Art in Needlework: A Book about Embroidery

No doubt it is difficult to work upon velvet. The stuff is not very sympathetic, and the stitching has a way of sinking into the pile, and being, as it were, drowned in it. But the trailing spirals of split-stitch which play about the applied spots in many a mediæval altar cloth hold their own quite well enough to show that silk can be worked straight on to the velvet.

That gold may be equally well worked straight on to velvet may be seen in any Indian saddle cloth. Heavy work of this kind may be rather man's work than woman's; but that is not the point. The question is, how to get the best results; and the answer is, by working on the stuff.

It may be argued that in this way you cannot get very high relief; but the occasions for high relief are, at the best, rare. If you want actual modelling, as in the Spanish work referred to in a previous chapter, that must, of course, be worked separately, built up, as it were, upon the canvas and worked over. And there is no reason why it should not, for in no case does it appear to be stitching. In fact, it aims deliberately at the effect of chased and beaten metal.

Heavy appliqué of any kind affects, of course, not only the thickness but the flexibility of the material thus enriched—an important consideration if it is meant to hang in folds.

A PLEA FOR SIMPLICITY.

The simplest patterns are by no means the least beautiful. It is too much the fashion to underrate the artistic value of the less pretentious forms of needlework, and especially of flat ornament, which has, nevertheless, its own very important place in decoration. As for geometric pattern, that is quite beneath consideration—it is so mechanical! Mechanical is a word as easily spoken as another; but if needlework is mechanical, that is more often the fault of the needlewoman than of the mechanism she employs. The Orientals, who indulged so freely in geometric device, were the least mechanical of workers. It is our rigid way of working it which robs geometric ornament of its charm. The needleworker has less than ever occasion to be afraid of geometric pattern; for it is peculiarly difficult to get in it that appearance of rule-and-compass-work which makes ornament so dull.

The one real objection to geometric pattern is that it is nowadays so cheaply and so mechanically got by weaving that, however freely it may be rendered, there is a danger of its suggesting mechanical production, which embroidery emphatically ought not to do. There is a similar objection nowadays to some stitches, such, for example, as chain-stitch and back-stitch, which suggest the sewing-machine.

Embroidery does not to-day take quite the place it once did. It was used, for example, by the early Coptic Christians to supplement tapestry. That is to say, what they could not weave they stitched; it was only to get more delicate detail than their tapestry loom would allow, that they had recourse to the needle. Needlework was, in fact, an adjunct to weaving. Later, in mediæval times, the Germans of Cologne, for their church vestments and the like, wove what they could, and enriched their woven figures with embroidery.

Again, a great deal of Oriental embroidery, and of peasant work everywhere, is merely the result of circumstances. Where money is scarce and time is of no account, it answers a woman's purpose to do for herself with her needle what might in some respects be even better done on the loom. Her preference for handwork is not that it has artistic possibilities, but that it costs her less. She would in many cases prefer the more mechanically produced fabric, if she could get it at the same price. We do not find that Orientals reject the productions of the power-loom—which they would do if they had the artistic instincts with which we credit them.

It results from our conditions of to-day that there are some kinds of needlework we admire, which yet are not worth our doing, such, for example, as the all-over work, which does not amount to more than simple diaper, and which really is not so much embroidering on a textile as converting it into one of another kind. Glorified instances of this kind of work occur in the shawl work of Cashmere, and in those beautiful bits of Persian stitching which remind one of carpet-work in miniature, if they are not in fact related to carpet-weaving.

Embroidery was at one time the readiest, and practically the only, means of getting enrichment of certain kinds. To-day we get machine embroidery. As machinery is perfected, and learns to do what formerly could be done only by the needle, hand-workers get pushed aside and fall out of work. Their chance is, in keeping always in advance of the machine. There is this hope for them, that the monotony of machine-made things produces in the end a reaction in favour of handwork—provided always it gives us something which manufacture cannot. Possibly also there is scope for amateurs and home-artists in that combination of embroidery and hand-weaving with which the power-loom, though it has superseded it, does not enter into competition.

It is not so much for geometric ornament as for simple pattern that I here make my plea, for that reticent work of which so much was at one time done in this country—mere back-stitching, for example, or what looks like it, in yellow silk upon white linen; or the modest diaper, archaic, if you like, but inevitably characteristic, in which the naïveté of the sampler seems always to linger; or again, the admirably simple work in Illustration 89. This last does not show so delicately in the photographic reproduction as it should, because, being in grey and yellow on white linen, the relative value of the two shades of colour is lost in the process. In the original the broader yellow bands are much more in tone with the ground, and do not assert themselves so much. Such as it is, only an artist could have designed that border-work, and any neat-handed woman could have embroidered it.

