Nineteenth Century Heroines: Never Just Crewel

Lady Emily Southwell, the heroine in my Lady Emily Capers, dreams of being an artist. That was a nearly impossible goal for a young lady in nineteenth century England. Even the few female painters of the day were barely recognized by their peers, much less the public. That’s one of the reasons I was so delighted to discover a lady who not only spent her life as an artist but commanded the attention of royalty in several countries!

You would not have thought Mary Linwood would become an artist. Her father died when she was young, and her mother ended up starting a private girl’s school, where Mary would teach until a year before she died at the ripe old age of ninety. But Mary’s passion wasn’t teaching. Like many young ladies of that age, she embroidered. But what she embroidered surpassed nearly anything of its time.

You see, from the tender age of 13, Mary created “paintings” with her embroidery. By varying her stitches, she made each one look like a brush stroke. She used crewel wool on painted silk and copied old masters so well that one of her copies sold for more than the original!

She was toasted by the aristocracy, courted by royalty. Queen Charlotte invited her to Windsor to display her work. In 1803, Napoleon invited her to France, where he awarded her the Freedom of Paris for artistry. She displayed her paintings in Russia, met Catherine the Great and the Tsar. She amassed a collection of more than 100 pictures, many of which she displayed for years in a long gallery at Savile House on Leicester Square from 1809 to 1845. Charles Dickens even toured the place. She completed her final piece at age seventy-eight.

Quite a stitch in time.

If you’d like to see some of her paintings in detail, try the Story of Leicester website. 

A Stitch in Time

How talented are you?  That’s a question young ladies of good family had to consider when they were about to make their debuts in nineteenth century England.  The ability to make good conversation, play an instrument, acquit herself well on horseback, and perhaps manage a household were supposedly prized traits for gentlemen looking to acquire a wife.  But there was another more important practical skill, for ladies of any social strata:  the ability to sew a fine hand.

Though wealthier ladies were more likely to have someone else like a maid or seamstress mend their clothes (or throw damaged items away entirely in the most spendthrift households), a wife who could reattach a button, hem up a skirt, or take portions of outfits and repurpose them was generally to be commended.  Then too, many a young lady fell to embroidering seat covers, nightgowns, and other items she would need for her trousseau.  Even older ladies were known to embroider to pass the time.

The basic stiches, such as the chain stitch, blanket stitch, satin stitch, and cross stitch were the same then as we know today.  The thread might be fine silk or warm wool.  Designers sold patterns, but some ladies made up their own.  And some of the workmanship was exquisite, as in this apron made from silk.

 Nor were English ladies alone in their accomplishments.  Some of the most beautiful embroidery from the nineteenth century can be found in items from India.  Kent State University Museum has a muslin dress embroidered with iridescent beetle wings (not the shape of the wings--the actual wings!).   Their “details” collection on Pinterest has some lovely examples. 

According to the Victoria and Albert Museum, which has a wonderful online display about embroidery, the designer William Morris played a large role in making English embroidery even more popular in the mid-1800s.  That's one of his designs at the right.  His patronage led to the establishment of the Royal School of Art Needlework, which produced and sold embroidery and designs as well as trained students.

Me?  Well, I have embroidered a few pillow cases and table runners in my time, but I would certainly not rank stitching among my accomplishments.  What about you?