In this post I share some illustrations and extracts from a rare eighteenth century book about flax and hemp cultivation, processing and weaving.

The book’s full title is: A Treatise concerning the Manner of Fallowing of Ground, Raising of Grass-Seeds, and Training of Lint and Hemp, for the increase and improvement of Linnen-Manufactories in Scotland, by the Honourable Society for Improving in the Knowledge of Agriculture. It was published in Edinburgh in 1724 and is attributed to William Mackintosh. As far as I know it is the earliest publication in English about the technicalites of linen weaving. There is a leather-boud copy in Senate House Library, University of London. The title “Farming in Scotland” is embossed on the spine.

The book contains seven foldout plates with illustrations of French, Dutch and ‘Estille’ Looms, and flax dressing tools. I include photographs of the loom illustrations along with extracts dealing with their dimensions. I also inlcude extracts from Chap. VII: Concerning Weaving of Linnen-Cloth in Imitation of the Foreign Linnen.

Photographs courtesy of Senate House Library, University of London.

Illustration of the French Loom, from "A Treatise..." 1724

Illustration of the French Loom, from "A Treatise..." 1724

Illustration of the French Loom, from "A Treatise..." 1724

 

The French Loom

The Dimensions of a French Loom

A          A Streight Post six Foot high, five Inches square.
BB       Two Mortaisses for the cross Bars, eight Inches and an half from the top.
CC      Two Mortaisses for the cross Bars, seventeen Inches from the ground.
D         The Side four Foot five Inches long without the Tenour, and five Inches square.
E          The Nog, the Stay, the Breast -beam nine Inches high, six Inches and an half broad, and five Inches thick.
F          A streight Post six Foot high, and five Inches square.
G         A streight post betwixt the cross Bars three Foot three Inches high, and three Inches square.
H         A cross Bar four Foot five Inches long without the Tenour, three Inches thick, and four Inches from the Top.
I           Two crooked Pins to hold the Yarn-beam.
K          A Nog to raise the Yarn-beam, nine Inches high five Inches thick, and nine Inches broad, to make Use of when you will, shortening your Work.
LL       Four cross Bars five Foot four Inches long without the Tenour, and three Inches square.
M         A Yarn-beam six Foot and an half long, and eighteen Inches in Circumference.
N         A Breast-beam the same Length and fourteen Inches in Circumference
O         A Cloth-beam the same Length and eight Inches in Circumference.

Illustration of the 'Estille' Loom, from "A Treatise..." 1724

Illustration of the 'Estille' Loom, from "A Treatise..." 1724

 

The Loom Called Estille

The Dimensions of the Loom call’d Estille.

A          The streight Post five foot high in all, eight inches broad and seven thick from the Ground to the side Post; Then three Inches thick to the Cap, and but one Inch thick to the top for the Cap to go in.
B          A Hole for the Breast-beam to run in.
CCC      Mortaisses for the flat Bars.
D          The Cap two Foot long, three Inches square, and a long Mortaise to go to and fro.
E          The side Post five foot long, seven inches broad, and eight thick.
F          The Nog to stay the Yarn-beam twelve Inches high, three Inches broad and two thick.
G          One Nog to stay the Yarn-beam for dressing, five Inches high, the like Breadth and Thickness.
HH       A thick Piece or two to raise the Yarn-beam, the same Breadth as the Side.
I           A Plank to slip in or out.
K          One Foot eighteen Inches high without the Tenour, eight Inches broad and seven thick.
L          A Box within the Loom.
M         One flat Bar five Foot long without the Tenour, nine Inches broad and three thick.
NN       Two flat Bars five Foot long without the Tenours six Inches broad and three thick.
0          One Yarn-beam six Foot two Inches long, and sixteen Inches in Circumference.
P          One Breast-beam the same Length twelve Inches in Circumference.
Q         One Bor-staff for the said Loom.

Illustration of the Dutch Loom, from "A Treatise..." 1724

Illustration of the Dutch Loom, from "A Treatise..." 1724

 

The Dutch Loom

The Dimensions of a Dutch loom.

