ON MRS. MONTAGUE’S FEATHER HANGINGS.“The birds put off their ev’ry hue,To dress a room for Montague.The peacock sends his heavenly dyes,Hisrainbowsand hisstarry eyes;The pheasant plumes, which round infoldHis mantling neck with downy gold;The cock his arch’d tail’s azure shew;And, river blanch’d, the swan his snow.All tribes beside of Indian name,That glossy shine, or vivid flame,Where rises, and where sets the day,Whate’er they boast of rich and gay,Contribute to the gorgeous plan,Proud to advance it all they can.This plumage, neither dashing shower,Nor blasts that shape the dripping bow’r,Shall drench again or discompose—But screen’d from ev’ry storm that blowsIt boasts a splendour ever new,Safe with protecting Montague.”
ON MRS. MONTAGUE’S FEATHER HANGINGS.
“The birds put off their ev’ry hue,To dress a room for Montague.The peacock sends his heavenly dyes,Hisrainbowsand hisstarry eyes;The pheasant plumes, which round infoldHis mantling neck with downy gold;The cock his arch’d tail’s azure shew;And, river blanch’d, the swan his snow.All tribes beside of Indian name,That glossy shine, or vivid flame,Where rises, and where sets the day,Whate’er they boast of rich and gay,Contribute to the gorgeous plan,Proud to advance it all they can.This plumage, neither dashing shower,Nor blasts that shape the dripping bow’r,Shall drench again or discompose—But screen’d from ev’ry storm that blowsIt boasts a splendour ever new,Safe with protecting Montague.”
Some Canadian women embroider with their own hair and that of animals; they copy beautifully the ramifications of moss-agates, and of several plants. They insinuate in their works skins of serpents and morsels of fur patiently smoothed. If their embroidery is not so brilliant as that of the Chinese, it is not less industrious.
The negresses of Senegal embroider the skin of different animals of flowers and figures of all colours.
The Turks and Georgians embroider marvellously the lightest gauze or most delicate crape.They use gold thread with inconceivable delicacy; they represent the most minute objects on morocco without varying the form, or fraying the finest gold, by a proceeding quite unknown to us. They frequently ornament their embroidery with pieces of money of different nations, and travellers who are aware of this circumstance often find in their old garments valuable and interesting coins.
The Saxons imitate the designs of the most accomplished work-people; their embroidery with untwisted thread on muslin is the most delicate and correct we are acquainted with of that kind.
The embroidery of Venice and Milan has long been celebrated, but its excessive dearness prevents the use of it. There is also much beautiful embroidery in France, but the palm for precedence is ably disputed by the Germans, especially those of Vienna.
This progress and variations of this luxury amongst various nations would be a subject of curious research, but too intricate and lengthened for our pages. We have intimations of it at the earliest period, and there is no age in which it appears to have been totally laid aside, no nation in which it was in utter disrepute. Some of its most beautiful patterns have been, as in architecture, the adaptation of the moment from natural objects, for one of the first ornaments in Roman embroidery, when they departed from their primitive simplicity in dress, was the imitation of the leaf of the acanthus—the same leaf which imparted grace and ornament to the Corinthian capital.
But it would be endless to enter into the subjectof patterns, which doubtless were everywhere originally simple enough, with
“here and there a tuft of crimson yarn,Or scarlet crewel.”
“here and there a tuft of crimson yarn,Or scarlet crewel.”
And patient minds must often have planned, and assiduous fingers must long have wrought, ere such an achievement was perfected, as even the covering of the joint stool described by Cowper:—
“At length a generation more refin’dImproved the simple plan; made three legs four,Gave them a twisted form vermicular,And o’er the seat with plenteous wadding stuff’d,Induc’d a splendid cover, green and blue,Yellow and red, of tapestry richly wroughtAnd woven close, or needlework sublime.There might ye see the piony spread wide,The full-blown rose, the shepherd and his lass,Lapdog and lambkin with black staring eyes,And parrots with twin cherries in their beak.”
“At length a generation more refin’dImproved the simple plan; made three legs four,Gave them a twisted form vermicular,And o’er the seat with plenteous wadding stuff’d,Induc’d a splendid cover, green and blue,Yellow and red, of tapestry richly wroughtAnd woven close, or needlework sublime.There might ye see the piony spread wide,The full-blown rose, the shepherd and his lass,Lapdog and lambkin with black staring eyes,And parrots with twin cherries in their beak.”
But from the days of Elizabeth the practice of ornamental needlework, of embroidery, had gradually declined in England: the literary and scholastic pursuits which in her day had superseded the use of the needle, did not indeed continue the fashion of later times; still the needle was not resumed, nor perhaps has embroidery and tapestry ever from the days of Elizabeth been so much practised as it is now. Manyindividualshave indeed been celebrated, as one thus:—
“She wrought all needleworks that women exercise,With pen, frame, or stoole; all pictures artificial,Curious knots or trailes, what fancy could devise;Beasts, birds, or flowers, even as things natural.”
