When there are hundreds of books written about Mary, queen of Scots it might seem superfluous to add yet another. Many would argue that the story of the Scottish queen has been sufficiently mined and that the attention she has claimed has deflected interest from other significant women in Scotland’s story. But, with a background in textiles and with Mary appearing as a central figure in my first book Threads of Life: A History of theWorld Through the Eye of a Needle, I felt that there was a unexplored aspect of Mary’s personal and political life that might prove illuminating: her material world. Not being a practised historian, I signed up for an MA in Historical Research at the University of Stirling, under the supervision of Dr Alastair Mann. If I was to turn conjecture into evidence I needed a historian’s forensic eye.
In most of the histories and biographies of female rulers in the 16th century, their male commentators have had scant interest in the female culture these women practiced and nurtured. Textiles as a form of female agency are rarely discussed and – if mentioned at all – are often used as evidence of feminine vanity and profligacy. Their embroidery is generally cited as an idle pastime, a panacea to the tedious hours spent in the shadow of male dominance at court.
Nothing could be further from the truth. The 16th century was an exciting and progressive time for female power, and textiles became part of women’s political armoury. They used the textiles they inherited, gifted, displayed, exchanged and created to assert their presence, bolster female alliances and, most importantly, script their own narratives for posterity.While much of what women wrote during this period has not survived and their correspondence – usually written with a careful consideration for nuanced diplomacy – cannot be accepted unreservedly as a true reflection of their thoughts and emotions, their embroidery