A          A streight Post five Foot high without the Tenour, eight Inches and an half broad, and three Inches and an half thick.
B          The Cap eight Inches and an half broad, two Foot nine Inches long, and three Inches and an half thick.
C          The Side three Foot and an half long, two Foot four or five Inches high at the End without the Foot, and eighteen Inches high at the Breast-beam without the Foot, three Inches and an half thick.
D          The Nog to hold the Breast-beam nine Inches high, four and an half broad.
E          The Hole in the Nog for the Breast-beam to turn in.
F          The Nog to stay the Yarn-beam six Inches high, and five sloaping upon the side.
G         A Board to draw out to lengthen the Dressing.
H         An Iron Hook for the Cloth-beam to run in.
II          Two Mortaisses for the flat Bars, seven Inches long and two Foot broad.
K          One Foot five Inches high without the Tenour eight Inches broad and three and an half thick.
L          An Iron Pin with a Screw for a Board of three or four Inches broad, and one Inch thick, to go from one Side to another.
MM     Two flat Bars five Foot long without the Tenours, fourteen Inches broad, and two Inches thick.
N         A Yarn-beam six Foot and a Quarter long, sixteen inches in Circumference.
O         A Breast-beam five Foot long without the Tenour, twelve Inches in Circumference.
P          A Cloth-beam five Foot long with the Wheel and two Gudgeons.

Extracts from Chap. VII: Concerning Weaving of Linnen-Cloth in Imitation of the Foreign Linnen

Whereas a good Artist can never make commendable Goods with improper Tools, he that will weave good Linnen Cloth must suit his Looms to the Nature of the Cloth which he designs to make: As for Instance, he that would make a strong substantial Holland, can never do it with one of our Estilles or Flanders Looms: Or on the other Hand, he that would make a Cambrick, Baptist or Lawn, or French Holland, shall never make them on Dutch Looms: Therefore in Holland they have one Sort of Looms; In France and Flanders, where they make your plain, or spotted or strip’d Cambricks they have another Sort of Looms, which they call Estilles: in Normandy and Brittany in France they use also a third Sort of Looms: All these employ the Industry in different Sorts of Linnen Cloth, and have fined and refined thereon for many Hundreds of Years… The Structure of the Looms is so essential to your Work, that you will be convinced thereof by one single Instance.

2dly, suppose you were to weave the Linnen Cloth (commonly called Holland) in one of the Looms of this Kingdom; The Beams are set so far asunder, and the Loom itself so slight, (which can’t be otherwise, if you design therein ever to weave Woollen) that you can never make your Cloth firm and substantial; For the nearness of the two Beams in the Dutch Looms, makes the Warp lighter and firmer, and the force of the Leath is much greater on your Weft and strikes it closer with one Blow, than you could possibly do with many Strokes of your Leath in your ommon Loom. Wooden yarn or Worsted, can by no means bear such rough and hard Usage: therefore it is impossible to use one and the same Loom to both the Materials with good Success. But further, your Dutch Looms are made with a much greater Quantity of Timber than your common Looms of the Country are; which makes them firm, and unapt to shake or yield with the Force of your Work: whereas your Looms are made slight on Purpose, for the soft and tender Nature of your Woollen Materials.

3dly, The Dutch looms, as I have already observed, are proper for Holland Cloth, but no way proper for your fine Baptists, your French Hollands, your Cambricks, &c. each of which is made-up of finer Yarn than Holland Cloth is; therefore the Estilles are found by Experience to work such fine Yarn better.

4thly, there is yet a third Sort of Loom which is used in Normandy and Brittany in France, which differs in its Structure from that of Holland, because the Cloths they make in those Provinces are never fine: Such Differences as there is in their Looms I will acquaint my Reader withal, and make him best comprehend by the help of the Models engraved at the end of this Book, and the Notes thereon, to which I refer him.

