FOOTNOTES:

“The silk well couth she twist and twine,And make the fine march pine,And with the needlework:And she couth help the priest to sayHis mattins on a holy day,And sing a psalm in kirk.“She wore a frock of frolic green,Might well become a maiden queen,Which seemly was to see;A hood to that so neat and fine,In colour like the columbine,Ywrought full featously.”

“The silk well couth she twist and twine,And make the fine march pine,And with the needlework:And she couth help the priest to sayHis mattins on a holy day,And sing a psalm in kirk.

“She wore a frock of frolic green,Might well become a maiden queen,Which seemly was to see;A hood to that so neat and fine,In colour like the columbine,Ywrought full featously.”

The march pine or counterpanes here alluded to, taxed in these days to the fullest extent both the purse of the rich and the fingers of the fair. Elizabeth had several most expensively trimmed with ermine as well as needlework; the finest and richest embroidery was lavished on them; and it was no unusual circumstance for the counterpane for the “standing” or master’s bed to be so lavishly adorned as to be worth a thousand marks.

At no time was ornamental needlework more admired, or in greater request in the every-day concerns of life, than now. Almost every article of dress, male and female, was adorned with it. Even the boots, which at this time had immense tops turned down and fringed, and which were commonly made of russet cloth or leather, were worn by some exquisites of the day of very fine cloth (of which enough was used to make a shirt), and were embroidered in gold or silver, or in various-colouredsilks, in the figures of birds, animals, or antiques; and the ornamental needlework alone of a pair of these boots would cost from four to ten pounds. The making of a single shirt would frequently cost 10l., so richly were they ornamented with “needleworke of silke, and so curiously stitched with other knackes.”

“Woman’s triflings,” too, their handkerchiefs, reticules, workbags, &c., were decorated richly. We have seen within these few days a workbag which would startle a modern fair one, for, as far as regardssize, it has a most “industrious look,” but which, despite the ravages of near three centuries, yet gives token of much original magnificence. It is made of net, lined with silk; the material, the net itself, (a sort of honeycomb pattern, like what we called a few years ago the Grecian lace,) was made by the fair workwoman in those days, and was a fashionable occupation both in France and England. This bag is wrought in broad stripes with gold thread, and between the stripes various flowers are embroidered in different coloured silks. The bag stands in a sort of card-board basket, covered in the same style; it is drawn with long cords and tassels, and is large enough perhaps, on emergency, to hold a good sized baby.

It is more than probable that female skill was in request in various matters of household decoration. The Arras looms, indeed, had long superseded the painful fingers of notable dames in the construction of hangings for walls, which were universally used, intermingled and varied in the palaces and nobler mansions by “painted cloth,” and cloth ofgold and silver. Thus Shakspeare describes Imogen’s chamber in Cymbeline:

“Her bed-chamber was hangedWith tapestry of silk and silver.”

We have remarked that Henry the Eighth’s palaces were very splendid; Elizabeth’s were equally so, and more consistently finished in minor conveniences, as it is particularly remarked that “easye quilted and lyned formes and stools for the lords and ladyes to sit on” had superseded the “great plank forms, that two yeomen can scant remove out of their places, and waynscot stooles so hard, that since great breeches were layd asyde men can skant indewr to sitt on.” Her two presence chambers at Hampton Court shone with tapestry of gold and silver, and silk of various colours; her bed was covered with costly coverlids of silk, wrought in various patterns, by the needle; and she had many “chusions,” moveable articles of furniture of various shapes, answering to our large family of tabourets and ottomans, embroidered with gold and silver thread.

But it was not merely in courts and palaces that arras was used; it was now, of a coarser fabric, universally adopted in the houses of the country gentry. “The wals of our houses on the inner sides be either hanged with tapisterie, arras-work,[121]or painted cloths, wherein either diverse histories, or hearbes, beasts, knots, and such like are stained,or else they are seeled with oke of our owne, or wainescot brought hither out of the east countries.” The tapestry was now suspended on frames, which, we may infer, were often at a considerable distance from the walls, since the portly Sir John Falstaff ensconced himself “behind the arras” on a memorable occasion; Polonius too met his death there; and indeed Shakspeare presses it into the service on numerous occasions.

The following quotation will give an accurate idea of properties thought most valuable at this time; and it will be seen that ornamental needlework cuts a very distinguished figure therein. It is a catalogue of his wealth given by Gremio when suing for Bianca to her father, who declares that the wealthiest lover will win her, in the Taming of the Shrew.