Think again of the delicate work in white on white, too familiar to need illustration, which makes no loud claim to be art, but is content to be beautiful! Is that to be a thing altogether of the past now that we have Art Needlework? Art needlework! It has helped put an end to the patience of the modern worker, and to inspire her too often with ambitions quite beyond her powers of fulfilment.

What one misses in the work of the present day is that reticent and unpretending stitchery, which, thinking to be no more than a labour of loving patience, is really a work of art, better deserving the title than a flaunting floral quilt which goes by the name of "art needlework"—designed apparently to worry the eye by day and to give bad dreams by night to whoever may have the misfortune to sleep under it. Is anyone nowadays modest enough to do work such as the couching in outline in Illustration 90? Yet what distinction there is about it!

EMBROIDERY DESIGN.

Perfect art results only when designer and worker are entirely in sympathy, when the designer knows quite what the worker can do with her materials, and when the worker not only understands what the designer meant, but feels with him. And it is the test of a practical designer that he not only knows the conditions under which his design is to be carried out, but is ready to submit to them.

The distinction here made between designer and embroiderer is not casual, but afore-thought, notwithstanding the division of labour it implies. Enthusiasm has a habit of outrunning reason. Because in some branches of industry subdivision of labour has been carried to absurd excess, it is the fashion to demand in all branches of it the autograph work of one person, which is no less absurd. To try and link together faculties which Nature has for the most part put asunder, is futile.

That designer and worker should be one and the same person is an ideal, but one only very occasionally fulfilled. When that happens (Illustrations 61 and 88) it is well. But the attempt to realise it commonly works out in one of two ways: either a good design is spoilt in the working for want of executive skill on the part of the designer, or good workmanship is spent on poor design, as good, perhaps, as one has any right to expect of a skilled needleworker.

The fact is, you can only make out all the world to be designers by reducing design to what all the world can do. And that is not much. There is a point of view from which it does not amount to design at all.

The study of design forms part of the education of an embroidress, not so much that she may design what she works, but that she may know in the first place what good design is, and, in the second, be equal to the ever-recurring occasion when a design has to be modified or adapted. If, in thus manipulating design not hers, she should discover a faculty of invention, she will want no telling to exercise it. A designer wants no encouragement to design—she designs.

There would be no occasion to insist upon this, were it not for the prevalence at the present moment of the idea that a worker, in whatever art or handicraft, is in artistic duty bound to design whatever she puts hand to do. That is a theory as false as it is unkind; let no embroidress be discouraged by it. Let her, unless she is inwardly impelled to invent, remain content to do good needlework. That is her art. Her business as an artist is to make beautiful things. Co-operation in the making of them is no crime.

And what, then, about originality? Originality is a gift beyond price. But it is not a thing which even the designer should struggle after. It comes, if it is there. There is a revengeful consolation for the pain we suffer from design about us writhing to be up-to-date, in the thought that its contortions tell what pain it cost to do. The birth of beauty is a less agonising travail; and the thing to seek is beauty, not novelty. Whoever planned the lines of the border in Illustration 91, or treated the leafage in Illustration 92, was not trying to be original, but determined to do his best. Artists and workers of individuality and character are themselves, without being so much as aware that originality has gone out of them.

To assume, then, that every needlewoman is, or can ever be, competent to design what she embroiders, is to make very small account of design. How is it possible to take design seriously and yet think it is to be mastered without years of patient study, which few workwomen can or will devote to it? Any cultivated woman may for herself invent (if it is to be called invention) something better worth working than is to be bought ready to work. And that may do for many purposes, so long as it does not claim to be more than it is; but in the case of really important work, to be executed at considerable cost not only of material, but of patient labour, surely it is worth giving serious thought to its design. The scant consideration commonly given to it shows how little the worker is in earnest. Or has she thought? And is she persuaded that her artless spray of flowers, or the ironed-off pattern she has bought, is all that art could be? It would be rude to tell her she was wasting silk! How should she know?

