The superb collection at South Kensington might as well be buried in the crypt of Westminster Cathedral for all the value it is to the general public. There is not the slightest attempt to allow these unique pieces of "Opus Anglicum" to point a moral or adorn a tale. The magnificent copes and vestments, of which there are some score, are merely tabulated, paragraphed, and photographed, and there is an end of them. During my constant visits to these treasures of English Art I have not once discovered another interested visitor amongst these beautiful vestments; and the officials, when interviewed, though perfectly courteous, apparently resent inquiries; and woe betide the unfortunate inquirers who _might_ have found the required information from the tiny little printed card hidden either too low or too high in the dark recesses of the corridors, and so spared these _savants_ the trouble of an interview!
Why a continuous course of lectures on this and every kindred Art subject is not made compulsory at the Victoria and Albert Museum is one of the burning questions of the hour among the cultured collectors of the day. The custodians are supposed to be men of special insight in the branches over which they preside, yet for all the advantage to the public they might as well be waxwork dummies. What we want as a nation is "culture while we wait," and writ so large that those who run may read, and until this consummation is attained we shall ever remain in the Slough of Despond, and Art for Art's sake will continue dead.
Early Greek garments--Biblical references to embroidery--Ecclesiastical garments--Eighteenth-century dresses, coats, and waistcoats--Muslin embroideries.
The subject of Costume has been most admirably treated in another volume of this series, but a reference must be made to it as affecting our topic, English Embroidery, as costume has played no little part in its history.
From the earliest ages embroidery has been used to decorate garments. The ancient Greeks embroidered the hems of their graceful draperies in the well-known Greek fret and other designs so invariably seen on the old Greek vases. The legend that Minerva herself taught the Greeks the art of embroidery illustrates how deeply the art was understood; and the pretty story told by an old botanist of how the foxglove came by its name and its curious bell-like flowers is worth repeating. In the old Greek days, when gods and goddesses were regarded as having the attributes of humanity in addition to those of deities, Juno was one day amusing herself with making tapestry, and, after the manner of the people, put a thimble on her finger. Jupiter, "playing the rogue with her," took her thimble and threw it away, and down it dropped to the earth. The goddess was very wroth, and in order to pacify her Jupiter turned the thimble into a flower, which now is known as Digitalis, or finger-stole.