The Art of Needle-work, from the Earliest Ages Part 27

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 when invented. 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 pa.s.sed 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_, Of _wevyng or of embroidrie_.

Then can I _only_ muse 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 the violoncello. _That_ should 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, but _I could not learn it_."

_Boswell._--"So, Sir; it will be related in pompous narrative, 'once for his amus.e.m.e.nt he tried knotting, nor did this Hercules disdain the distaff.'"

_Dr. Johnson._--"Knitting of stockings is a good amus.e.m.e.nt. 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 st.i.tchery 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 knotting is again in fashion, which has been found a very pretty amus.e.m.e.nt, 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 s.e.x, 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 in supposing that at last gentlemen had found a something "of which they were capable." The days of knotting pa.s.sed away before they had made any proficiency in it; nor have we ever heard that they have adopted any other branch or st.i.tch of this extensive art. There is variety enough to satisfy anybody, and there are gradations enough in the st.i.tches to descend to any capacity but a man's. There are tambour st.i.tch--satin--chain--finny--new--bred-- ferne--and queen-st.i.tches; there is slabbing--veining--and b.u.t.ton st.i.tch; seeding--roping--and open st.i.tch: there is sockseam--herring-bone--long st.i.tch--and cross st.i.tch: there is rosemary st.i.tch--Spanish st.i.tch--and Irish st.i.tch: there is back st.i.tch--overcast--and seam st.i.tch: hemming--felling--and basting: darning--grafting--and patching: there is whip st.i.tch--and fisher st.i.tch: there is fine drawing--gathering-- marking--tr.i.m.m.i.n.g--and tucking.

Truly all this does require some +nous+, 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 least of it, as we have heard even ungallant lordly man allow, it keeps us out of mischief.

And there are frequent and oft occurring circ.u.mstances 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 st.i.tch which may tend to extra adornment is put in; or in those numberless pretty and not unuseful tokens of remembrance, which, pa.s.sing 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:--

"The twentieth year is well nigh past, Since first our sky was overcast, Ah, would that this might be the last!

My Mary!

"Thy spirits have a fainter flow, I see thee daily weaker grow, 'Twas my distress that brought thee low, My Mary!

"Thy needles, once a shining store, For my sake restless heretofore, Now rust disused and shine no more, My Mary!

"For though thou gladly would'st fulfil The same kind office for me still, Thy sight now seconds not thy will, My Mary!

"But well thou play'dst the housewife's part, And all thy threads with magic art, Have wound themselves about this heart, My Mary!"

An interesting circ.u.mstance connected with needlework is mentioned in the delightful memoir written by lady Murray, of her mother, the excellent and admirable Lady Grisell Baillie. The allusion itself is very slight, merely to the making of a frill or a collar; but the circ.u.mstances connected with it are deeply interesting, and place before us a vivid picture of the deprivations of a family of rank and consequence in "troublous times," and moreover offer us a portrait from _real life_ of true feminine excellence, of a young creature of rank and family, of cultivated and refined tastes and of high connexions, utterly forgetting all these in the cheerful and conscientious discharge, for years, of the most arduous and humble duties, and even of menial and revolting offices. It may be that my readers all are not so well acquainted with this little book as ourselves, and, if so, they will not consider the following extract too long.

"They lived three years and a half in Holland, and in that time she made a second voyage to Scotland about business. Her father went by the borrowed name of Dr. Wallace, and did not stir out for fear of being discovered, though who he was, was no secret to the wellwishers of the revolution. Their great desire was to have a good house, as their greatest comfort was at home; and all the people of the same way of thinking, of which there were great numbers, were continually with them. They paid for their house what was very extravagant for their income, nearly a fourth part; they could not afford keeping any servant, but a little girl to wash the dishes.

"All the time they were there, there was not a week that my mother did not sit up two nights, to do the business that was necessary. She went to market, went to the mill to have the corn ground, which it seems is the way with good managers there, dressed the linen, cleaned the house, made ready the dinner, mended the children's stockings and other clothes, made what she could for them, and, in short, did everything.

"Her sister, Christian, who was a year or two younger, diverted her father and mother and the rest who were fond of music. Out of their small income they bought a harpsichord for little money, but is a _Rucar_ now in my custody, and most valuable. My aunt played and sang well, and had a great deal of life and humour, but no turn to business. Though my mother had the same qualifications, and liked it as well as she did, she was forced to drudge; and many jokes used to pa.s.s betwixt the sisters about their different occupations. Every morning before six my mother lighted her father's fire in his study, then waked him (she was ever a good sleeper, which blessing, among many others, she inherited from him); then got him, what he usually took as soon as he got up, warm small beer with a spoonful of bitters in it, which he continued his whole life, and of which I have the receipt.