The only way of knowing is to study, to look at good work, old work by preference; it is worth no one's while to praise that unduly. And if in all that is now so readily accessible she finds nothing to admire, nothing which appeals to her, nothing which inspires her, then her case is hopeless. If, on the other hand, she finds only so much as one style of work sympathetic to her, studies that, lets its spirit sink into her, tries to do something worthy of it, then she is on the right road. Measure yourself with the best, not with the common run of work; and if that should put you out of conceit with your own work, no great harm is done; sooner or later you have got to come to a modest opinion of yourself, if ever you are to do even moderate things.

But the "best" above referred to does not necessarily mean the most masterly. The best of a simple kind is not calculated to discourage anyone—rather, it looks as if it must be easy to do that; and in trying to do it you learn how much goes to the doing it. Good design need not be of any great importance or pretensions. It may be quite simple, if only it is right; if the lines are true, the colour harmonious; if it is adapted to its place, to its use and purpose, to execution not only with the needle but in the particular kind of needlework to be employed.

There has of late years been something of a revival of needlework design in schools of art, and some very promising and even most accomplished work has been done; but in many instances, as it seems to me, it is rather design which has been translated into needlework, than design clearly made for execution with the needle. A really appropriate and practical design for embroidery should be schemed not merely with a view to its execution with the needle, but with a view to its execution in a particular stitch or stitches—and possibly by a particular embroidress. To be safe in designing work so minute as that on Illustration 93, one must be sure of the needlewoman who is to execute it.

My reference to old work must not be taken to imply that design should be in imitation of what has been done, or that it should follow on those lines. Design was once upon a time traditional; but the chain of tradition has snapped, and now conscious design must be eclectic—that is to say, one must study old work to see what has been done, and how it has been done, and then do one's own in one's own way. It is at least as foolish to break quite away from what has been done as to tether yourself to it. And in what has been done you will see, not only what is worth doing, but what is not. That, each must judge for herself. For my part, it seems to me the thing best worth doing is ornament. Any way, this much is certain (and you have only to go to a museum to prove it), that there is no need for needleworkers, unless their instinct draws them that way, to take to needle painting, to pictures in silk, or even to flower stitching.

The limitations of embroidery are not so rigidly marked as the boundaries of many another craft. There is little technical difficulty in representing flowers, for example, very naturally—too naturally for any dignified decorative purpose. Embroiderer or embroidery designer will, as a matter of fact, be constantly inspired by flower forms, and silk gives the pure colour of their petals as nearly as may be. But, though the pattern be a veritable flower garden, the embroidress will not forget, to use the happy phrase of William Morris, that she is gardening with silks and gold threads.

Let the needleworker study the work of the needle in preference to that of the brush; let her aim at what stuff and threads will give her, and give more readily than would something else. Let her work according to the needle: take that for her guide, not be misled by what some other tool can do better; do what the needle can do best, and be content with that. That is the way to Art in Needlework, and the surest way.

EMBROIDERY MATERIALS.

Embroidery is not among the things which have to be done, and must be done, therefore, as best one can do them. It is in the nature of a superfluity: the excuse for it is that it is beautiful. It is not worth doing unless it is done well, and in material worth the work done on it. If you are going to spend the time you must spend to do good work, it is worth while using good stuff, foolish to use anything else. The stuff need not be costly, but it should be the best of its kind; and it should be chosen with reference to the work to be done on it, and vice versâ. A mean ground-stuff suggests, if it does not necessitate, its being embroidered all over, ground-work as well as pattern; a worthier one, that it should not be hidden altogether from view; a really beautiful one, that enough of it should be left bare of ornament that its quality may be appreciated.

It goes without saying, that for big, bold stitching a proportionately coarse ground-stuff should be used, and for delicate work, one of finer texture; whether it be linen, woollen cloth, or silk, your purpose will determine.

Linen is a worthy ground-stuff, which may be worked on with flax thread, crewel, or silk, but they should not be mixed. Cotton is hardly worth embroidering. Of woollen stuffs, good plain cloth is an excellent ground for work in wool or silk, but it is not pleasant to the touch in working. Serge, if not too loose, may serve for curtains and the like, but it is not so well worth working upon. Felt is beneath contempt.

The nobler the material, the more essential it is that it should be of the best. Poor satin is not "good enough to work on;" it looks poorer than ever when it is embroidered.

Satin should be stretched upon the frame the way of the stuff, and it should not be forgotten that it has a right and a wrong way up. If it is backed, the linen should be fine and smooth: on a coarse backing, the satin gets quickly worn away, as you may see in many a piece of old work that has gone ragged.