5thly, your next care is to make choice of your Reeds, to the Ends that the Teeth be even, and not too thick; therefore good Reed-makers ought to be encourag’d. It is impossible to make a good Cloth in an unequal and uneven Reed; Neither can the best Workmen in the World make a good Cloth without good Geers which are but badly made in this Kingdom: the Geers generally used in Ireland, are made of over-coarse Thread for weaving of extreme fine Yarn. Coarse Geers are stiff and over-labours your Yarn that runs between the Threads your Geers are made of: it is much better to have Geers that are too fine than two coarse; For the Cloth will last longer by so much as you save and keep your Yarn from breaking and consequently recommend your goods to the Buyers; And you will save your selves much Labour and Time, which would be taken up in Knoting your Warp at every Turn.

6thly, the way of dressing the Yarn in the Loom while it is weaving, is extreamly bad in Ireland; For they make a Stuff of Water and Meal, without Judgement, wherewith they stiffen their Warp; now in France and Flanders &c. they are extreamly curious in the making that Stuff wherewith they dress their Warp; I have therefore given them here the Way of making of it. They must take as much Wheat-flower, and mingle it with cold Water, as will make the Water as thick as Past; this they must boil in the Fire for two Hours at the least, taking Care all that Time to keep it stirring, that it does not burn: If it becomes too thick or too thin, they may help it by adding thereto more water or more flower as occasion is; but then they must (after such addition) boil it at least half an Hour: when it has boiled sufficiently, pour it into a clean Earthen Vessel; where you ought to let it stand till cold: When it is cold, you may make a Hole therein sufficient for you to put some part of your old four dressing Stuff, thereby to leaven the rest, which will set it a Working: When it has fermented for five or six Days, or more, then incorporate the whole together, and use it as you have Occasion. Note, that the older and staler your dressing Stuff is, it is so much the better; wherefore you would always to have a quantity before-hand of it.

8thly, your Weft ought to be always somewhat finer than your Warp. Let the Weaver hold his foot firmly and strongly on his Treadles whilst he weaves, and likewise be careful each Time he throws the Shuttle, that he draws the Thread straight and light to the Cloth he weaves before he strikes with the Leath, or removes his Feet: this will spare him a great deal of Yarn in his Weft, and make his Cloth firm and lasting. There’s but one Thing more that is requisite to be spoken of in reference to the weaving Part of fine Linnen, that at present occurs to my Memory; which is that each Weaver in this Kingdom, who designs to follow that way of Trade, ought to have a Cellar (or some such Place) under Ground to work in; for it is impossible for any man (were he the best Artist in the world) to weave fine Linnen Yarn, unless it be in a close Place; but that the Weather shall affect such Yarn, and cause it to break and snap every Moment.

By Percy Beales

An unpublished account of the linen industry in North & South Lopham, Norfolk, written by Percy Beales in the1930’s, and here transcribed from the manuscript in the Rita & Percy Beales archive at the Crafts Study Centre, University of the Creative Arts, Farnham. Percy Beales was the husband of Rita Beales, weaver, and nephew of Stephen Beales, linen manufacturer in North Lopham until 1915.