Gremio.“First, as you know, my house within the cityIs richly furnished with plate and gold;Basons and ewers, to lave her dainty hands;My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry;In ivory coffers I have stuff’d my crowns;In cypres chests myarras, counterpoints,Costly apparel, tents, and canopies,Fine linen,Turkey cushions boss’d with pearl,Valence of Venice gold, in needlework,Pewter and brass, and all things that belongTo house or house-keeping.”

The age of Elizabeth was one which powerfully appeals to the imagination in various ways. The æra of warlike chivalry was past; but many of its lighter observances remained, and added to the variety of life, and perhaps tended to polish it. Weare told, for instance, that as the Earl of Cumberland stood before Elizabeth she dropped her glove; and on his picking it up graciously desired him to keep it. He caused the trophy to be encircled with diamonds; and ever after, at all tilts and tourneys, bore it conspicuously placed in front of his high crowned hat. Jousting and tilting in honour of the ladies (by whom prizes were awarded) continued still to be a favourite diversion. There were annual contentions in the lists in honour of the sovereign, and twenty-five persons of the first rank established a society of arms for this purpose, of which the chivalric Sir Henry Lee was for some time president.

The “romance of chivalry” was sinking to be succeeded by the heavier tomes of Gomberville, Scudery, &c., but the extension of classical knowledge, the vast strides in acquirement of various kinds, the utter change, so to speak, in the system of literature, all contributed to the downfall of the chivalric romance. Sir Philip Sidney’s Arcadia introduced a rage for high-flown pastoral effusions; and now too was re-born that taste for metaphorical effusion and spiritual romance, which was first exhibited in the fourth century in the Bishop of Tricca’s romance of “Barlaam and Josaphat,” and which now pervaded the fast-rising puritan party, and was afterwards fully developed in that unaccountably fascinating work, “The Pilgrim’s Progress.” Nevertheless, as yet

“Courted and caress’d,High placed in hall, a welcome guest,”

the harper poured to lord and lady gay not indeed “his unpremeditated lay,” but a poetical abridgment (the precursor of a fast succeeding race of romantic ballads) of the doughty deeds of renowned knights, so amply expatiated upon in the time-honoured folios of the “olden time.” The wandering harper, if fallen somewhat from his “high estate,” was still a recognised and welcome guest; his “matter being for the most part stories of old time, as the tale of Sir Topas, the reportes of Bevis of Southampton, Guy of Warwicke, Adam Bell, and Clymme of the Clough, and such other old romances or historical rhimes.” Though the character of the minstrel gradually lost respectability, yet for a considerable part of Elizabeth’s reign it was one so fully acknowledged, that a peculiar garb was still attached to the office.

“Mongst these, some bards there were that in their sacred rageRecorded the descents and acts of everie age.Some with their nimbler joynts that strooke the warbling string;In fingering some unskild, but onelie vsed to singVnto the other’s harpe: of which you both might findGreat plentie, and of both excelling in their kind.”

The superstitions of various kinds, the omens, the warnings, the charms, the “potent spells” of the wizard seer, which

“Could hold in dreadful thrall the labouring moon,Or draw the fix’d stars from their eminence,And still the midnight tempest,”—

the supernatural agents, the goblins, the witches,the fairies, the satyrs, the elves, the fauns, the “shapes that walk,” the

“Uncharnel’d spectres, seen to glideAlong the lone wood’s unfrequented path”—

the being and active existence of all these was considered “true as holy writ” by our ancestors of the Elizabethan age. On this subject we will transcribe a beautifully illustrative passage from Warton:—

“Every goblin of ignorance” (says he) “did not vanish at the first glimmerings of the morning of science. Reason suffered a few demons still to linger, which she chose to retain in her service under the guidance of poetry. Men believed, or were willing to believe, that spirits were yet hovering around, who brought with themairs from heaven, or blasts from hell; that the ghost was duly relieved from his prison of torment at the sound of the curfew, and that fairies imprinted mysterious circles on the turf by moonlight. Much of this credulity was even consecrated by the name of science and profound speculation. Prospero had not yetbroken and buried his staff, nordrowned his book deeper than did ever plummet sound. It was now that the alchemist and the judicial astrologer conducted his occult operations by the potent intercourse of some preternatural being, who came obsequious to his call, and was bound to accomplish his severest services, under certain conditions, and for a limited duration of time. It was actually one of the pretended feats of these fantastic philosophers to evoke the queen of the fairies in the solitude of a gloomy grove, who,preceded by a sudden rustling of the leaves, appeared in robes of transcendant lustre. The Shakspeare of a more instructed and polished age would not have given us a magician darkening the sun at noon, the sabbath of the witches, and the cauldron of incantation.”