"Then she took up the children and brought them all to his room, where he taught them everything that was fit for their age; some Latin, others French, Dutch, geography, writing, reading, English, &c.; and my grandmother taught them what was necessary on her part. Thus he employed and diverted himself all the time he was there, not being able to afford putting them to school; and my mother, when she had a moment's time, took a lesson with the rest in French and Dutch, and also diverted herself with music. I have now a book of songs of her writing when there; many of them interrupted, half-writ, some broke off in the middle of a sentence. She had no less a turn for mirth and society than any of the family, when she could come at it without neglecting what she thought more necessary.

"Her eldest brother, Patrick, who was nearest her age, and bred up together, was her most dearly beloved. My father was there, forfeited and exiled, in the same situation with themselves. She had seen him for the first time in the prison with his father, not long before he suffered;[124] and from that time their hearts were engaged. Her brother and my father were soon got in to ride in the Prince of Orange's Guards, till they were better provided for in the army, which they were before the Revolution. They took their turn in standing sentry at the Prince's gate, but always contrived to do it together, and the strict friendship and intimacy that then began, continued to the last.

"Though their station was then low, they kept up their spirits; the prince often dined in public, then all were admitted to see him: when any pretty girl wanted to go in they set their halberts across the door and would not let her pa.s.s till she gave each of them a kiss, which made them think and call them very pert soldiers. I could relate many stories on this subject; my mother could talk for hours and never tire of it, always saying it was the happiest part of her life. Her _constant attention was to have her brother appear right in his linen and dress_; they wore little point cravats and cuffs, which many a night she sat up to have in as good order for him as any in the place; and one of their greatest expenses was in dressing him as he ought to be.

"As their house was always full of the unfortunate people banished like themselves, they seldom went to dinner without three, four, or five of them to share it with them; and many a hundred times I have heard her say she could never look back upon their manner of living there without thinking it a miracle. They had no want, but plenty of everything they desired, and much contentment, and always declared it the most pleasing part of her life, though they were not without their little distresses; but to them they were rather jokes than grievances.

The professors and men of learning in the place came often to see my grandfather; the best entertainment he could give them was a gla.s.s of alabast beer, which was a better kind of ale than common. He sent his son Andrew, the late Lord Kimmerghame, a boy, to draw some for them in the cellar, and he brought it up with great diligence, but in the other hand the spigot of the barrel. My grandfather said, 'Andrew!

what is that in your hand?' When he saw it he ran down with speed, but the beer was all run out before he got there. This occasioned much mirth, though perhaps they did not well know where to get more.

"It is the custom there to gather money for the poor from house to house, with a bell to warn people to give it. One night the bell came, and no money was there in the house but a orkey, which is a doit, the smallest of all coin; everybody was so ashamed no one would go to give it, it was so little, and put it from one to the other: at last my grandfather said, 'Well, then, I'll go with it; we can do no more than give all we have.' They were often reduced to this by the delay of the ships coming from Scotland with their small remittances; then they put the little plate they had (all of which they carried with them) in the lumber, which is p.a.w.ning it, till the ships came: and that very plate they brought with them again to Scotland, and left no debt behind them."

This is a long but not an uninteresting digression, and we were led to it from the recollection that Lady Grisell Baillie, when encompa.s.sed with heavy cares, not only sat up a night or two every week, but felt a satisfaction, a pleasure, in doing so, to execute the needlework required by her family. And when sewing with a view to the comfort and satisfaction of others, the needlewoman--insignificant as the details of her employment may appear--has much internal satisfaction; she has a definite vocation, an important function.

Nor few nor insignificant are her handmaidens, one or other of whom is ever at her side, inspiriting her to her task. Her most constant attendant is a matron of stayed and sober appearance, called UTILITY.

The needlewoman's productions are found to vary greatly, and this variation is ascribed with truth to the influencing suggestions of the attendant for the time being.

Thus, for instance, when Utility is her companion all her labours are found to result in articles of which the material is unpretending, and the form simple; for however she may be led wandering by the vagaries of her other co-mates, it is always found that in moments of steady reflection she listens with the most implicit deference to the intimations of this her experienced and most respectable friend.