"Roman satin" and what is called "satin de luxe" (perhaps because it is not so luxurious as it pretends to be) are effective ground-stuffs easy to work upon; but there is an odour of pretence about satin-faced cotton.

A corded silk is not good to embroider; the work on it looks hard; but a close twill answers very well. Silk damask makes an admirable ground beautifully broken in colour, if only it is simple and broad enough in pattern. Generally speaking, you can hardly choose a design too big and flat; but something depends upon the work to be done on it. In any case, the pattern of the damask ought not to assert itself, and if you can't make out its details, so much the better.

Brocade asserts itself too much to form a good background. There is a practice of embroidering the outlines, or certain details only, of damask and brocade patterns. That is a fair way of further enriching a rich stuff; but it is embroidery merely in the sense that it is literally embroidered: the needlework is only supplementary to weaving.

Tussah silk of the finer sort is easy to work in the hand. The thinner and looser quality needs to be worked in a frame, and with smooth silk not tightly twisted.

With regard to the thread to work with: The coarser kinds of flax are best waxed before using. The crewel to be preferred is that not too tightly twisted. Filoselle is well adapted to couching, and may be laid double (24 threads). French floss is smooth, and does well for laid work; for fine work bobbin floss, or what is called "church floss," is better; the slight twist in filo-floss is against it; very thick floss may be used for French knots.

For couching gold, a very fine twisted silk does well. Purse silk, thick and twisted, lends itself perfectly to basket work. Working in coloured silks, one should take advantage of the quality of pure transparent colour which silk takes in the dyeing. The palette of the embroiderer in silk is superlatively rich.

The purest gold is generally made on a foundation of red silk. Japanese gold does not tarnish so readily as "passing," which is in some respects superior to it. For stitching through, there is a finer thread, called "tambour." Flat gold wire is known by the name of "plate," and various twisted threads by the name of "purl."

A not very promising substance to embroider with is chenille. It came into use in the latter half of the 17th century, and was still in fashion in the time of Marie Antoinette. The use of it is shown in Illustration 75, where the darker touches of the roses are worked in it. Chenille seems to have been used instead of smooth silk, much as in certain old-fashioned water-colour paintings gum was used with the paint, or over it, to deepen the shadows. The material is used again in the wreath on Illustration 76. It is worked there in chain-stitch with the tambour needle: it may also be worked in satin-stitch; but the more obvious way of using it is to couch it, cord by cord, with fine silk thread. There is this against chenille, that its texture is not sympathetic to the touch, and that there is a stuffy look about it always. Nor does it seem ever quite to belong to the smooth satin ground on which it is worked.

There is less objection to embroidery in ribbon, which also had its day in the 18th century. It was very much the fashion for court dresses under Louis Seize—"Broderie de faveur," as it was called, whence our "lady's favour"—faveur being a narrow ribbon. Some beautiful work of its kind was done in ribbon, sometimes shaded. Shaded silk, by the way, may be used to artistic purpose. There is, for example, in the treasury of Seville Cathedral a piece of work on velvet, 13th century, it is said, rather Persian in character, in which the forms of certain nondescript animals are at first sight puzzlingly prismatic in colour. They turn out to be roughly worked in short stitches of parti-coloured silk thread. The result is not altogether beautiful, but it is extremely suggestive.

The effect of ribbon work is happiest when it is not sewn through the stuff after the manner of satin stitch, but lies on the surface of the satin ground, and is only just caught down at the ends of the loops which go to make leaves and petals. The twist of the ribbon where it turns gives interest to the surface of the embroidery, which is always more or less in relief upon the stuff, easy to crush, and of limited use therefore.

An effect of ribbon work, but of a harder kind, was produced by onlaying narrow strips of card or parchment upon a silken ground, twisted about after the fashion of ribbon. These, having been stitched in place, were worked over in satin-stitch. The work has the merit of looking just like what it is. But neither it nor ribbon embroidery is of any very serious account.

Passing reference has been made to other materials to embroider with than thread. Gold wire, for example, and spangles, coral and pearls, which have been used with admirable discretion, as well as to vulgar purpose. Jewels also were lavished upon the embroidery of bishops' mitres, gloves and other significant apparel, and in default of real stones, imitations in glass, and eventually beads (or pearls) of glass, in which we have possibly the origin of knots. Bead embroidery is at least as old as ancient Egypt. Even atoms of looking-glass, sewn round with silk, have been used to really beautiful effect (barbaric though it may be) in Indian work. The question almost occurs: with what can one not embroider? In Madras they produce most brilliant embroidery upon muslin with the cases of beetles' wings. In the Mauritius they use fish-scales; in North America, porcupine quills; and everywhere savage tribes use seeds, shells, feathers, and the teeth and claws of animals.