It were endless, and indeed out of place here, to attempt to specify the numberless minor superstitions to which this credulous tendency of the public mind gave birth or continuation; or the marvels of travellers,—as the Anthropophagi, the Ethiops with four eyes, the Hippopodes with their nether parts like horses, the Arimaspi with one eye in the forehead, and the Monopoli who have no head at all, but a face in their breast—which were all devoutly credited. One potent charm, however, we are constrained to particularise, since its infallibility was mainly dependent on the needlewoman’s skill. It was a waistcoat which rendered its owner invulnerable: we believe that if duly prepared it would be found proof not only against “silver bullets,” but also against even the “charmed bullet” of German notoriety. Thus runs the charm:—

“On Christmas daie at night, a thread must be sponne of flax, by a little virgine girle, in the name of the divell; and it must be by hir woven, and alsowrought with the needle. In the brest or forepart thereof must be madewith needleworketwo heads; on the head at the right side must be a hat and a long beard, and the left head must have on a crowne, and it must be so horrible that it maie resemble Belzebub; and on each side of the wastcote must bewroughta crosse.”

The newspaper, that now mighty political engine, that “thewe and sinew” of the fourth estate of the realm, took its rise in Elizabeth’s day. How would her legislators have been overwhelmed with amazement could they have beheld, in dim perspective, this child of the press, scarcely less now the offspring of the imagination than those chimeras of their own time to which we have been alluding; and would not the wrinkled brow of the modern politician be unconsciously smoothened, would not the careworn and profound diplomatist “gather up his face into a smile before he was aware,” if theFirst Newspaperwere suddenly placed before him? It is not indeed in existence, but was published under the title of “The English Mercurie,” in April, 1588, on the first appearance near the shores of England of the Spanish Armada, a crisis which caused this innovation on the usual public news-letter circulated in manuscript. No. 50, dated July 23, 1588, is the first now in existence; and as the publication only began in April, it shows they must have been issued frequently. We have seen this No. 50, which is preserved in the British Museum.[122]

In it are no advertisements—no fashions—no law reports—no court circular—no fashionable arrivals—no fashionable intelligence—no murders—no robberies—no reviews—no crim. cons.—no elopements—no price of stocks—no mercantile intelligence—no police reports—no “leaders,”—no literary memoranda—no poets’ corner—no spring meetings—no radical demonstrations—no conservative dinners—but

“The

“English Mercurie,

“Published byAuthoritie,

“For the Prevention of False Reportes,

“Whitehall, July 23, 1588.”

Contains three pages and a half, small quarto, of matter of fact information.

Two pages respecting the Armada then seen “neare the Lizard, making for the entrance of the Channell,” and appearing on the surface of the water “like floating castles.”

A page of news from Ostend, where “nothing was talked of but the intended invasion of England. His Highnesse the Prince of Parma having compleated his preparationes, of which the subjoined Accounte might be depended upon asexacte and authentique.”

Something to say—for a newspaper.

And a few lines dated “London, July 13, of the lord mayor, aldermen, common councilmen, and lieutenancie of this great citie” waiting on Her Majesty with assurances of support, and receiving a gracious reception from her.

Such was the newspaper of 1588.

The great events of Elizabeth’s reign, in war, in politics, in legislation, belong to the historian; the great march of mind, the connecting link which that age formed between the darkness of the preceding ones (for during the period of the wars of the Roses all sorts of art and science retrograded), and thehigh cultivation of later days, it is the province of the metaphysician and philosopher to analyse; and even the lighter characteristics of the time have become so familiar through the medium of many modern and valuable works, that we have ventured only to touch very superficially on some few of the more prominent of them.

FOOTNOTES:[120]Harrison.[121]From this separate mention oftapisterieandarras-workby so accurate a describer as Harrison, it would seem that tapestry of the needle alone was not, even yet, quite exploded.[122]Sloane MSS. No. 4106.

[120]Harrison.

[121]From this separate mention oftapisterieandarras-workby so accurate a describer as Harrison, it would seem that tapestry of the needle alone was not, even yet, quite exploded.