“She wrought all needleworks that women exercise,With pen, frame, or stoole; all pictures artificial,Curious knots or trailes, what fancy could devise;Beasts, birds, or flowers, even as things natural.”
But still embroidery had ceased to be looked upon as a necessary accomplishment, or taught as an important part of education. In the early part of the last century women had become so mischievous from the lack of this employment, that the “Spectator” seriously recommends it to the attention of the community at large.
“Mr. Spectator,“I have a couple of nieces under my direction who so often run gadding abroad, that I do not know where to have them. Their dress, their tea, and their visits, take up all their time, and they go to bed as tired doing nothing, as I am often after quilting a whole under-petticoat. The only time they are not idle is while they read your Spectator, which being dedicated to the interests of virtue, I desire you to recommend the long-neglected art of needlework. Those hours which in this age are thrown away in dress, play, visits, and the like, were employed in my time in writing out receipts, or working beds, chairs, and hangings for the family. For my part I have plied my needle these fifty years, and by my good will would never have it out of my hand. It grieves my heart to see a couple of idle flirts sipping their tea, for a whole afternoon, in a room hung round with the industry of their great-grandmother. Pray, Sir, take the laudable mystery of embroidery into your serious consideration; and as you have a great deal of the virtue of the last age in you, continue your endeavours to reform the present.“I am, &c., ———”
“Mr. Spectator,
“I have a couple of nieces under my direction who so often run gadding abroad, that I do not know where to have them. Their dress, their tea, and their visits, take up all their time, and they go to bed as tired doing nothing, as I am often after quilting a whole under-petticoat. The only time they are not idle is while they read your Spectator, which being dedicated to the interests of virtue, I desire you to recommend the long-neglected art of needlework. Those hours which in this age are thrown away in dress, play, visits, and the like, were employed in my time in writing out receipts, or working beds, chairs, and hangings for the family. For my part I have plied my needle these fifty years, and by my good will would never have it out of my hand. It grieves my heart to see a couple of idle flirts sipping their tea, for a whole afternoon, in a room hung round with the industry of their great-grandmother. Pray, Sir, take the laudable mystery of embroidery into your serious consideration; and as you have a great deal of the virtue of the last age in you, continue your endeavours to reform the present.
“I am, &c., ———”
“In obedience to the commands of my venerable correspondent, I have duly weighed this important subject, and promise myself from the arguments here laid down, that all the fine ladies of England will be ready, as soon as the mourning is over (for Queen Anne) to appear covered with the work of their own hands.“What a delightful entertainment must it be to the fair sex whom their native modesty, and the tenderness of men towards them exempt from public business, to pass their hours in imitating fruits and flowers, and transplanting all the beauties of nature into their own dress, or raising a new creation in their closets and apartments! How pleasing is the amusement of walking among the shades and groves planted by themselves, in surveying heroes slain by the needle, or little Cupids which they have brought into the world without pain!“This is, methinks, the most proper way wherein a lady can show a fine genius; and I cannot forbear wishing that several writers of that sex had chosen to apply themselves rather to tapestry than rhyme. Your pastoral poetesses may vent their fancy in great landscapes, and place despairing shepherds under silken willows, or drown them in a stream of mohair. The heroic writers may work of battles as successfully, and inflame them with gold, or stain them with crimson. Even those who have only a turn to a song or an epigram, may put many valuable stitches into a purse, and crowd a thousand graces into a pair of garters.“If I may, without breach of good manners, imagine that any pretty creature is void of genius, andwould perform her part herein but very awkwardly, I must nevertheless insist upon her working, if it be only to keep her out of harm’s way.“Another argument for busying good women in works of fancy is, because it takes them off from scandal, the usual attendant of tea-tables and all other inactive scenes of life. While they are forming their birds and beasts, their neighbours will be allowed to be the fathers of their own children, and Whig and Tory will be but seldom mentioned where the great dispute is, whether blue or red is now the proper colour. How much greater glory would Sophronia do the general if she would choose rather to work the battle of Blenheim in tapestry than signalise herself with so much vehemence against those who are Frenchmen in their hearts!“A third reason I shall mention is, the profit that is brought to the family when these pretty arts are encouraged. It is manifest that this way of life not only keeps fair ladies from running out into expenses, but is at the same time an actual improvement.“How memorable would that matron be, who shall have it subscribed upon her monument, ‘She that wrought out the whole Bible in tapestry, and died in a good old age, after having covered 300 yards of wall in the Mansion House!’“The premises being considered, I humbly submit the following proposals to all mothers in Great Britain:—“1. That no young virgin whatsoever be allowed to receive the addresses of her first lover, but in a suit of her own embroidering.“2. That before every fresh humble servant sheshall be obliged to appear with a new stomacher at the least.“3. That no one be actually married until she hath the child-bed pillows, &c., ready stitched, as likewise the mantle for the boy quite finished.“These laws, if I mistake not, would effectually restore the decayed art of needlework, and make the virgins of Great Britain exceedingly nimble-fingered in their business.”