To return to more civilised work, there is embroidery in gold and silver wire, allied to the art of the goldsmith, and on leather (Illustration 94), allied to the art of the saddler. It would be difficult to set any limit to the directions in which embroidery may branch out, impossible to describe them all. Happily, it is not necessary. A skilled worker adapts herself to new conditions, and the conditions themselves dictate the necessary modification of the familiar way.

A WORD TO THE WORKER.

A good workwoman will not encumber herself with too many tools; but she will not shirk the expense of necessary implements, the simplest by preference, and the best that are made.

Embroidery needles should have large eyes; the silk is not rubbed in threading them, and they make way for the thread to pass smoothly through the stuff. For working in twisted silk, the eye should be roundish; for flat silk, long; for surface stitching or interlacing, a blunt "tapestry needle" is best; for carrying cord or gold thread through the stuff, a "rug needle."

For a thimble, choose an old one that has been worn quite smooth.

For scissors, be sure and have a strong, short, sharp and pointed pair—the surgical instrument, not the fancy article. Nail scissors would not be amiss but for the roughness of the file on the blades.

For pins, use always steel ones; and for tacks, those which have been tinned; or they will leave their mark behind them.

For a frame, get the best you can afford; a cheap one is no economy; but a stand for it is not always necessary. It should be rather wider than might seem necessary, as the work should never extend to the full width of the webbing. A tambour frame is also useful, though you have no intention of doing tambour work.

In stretching silk (not backed with linen) upon a frame, some preliminary care is necessary. The stuff should first be bordered with strips of linen or strong tape, and into the two sides of this border which are to be laced up a stout string should be tacked, to prevent it from giving when the work is drawn tight.

The way to put embroidery material (thus bordered or not) into a frame is: first to sew it to the webbing (top and bottom), then to put the laths or screws into the bars, tightening them evenly, and lastly to lace it to the sides with fine string and a packing needle.

The ordinary ways of transferring a design to embroidery material are well known: the outline may be traced down with a point over transfer paper; it may be pricked upon paper and pounced upon the stuff in chalk or charcoal, and then traced in with a brush or pen; or it (still the outline only) may be stencilled. In any case, the outline marked upon the stuff should be well within what is to be the actual outline of the embroidery when worked. Another way, more peculiarly adapted to needlework, is to trace the outline in ink upon fine tarlatan (leno muslin will do for very coarse work), and, having laid this down upon the stuff, to go over the lines again with a ruling pen and Indian ink or colour. On a light stuff it is possible to use, instead of a pen, a hard pencil. On a dark material one must use Chinese white, to which it is well to add, not only a little gum (arabic), but a trace of ox-gall, to make it work easily. One gets by this method naturally rather a rotten line upon the ground-stuff, but it is enough for all practical purposes.

Delicate work is easily rubbed and soiled in the working. It is only reasonable precaution to protect it by a veil or covering of thin, soft, white glazed lining, tacked round the edges on to the stuff. On this you mark the four lines inclosing the actual embroidery, and, cutting through three of them, you have a flap of lining, which you raise and turn back when you are at work. If the work is very delicate, you may make instead of one flap a succession of little ones; but you see then only a portion of your work at a time, and cannot so well judge its effect.

In starting work, do not begin by making a knot in your thread; run a few stitches (presently to be worked over) on the right side of the stuff. In finishing, you run them at the back of the stuff; for greater security still, one may end with a buttonhole-stitch.

There is less danger of puckering the stuff if you hold it over two fingers (at least), keeping it taut and the thread loose.

Working without a frame, it often comes handiest to hold the stuff askew, and there is a natural inclination to pull it in that direction. This temptation must be resisted, or puckering is sure to result.

In working with double silk or wool, it is better not to double back a single thread, but to pass two separate threads through the eye of the needle. The four threads (where these are turned back near the eye) make way through the stuff for the double thread, which passes easily; moreover, the thread by this means is not pulled too tight, and the effect is richer.

The stitch wants always adaptation to the work it has to do. In working a curved line, for example, say in herring-bone-stitch, one is bound always to take up a larger piece of stuff on its outside than on its inner edge.

