Arts and Crafts in the Middle Ages
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Chaucer, in England, also deplores the fashions of his day, alluding
to the "sinful costly array of clothing, namely, in too much superfluity
or else indisordinate scantiness!" Changing fashions have always been
the despair of writers who have tried to lay down rules for aesthetic
effect in dress. "An Englishman," says Harrison, "endeavouring
some time to write of our attire... when he saw what a difficult
piece of work he had taken in hand, he gave over his travail, and
onely drue a picture of a naked man unto whom he gave a pair of
shears in the one hand and a piece of cloth in the other, to the
end that he should shape his apparel after such fashion as himself
liked, sith he could find no garment that could please him any
while together: and this he called an Englishman."
Edward the Confessor wore State robes which had been beautifully
embroidered with gold by his accomplished wife, Edgitha. In the
Royal Rolls of Edward III., in 1335, we find allusion to two vests
of green velvet embroidered respectively with sea sirens and coats
of arms. The tunics worn over armour offered great opportunities to
the needleworker. They were richly embroidered, usually in heraldic
style. When Symon, Bishop of Ely, performed the ceremony of Churching
for Queen Philippa, the royal dame bestowed upon him the gown which
she wore on that occasion; it is described as a murrey-coloured
velvet, powdered with golden squirrels, and was of such voluminous
pattern that it was cut over into three copes! Bridal gowns were
sometimes given to churches, as well.
St. Louis of France was what might be called temperate in dress.
The Sire de Joinville says he "never saw a single embroidered coat
or ornamented saddle in the possession of the king, and reproved
his son for having such things. I replied that he would have acted
better if he had given them in charity, and had his dress made of
good sendal, lined and strengthened with his arms, like as the
king his father had done!"
At the marriage of the Lord of Touraine in 1389, the Duke of Burgundy
presented magnificent habits and clothing to his nephew the Count
of Nevers: among these were tunics, ornamented with embroidered
trees conventionally displayed on their backs, fronts, and sleeves;
others showed heraldic blazonry, while a blue velvet tunic was
covered with balas rubies set in pearls, alternating with suns
of solid gold with great solitaire pearls as centres. Again, in
1390, when the king visited Dijon, he presented to the same nephew a
set of harnesses for jousting. Some of them were composed largely of
sheets of beaten gold and silver. In some gold and silver marguerites
were introduced also.
Savonarola reproved the Florentine nuns for employing
their valuable time in manufacturing "gold laces with which to
adorn persons and houses." The Florentine gold lace was very popular
in England, in the days of Henry VIII., and later the art was taken
up by the "wire-drawers" of England, and a native industry took the
place of the imported article. Among prohibited gowns in Florence
was one owned by Donna Francesca degli Albizi, "a black mantle of
raised cloth: the ground is yellow, and over it are woven birds,
parrots, butterflies, red and white roses, and many figures in
vermilion and green, with pavilions and dragons, and yellow and
black letters and trees, and many other figures of various colours,
the whole lined with cloth in hues of black and vermilion." As
one reads this description, it seems as though the artistic sense
as much as conscientious scruples might have revolted and led to
its banishment!
Costumes for tournaments were also lavish in their splendour. In
1467 Benedetto Salutati ordered made for such a pageant all the
trappings for two horses, worked in two hundred pounds of silver
by Pollajuolo; thirty pounds of pearls were also used to trim the
garments of the sergeants. No wonder Savonarola was enthusiastic
in his denunciation of such extravagance.
Henry VIII. had "a pair of hose of purple silk and Venice gold,
woven like a caul." For one of his favoured lady friends, also,
there is an item, of a certain sum paid, for one pound of gold
for embroidering a nightgown.
The unrivalled excellence of English woollen cloths was made manifest
at an early period. There was a fabric produced at Norwich of such
superiority that a law was passed prohibiting monks from wearing it,
the reason being that it was considered "smart enough for military
men!" This was in 1422. The name of Worsted was given to a certain
wool because it was made at Worsted, a town in Norfolk; later the
"worsted thread" was sold for needleworkers.
Ladies made their own gold thread in the Middle Ages by winding
a fine flat gold wire, scarcely of more body than a foil, around
a silk thread.
Patches were embroidered into place upon such clothes or vestments
as were torn: those who did this work were as well recognized as
the original designers, and were called "healers" of clothes!