But occasionally, indeed frequently, Utility brings with her a fair and interesting relative, called TASTE; a gentle being, of modest and retiring mien, of most una.s.suming deportment, but of exquisite grace; and it is even observed that the needlewoman is more happy in her labours, and more universally approved when accompanied by these two friends, than by any other of the more eccentric ones who occasionally take upon themselves to direct her steps.

Of these latter, FASHION is one of her most frequent visitors, and it is very often found that as she approaches Utility and Taste retire.

This is not, however, invariably the case. Sometimes the three agree cordially together, and their united suffrages and support enhance the fame of the needlewoman to the very highest pitch; but this happy cordiality is of infrequent occurrence, and usually of short duration.

Fashion is fickle, varying, inconstant; given to sudden partialities and to disruptions unlooked for, and as sudden. She laughs to scorn Utility's grave maxims, and exaggerates the graceful suggestions of Taste until they appear complete caricatures. Consequently they, offended, retire; and Fashion, heedless, holds on her own course, keeping the needlewoman in complete subjection to her arbitrary rule, which is often enforced in her transient absence by her own peculiar friend and intimate--CAPRICE. This fantastic being has the greatest influence over Fashion, who having no staple character of her own, is easily led every way at the beck of this whimsical and absurd dictator. The productions which emanate from the hands of the needlewoman under their guidance are much sought for, much looked at, but soon fall into utter contempt.

But there is another handmaiden created for the delight and solace of mankind in general, and who from the earliest days, even until now, has been the loving friend of the needlewoman; ever whispering suggestions in her ear, or tracing patterns on her work, or gently guiding her finger through the fantastic maze. She is of the most exquisite beauty: fragile in form as the gossamer that floats on a summer's breath--brilliant in appearance as the colours that illumine the rainbow. So light, that she floats on an atom; so powerful that she raises empires, nay, the whole earth by her might. Her habits are the most vagrant imaginable; she is indeed the veriest little gossip in creation, but her disposition to roam is not more boundless than her power to gratify it.

One instant she is in the depths of the ocean, loitering upon coral beds; the next above the stars, revelling in the immensity of s.p.a.ce; one moment she tracks a comet in his course, the next hobn.o.bs with the sea-king, or foots a measure with mermaids. A most skilful architect, she will build palaces on the clouds radiant with splendour and beautiful as herself; then, demolishing them with a breath, she flies to some moss-grown ruin of the earth, where a glimpse of her countenance drives away the bat and the owl; the wallflower, the moss, and the ivy, are displaced by the rose, the lily, and the myrtle; the damp building is clothed in freshness and splendour, the lofty halls resound with the melody of the lute and the harp, and the whole scene is vivid with light and life, with brilliancy and beauty. Again, in an instant, all is mute, and dim, and desolate, and the versatile sorceress is hunting the otter with an Esquimaux; or, pillowed on roses whose fragrance is wafted by softest zephyrs around, she listens to the strain which the Bulbul pours; or, wrapped in deepest maze of philosophic thought, she "treads the long extent of backward time," by the gigantic sepulchres of Egyptian kings; or else she flies "from the tempest-rocked Hebrides or the icebound Northern Ocean--from the red man's wilderness of the west--from the steppes of Central Asia--from the teeming swamps of the Amazon--from the sirocco deserts of Africa--from the tufted islands of the Pacific--from the heaving flanks of aetna--or from the marbled sh.o.r.es of Greece;"--and draws the whole circle of her enchantments round the needlewoman's fingers, within the walls of an humble English cottage.

But it were equally unnecessary and useless to dilate on her fairy wanderings. Suffice it to say that so great is the beneficent liberality of this fascinating being, that every corner of her rich domain is open to the highest or lowest of mortals without reserve; and so lovely is she herself, and so bewitching is her company, that few, few indeed, are they who do not cherish her as a bosom friend and as the dearest of companions.

Bearing, however, her vagrant characteristics in mind, we shall not be surprised at the peculiar ideas some people entertain of her haunts, nor at the strange places in which they search for her person. One would hardly believe that hundreds of thousands have sought her through the smoke, din, and turmoil of those lines "where all antipathies to comfort dwell,"--the railroads; while others, more adventurous, plough the ocean deep, scale the mighty mountains, or soar amid the clouds for her; or, strange to say, have sought her in the battle field 'mid scenes of b.l.o.o.d.y death. Like Hotspur, such would pluck her--

"From the pale-faced moon;"

or would