When a thread runs short, it is better not to go on working with it, but to take another; and in finishing off, remember to run the thread in the direction opposite to that from which you are going to run the new one. In starting the new stitch, you naturally bring your needle out as if it were a continuation of that last made.

If your work is faulty, cut it out and do it again. Unpicking is not so satisfactory: it loosens the stuff to drag the thread back through it, and the thread saved is of no further use. Beginners find it hard to undo work once done; but a really good needlewoman never hesitates about it—her one thought is to get the thing right. Don't break your thread ever: that pulls it out of condition: cut it always.

In working, it is well to keep strictly to the stitch you have chosen, but not to the point of bigotry. One may finish off darning, for example, at the edges with a satin stitch. The thing to avoid is fudging. Moreover, stitches should be laid right at once; there should be no boggling and botching, no working-over with stitches to make good—that is not playing fair.

When the needlework is done, do not finish it with a flat iron. That finishes it in more senses than one. But suppose it is puckered? In that case, stretch it and damp it. To do this, first tack on to it (as explained on page 251) a frame of strong tape. Then, on a drawing-board or other even wooden surface, lay a piece of clean calico, and on that, face downwards, the embroidery, and, slightly stretching it, nail it down by the tape with tin-tacks rather close together. If now you lay upon it a damp cloth, the embroidery will absorb the moisture from it, and when that is removed, should dry as flat as it is possible to get it.

A rather more daring plan is to damp the back of the stuff with a wet sponge. The work, instead of being nailed on to a board, may just as well be laced to a frame by the tape. In the case of raised embroidery there must be between it and the wood, not a cloth merely, but a layer of wadding.

The damping above described may take the form of a thin paste or stiffening, but upon silk or other such material this wants tenderly doing.

One last word as to thoroughness in needlework. Those who have really not time to do much, should be satisfied with simple work. The desire to make a great show with little work is a snare. Ladies make protest always, "There is too much work in that." Well, if they are not prepared to work, they may as well give themselves up to their play. There was no labour shirked in the old work illustrated in these pages; and nothing much worth doing was ever done without work, hard work, and plenty of it. Should that thought frighten folk away, they may as well be scared off at once. Art can do very well without them.

INDEX.

• Adaptation of stitch, 103, 188, 253
• Antique stitch, 66 (See also Oriental-stitch)
• Appliqué, 140, 144 et seq., 220, 222, 224
• Arab work, 152
• Artless art, 37, 236
• Attachment of cord, 124

• Backstitch, 30, 37, 41, 53, 83, 86, 172, 226, 230
• Basket patterns, 134
• Beads, 248
• Beginning & finishing, 252
• Blanket-stitch, 56
• Braid-stitch, 42, 43
• Broad surfaces (covering), 178
• Brocade, 244
• Bullion, 165
• Bullion-stitch, 75, 76, 162, 165
• Buttonhole-stitch, 8, 55 et seq., 69, 122, 145, 158, 178, 182
• Buttonholing (lace), 84, 86
• Byzantine embroidery, 12, 24

• Cable-chain, 42
• Canvas, 7, 25
• Canvas stitches, 12 et seq.
• Canvas-stitch embroidery, 22
• Card underlay, 162, 246
• Cashmere embroidery, 228
• Cashmere-stitch, 18
• Chain-stitch, 38 et seq., 61, 83, 129, 145, 156, 158, 178, 182, 202, 226, 245
• Chenille, 245
• Chinese embroidery, 78, 96, 129, 136, 140, 152
• Church work, 41, 136, 148, 166, 216 et seq.
• Classification of stitches, 9, 175 et seq.
• Cloth, 125, 126, 159, 243
• Colour, 110, 208
• Colour gradation, 98, 114, 118
• Colour and outline, 146, 185
• Combination of stitches, 182
• Coptic embroidery, 12, 226
• Coptic tapestry, 2
• Coral, 166, 248
• Cord, 122
• Cord (couched), 128, 144, 178, 182
• Cord (attachment of), 124
• Cotton, 243
• Couched cord, 128, 144, 178, 182
• Couched gold, 131 et seq., 182
• Couched outline, 146
• Couching, 22, 114, 120, 121, 122 et seq., 244
• Couching (reverse), 130
• Counterchange, 154
• Cretan embroidery, 12
• Cretan-stitch, 61 (See also Ladder-stitch)
• Crewel, 244
• Crewel-stitch, 26 et seq., 83, 86, 103, 105, 178
• Crewel-stitch (surface), 86
• Crewel work, 26, 36, 37
• Cross-stitch, 12, 14, 16
• Crossed buttonhole-stitch, 56
• Cushion-stitch, 20, 21
• Cut-work, 156