“In obedience to the commands of my venerable correspondent, I have duly weighed this important subject, and promise myself from the arguments here laid down, that all the fine ladies of England will be ready, as soon as the mourning is over (for Queen Anne) to appear covered with the work of their own hands.
“What a delightful entertainment must it be to the fair sex whom their native modesty, and the tenderness of men towards them exempt from public business, to pass their hours in imitating fruits and flowers, and transplanting all the beauties of nature into their own dress, or raising a new creation in their closets and apartments! How pleasing is the amusement of walking among the shades and groves planted by themselves, in surveying heroes slain by the needle, or little Cupids which they have brought into the world without pain!
“This is, methinks, the most proper way wherein a lady can show a fine genius; and I cannot forbear wishing that several writers of that sex had chosen to apply themselves rather to tapestry than rhyme. Your pastoral poetesses may vent their fancy in great landscapes, and place despairing shepherds under silken willows, or drown them in a stream of mohair. The heroic writers may work of battles as successfully, and inflame them with gold, or stain them with crimson. Even those who have only a turn to a song or an epigram, may put many valuable stitches into a purse, and crowd a thousand graces into a pair of garters.
“If I may, without breach of good manners, imagine that any pretty creature is void of genius, andwould perform her part herein but very awkwardly, I must nevertheless insist upon her working, if it be only to keep her out of harm’s way.
“Another argument for busying good women in works of fancy is, because it takes them off from scandal, the usual attendant of tea-tables and all other inactive scenes of life. While they are forming their birds and beasts, their neighbours will be allowed to be the fathers of their own children, and Whig and Tory will be but seldom mentioned where the great dispute is, whether blue or red is now the proper colour. How much greater glory would Sophronia do the general if she would choose rather to work the battle of Blenheim in tapestry than signalise herself with so much vehemence against those who are Frenchmen in their hearts!
“A third reason I shall mention is, the profit that is brought to the family when these pretty arts are encouraged. It is manifest that this way of life not only keeps fair ladies from running out into expenses, but is at the same time an actual improvement.
“How memorable would that matron be, who shall have it subscribed upon her monument, ‘She that wrought out the whole Bible in tapestry, and died in a good old age, after having covered 300 yards of wall in the Mansion House!’
“The premises being considered, I humbly submit the following proposals to all mothers in Great Britain:—
“1. That no young virgin whatsoever be allowed to receive the addresses of her first lover, but in a suit of her own embroidering.
“2. That before every fresh humble servant sheshall be obliged to appear with a new stomacher at the least.
“3. That no one be actually married until she hath the child-bed pillows, &c., ready stitched, as likewise the mantle for the boy quite finished.
“These laws, if I mistake not, would effectually restore the decayed art of needlework, and make the virgins of Great Britain exceedingly nimble-fingered in their business.”
“And often did she lookOn that which in her hand she bore,In velvet bound and broider’d o’er—Her breviary book.”Marmion.
“And often did she lookOn that which in her hand she bore,In velvet bound and broider’d o’er—Her breviary book.”Marmion.
“Books are ours,Within whose silent chambers treasure liesPreserved from age to age—These hoards of truth we can unlock at will.”Wordsworth.
“Books are ours,Within whose silent chambers treasure liesPreserved from age to age—These hoards of truth we can unlock at will.”Wordsworth.
Deep indeed are our obligations for those treasures which “we can unlock at will:” treasures of far more value than gold or gems, for they oftentimes bestow that which gold cannot purchase—even forgetfulness of sorrow and pain. Happy are those who have a taste for reading and leisure to indulge it. It is the most beguiling solace of life: it is its most ennobling pursuit. It is a magnificent thing to converse with the master spirits of past ages, to behold them as they were; to mingle thought with thought and mind with mind; to let the imagination rove—based however on the authentic record of the past—through dim and distant ages; to behold the fathers and prophets of the ancient earth; to hold communionwith martyrs and prophets, and kings; to kneel at the feet of the mighty lawgiver; to bend at the shrine of the eternal poet; to imbibe inspiration from the eloquent, to gather instruction from the wise, and pleasure from the gifted; to behold, as in a glass, all the majesty and all the beauty of the mightyPast, to revel in all the accumulated treasures of Time—and this, all this, we have by reading the privilege to do. Imagination indeed, the gift of heaven, may soar elate, unchecked, though untutored through time and space, through Time to Eternity, and may people worlds at will; but that truthful basis which can alone give permanence to her visions, that knowledge which ennobles and purifies and elevates them is acquired from books, whether
“Song of the Muses, says historic tale,Science severe, or word of Holy Writ,Announcing immortality and joy.”
“Song of the Muses, says historic tale,Science severe, or word of Holy Writ,Announcing immortality and joy.”
