[609] The merit or blame of this rounded padded work (a caricature of the raised embroidery of the opus Anglicanum) is often erroneously awarded to the “nuns of Little Gidding.” The earliest specimens we know of this “embroidery on the stamp” are German. At Coire in the Grisons, at Zurich (see chapter on [ecclesiastical art]), and in the National Museum at Munich are some very beautiful examples. The Italians also executed elaborate little pictures in this manner; but I cannot praise it however refined in execution or beautiful the design. I have seen no English specimens that are not beneath criticism; they are only funny.
[610] In the Calendar of the State Papers Office (Domestic, Charles I., vol. clxix. p. 12), Mrs. H. Senior sues the Earl of Thomond for £200 per annum, her pay for teaching his daughter needlework. Mrs. Hutchinson, in her Memoir, says she had eight tutors when she was seven years old, and one of them taught her needlework. This shows how highly this accomplishment was still considered in the days of Charles I. and the Commonwealth. Later, Evelyn speaks of the “new bed of Charles II.’s queen, the embroidery of which cost £3000” (Evelyn’s Memoirs, January 24, 1687). Evelyn says of his own daughter Susanna, who married William Draper: “She had a peculiar talent in designe, as painting in oil and miniature, and an extraordinary genius for whatever hands can do with a needle.” See Evelyn’s “Memoirs,” April 27, 1693; also see Mrs. Palliser’s “History of Lace,” pp. 7, 8.
[611] The tree-pattern, already common in the latter days of Elizabeth, reappeared on a dress worn by the Duchess of Queensberry, and described by Mrs. Delany; she says, “A white satin embroidered at the bottom with brown hills, covered with all sorts of weeds, and with a brown stump, broken and worked in chenille, and garlanded nasturtiums, honeysuckles, periwinkles, convolvuluses, and weeds, many of the leaves finished with gold.” Mrs. Delany does not appreciate this ancient pattern.
[612] Queen Mary only knotted fringes. Bishop Burnett says: “It was strange to see a queen work so many hours a day.” Sir E. Sedley, in his epigram on the “Royal Knotter,” says,—
“Who, when she rides in coach abroad,
Is always knotting threads.”
Probably it was the fashion, as Madame de Maintenon always worked during her drives with the king, which doubtless prevented her dying of ennui!
[613] I quote from the Spectator, No. 606: “Let no virgin receive her lover, except in a suit of her own embroidery.”
[614] Her style was really legitimate to the art. It was flower-painting with the needle. Miss Moritt copied both figures and landscapes, with wonderful taste and knowledge of drawing. Miss Linwood’s and Mrs. Delany’s productions are justly celebrated as tours de force, but they caused the downfall of the art by leading it on the wrong track.
[615] Lord Houghton alludes to H.R.H.’s patronage of the revival of embroidery in his paraphrase of the “Story of Arachne,” p. 238, ante.
[616] “Opposed to the ‘utility stitches’ are the art needlework schools that have branched out in many directions from New York.... The impulse that led to their formation was derived from South Kensington (England), and affords a striking instance of the ramifications of an organization.”—Atlantic Monthly (“Women in Organization”), Sept., 1880.