Embroidered bed hangings were very much in order in mediaeval times
in England. In the eleventh century there lived a woman who had
emigrated from the Hebrides, and who had the reputation for witchcraft,
chiefly based upon the unusually exquisite needlework on her bed
curtains! The name of this reputed sorceress was Thergunna. Bequests
in important wills indicate the sumptuous styles which were usual
among people of position. The Fair Maid of Kent left to her son her
"new bed curtains of red velvet, embroidered with ostrich feathers
of silver, and heads of leopards of gold," while in 1380 the Earl
of March bequeathed his "large bed of black satin embroidered with
white lions and gold roses, and the escutcheons of the arms of
Mortimer and Ulster." This outfit must have resembled a Parisian
"first class" funeral! The widow of Henry II. slept in a sort of
mourning couch of black velvet, which must have made her feel as if
she too were laid out for her own burial!
A child's bedquilt was found mentioned in an inventory of furniture
at the Priory of Durham, in 1446, which was embroidered in the
four corners with the Evangelistic symbols. In the "Squier of Lowe
Degree," a fifteenth century romance, there is allusion to a bed,
of which the head sheet is described "with diamonds set and rubies
bright." The king of England, in 1388, refers, in a letter, to "a bed
of gold cloth." Wall hangings in bedrooms were also most elaborate,
and the effect of a chamber adorned with gold and needlework must
have been fairly regal. An embroiderer named Delobel made a set
of furnishings for the bedroom of Louis XIV. the work upon which
occupied three years. The subject was the Triumph of Venus.
In South Kensington Museum there is a fourteenth century linen cloth
of German workmanship, upon which occurs the legend of the unicorn,
running for protection to a maiden. An old Bestiary describes how
the unicorn, or as it is there called, the "monocerus," "is an
animal which has one horn on its head: it is caught by means of
a virgin." The unicorn and virgin, with a hunter in pursuit, is
quite a favourite bit of symbolism in the middle ages.
Another interesting piece of German embroidery in South Kensington
is a table cloth, worked on heavy canvas, in heraldic style: long
decorative inscriptions embellish the corners. A liberal translation
of these verses is given by Dr. Rock, some of the sentences being
quaint and interesting to quote. Evidently the embroideress indulged
in autobiography in the following: "And she, to honour the esquire
her husband, wished to adorn and increase his house furniture, and
there has worked, with her own hand, this and still many other
pretty cloths, to her memory." And in another corner, "Now follows
here my own birthday. When one wrote 1565 my mother's heart was
gladdened by my first cry. In the year 1585 I gave birth my self
to a daughter. Her name is Emilia Catharina, and she has been a
proper and praiseworthy child." Then, to her children the following
address is directed: "Do not forget your prayers in the morning. And
be temperate in your pleasures. And make yourselves acquainted with
the Word of God.... I beseech you to be sincere in all matters. That
will make you great and glorious. Honour everybody according to his
station: it will make you honourably known. You, my truly beloved sons,
beware of fiery wines... you, my truly beloved daughters, preserve
and guard your honour, and reflect before you do anything: many have
been led into evil by acting first and thinking afterwards." In
another compartment, a lament goes up in which she deplores the
death of her husband. "His age was sixty and eight years," she says.
"The dropsy has killed him. I, his afflicted Anna Blickin von
Liechtenperg who was left behind, have related it with my hand in
this cloth, that might be known to my children this greater sorrow
which God has sent me." The cloth is a naive and unusual record of
German home life.
Ecclesiastical embroidery began in the fourth century. In earliest
days the work was enhanced with quantities of gold thread. The shroud
in which St. Cuthbert's body was wrapped is a mass of gold: a Latin
inscription on the vestments in which the body was clad may be thus
translated: "Queen to Alfred's son and successor, Edward the Elder,
was one Aelflaed, who caused this stole and maniple to be made for a
gift to Fridestan consecrated Bishop of Winchester, A. D. 905." The
maniple is of "woven gold, with spaces left vacant for needlework
embroidery." Such garments for burial were not uncommon; but they
have as a rule perished from their long residence underground.
St. Cuthbert's vestments are splendid examples of tenth century
work in England. After the death of King Edward II., and his wife
Aelflaed, Bishop Frithestan also having passed away, Athelstan, as
King, made a pilgrimage to the shrine of St. Cuthbert and bestowed
these valuable embroideries there. They were removed from the body
of the saint in 1827. The style of the work inclines to Byzantine.
The Saxon embroideries must have been very decorative: a robe is
described by Aldhelme in 709, as "of a most delicate thread of
purple, adorned with black circles and peacocks." At the church at
Croyland some vestments were decorated with birds of gold cut out
and applique and at Exeter they had "nothing about them but true
needlework."