[122]Sloane MSS. No. 4106.

“He did blow with his wind, and they were scattered.”‘Inscription on the Medal.’

The year 1588 had been foretold by astrologers to be a wonderful year, the “climacterical year of the world;” and the public mind of England was at that period sufficiently credulous and superstitious to be affected with vague presentiments, even if the preparation of an hostile armada so powerful as to be termed “invincible,” had not seemed to engraft on these vague surmises too real and fearful a groundwork of truth.

The preparations of Philip II. in Spain, combined with those of the Duke of Parma in the Low Countries, and furthered by the valued and effective benediction of the shaken and tottering, but still influential and powerful head of the Roman church, had produced a hostile array which, with but too much probability of success, threatened the conquest of England, and its subjugation to the papal yoke. Not since the Norman Conquest hadany event occurred which, if successful, would be fraught with results so harassing and distressing to the established inhabitants of the island. Though the Norman Conquest had, undoubtedly,in the course of time, produced a beneficial and civilising and ennobling influence on the island, it was long and bitter years ere the groans of the subjugated and oppressed Anglo-Saxons had merged in the contented peacefulness of a united people.

Yet William was certainly of a severe temper, and was incited by the unquenchable opposition of the English to a cruel and exterminating policy. Philip of Spain seemed not to promise milder measures. He was a bigot, and moreover hated the English with an utter hatred. During his union with Mary he had utterly failed to gain their good will, and his hatred to them increased in an exact ratio to the failure of his desired influence with them. Neither time, nor trouble, nor care, nor expense, was spared in this his decided invasion; and it is said that from Italy, Sicily, and even America, were drafted the most experienced captains and soldiers to aid his cause. Well, then, might England look with anxiety, and even with terror, to this threatened and fast approaching event.

But her energies were fully equal to the emergency. Elizabeth, now in the full plenitude of her power, was at the acme of her influence over the wills, and in a great degree over the affections of her subjects, at least over by far the greater portion of them; one factious and discontented party there was, but too insufficient to be any effectual barrier to her designs. And the cause was a popular one:Protestants and Romanists joined in deprecating a foreign yoke. Her powerful and commanding energies did not forsake her. Her appeal to her subjects was replied to with heart-thrilling readiness, the city of London setting a noble example; for when ministers desired from it five thousand men and fifteen ships, the lord mayor, in behalf of the city, craved their sovereign to accept of ten thousand soldiers and thirty ships.

This spirited precedent was followed all through the empire, all classes vied with each other in contributing their utmost quota of aid, by means and by personal service, and amongst many similar instances it is recorded of “that noble, vertuous, honourable man, the Viscount Montague, that he now came, though he was very sickly, and in age, with a full resolution to live and dye in defence of the queene, and of his countrie, against all invaders, whether it were pope, king, and potentate whatsoever, and in that quarrell he would hazard his life, his children, his landes and goods. And to shew his mynde agreeably thereto, he came personally himselfe before the queene, with his band of horsemen, being almost two hundred; the same being led by his owne sonnes, and with them a yong child, very comely, seated on horseback, being the heire of his house, that is, ye eldest sonne to his sonne and heire; a matter much noted of many, to see a grandfather, father, and sonne, at one time on horsebacks afore a queene for her service.”

For three years had Philip been preparing, in all parts of his dominions, for this overwhelming expedition, and his equipments were fully equal to hisextensive preparations; and so popular was the project in Spain, and so ardent were its votaries, that there was not a family of any note which had not contributed some of its dearest and nearest members; there were also one hundred and eighty Capuchins, Dominicans, Jesuits, and Mendicant friars; and so great was the enthusiastic anticipation, that even females hired vessels to follow the fleet which contained those they loved; two or three of these were driven by the storm on the coast of France.

This Armada consisted of about one hundred and fifty ships, most of which were of an uncommon size, strength, and thickness, more like floating castles than anything else; and to this unwieldy size may, probably, be attributed much of their discomfiture. For the greater holiness of their action, twelve were called the Twelve Apostles; and a pinnace of the Andalusian squadron, commanded by Don Pedro de Valdez, was called the “Holy Ghost.” The fleet is said to have contained thirty-two thousand persons, and to have cost every day thirty thousand ducats.

