Over the next week, I intend to report on these aforementioned women for a number of reasons. For one thing, their case studies provide valuable insight into the nature of courtly life and its close affinity to the arts (textiles included among them), the nature of domestic life, and the sociopolitical world -- one so often overlooked by the androcentric canon of history -- of women.
Why, you may be wondering (or not, as is more likely the case), these women? The answer is a simple and all-too common one: because they have been extensively documented. Unlike the so-called "peasant-work" (I am finding that a lot of my secondary sources were published in or prior to the 20th century, and what more recent publications I stumble across continue to make use of this word to refer to domestic needlework conducted by working class and rural people of Europe), their work is not only preserved, but it is generally of good provenance -- meaning that questions of "Who made/owned this object?" and "How did it come to be in our possession?" can be answered, often with the help of corresponding documentation.
Take a gander at the extensive collections sported by The Victoria and Albert Museum and you will find that the vast majority of historical embroideries are anonymously authored and difficult to date precisely. Even those domestic embroideries that are suspected to have been rendered by aristocratic women (across cultures, you will generally find that the lives of the social elites are much more extensively documented, especially in this context where household inventories were kept) are supported by little documentary evidence.
Late 17th century bed hangings by Abigail Pett. The author of this breathtaking work is known only from the embroidered signature included on one of the bed valances.
Image courtesy of the Victoria and Albert Museum.
No wonder textile historians such as George Wingfield Digby must derive their own analytical methods to distinguish between the professional and domestic embroiderer. Since the general focus of my research tends towards the domestic side of things, on professional embroidery of the time, I will say this: indeed, although crafts guilds were known for their exhaustive bookkeeping, the historical record in this arena is also sparsely furnished.
What is known about professional embroidery in Elizabethan England comes largely from publications issued in the 18th and 19th centuries (Digby 1963: 29). In October of 1561, the third year of Queen Elizabeth's reign, the Broderers' Company was officially incorporated (Digby 1963: 29). Unfortunately, record of their activities largely went up in flames during the Great Fire of 1666 (Digby 1963: 29). However, it has been indicated that the company listed 89 registered master craftsmen in the year 1580 (Digby 1963: 30), and that this guild controlled and regulated the quality of all embroideries sold to the public (Digby 1963: 29). Prior to sale, completed work was required to be presented at the Broderer's Hall, where inferior work was subject to dismemberment or incineration (Digby 1963: 29). Moreover, the Company maintained the right to search workshops or summon pieces of needlework to the Broderer's Hall for rigorous scrutiny (Digby 1963: 29).
Arms of the Worshipful Company of Broderers.
Image courtesy of The Textile Research Centre.
A better, and more varied, view of professional embroidery can be garnered from a closer look at records of household expenses, since completed and commissioned works were often listed in household inventories. These records indicate that some works were individually commissioned on a case by case basis, while some professional needleworkers (male and female alike) were "itinerant or locally resident and were called in to work in the great houses as occasions required" (Digby 1963: 31). Some professional embroiderers were hired on retainer; for example, Pierre Oudry was hired on as Mary's draughtsman and embroiderer from 1560-1567, and he even painted her portrait in 1578 (Digby 1963: 55).
Let's take, as an example, the following slip housed in the Victoria and Albert Museum collections.
Late 16th or early 17th century slip embroidered on canvas in tent and plaited goblein stitches.
Image courtesy of the Victoria and Albert Museum.
We know, for example, that these are the Fitzwilliam coat of arms impaling Sydney (meaning that the shield is divided vertically in two, depicting both sets). The item summary listed on the museum website indicates that the provenance of this work is known through two manuscripts housed at the V&A describing the commission of this work. These documents, penned by Anne Sydney (daughter of Sir William Sydney of Penshurst), who -- having married Sir William Fitzwilliam (1526-1599) -- who commissioned the making of the slip for future application on furnishings such as bed curtains. These documents indicate that, although commissioned, they were likely worked by household servants instead of master craftsmen, the likely culprits being one Mrs. Fisher and one Mrs. Lyell. How rare it is to find an embroidery with corresponding documents! But what, if anything, is known about the women who through their labours wrought this very piece?
These are important questions, but ones perhaps better left for another time. For now, let us turn to our cast of characters: Mary, Bess, and Elizabeth.
Sources Cited
Digby, George Whitfield.
1963 Elizabethan Embroidery. London, England: Faber and Faber Inc.
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