• Damask, 243, 244
• Damping, 254, 255
• Darning, 8, 22, 83, 90, 106 et seq., 178, 179
• Darning (Japanese), 86
• Darning (surface), 84
• Design, 150, 219, 233 et seq.
• Design, traditional, 238, 240
• Design and stitch, 10, 238
• Designer and embroiderer, 232, 233
• Diapers, 87, 88, 108, 132, 134, 210
• Direction of stitch, 92, 95, 108, 114, 136, 190, 208 et seq.
• Double darning, 106
• Double thread, 253
• Dovetail-stitch, 103, 104 (See also Embroidery and Plumage Stitches)
• Drawing with the needle, 192, 194, 196, 199, 211
• Drawn work, 2, 4

• Eastern embroidery. (See Oriental)
• Effect and stitch, 36, 78
• Eighteenth century embroidery, 220, 246
• Embroidery and painting, 201, 202
• Embroidery-stitch, 103 (See also Plumage-stitch)
• English embroidery, 34, 36, 169

• Feather-stitch, 62 et seq., 83, 100, 178
• Felt, 243
• Fifteenth century embroidery, 24, 164
• Figure work, 116, 169, 190, 198 et seq.
• Filling-in patterns, 24
• Filo-floss, 164, 244
• Filoselle, 124, 144, 244
• Fishbone, 21, 47, 51
• Flax thread, 164, 244
• Flemish embroidery, 142, 200
• Flesh, 204, 206
• Florentine-stitch, 18, 21 (See also Cushion stitch)
• Floss, 95, 114, 116, 118, 120, 244
• Form and stitch, 44, 47, 100, 118, 176, 211, 253
• Framing work, 251
• French embroidery, 88, 245
• French floss, 244
• French knots, 77, 129, 150, 178, 244

• Geometric pattern, 225
• German embroidery, 110, 125, 126, 156, 185, 226
• German knot-stitch, 72
• Gobelin-stitch, 18
• Gold, 210, 222, 245
• Gold (couched), 131 et seq., 182
• Gold (raised), 134, 136, 165
• Gold thread, 131, 245
• Gold tinted by couching stitches, 142
• Gold wire, 169, 248

• Half-cross-stitch, 20
• Heraldic embroidery, 156
• Herringbone-stitch, 8, 22, 47 et seq., 83, 178, 182
• Hildesheim cope (the), 126
• Hungarian embroidery, 2
• Hungarian stitch, 18

• Indian embroidery, 41, 46, 61, 95, 98, 154, 169, 222, 248
• Indian herring-bone, 48
• Inlay, 153
• Interlacing stitches, 83
• Italian embroidery, 22, 24, 37, 46, 138
• Italian embroidery (Renaissance), 22, 41, 120, 142, 154, 199

• Japanese darning, 86, 87
• Japanese embroidery, 80
• Japanese gold, 245
• Jewels, 165, 248

• Knot stitches, 72 et seq., 182

• Lace, 1, 2
• Lace stitches, 84 et seq.
• Ladder-stitch, 59, 61, 182
• Laid-work, 112 et seq., 162, 178
• Leather, 248
• Leather on velvet, 150
• Length of stitch, 96, 100
• Limitations of embroidery, 240
• Line work, 176, 178
• Linen, 164, 243
• Linen (embroidery on), 24
• Long-and-short-stitch, 36, 98, 100, 178, 190, 192

• Magic-stitch, 41
• Material (influence of on stitch), 12, 13, 16, 18, 24, 88, 91
• Materials, 242 et seq.
• Mechanical embroidery, 225
• Mediæval work, 92, 136, 140, 190
• Milanese-stitch, 18
• Modelling, 222
• Modest work, 230, 231
• Moorish-stitch, 18, 21
• Morocco embroidery, 152

• Needle (tambour), 38, 245
• Needle pictures, 201
• Needles, 250
• Net passing, 86

• Old English Knot-stitch, 75
• Opus Anglicanum, 9
• Oriental embroidery, 2, 22, 61, 92, 112, 136, 140, 153, 226
• Oriental stitch, 66 et seq., 83, 178, 182
• Originality, 234
• Outline, 22, 77, 108, 146, 158, 178, 184, 185 et seq.
• Outline (couched), 126, 128, 146
• Outline (double), 146, 185, 186
• Outline (stepped), 16, 24
• Outline (voided), 96, 187
• Outline embroidery, 138
• Outline stitch, 29, 30, 32, 86