The Duke of Parma’s contemporary preparations were also prodigious, and of a nature which plainly declared the full certainty and confidence in which the invaders indulged of making good their object. But the preparations were doomed not to be even tried. The finesse and manœuvres of the shrewd Sir Francis Walsingham[123]had caused the invasionto be retarded for a whole year, and by this time England was fully prepared for her foes. The result is known. The hollow treaty of peace into which Parma had entered in order, when all preparations were completed, to take her by surprise, was entered into with an equal share of hypocritical policy by Elizabeth. “So (says an old historian) as they seemed on both sides to sew the foxe’s skin to the lion’s.”

So powerful was the effect on the public mind, not only of this projected enterprise, but of its almost unhoped for discomfiture, that all possible means were taken to commemorate the event. One method resorted to was the manufacture of tapestry representing a series of subjects connected with it. At that time Flanders excelled all others in the manufacture of tapestry, it was scarcely indeed introduced into England; and our ancestors had a series of ten charts, designed by Henry Cornelius Vroom, a celebrated painter of Haarlem, from which their Flemish neighbours worked beautiful draperies, which ornamented the walls of the House of Lords.

At the time of the Union with Ireland, when considerable repairs and alterations were made here, these magnificent tapestries were taken down, cleaned, and replaced, with the addition of large frames of dark stained wood, which set off the work and colouring to advantage. They formed a series of ten pictures, round which portraits of the distinguished officers who commanded the fleet were wrought into a border.

With a prescience, which might now almost seem prophetic, Mr. John Pine, engraver, published in1739 a series of plates taken from these tapestries; and “because,” says he, “time, or accident, or moths may deface these valuable shadows, we have endeavoured to preserve their likeness in the preceding prints, which, by being multiplied and dispersed in various hands, may meet with that security from the closets of the curious, which the originals must scarce always hope for, even from the sanctity of the place they are kept in.”

“On the 17th day of July, 1588, the English discovered the Spanish fleet with lofty turrets like castles, in front like a half moon, the wing thereof spreading out about the length of seven miles, sailing very slowly, though with full sails, the winds being as it were tired with carrying them, and the ocean groaning under the weight of them.”

This forms the subject of the first tableau. The English commanders suffered the Spaniards to pass them unmolested, in order that they might hang upon their rear, and harass them when they should be involved in the Channel; for the English navy were unable to confront such a power in direct and close action. The second piece represents them thus, near Fowey, the English coast displayed in the back-ground, diversified perhaps somewhat too elaborately into hill and dale, and the foliage scattered somewhat too regularly in lines over each hill, but very pretty nevertheless. A small village with its church and spire appears just at the water edge, Eddystone lighthouse lifts its head above the waters, and, fit emblem of the patriotism which now burned throughout the land, and even glowed on the waters, a huge sea monster uprears itself in threateningattitude against the invading host, and shows a countenance hideous enough to scare any but Spaniards from its native shores.

No. 3 represents the first engagement between the hostile fleets, and also the subsequent sailing of the Spanish Armada up the channel, closely followed by the English, whose ships were so much lighter, that in a running warfare of this kind they had greatly the advantage. The sea is alive too with dolphins and other strange fish, with right British hearts, as it has been said that “they seemed to oppose themselves with fierce and grim looks to the progress of the Spanish fleet.” The view of the coast here is very good; and, where it retires from Start Point so as to form a bay or harbour, the perspective is really admirably indicated by two vessels dimly defined in the horizon.

The views of the coast are varied and interesting; and the distances and perspective views are much more accurately delineated than was usual at the time; but, as we have remarked, they were designed by an eminent painter, and one whose particularfortewas the delineation of shipping and naval scenes.

The pictures are certainly as a series devoid of variety. In two of them the Calais shore is introduced; and the intermixture of fortifications, churches, houses, and animated spectators, eagerly crowding to behold the fleets sailing by, produces an enlivening and busy scene, which, set off by the varied, lively, and appropriate colouring of the tapestry, would have a most striking effect. But the man who, unmoved by the excitement about him, iscalmly fishing under the walls, without even turning his head toward the scene of tumult, must be blessed with an apathy of disposition which the poor enraged dolphins and porpoises might have envied.