In the "Liber Eliensis," in the Muniment room at Ely, is an account
of a gift to the church by Queen Emma, the wife of King Knut, who
"on a certain day came to Ely in a boat, accompanied by his wife
the Queen Emma, and the chief nobles of his kingdom." This royal
present was "a purple cloth worked with gold and set with jewels
for St. Awdry's shrine," and the Monk Thomas assures us that "none
other could be found in the kingdom of the English of such richness
and beauty of workmanship."
The various stitches in English work had their several names, the
opus plumarium, or straight overlapping stitches, resembling the
feathers of a bird; the opus pluvarium, or cross stitch, and many
others. A great deal of work was accomplished by means of applique
in satin and silk, and sometimes the ground was painted, as has
already been described in Italian work. In the year 1246 Matthew
Paris writes: "About this time the Lord Pope, Innocent IV., having
observed that the ecclesiastical ornaments of some Englishmen,
such as choristers' copes and mitres, were embroidered in gold
thread, after a very desirable fashion, asked where these works
were made, and received in answer, 'England.' Then," said the Pope,
"England is surely a garden of delight for us; it is truly a never
failing Spring, and there where many things abound much may be
extorted." This far sighted Pope, with his semi-commercial views,
availed himself of his discovery.
In the days of Anastatius, ecclesiastical garments were spoken of
by name according to the motive of their designs: for instance,
the "peacock garment," the "elephant chasuble," and the "lion cope."
Fuller tells of the use of a pall as an ecclesiastical vestment,
remarking tersely: "It is made up of lamb's wool and superstition."
Mediaeval embroiderers in England got into certain habits of work, so
that there are some designs which are almost as hall-marks to English
work; the Cherubim over the wheel is especially characteristic, as
is also the vase of lilies, and various heraldic devices which are
less frequently found in the embroidered work of European peoples.
The Syon Cope is perhaps the most conspicuous example of the mediaeval
embroiderer's art. It was made by nuns about the end of the thirteenth
century, in a convent near Coventry. It is solid stitchery on a
canvas ground, "wrought about with divers colours" on green. The
design is laid out in a series of interlacing square forms, with
rounded and barbed sides and corners. In each of these is a figure
or a scriptural scene. The orphreys, or straight borders which go
down both fronts of the cope, are decorated with heraldic charges.
Much of the embroidery is raised, and wrought in the stitch known
as Opus Anglicanum. The effect was produced by pressing a heated
metal knob into the work at such points as were to be raised. The
real embroidery was executed on a flat surface, and then bossed up
by this means until it looked like bas-relief. The stitches in every
part run in zig-zags, the vestments, and even the nimbi about the
heads, are all executed with the stitches slanting in one direction,
from the centre of the cope outward, without consideration of the
positions of the figures. Each face is worked in circular progression
outward from the centre, as well. The interlaces are of crimson, and
look well on the green ground. The wheeled Cherubim is well developed
in the design of this famous cope, and is a pleasing decorative bit of
archaic ecclesiasticism. In the central design of the Crucifixion,
the figure of the Lord is rendered in silver on a gold ground. The
anatomy is according to the rules laid down by an old sermonizer,
in a book entitled "The Festival," wherein it is stated that the
body of Christ was "drawn on the cross as a skin of parchment on a
harrow, so that all his bones might be told." With such instruction,
there was nothing left for the mediaeval embroiderers but to render
the figure with as much realistic emaciation as possible.
The heraldic ornaments on the Syon Cope are especially interesting
to all students of this graceful art. It is not our purpose here
to make much allusion to this aspect of the work, but it is of
general interest to know that on the orphreys, the devices of most
of the noble families of that day appear.
[Illustration: DETAIL OF THE SYON COPE]
English embroidery fell off greatly in excellence during the Wars
of the Roses. In the later somewhat degenerate raised embroidery,
it was customary to represent the hair of angels by little tufted
curls of auburn silk!
Many of the most important examples of ancient ecclesiastical embroidery
are in South Kensington Museum. A pair of orphreys of the fifteenth
century, of German work (probably made at Cologne), shows a little
choir of angels playing on musical instruments. These figures are
cut out and applied on crimson silk, in what was called "cut work."
This differed entirely from what modern embroiderers mean by cut
work, as has been explained.