The “word of Holy Writ,” theBible—we pass over its hopes, its promises, its consolations—these themes are too sacred even for reference on our light page—but here, we may remark, we see the world in its freshness, its prime, its glory. We converse truly with godlike men and angelic women. We see the mighty and majestic fathers of the human race ere sin had corrupted all their godlike seeming; ere sorrow—the bequeathed and inherited sorrows of ages—had quite seared the “human face divine;” ere sloth, and luxury, and corruption, and decay, had altered features formed in the similitude of heaven to the gross semblance of earth; and we walk step by step over the new fresh earth as yetuntrodden by foot of man, and behold the ancient solitudes gradually invaded by his advancing steps.
Most gentle, most soothing, most faithful companions are books. They afford amusement for the lonely hour; solace perchance for the sorrowful one: they offer recreation to the light-hearted; instruction to the inquiring; inspiration to the aspiring mind; food for the thirsty one. They are inexhaustible in extent as in variety: and oh! in the silent vigil by the suffering couch, or during the languor of indisposition, who can too highly praise those silent friends—silent indeed to the ear, but speaking eloquently to the heart—which beguile, even transiently, the mind from present depressing care, strengthen and elevate it by communion with the past, or solace it by hopes of the future!
Listen how sweetly one of the first of modern men apostrophises his books:—
“My days among the dead are past;Around me I behold,Where’er these casual eyes are cast,The mighty minds of old;My never-failing friends are they,With whom I converse day by day.“With them I take delight in weal,And seek relief in woe;And while I understand and feelHow much to them I owe,My cheeks have often been bedew’d,With tears of thoughtful gratitude.“My thoughts are with the dead; with themI live in long past years;Their virtues love, their faults condemn,Partake their hopes and fears,And from their lessons seek and findInstruction with a humble mind.“My hopes are with the dead; anonMy place with them will be,And I with them shall travel onThrough all futurity;Yet leaving here a name, I trust,That will not perish in the dust.”[126]
“My days among the dead are past;Around me I behold,Where’er these casual eyes are cast,The mighty minds of old;My never-failing friends are they,With whom I converse day by day.
“With them I take delight in weal,And seek relief in woe;And while I understand and feelHow much to them I owe,My cheeks have often been bedew’d,With tears of thoughtful gratitude.
“My thoughts are with the dead; with themI live in long past years;Their virtues love, their faults condemn,Partake their hopes and fears,And from their lessons seek and findInstruction with a humble mind.
“My hopes are with the dead; anonMy place with them will be,And I with them shall travel onThrough all futurity;Yet leaving here a name, I trust,That will not perish in the dust.”[126]
Yet how little are we of the present day, who have books poured into our laps, able to estimate their real value! Nor is it possible that they can ever again be estimated as they once were. The universal diffusion of them, the incalculable multiplication of them, seems to render it impossible that the world can ever be deprived of them. No. We must call up some of the spirits of the “pious and painful” amanuenses of those days when the fourth estate of the realm, the public press—WAS NOT—to tell us the real value of the literary treasures we now esteem so lightly. He will tell us that in his day the donation of a single book to a religious house was thought to give the donor a claim to eternal salvation; and that an offering so valued, so cherished, would be laid on the high altar amid pomp and pageantry. He might perhaps personally remember the prior and convent of Rochester pronouncing an irrevocable sentence of damnation on him who should purloin or conceal their treasured Latin translation of Aristotle’s physics. He would tell us that the holiest and wisest of men would forego ease and luxury and spend laborious years in transcribing books for the good of others; he will tell us that amongst many others, Osmond, Bishop of Salisbury, did this, andperchance he will name that Guido de Jars, in his fortieth year, began to copy the Bible on vellum, with rich and elegant decorations, and that the suns of half a century had risen and set, ere, with unintermitting labour and unwearied zeal, he finished it in his ninetieth. He will also tell us, that when a book was to be sold, it was customary to assemble all persons of consequence and character in the neighbourhood, and to make a formal record that they were present on this occasion. Thus, amongst the royal MSS. is a book thus described:—
“This book of the Sentences belongs to Master Robert, archdeacon of Lincoln, which he bought of Geoffrey the chaplain, brother of Henry vicar of Northelkingston, in the presence of Master Robert de Lee, Master John of Lirling, Richard of Luda, clerk, Richard the Almoner, the said Henry the vicar and his clerk, and others: and the said archdeacon gave the said book to God and saint Oswald, and to Peter abbot of Barton, and the convent of Barden.”
These are a few, a very few of such instances as a spirit of the fourteenth century might allude to—to testify the value of books. Indeed, even so late as the reign of Henry the VI., when the invention of paper greatly facilitated the multiplication of MSS. the impediments to study, from the scarcity of books, must have been very great, for in the statutes of St. Mary’s College, Oxford, is this order—“Let no scholar occupy a book in the library above one hour, or two hours at the most; lest others shall be hindered from the use of the same.”