With these exceptions the tapestries are all sea pieces with only a distant view of the coast, and portray the two fleets in different stages of their progress, sometimes with engagements between single ships, but generally in an apparent state of truce, the English always the pursuers, and the Spaniards generally drawn up in form of a crescent. The last however shows the invading fleet hurriedly and in disorder sailing away, when bad weather, the Duke of Parma’s delay, and a close engagement of fourteen hours, in which they “suffered grievously,” having “had to endure all the heavy cannonading of their triumphant opponents, while they were struggling to get clear of the shallows,” convinced them of the impossibility of a successful close to their enterprise, and made them resolve to take advantage of a southern breeze to make their passage up the North sea, and round Scotland home.

“He that fights and runs away,May live to fight another day.”

So, however, didnotthe Spaniards. “About these north islands their mariners and soldiers died daily by multitudes, as by their bodies cast on land did appear. The Almighty ordered the winds to be so contrary to this proud navy, that it was, by force, dissevered on the high seas west upon Ireland; and so great a number of them driven into sundry dangerous bays, and upon rocks, and there castaway; some sunk, some broken, some on the sands, and some burnt by the Spaniards themselves.”

Misfortune clung to them; storm and tempest on the sea, and inhospitable and cruel treatment when they were forced on shore so reduced them, that of this magnificent Armada only sixty shattered vessels found their home; and their humbled commander, the Duke de Medina Sidonia, was led to understand that his presence was not desired at court, and that a private country residence would be the most suitable.

It was on this occasion, when the instant danger was past but by no means entirely done away, as for some time it was supposed that the Armada, after recruiting in some northern station, would return, that Elizabeth with a general’s truncheon in her hand rode through the ranks of her army at Tilbury, and addressed them in a style which caused them to break out into deafening and tumultuous shouts and cries of love, and honour, and obedience to death. Thus magnificently the English heroine spoke:

“My loving People,—We have been persuaded by some that are careful of our safety to take heed how we commit ourselves to armed Multitudes; but I assure you I do not desire to live to distrust my faithful and loving People. Let Tyrants fear; I have always so behaved myself that, underGod, I have placed my chiefest strength and safeguard in the loyal Hearts and Goodwill of my Subjects; and therefore I am come amongst you, as you see at this time, not for my Recreation and Disport, but being resolved, in the midst and heat of the Battle, to live and die amongstyou all; to lay down for myGod, and for my kingdom, and for my People, my Honour, and my Blood, even in the dust. I know I have the body but of a weak and feeble Woman, but I have the Heart and Stomach of a King, and of a King of England too; and think foul scorn that Parma or Spain, or any Prince of Europe should dare to invade the Borders of my Realm; to which, rather than any Dishonour shall grow by me, I myself will take up Arms, I myself will be your General, Judge, and Rewarder of every one of your Virtues in the Field; I know already, for your forwardness, you have deserved Rewards and Crowns; and we do assure you, in the word of a Prince, they shall be duly paid you. In the mean time my Lieutenant-general shall be in my stead, than whom never Prince commanded a more noble or worthy subject; not doubting but, by your obedience to my General, by your Concord in the camp, and your Valour in the Field, we shall shortly have a famous victory over those Enemies of my GOD, of my Kingdoms, and of my People.”

The tapestry, the magnificent memorial of this great event, was lost irreparably in the devastating fire of 1834. Some fragments, it is said, were preserved, but we have not been able to ascertain this fact. One portion still exists at Plymouth, though shorn of its pristine brilliancy, as some of the silver threads were drawn out by the economists of the time of the Commonwealth. This piece was cut out to make way for a gallery at the time of the trial of Queen Caroline, was secreted by a German servant of the Lord Chamberlain, and sold by him to a broker who offered it to Government for 500l.

Some inquiry was made into the circumstances, which, however, do not seem to have excited very great interest, since the relic was ultimately bought by the Bishop of Landaff (Van Mildert) for 20l.By him it was presented to the corporation of Plymouth, who still possess it.

FOOTNOTE:[123]He contrived, by means of a Venetian priest, his spy, to obtain a copy of a letter from Philip to the Pope; a gentleman of the bedchamber taking the keys of the cabinet from the pockets of his holiness as he slept. Upon intelligence thus obtained, Walsingham got those Spanish bills protested at Genoa which should have supplied money for the preparations.

[123]He contrived, by means of a Venetian priest, his spy, to obtain a copy of a letter from Philip to the Pope; a gentleman of the bedchamber taking the keys of the cabinet from the pockets of his holiness as he slept. Upon intelligence thus obtained, Walsingham got those Spanish bills protested at Genoa which should have supplied money for the preparations.