• Padding, 159, 172
• Painting, 201, 202
• Parchment, 160, 168, 246
• Parisian-stitch, 18
• Patchwork, 156
• Pearls, 165, 166, 248
• Peasant work, 12, 13, 226
• Persian embroidery, 7, 24, 41, 174, 228
• Pictorial effect, 198, 199, 201
• Pictures (tent-stitch), 14, 20
• Pierce, 132
• Pins, 146, 250
• Plait-stitch, 21
• Plate, 245
• Plumage-stitch, 62, 100, 103, 178, 179, 192, 212
• Preciousness, 198
• Purl, 245
• Purse silk, 116, 162

• Quilting, 172 et seq.

• Raised gold, 134, 136, 165 et seq.
• Raised work, 134, 136, 159 et seq.
• Relief, 159 et seq., 166, 168, 169, 172, 222
• Renaissance embroidery, 41, 92, 142, 154, 166
• Renewing ground, 126
• Reverse-couching, 130
• Ribbon, 150, 246
• Ribbon work, 246
• Roll-stitch, 75 (See also Bullion-stitch)
• Roman satin, 243
• Rope-stitch, 71 et seq., 178
• Running, 83, 106, 179

• Satin, 243
• Satin "de luxe", 243
• Satin on velvet, 150
• Satin-stitch, 24, 91 et seq., 103, 112, 128, 158, 160, 162, 175, 178, 182, 192, 206, 212, 245
• Satin-stitch (surface), 98, 182
• Satin-stitch in the making, 91
• Scissors, 250
• Serge, 243
• Seventeenth century embroidery, 14, 166
• Shaded silk, 246
• Shading, 34, 176, 188 et seq.
• Silk, 146, 243
• Silk (tussah), 244
• Silk (twisted), 95, 124, 125
• Silk on silk, 150
• Silks, 244
• Silver, 135, 138, 166
• Simplicity, 180, 236, 238
• Simplicity (a plea for), 225 et seq.
• Sixteenth century embroidery, 22, 120, 125, 142, 185, 199
• Solid chain-stitch, 43, 44
• Solid crewel-stitch, 32, 34
• Soudanese embroidery, 112
• Spangles, 169, 248
• Spanish embroidery, 129, 142, 154, 166, 185
• Spanish-stitch, 18, 22 (See also Plait-stitch)
• Split-stitch, 38, 100, 105, 114, 179, 190, 196, 222
• Spot-stitch, 30
• Stem-stitch, 32
• Stems, 95
• Stepped outline, 16, 24
• Stiletto, 174
• Stitch (definition of), 11
• Stitch adaptation, 103, 188, 253
• Stitch and effect, 36, 78
• Stitch and form, 44, 47, 100, 118, 176, 211, 253
• Stitch and stuff, 12, 13, 16, 18, 24, 88, 91
• Stitch groups, 9, 175 et seq.
• Stitch names, 8, 9
• Stitch patterns, 87, 88
• Stitch and design, 10, 238
• Stitches, 7
• Stitching over stitching, 215
• Stretching work, 251, 254
• String, 159, 160, 162
• Stroke-stitch, 16
• Stuffs, 242
• Surface crewel-stitch, 86
• Surface darning, 84
• Surface satin-stitch, 98, 182
• Surface stitches, 84
• Syon cope (the), 7, 130, 210

• Tailors' buttonhole, 56
• Tambour, 245
• Tambour frame, 44
• Tambour needle, 38, 245
• Tambour stitch, 38
• Tambour work, 44, 194
• Tapestry, 1, 2, 4, 143, 220
• Tapestry-stitch, 53
• Tendrils, 130
• Tent-stitch, 14, 18
• Thimble, 250
• Thread, 244
• Traditional design, 238, 240
• Transferring design, 251
• Turkish embroidery, 22
• Tussah silk, 244
• Twisted silk, 95, 124, 125

• Underlay, 159, 160, 165
• Unpicking, 253

• Vandyke chain, 42
• Variety of method, 148, 158
• Variety of stitch, 180 et seq.
• Velvet, 150, 222
• Venetian embroidery, 138
• Voiding, 96, 187

• Weaving, 2
• White on white, 162, 230
• Wool. (See Crewel)
• Woollen stuffs, 243