The Dalmatic of Charlemagne is given by Louis Farcy to the twelfth
century. He calls it the Dalmatic of Leo III. But Lady Alford claims
for this work a greater antiquity. Certainly, as one studies its
details, one is convinced that it is not quite a Gothic work, nor
yet is it Byzantine; for the figures have all the grace of Greek
work prior to the age of Byzantine stiffness. It is embroidered
chiefly in gold, on a delicate bluish satin ground, and has not
been transferred, although it has been carefully restored. The
central ornament on the front is a circular composition, and the
arrangement of the figures both here and on the back suggests that
Sir Edward Burne Jones must have made a study of this magnificent
dalmatic, from which it would seem that much of his inspiration
might have been drawn. The composition is singularly restful and
rhythmical. The little black outlines to the white silk faces, and
to the glowing figures, give this work a peculiarly decorative
quality, not often seen in other embroideries of the period. It is
unique and one of the most valuable examples of its art in the world.
It is now in the Treasury of the Vatican. When Charlemagne sang the
Gospel at High Mass on the day of his Coronation, this was his
vestment. It must have been a strangely gorgeous sight when Cola di
Rienzi, according to Lord Lindsay, took this dalmatic, and placed it
over his armour, and, with his crown and truncheon, ascended to the
palace of the Popes!
A very curious Italian piece of the fourteenth century is an altar
frontal, on which the subjects introduced are strange. It displays
scenes from the life of St. Ubaldo, with some incidents also in
that of St. Julian Hospitaler. St. Ubaldo is seen forgiving a mason
who, having run a wall across his private grounds, had knocked
the saint down for remonstrating. Another scene shows the death
bed of the saint, and the conversion of a possessed man at the
foot of the bed: a lady is throwing her arms above her head in
astonishment while the evil spirit flies from its victim into the
air. Later, the saint is seen going to the grave in a cart drawn
by oxen.
[Illustration: DALMATIC OF CHARLEMAGNE]
The peacock was symbolical both of knightly vigilance and of Christian
watchfulness. An old Anglo-Norman, Osmont, writes: "The eye-speckled
feathers should warn a man that never too often can he have his
eyes wide open, and gaze inwardly upon his own heart." These
dear people were so introspective and self-conscious, always looking
for trouble--in their own motives, even--that no doubt many good
impulses perished unnoticed, while the originator was chasing mental
phantoms of heresy and impurity.
Painting and jewelry were sometimes introduced in connection with
embroideries. In the celebrated Cope of St. John Lateran, the faces
and hands of the personages are rendered in painting; but this
method was more generally adopted in the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries, when sincerity counted for less than effect, and when
genuine religious fervour for giving one's time and best labour to
the Lord's service no longer dominated the workers. Gold thread was
used extensively in English work, and spangles were added at quite
an early period, as well as actual jewels set in floral designs.
The finest work was accomplished in the Gothic period, before the
Renaissance came with its aimless scrolls to detract from the dignity
of churchly ornament.
In the sixteenth century the winged angels have often a degenerate
similitude to tightly laced coryphees, who balance themselves upon
their wheels as if they were performing a vaudeville turn. They
are not as dignified as their archaic predecessors.
Very rich funeral palls were in vogue in the sixteenth century. A
description of Prince Arthur's burial in 1502 relates how numerous
palls were bestowed, apparently much as friends would send wreaths
or important floral tributes to-day. "The Lord Powys went to the
Queere Doore," writes Leland, "where two gentlemen ushers delivered
him a riche pall of cloth of gould of tissue, which he offered to
the corpse, where two Officers of the Armes received it, and laid it
along the corpse. The Lord Dudley in like manner offered a pall...
the Lord Grey Ruthen offered another, and every each of the three
Earls offered to the corpse three palls of the same cloth of gould...
all the palls were layd crosse over the corpse."
The account of the obsequies of Henry VII. also contains mention
of these funeral palls: the Earls and Dukes came in procession,
from the Vestry, with "certain palls, which everie of them did
bring solemnly between their hands and coming in order one before
another as they were in degree, unto the said herse, they kissed
their said palls... and laid them upon the King's corpse." At Ann
of Cleves' burial the same thing was repeated, in 1557. Finally
these rich shimmering hangings came to be known in England as "cloth
of pall," whether they were used for funerals or coronations, for
bridals or pageants.
The London City Guilds possessed magnificent palls; especially
well known is that of the Fishmongers, with its kneeling angels
swinging censers; this pall is frequently reproduced in works on
embroidery. It is embroidered magnificently with angels, saints,
and strange to say, mermaids. The peacock's wings of the angels
make a most decorative feature in this famous piece of old
embroidery. The Arms of the Company are also emblazoned.