The scarcity of parchment seems indeed at times to have been a greater hindrance to the promulgationof literature than even the laborious and tedious transcription of the books. About 1120, one Master Hugh, being appointed by the convent of St. Edmondsbury to write a copy of the Bible, for their library, could procure no parchment in England. The following particulars of the scarcity of books before the era of printing, gathered chiefly by Warton, are interesting.
In 855, Lupus, abbot of Ferrieres in France, sent two of his monks to Pope Benedict the third, to beg a copy of Cicero de Oratore, and Quintilian’s Institutes, and some other books: for, says the abbot, although we have part of these books, yet there is no whole or complete copy of them in all France.
Albert, abbot of Gemblours, who with incredible labour and immense expense had collected a hundred volumes on theological, and fifty on general subjects, imagined he had formed a splendid library.
About 790, Charlemagne granted an unlimited right to hunting to the abbot and monks of Sithin, for making their gloves and girdles of the skins of the deer they killed, and covers for their books.
At the beginning of the tenth century, books were so scarce in Spain, that one and the same copy of the Bible, St. Jerome’s Epistles, and some volumes of ecclesiastical offices and martyrologies, often served several different monasteries.
Amongst the constitutions given to the monks of England by Archbishop Lanfranc, in 1072, the following injunction occurs: At the beginning of Lent, the librarian is ordered to deliver a book to each of the religious; a whole year was allowed for the perusal of this book! and at the returning Lent, thosemonks who had neglected to read the books they had respectively received, are commanded to prostrate themselves before the abbot to supplicate his indulgence. This regulation was partly occasioned by the low state of literature in which Lanfranc found the English monasteries to be; but at the same time it was a matter of necessity, and partly to be referred to the scarcity of copies of useful and suitable authors.
John de Pontissara, Bishop of Winchester, borrowed of his cathedral convent of St. Swithin at Winchester, in 1299,Bibliam bene Glossatam, or the Bible, with marginal annotations, in two large folio volumes; but he gives a bond for due return of the loan, drawn up with great solemnity. This Bible had been bequeathed to the Convent the same year by his predecessor, Bishop Nicholas de Ely: and in consideration of so important a bequest, and 100 marks in money, the monks founded a daily mass for the soul of the donor.
About 1225 Roger de Tusula, dean of York, gave several Latin Bibles to the University of Oxford, with a condition that the students who perused them should deposit a cautionary pledge.
The Library of that University, before the year 1300, consisted only of a few tracts, chained or kept in chests in the choir of St. Mary’s Church.
Books often brought excessive prices in the middle ages. In 1174, Walter, Prior of St. Swithin’s at Winchester, and afterwards abbot of Westminster, purchased of the monks of Dorchester in Oxfordshire Bede’s Homilies and St. Austin’s Psalter, for twelve measures of barley, and a pall on which wasembroidered in silver the history of Birinus converting a Saxon king.
About 1400, a copy of John de Meun’s Roman de la Rose was sold before the palace-gate at Paris for forty crowns, or 33l.6s.6d.
In Edward the Third’s reign, one hundred marks (equal to 1000l.) were paid to Isabella de Lancaster, a nun of Ambresbury, for a book of romance, purchased from her for the king’s use.
Warton mentions a book of the Gospels, in the Cotton Library, as a fine specimen of Saxon calligraphy and decorations. It is written by Eadfrid, Bishop of Durham, in the most exquisite manner. Ethelwold his successor did the illuminations, the capital letters, the picture of the cross, and the Evangelists, with infinite labour and elegance; and Bilfred, the anchorite, covered the book, thus written and adorned, with silver plates and precious stones. It was finished about 720.
The encouragement given in the English monasteries for transcribing books was very considerable. In every great abbey there was an apartment called “The Scriptorium;” where many writers were constantly busied in transcribing not only the Service Books for the choir, but books for the Library. The Scriptorium of St. Alban’s Abbey was built by Abbot Paulin, a Norman, who ordered many volumes to be written there, about 1080. Archbishop Lanfranc furnished the copies. Estates were often granted for the support of the Scriptorium. That at St. Edmundsbury was endowed with two mills. The tithes of a rectory were appropriated to the Cathedral convent of St. Swithin, atWinchester,ad libros transcribendos, in the year 1171.
Nigel in the year 1160 gave the monks of Ely two churches,ad libros faciendos.
When the library at Croyland Abbey was burnt in 1091, seven hundred volumes were consumed which must have been thus laboriously produced.
Fifty-eight volumes were transcribed at Glastonbury during the government of one Abbot, about the year 1300. And in the library of this monastery, the richest in England, there were upwards of four hundred volumes in the year 1248.
But whilst there is sufficient cause to admire the penmen of former days, in the mere transcription of books, shall we not marvel at the beauty with which they were invested; the rich and brilliant illuminations, the finely tinted paintings, the magnificent and laborious ornament with which not merely every page, but in many manuscripts almost every line was decorated! They, such as have been preserved, form a valuable proportion of the riches of the principal European libraries: of the Vatican of Rome; the Imperial at Vienna; St. Mark’s at Venice; the Escurial in Spain; and the principal public libraries in England.