“Here have I cause in men just blame to find,That in their proper praise too partial bee,And not indifferent to womankind,*****Scarse do they spare to one, or two, or three,Rowme in their writtes; yet the same writing smallDoes all their deedes deface, and dims their glories all.”Faerie Queene.

“Christine, whiche understode these thynges of Dame Reason, replyed upon that in this manere. Madame Ise welytye myght fynde ynowe & of grete nombre of women praysed in scyences and in crafte; but knowe ye ony that byyevertue of their felynge & of subtylte of wyttehaue founde of themselfeony newe craftes and scyences necessary, good, & couenable that were neuer founde before nor knowne? for it is not so grete maystry to folowe and to lerne after ony other scyence founde and comune before, as it is to fynde of theymselfe some newe thynge not accustomed before.“Answere.—Ne doubte ye notyecontrary my dere frende but many craftes and scyences ryght notable hathe ben founde by the wytte and subtylte of women, as moche by speculacyon of understandynge, the whiche sheweth them by wrytynge, as in craftes,ytsheweth theymin werkynge of handes& of laboure.”—The Boke of the Cyte of Ladyes.

“Answere.—Ne doubte ye notyecontrary my dere frende but many craftes and scyences ryght notable hathe ben founde by the wytte and subtylte of women, as moche by speculacyon of understandynge, the whiche sheweth them by wrytynge, as in craftes,ytsheweth theymin werkynge of handes& of laboure.”—The Boke of the Cyte of Ladyes.

Again we must lament that the paucity of historical record lays us under the necessity of concluding, by inference, what we would fain have displayed bydirect testimony. The respectable authority quoted above affirms that “many craftes and scyences ryght notable hathe ben founde by the wytte and subtylte of women,” and it specifies particularly “werkynge of handes,” by which we suppose the “talented” author means needlework. That the necessity for this pretty art was first created by woman, no one, we think, will disallow; and that it was first practised, as it has been subsequently perfected, by her, is a fact of which we feel the most perfect conviction.

This conviction has been forced upon us by a train of reasoning which will so readily suggest itself to the mind of all our readers, that we content ourselves with naming the result, assured that it is unnecessary to trouble them with the intervening steps. One only link in the chain of “circumstantial evidence” will we adduce, and that is afforded by the ancient engraving to which we have before alluded in our remarks upon Eve’s needle and thread. There whilst our “general mother” is stitching away at the fig-leaves in the most edifying manner possible, our “first father,” far from trying to “put in a stitch for himself,” is gazing upon her in the most utter amazement. And while she plies her busy task as if she had been born to stitchery, his eyes,nothis fingers,

“Follow the nimble fingers of the fair,”

with every indication of superlative wonder and admiration.

In fact, it is no slight argument in favour of the original invention of sewing by women, that men very rarely have wit enough to learn it, even wheninvented. There has been no lack of endeavour, even amongst the world’s greatest and mightiest, but poor “work” have they made of it. Hercules lost all the credit of his mighty labours from his insignificance at the spinning wheel, and the sceptre of Sardanapalus passed from his grasp as he was endeavouring to “finger the fine needle and nyse thread.”

These love-stricken heroes might have said with Gower—had he then said it—

“What things she bid me do, I do,And where she bid me go, I go.And where she likes to call, I come,I serve, I bow, I look, I lowte,My eye followeth her about.What so she will, so will I,When she would set, I kneel by.And when she stands, then will I stand,And when she taketh her work in hand,Ofwevyng or of embroidrie.Then can Ionlymuse and prie,Upon her fingers long and small.”

Our modern Hercules, the Leviathan of literature, was not more successful.

Dr. Johnson.—“Women have a great advantage that they may take up with little things, without disgracing themselves; a man cannot, except with fiddling. Had I learnt to fiddle I should have done nothing else.”

Boswell.—“Pray, Sir, did you ever play on any musical instrument?”

Dr. Johnson.—“No, Sir; I once bought a flageolet, but I never made out a tune.”

Boswell.—“A flageolet, Sir! So small an instrument? I should have liked to hear you play on thevioloncello.Thatshould have been your instrument.”

Dr. Johnson.—“Sir, I might as well have played on the violoncello as another; but I should have done nothing else. No, Sir; a man would never undertake great things could he be amused with small. I once tried knotting; Dempster’s sister undertook to teach me, butI could not learn it.”

Boswell.—“So, Sir; it will be related in pompous narrative, ‘once for his amusement he tried knotting, nor did this Hercules disdain the distaff.’”