A Craftsman’s Reminiscences ¹

“When I was a boy the two villages of North and South Lopham, between Thetford and Diss in South Norfolk, was still a thriving hive of village industry. For many generations hand woven linen had been its staple trade, and of such quality was the linen that it found its way into many aristocratic homes in the shires and the metropolis, even into Buckingham Palace itself, for one of the master weavers proudly flaunted the royal crown on his van. In those days Messrs. T. & J. Buckenham ² had their London headquarters in Berners St, now swallowed up in the encroaching enlargements made to their premises by the well-known firm of Bourne and Hollingsworth. Even the exclusive Travellers’ Club had its tablecloths made by the same weavers. I have one of these tablecloths brand new in my possession and still unhemmed. The “hemming” was always done by the women of the village, usually the wives of the weavers, and they had a special way of hemming only done by them in this village, but the secret of it I have now forgotten. The wives also did the winding of the “pirns” (“quills”) for the shuttles, and their husbands kept them busy (often enough) by the speed with which they wove their webs. At the time of my boyhood the hand-thrown shuttle had been abandoned for the fly-shuttle. The yarn previously spun by hand in the village from flax and hemp grown there too, and in the neighbourhood, was being obtained from Scotland and Ireland. A field belonging to an uncle of … (illegible) is to this day still called “The Hemplands”. But one of the old weavers flatly refused to use this “new-fangled contraption” and remained true to his beloved hand-shuttles which he made for himself from pieces of applewood sawn from redundant branches in his own garden and the old orchards there-a-bout. Nor was his speed any the less than his fellow “moderns”, he could hold his own with any of them. And he always declared, which was perfectly true, that only the old hand-shuttle could make the perfect web because of the intimate control of the tension of the yarn that the finger was able to give as it threw and caught the shuttle from side to side. For in the open-bottomed shuttle, the only type of shuttle that the genuine hand weaver of today should use or care to use, the middle finger touches and presses gently on the quill as the hand grips the shuttle. There was no artificial light in the village in those days beyond the small paraffin lamp and this could not be moved about in the loom as the weaver wanted light shed upon his harness to readjust it, or to find his ends when a breakage in the warp occurred. So he always had a hanging candlestick with a hooked end, easily hung at any particular spot in the loom as required. These were made specially for him by the village blacksmith. The one I have has a straight square shank but many were made more decoratively with a twisted corkscrew pattern shank. An old country doctor told me that he had many times used the hooked end of a loom candlestick to help the delivery of a child at a difficult birth, and assured me it was the most useful device for the job quite as good as the shining and sterilise surgical instrument of today, and he never had a mishap with it. But that was in the days when antiseptic and sterilisation were unknown terms to the cottages and the mention of them would have frightened them out of all proportion to their alleged benefits. After a few inches of the web had been woven the weaver could reach for his “weaver’s bone” from the little box at the side of the breast beam. Gripping it in his right hand he would press the knob end deeply into the woven web and vigorously stretch it from side to side. This also smoothed down all fluffy threads caused by the friction of the reed of the batten (or beater) as the shed was closed with the heddles, and the beater was pushed and pulled with great vigour to and fro’ to consolidate the weft yarn into the web as it left the shuttle, which it did forming an arc of yarn in the open shed. The size and tension of this arc was an individual trait of each weaver, each had his own size of arc and his own right tension for the type of linen he was weaving. It was the habit formed of long years of skill and experienced judgement for the arc never varied a hairsbreadth. The apprentices in those days served a term of seven years on the narrow looms which turned out plain coarse roller towelling for workhouses, hospitals and other public institutions, before they were promoted to the larger and more complicated looms. If the apprentice turned out to be an unsuitable recruit to the craft he was said to be “half-a-fool” and was forthwith encouraged to “go on the land”! For most of the master weavers were also farmers or belonged to farming families and the two crafts were closely interlinked. The weaver’s bone which I have in my possession is a mutton-bone worn as smooth as ivory, and there is a deep dent in the handle worn by the weaver’s thumb where he gripped it hard many times a day for a lifetime or more, for his father probably used the same bone before him and so on at infinitum. Mutton was a meat much in demand in the village for the weavers always used mutton fat as a dressing to his warp after it had been brushed over with flour-paste in which a lump of alum had been dissolved. The threads were all brushed the same way with a special brush made for the Weaver by local brush maker, and now a brush factory at Diss. After brushing on the paste it was fanned with a roughly made fan and just before it became dry the mutton fat was brushed on. The dressing of the warp had to be done to a nicety especially with the finer counts of yarn used many threads to the inch for the finer linen cloths and damasks. The mutton fat was “clagged” in a lump on to a wooden bat but hung on a handy hook on one of the front uprights of the loom. Each Weaver had to supply his own mutton fat. The bat I have in my possession still has some ancient mutton fat on it at least 50 years old, and considering its age it doesn’t smell too bad! The dressing given to the warp created a peculiar particular odour in the weaving shop, not at all unpleasant but quite distinctive; and even after scouring and bleaching the finished linen still retained a (…) trace of this odour, and it was as distinctive though less aggressive than the well-known odour of genuine Harris tweed in brackets (though this is mainly now put on out of a bottle).