The art of thus illuminating MSS., now entirely lost, had attained the highest degree of perfection, and is, indeed, of ancient origin. In the remotest times the common colours of black and white have been varied by luxury and taste. Herodotus and Diodorus Siculus mention purple and yellow skins, on which MSS. were written in gold and silver; and amongst the eastern nations rolls of this kind (that isgold and silver on purple), exquisitely executed, are found in abundance, but of a later date. Still they appear to have been familiar with the practice at a much more remote period; and it is probable that the Greeks acquired this art from Egypt or India. From the Greeks it would naturally pass to the Latins, who appear to have been acquainted with it early in the second century. The earliest specimen of purple or rose-coloured vellum is recorded in the life of the Emperor Maximinus the younger, to whom, in the commencement of the third century, his mother made a present of the poems of Homer, written on purple vellum in gold letters. Such productions were, however, at this time very rare. The celebrated Codex Argenteus of Ulphilas, written in silver and gold letters on a purple ground, about 360, is probably the most ancient existing specimen of this magnificent mode of calligraphy. In the fourth century it had become more common: many ecclesiastical writers allude to it, and St. Jerome especially does so; and the following spirited dialogue has reference to his somewhat condemnatory allusions.
“Purple vellum Greek MSS.,” says Breitinger, “if I remember rightly, are scarcer than white crows!”
Belinda.“Pray tell us ‘all about them,’ as the children say.”
Philemon.“Well, then, at your next court visit, let your gown rival the emblazoned aspect of these old purple vellums, and let stars of silver, thickly ‘powdered’ thereupon, emulate, if they dare, the silver capital Greek letters upon the purple membranaceous fragments which have survived the desolations of time! You see, I do not speakcoldlyupon this picturesque subject!”
Alimansa.“Nor do I feel precisely as if I were in thefrigidzone! But proceed and expatiate.”
Philemon.“The field for expatiating is unluckily very limited. The fact of the more ancient MSS. before noticed, thePentateuchatVienna, the fragment of the Gospels in the British Museum, with a Psalter or two in a few libraries abroad, are all the MSS. which just now occur to me as being distinguished by apurple tint, for I apprehend little more than atintremains. Whether the white or the purple vellum be the more ancient, I cannot take upon me to determine; but it is right you should be informed that St. Jerom denounces ascoxcombs, all those who, in his own time, were so violently attached to your favourite purple colour.”
Lisardo.“I have a great respect for the literary attainments of St. Jerom; and although in the absence of the old Italic version of the Greek Bible, I am willing to subscribe to the excellence of his own, or what is now called theVulgate, yet in matters of taste, connected with the harmony of colour, you must excuse me if I choose to enter my protest against that venerable father’s decision.”
Philemon.“You appear to mistake the matter St. Jerom imagined that this appetite for purple MSS. was rather artificial and voluptuous; requiring regulation and correction—and that, in the end, men would prefer the former colour to the intrinsic worth of their vellum treasures.”
We must not omit the note appended to this colloquy.
“The general idea seems to be thatPurple VellumMSS. were intended only for ‘choice blades,’ let us rather say, tasteful bibliomaniacs—in book collecting. St. Jerom, as Philemon above observes, is very biting in his sarcasm upon these ‘purple leaves covered with letters of gold and silver.’—‘For myself and my friends (adds that father), let us have lower priced books, and distinguished not so much for beauty as for accuracy.’
“Mabillon remarks that these purple treasures were for the ‘princes’ and ‘noblemen’ of the times.
“And we learn from the twelfth volume of the Specileginum of Theonas, that it is rather somewhat unseemly ‘to write upon purple vellum in letters of gold and silver, unless at the particular desire of a prince.’”
“Thesubjectalso of MSS. frequently regulated the mode of executing it. Thus we learn from the 28th Epistle of Boniface (Bishop and Martyr) to the abbess Eadburga, that this latter is entreated ‘to write the Epistles of St. Peter, the master and Apostle of Boniface, in letters of gold, for the greater reverence to be paid towards the Sacred Scriptures, when the Abbess preaches before her carnally-minded auditors.’”
About the close of the seventh century the Archbishop of York procured for his church a copy of the Gospels thus adorned; and that this magnificent calligraphy was then new in England may be inferred from a remark made on it that “inauditam ante seculis nostris quoddam miraculam.”
This art, however, shortly after declinedeverywhere; and in England the art of writing in gold letters, even without the rich addition of the purple-tinted material, seems to have been but imperfectly understood. The only remarkable instance of it is said to be the charter of King Edgar, in the new Minster at Winchester, in 966. In the fourteenth century it seems to have been more customary than in those immediately preceding it.