Dr. Johnson.—“Knitting of stockings is a good amusement. As a freeman of Aberdeen, I should be a knitter of stockings.”

Nor was Dr. Johnson singular in his high appreciation of the value of some sort of stitchery to his own half of the human race, if their intellects unfortunately had not been too obtuse for its acquisition. The great censor of the public morals and manners a century ago, the Spectator, recommends the same thing, though with his usual policy he feigns merely to be the medium of another’s advice.

“Mr. Spectator,—You are always ready to receive any useful hint or proposal, and such, I believe, you will think one that may put you in a way to employ the most idle part of the kingdom; I mean that part of mankind who are known by the name of the women’s men, beaux, &c. Mr. Spectator, you are sensible these pretty gentlemen are not made for any manly employments, and for want of business are often as much in the vapours as the ladies. Now what I propose is this, that since knottingis again in fashion, which has been found a very pretty amusement, that you will recommend it to these gentlemen as something that may make them useful to the ladies they admire. And since it is not inconsistent with any game or other diversion, for it may be done in the playhouse, in their coaches, at the tea-table, and, in short, in all places where they come for the sake of the ladies (except at church, be pleased to forbid it there to prevent mistakes), it will be easily complied with. It is besides an employment that allows, as we see by the fair sex, of many graces, which will make the beaux more readily come into it; and it shows a white hand and a diamond ring to great advantage; it leaves the eyes at full liberty to be employed as before, as also the thoughts and the tongue. In short, it seems in every respect so proper that it is needless to urge it further, by speaking of the satisfaction these male knotters will find when they see their work mixed up in a fringe, and worn by the fair lady for whom, and with whom, it was done. Truly, Mr. Spectator, I cannot but be pleased I have hit upon something that these gentlemen are capable of; for it is sad so considerable a part of the kingdom (I mean for numbers) should be of no manner of use. I shall not trouble you further at this time, but only to say, that I am always your reader and generally your admirer.C.B.

“P.S.—The sooner these fine gentlemen are set to work the better; there being at this time several fringes that stay only for more hands.”

But, alas! the sanguine writer was mistaken insupposing that at last gentlemen had found a something “of which they were capable.” The days of knotting passed away before they had made any proficiency in it; nor have we ever heard that they have adopted any other branch or stitch of this extensive art. There is variety enough to satisfy anybody, and there are gradations enough in the stitches to descend to any capacity but a man’s. There are tambour stitch—satin—chain—finny—new—bred—ferne—and queen-stitches; there is slabbing—veining—and button stitch; seeding—roping—and open stitch: there is sockseam—herring-bone—long stitch—and cross stitch: there is rosemary stitch—Spanish stitch—and Irish stitch: there is back stitch—overcast—and seam stitch: hemming—felling—and basting: darning—grafting—and patching: there is whip stitch—and fisher stitch: there is fine drawing—gathering—marking—trimming—and tucking.

Truly all this does require someνους, and the lords of the creation are more to be pitied than blamed for that paucity of intellect which deprives them of “woman’s pretty excuse for thought.”

Raillery apart, sewing is in itself an agreeable occupation, it is essentially a useful one; in many of its branches it is quite ornamental, and it is a gentle, a graceful, an elegant, and a truly feminine occupation. It causes the solitary hours of domestic life to glide more smoothly away, and in those social unpretending reunions which in country life and in secluded districts are yet not abolished, it takes away from the formality of sitting for conversation, abridges the necessity for scandal, or, to say the leastof it, as we have heard even ungallant lordly man allow, it keeps us out of mischief.

And there are frequent and oft occurring circumstances which invest it with characteristics of a still higher order. How many of “the sweet solicitudes that life beguile” are connected with this interesting occupation! either in preparing habiliments for those dependent on our care, and for love of whom many an unnecessary stitch which may tend to extra adornment is put in; or in those numberless pretty and not unuseful tokens of remembrance, which, passing from friend to friend, soften our hearts by the intimation they convey, that we have been cared for in our absence, and that while the world looked dark and desolate about us, unforgetting hearts far, far away were holding us in remembrance, busy fingers were occupied in our behoof. Oh! a reticule, a purse, a slipper, how valueless soever in itself, is, when fraught with these home memories, worth that which the mines of Golconda could not purchase. And of such a nature would be the feelings which suggested these well-known but exquisite lines:—

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