket of the purchaser and the eyes of the workers. There are, however, exceptions to these defective poor designs; and in the same collection is a cushion-cover worked in gold and silver plate, purl and silk, on a red satin ground, which is as good as possible in every respect, and is purely English in style. The stitches and materials are most refined and varied. Purl, which was a newly made material imported from Italy and Germany, was then in much vogue, and we have seen a few fine specimens of it, that have been imitated from the Italian cinque-cento raised and stuffed needlework, which are very curious and almost very beautiful,—only one feels that the same effect could have been produced by simpler means. This work is characteristic of the reigns of Henry VIII., Elizabeth, and James I. We have needlework of another most unhappy queen of this date. Poor Mary, Queen of Scots, tried to soften Elizabeth’s heart towards her prisoner by little gifts of her own embroideries.[606]
We have no account of the cause of the incorporation of the Embroiderers’ Company by Queen Elizabeth,[607] in the third year of her reign, Oct. 25th, 1561, confirmed by James II., April 12th, 1686, which is still a London guild. It received the lions of England as a special favour. The arms are thus blazoned: “Palée of six argent and azure on a fess gules, between three lions of England pass. gardant or. Three broches in saltire between as many trundles (i.e. quills of gold thread), or. Crest: on a wreath a heart; the holy dove displayed argent, radiated or. Supporters: two lions or (guttée de sang). Motto: ‘Omnia Desuper.’ Hall, 20, Gutter Lane.” There were branches, incorporated and bearing the arms, at Bristol and Chester, in 1780. (See [Appendix].)
Fig. 28.
Arms of Embroiderers’ Guild.
In the reign of James I. it was the fashion to do portraits in needlework, stitched flat or raised. Some are artistic in design and execution, but they are mostly ridiculously bad.
The East India Company was founded in 1560, under Elizabeth, and obtained the monopoly of the Anglo-Indian trade, under Cromwell, in 1634. This would have been the moment for encouraging a fresh importation of Oriental taste into our degenerate art. Cromwell’s own service of plate was scratched over (“graffito”) with a childish and weak semi-Indian, semi-Chinese design; and we must accept this as typical of the artistic Oriental knowledge of that day. Grafted on the style of James I., it shows, however, that Indian ideas were creeping in and sought for, if not understood in high places, under the auspices of the East India Company. Needlework alone was excluded from all benefit. From that date, for 150 years, Indian manufactures were imported, with the exception of embroidery, which was contraband by the ancient statutes. This accounts for our faint and ignorant imitations of Indian work, and the extreme rarity of the true specimens to be met with in England, unless of a later period.