But we have been beguiled too long from that which alone is connected with our subject, viz., thebindingof books. Probably this was originally a plain and unadorned oaken cover; though as books were found only in monastic establishments, or in the mansions of the rich, even the cover soon became emblematic of its valuable contents.
The early ornaments of the back were chiefly of a religious character—a representation of the Virgin, of the infant Saviour, of the Crucifixion. Dibdin mentions a Latin Psalter of the ninth century in this primitive and substantial binding, and on the oaken board was riveted a large brass crucifix, originally, probably, washed with silver; and also a MS. of the Latin Gospels of the twelfth or thirteenth century, in oaken covers, inlaid with pieces of carved ivory, representing our Saviour with an angel above him, and the Virgin and Child.
The carved ivory may probably be a subsequent interpolation, but it does not the less exemplify the practice. But as the taste for luxury and ornament increased, and the bindings, even the clumsy wooden ones, became more gorgeously decorated—the most costly gems and precious stones being frequently inlaid with the golden ornaments—the shape andform of them was altogether altered. With a view to the preservation and the safety of the riches lavished on them, the bindings were made double, each side being perhaps two inches thick; and on a spring being touched, or a secret lock opened, it divided, almost like the opening of a cupboard-door, and displayed the rich ornament and treasure within; whilst, when closed, the outside had only the appearance of a plain, somewhat clumsy binding.
At that time, too, books were ranged on shelves with the leaves in front; therefore great pains were taken, both in the decoration of the edges, and also in the rich and ornamental clasps and strings which united the wooden sides. These clasps were frequently of gold, inlaid with jewels.
The wooden sides were afterwards covered with leather, with vellum, with velvet,—though probably there is no specimen of velvet binding before the fourteenth century; and, indeed, as time advanced, there is scarcely any substance which was not applied to this purpose. Queen Elizabeth had a little volume of prayers bound in solid gold, which at prayer-time she suspended by a gold chain at her side; and we saw, a few years ago, a small devotional book which belonged to the Martyr-King, Charles, and which was given by him to the ancestress of the friend who showed it to us, beautifully bound in tortoise-shell and finely-carved silver.
But it was not to gold and precious stones alone that the bindings of former days were indebted for their beauty. The richest and rarest devices of the needlewoman were often wrought on the velvet, orbrocade, which became more exclusively the fashionable material for binding. This seems to have been a favourite occupation of the high-born dames about Elizabeth’s day; and, indeed, if we remember the new-born passion for books, which was at its height about that time, we shall not wonder at their industry being displayed on the covers as well as the insides[127]. But very probably this had been a favourite object for the needle long before this time, though unhappily the fragility of the work was equal to its beauty, and these needleworked covers have doubtless, in very many instances, been replaced by more substantial binding.
The earliest specimen of this description of binding remaining in the British Museum is “Fichetus (Guil.) Rhetoricum, Libri tres. (Impr. in Membranis) 4to. Paris ad Sorbonæ, 1471.” It has an illuminated title-page, showing the author presenting, on his knees, his book to the Pope; and it is decorated throughout with illuminated letters and other ornaments; for long after the invention of printing, blank spaces were left, for the capitals and headings to be filled up by the pencil. Hence it is that we find some books quite incomplete; these spaces having been left, and not filled up.
When the art of illuminating still more failed, the red ink was used as a substitute, and everybody is acquainted with books of this style. The binding of Fitchet’s ‘Rhetoric’ is covered with crimson satin, on which is wrought with the needle a coat-of-arms:a lion rampant in gold thread, in a blue field, with a transverse badge in scarlet silk; the minor ornaments are all wrought in fine gold thread.
The next in date which I have seen there is a description of the Holy Land, in French, written in Henry VII.’s time, and illuminated. It is bound in rich maroon velvet, with the royal arms: the garter and motto embroidered in blue; the ground crimson; and the fleurs-de-lys, leopards, and letters of the motto in gold thread. A coronet, or crown, of gold thread, is inwrought with pearls; the roses at the corners are in red silk and gold; and there is a narrow border round the whole in burnished gold thread.
There is an edition of Petrarch’s Sonnets, printed at Venice in 1544. It is in beautiful preservation. The back is of dark crimson velvet, and on each side is wrought a large royal coat-of-arms, in silk and gold, highly raised. The book belonged to Edward VI., but the arms are not his.
Queen Mary’s Psalter, containing also the history of the Old Testament in a series of small paintings, and the work richly illuminated throughout, had once an exterior worthy of it. The crimson velvet, of which only small particles remain to attest its pristine richness, is literally thread-bare; and the highly-raised embroidery of a massy fleur-de-lys is also worn to the canvas on which it was wrought. On one side scarcely a gold thread remains, which enables one, however, to perceive that the embroidery was done on fine canvas, or, perhaps, rather coarse linen, twofold: that then it was laid on the velvet, seamed to it, and the edges cut away, thestitches round the edge being covered with a kind of cordon, or golden thread, sewed over;—just, indeed, as we sew muslin on net.