French embroiderers are known by name in many instances; in 1299
allusion was made to "Clement le Brodeur," who furnished a cope for
the Count of Artois, and in 1316 a magnificent set of hangings was
made for the Queen, by one Gautier de Poulleigny. Nicolas Waquier was
armourer and embroiderer to King John in 1352. Among Court workers in
1384 were Perrin Gale, and Henriet Gautier. In the "Book of Rules"
by Etienne Boileau, governing the "Embroiderers and embroideresses
of the City of Paris," one of the chief laws was that no work should
be permitted in the evening, "because the work of the night cannot
be so good or so satisfactory as that accomplished in the day."
When one remembers the facilities for evening lighting in the middle
ages, one fully appreciates the truth of this statement.
Matthew Paris, in his Life of St. Alban, tells of an excellent
embroideress, Christine, Prioress of Margate, who lived in the
middle of the twelfth century. In the thirteenth century several
names occur. Adam de Bazinge made, in 1241, by order of Henry III.
of England, a cope for the Bishop of Hereford. Cunegonde, Abbess
of Goss, in Styria, accomplished numerous important works in that
period. Also, Henry III. employed Jean de Sumercote to make jewelled
robes of state.
On a certain thirteenth century chasuble are the words
"Penne fit me" (Penne made me), pointing to the existence of a
needleworker of that name. Among the names of the fourteenth century
are those of Gautier de Bruceles, Renier de Treit, Gautier de Poulogne,
and Jean de Laon, while Jean Harent of Calais is recorded as having
worked, for Mme. d'Artois, in 1319, a robe decorated "a bestelettes
et a testes." These names prove that the art had been taught in
many cities and countries: Ogier de Gant, Jean de Savoie, Etienne
le Hongre, and Roger de Varennes, all suggest a cosmopolitan and
dispersed number of workers, who finally all appeared in Paris.
Rene d'Anjou had in his employ a worker in embroidery, named Pierre
du Villant. This artist executed a set of needlework pieces for
the Cathedral of Angers, of such important proportions that they
were known collectively as "La Grande Broderie." In 1462, when
they were put in place, a special mass was performed by way of a
dedication. The letter which accompanied this princely donation
contained the following sentences: "We, Rene, by the Grace of God...
give... to this church... the adornments for a chapell all composd
of golden embroidery, comprising five pieces" (which are enumerated)
"and an altar cloth illustrated with scenes from the Passion of
Our Saviour.... Given in our castle in Angers, the fourth day of
March, 1462. Rene."
[Illustration: EMBROIDERY, 15TH CENTURY, COLOGNE]
In 1479 another altar frontal was presented. Two other rich chapels
were endowed by Rene. One was known as La Chapelle Joyeuse, and the
other as La Grande Chapelle des Trepasses. It is likely that the
same embroiderer executed the pieces of all these.
A guild of embroiderers was in standing in Seville in 1433, where
Ordinances were enforced to protect from fraud and otherwise to
regulate this industry. The same laws were in existence in Toledo.
One of the finest and largest pieces of embroidery in Spain is
known as the Tent of Ferdinand and Isabella. This was used in 1488,
when certain English Ambassadors were entertained. The following
is their description of its use. "After the tilting was over, the
majesties returned to the palace, and took the Ambassadors with
them, and entered a large room... and there they sat under a rich
cloth of state of crimson velvet, richly embroidered, with the
arms of Castile and Aragon."
A curious effect must have been produced by a piece of embroidery
described in the inventory of Charles V., as "two little pillows
with savage beasts having the heads of armed men, and garnished
with pearls."
After the Reformation it became customary to use ecclesiastical
ornaments for domestic purposes. Heylin, in his "History of the
Reformation," makes mention of many "private men's parlours" which
"were hung with altar cloths, and their tables and beds covered
with copes instead of carpetts and coverlids."
Katherine of Aragon, while the wife of Henry VIII., consoled herself
in her unsatisfactory life by needlework: it is related that she
and her ladies "occupied themselves working with their own hands
something wrought in needlework, costly and artificially, which she
intended to the honour of God to bestow upon some churches."
Katherine of Aragon was such a devoted needlewoman, in fact, that on
one occasion Burnet records that she stepped out to speak to two
ambassadors, with a skein of silk about her neck, and explained that
she had been embroidering with her ladies when they were announced.
In an old sonnet she is thus commemorated: