V Early Needlework Pictures and Accessories
“Petit point”—old list of stitches—Stuart bags—Gloves—Shoes—Caps.
Towards the end of James I.’s reign it is supposed that the earliest needlework pictures appeared. They were obviously literal copies of the tapestries which had now become of general use in the homes of the wealthy, being worked in what is known as “petit point,” or “little stitch.” This stitch was worked on canvas of very close quality, with fine silk thread, one stitch only being taken over the junction of the warp and the weft of the canvas instead of the “cross stitch” of later days. Very few of these specimens are left of an early date. A panel, measuring 30 inches by 16 inches, in perfect condition, and dated 1601, was sold at Christie’s Rooms this year for £115. The purchaser, Mr. Stoner, of King Street, sold it next day at a very considerable profit.
At this period the workers of these pictures did not draw upon Biblical subjects for their inspiration (with great advantage to the picture, it may be stated). The subjects were either fanciful adaptations from real life, with the little people dressed in contemporary costume, or dainty little mythological subjects, such as the “Judgment of Paris,” “Corydon wooing Phyllis,” with most absurd little castles of Tudor construction in impossible landscapes, where the limpid stream meandered down fairy-like hills into a shining lake, which held dolphins under the water and water-fowl above it. The illustration depicts such a specimen, and shows one of these tiny pictures worked in no less than ten different stitches of lacework, in addition to the usual petit point. The number of these stitches is legion. In the reign of Charles I., John Taylor, the water-poet, wrote in 1640:
“For tent worke, raised worke, first worke, laid worke, net worke,
Most curious purl, or rare Italian cut worke,
Fire, ferne stitch, finny stitch, new stitch, chain stitch,
Brave bred stitch, fisher stitch, Irish stitch, and Queen stitch,
The Spanish stitch, Rosemary stitch, and mowle stitch,
The smarting whip stitch, back stitch, and cross stitch;
All these are good, and this we must allow,
And they are everywhere in practice now.”
These are not all the stitches in vogue during the first era of needlework pictures. A single glance at one of the early specimens, though it may not charm, fills one with amazement at the amount of toil, ingenuity, patience, and downright love for the work the ancient needlewoman must have possessed. Not only pictures, however, were made in petit point. Many dainty little accessories of the toilet gave scope to the delicate fancy and nimble fingers of the ladies who had found solace from the cessation of their labours for the priesthood in making dainty little handbags and other pretty articles, each a marvel of minute handicraft. One bag in my possession measures only four inches square, and is worked on fine canvas, about forty threads to the square inch, the design being the favourite Tudor rose, each petal worked in lace stitch, and raised from the centre which is made of knots worked with golden hair, flat green leaves exquisitely shaded, and a charming bit of the worker’s skill in the shape of a pea’s pod, open and raised, showing the tiny little peas in a row. An exquisitely worked butterfly with raised wings in lace stitch is on the other side. The grounding of the whole is run with flat gold thread, making a “cloth of gold” ground, strings made of similarly worked canvas, with gold thread and silk tassels complete a bag fit for the Princess Golden Locks of our fairy tales. This little bag cost the writer 5 guineas, and was cheap at the price. The South Kensington Museum have several specimens, and although many are very exquisite, there is not one quite so perfect in design nor in such condition. Other little trifles made in similar style are the embroidered gauntlets of the buff leather glove worn at the time. These have become rarer than any other embroideries, as they were not merely for ornament but for actual wear. Four or five of these gauntlet gloves are in the South Kensington Collection, but are of a later date than the “petit point” period.
The use of gloves in England was not very general, we may infer, in the earlier ages of embroidery. There are certain evidences, however, showing that the glove was part of the priestly outfit, remains of gloves having been found on the bones of Thomas à Becket when they were transferred from the crypt of Canterbury Cathedral to the special shrine prepared for them; and a crimson leather pair, bearing the sacred monogram in embroidered gold, are preserved in the New College, Oxford, belonging to the founder, William of Wykeham, who opened the college in 1386.
It was not until the fourteenth century that the wearing of gloves became general, and practically nothing remains to show what manner of hand-covering was worn until the Tudor period. Henry VIII. was exceptionally lavish and extravagant in the use of handsomely embroidered gloves, and few of his portraits show him without a sumptuous glove in one hand. He had gloves for all functions—like a modern fashionable woman. A pair of hawking gloves belonging to him are in the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford, and in South Kensington is one of a pair presented by Henry to his friend and Councillor Sir Anthony Denny. It is of buff, thin leather, with a white satin gauntlet, embroidered with blue and red silk in applique work, decorated with seed-pearls and spangles, and trimmed with gold lace. The Tudor rose, the crown, and the lion are worked amidst a splendour of gold and pearls.
Queen Elizabeth must have inherited her love for gorgeous apparel along with her strong personality and masterful spirit, as her expenditure for gloves alone was proverbial. The favourite offering to her was a pair of gloves, but she was not above accepting shoes, handkerchiefs, laces, and even gowns from her faithful and admiring subjects. On her visit to Oxford in 1578 she was presented by the Chancellor of the University with a pair of perfumed gloves, embroidered with gold and set with jewels, which cost the University sixty shillings, an immense sum in those days. Other historic gloves are in the various museums of the country, seldom or never coming into the open market. In the Braikenridge Collection sold at Christie’s in February of this year I was able to secure one for £2 12s. 6d., immediately afterwards being offered double the price for it.
The gloves belonging to Charles I. and Queen Henrietta Maria were very ornamental, and it is said that even Oliver Cromwell, with all his austerity, was not proof against the fascination of the decorated glove.
With Charles II. the embroidered gloves seem to have vanished along with the stumpwork pictures, of which more anon.
Dainty shoes were embroidered in those old times. These, being articles of wear, like the gloves, are very rare. The same fine petit point work is seen on them; seed-pearls and in-run gold threads adorn them, and frequently the Tudor rose, in raised work, forms the shoe knot. Two pairs in Lady Wolseley’s Collection, sold in 1906, fetched six guineas, and nine and a half guineas. Tiny pocket-books were covered with this pretty work, and charming covers almost as fresh as when they were worked are occasionally unearthed, made to hold the old-fashioned housekeeping and cooking books.
One wonders oftentime how many, and yet, alas! how few, specimens of this old petit point work have been preserved. It is only during recent years that the “cult of the antique” has been fashionable, and is also becoming a source of income and profit to the many who indulge in its quest. Only members of learned antiquarian societies or born reliquaries troubled themselves to acquire ancient articles of historic interest because they were old, and served to form the sequence in the fairy tales of Time. Anything “old” was ruthlessly destroyed, as being either past wear, shabby, or old-fashioned, and countless treasures, both in ecclesiastical and secular art, have at all periods been recklessly destroyed for the sake of their intrinsic value in gold or jewels. In the early days of my life I was allowed to pick out the corals and seed-pearls from an old Stuart needle picture “for a doll’s necklace!” the picture itself probably going into the “rag-bag” of the mid-Victorian good housekeeper.