There are three, in the same depository, of the date of Queen Elizabeth. One a book of prayers, copied out by herself before she ascended the throne. The back is covered with canvas, wrought all over in a kind of tentstitch of rich crimson silk, and silver thread intermixed. This groundwork may or may not be the work of the needle, but there is little doubt that Elizabeth’s own needle wrought the ornaments thereon, viz., H. K. intertwined in the middle; a smaller H. above and below, and roses in the corners; all raised high, and worked in blue silk and silver. This is the dedication of the book: “Illustrissimo ac potentissimo Henrico octavo, Angliæ, Franciæ, Hiberniæq. regi, fidei defensori, et secundum Christum ecclesiæ Anglicanæ et Hibernicæ supremo capiti. Elizabeta Majest. S. humillima filia omne felicitatem precatur, et benedictionem suam suplex petit.”
There is in the Bodleian library among the MSS. the epistles of St. Paul, printed in old black letter, the binding of which was also queen Elizabeth’s work; and her handwriting appears at the beginning, viz.
“August.—I walk many times into the pleasant fields of the Holy Scriptures, where I plucke up the goodliesome herbes of sentences by pruning: eate them by reading: chawe them by musing: and laie them up at length in the hie seate of memorie by gathering them together: that so having tasted thy sweeteness I may the less perceive the bitterness of this miserable life.”
The covering is done in needlework by the queen (then princess) herself: on one side an embroidered star, on the other a heart, and round each, as borders, Latin sentences are wrought, such as “Beatus qui Divitias scripturæ legens verba vertit in opera.”—“Vicit omnia pertinax virtus.” &c., &c.[128]
There is a book in the British Museum, verypetite, a MS containing a French Pastoral—date 1587—of which the satin or brocade back is loaded with needlework in gold and silver, which now, however, looks heavy and tasteless.
But the most beautiful is Archbishop Parker’s, “De Antiquitate Britannicæ Ecclesiæ:” A.D. 1572.
The material of the back is rich green velvet, but it is thickly covered with embroidery: there has not indeed, originally, been space to lay a fourpenny-piece. It is entirely covered with animals and flowers, in green, crimson, lilac, and yellow silk, and gold thread. Round the edge is a border about an inch broad, of gold thread.
Of the date of 1624 is a book of magnificent penmanship, by the hand of a female, of emblems and inscriptions. It is bound in crimson silk, having in the centre a Prince’s Feather worked in gold-thread, with the feathers bound together with large pearls, and round it a wreath of leaves and flowers. Round the edge there is a broader wreath, with corner sprigs all in gold thread, thickly interspersed with spangles and gold leaves.
All these books, with the exception of the one quoted from Ballard’s Memoirs, were most obligingly sought out and brought to me by the gentlemenat the British Museum. Probably there are more; but as, unfortunately for my purpose, the books there are catalogued according to their authors, their contents, or their intrinsic value, instead of their outward seeming, it is not easy, amidst three or four hundred thousand volumes, to pick out each insignificant book which may happen to be—
“In velvet bound and broider’d o’er.”
“In velvet bound and broider’d o’er.”
FOOTNOTES:[126]Southey.[127]We have seen cartouche-boxes embroidered precisely in the same style, and probably therefore of the same period as some of the embroidered books here referred to.[128]Ballard’s Memoirs.
[126]Southey.
[126]Southey.
[127]We have seen cartouche-boxes embroidered precisely in the same style, and probably therefore of the same period as some of the embroidered books here referred to.
[127]We have seen cartouche-boxes embroidered precisely in the same style, and probably therefore of the same period as some of the embroidered books here referred to.
[128]Ballard’s Memoirs.
[128]Ballard’s Memoirs.
“Thus is a Needle prov’d an InstrumentOf profit, pleasure, and of ornament,Which mighty Queenes have grac’d in hand to take.”John Taylor.
“Thus is a Needle prov’d an InstrumentOf profit, pleasure, and of ornament,Which mighty Queenes have grac’d in hand to take.”John Taylor.
Needlework is an art so attractive in itself; it is capable of such infinite variety, and is such a beguiler of lonely, as of social hours, and offers such scope to the indulgence of fancy, and the display of taste; it is withal—in its lighter branches—accompanied with so little bodily exertion, not deranging the mostrecherchédress, nor incommoding the most elaborate and exquisite costume, that we cannot wonder that it has been practised with ardour even by those the farthest removed from any necessity for its exercise. Therefore has it been from the earliest ages a favourite employment of the high and nobly born.
The father of song hardly refers at all to the noble dames of Greece and Troy but as occupied in “painting with the needle.” Some, the heroic achievements of their countrymen on curtains anddraperies, others various rich and rare devices on banners, on robes and mantles, destined for festival days, for costly presents to ambassadors, or for offerings to friends. And there are scattered notices at all periods of the prevalence of this custom. In all ages until this of