As the long village street was composed of cottages, mostly Norfolk-thatched when I was a boy, each with a lean-to weaving shop tacked on to the sidewall, the thudding of the loom-beaters and this unique odour mingled with that of the herbs and flowers in the cottage gardens and the cattle and hay of the intervening fields and farmsteads could be heard and smelt the whole length of the village as the pedestrians walked along the raised grassy bank and cinder path that skirted the cottage gardens and the highway. The weaving sheds, though long silent for many years, may still be seen, tacked-on as it were, to the cottages to this day; but they are now used as garden store sheds or for coal and wood and tools, or as a scullery to the cottage kitchen or sitting room. Most of the simpler types of weaving were done at home by the weavers at their own cottage loom-shed alongside the kitchen, within easy call of the wife when more quills were required. He worked on ‘piece-work’ and was paid for each web as it was delivered. The loom might belong to him or be loaned to him by the ‘master’, this was all according to arrangement. The yarn was, of course, supplied by the ‘master’. The weaver preparing to weave a new web would receive so many hanks of warp yarn and weft yarn requisite to the length and width of web required, usually a 30 yard 90 yard length when finished. He would make his warp at the warping mill situated in the main weaving shop, where the master’s largest and most complicated looms were situated. These were usually very wide looms, or Jacquards mostly of very early design, weaving damask tablecloths of ornate pattern. Weavers would help each other to do the warping. The weavers whose warp it was would control the threads coming from the bobbin-rack through the ”brist” ³ which was the moving frame of warp threads so threaded through its eyes and slits as to lay the threads evenly on the mill and so arranged that the “cross” could be taken at the close of each double revolution of the mill. The helper would turn the handle of the winch which revolved the mill to and fro by means of a broad leather band. The bobbin rack was a very important item in this setup. Linen threads, even the finest, are very strong and would soon wear a deep groove if running swiftly over a wood or even metal edge. A large number of bobbins had to be used for the finer warps. And so directly in front of each bobbin in the rack was the glass top of a beer-bottle broken off and filed smooth, and assembled tightly in position in a wooden frame made for the purpose. These glass bottle-top frames were a work of ingenious art and were a perfect solution of the friction problem of the linen yarn. This old hand-blown glass was just the right and almost everlasting medium required to stand all the heat and friction of the threads during the warping process. But they sometimes got broken by careless use and had to be replaced. It can well be realised then that a bottle of beer had a double significance for a weaver. It not only slaked his thirst, which was too often a mighty one and well-nigh unslakable to a perfectly finished extent; but it also supplied a spare bottle top for emergency use should one have to be replaced when halfway through a warp. And this latter use tended to excuse him from “having a drop taken”, for the weavers were hard drinkers often to their undoing. The less sober ones formed the habit of “going on the booze” between their webs, and not taking a new warp on until necessity forced them to the task. And they would as a rule remain completely sober so long as the weaving lasted. And so it came about that local pedestrian walking through the village street would…” ⁴

Notes:

1. PB’s pencil handwriting is sometimes difficult to decipher. The word I have interpreted as “Craftsman’s” is my best guess. Above the title PB has written the word “Countryman.” The significance of this is uncertain, but perhaps he intended the piece as an article for the Countryman magazine, founded in 1927.
2. T.W. & J. Buckenham. See my post Lopham Linen
3. The device referred to here as a “brist” is more commonly called a ‘heck’ or ‘heck block’.
4. The manuscript ends mid-sentence and presumbly continued on a further page now lost.

 

(December 2022)

This is a post about my trip in July to view the collection of Lopham linen in Norfolk Museums, with photographs and descriptions of rare examples of handwoven huckaback cloth made around 1900.

I am grateful to Ruth Battersby Tooke, senior curator of Costume and Textiles at Norfolk Museums Service, and Rachel Kidd, curator at Gressenhall Farm & Workhouse, for welcoming me and unearthing items from storage.

 

Linen was manufactured on handlooms in the Norfolk villages of North and South Lopham for centuries. The firm of T. W. & J Buckenham of North Lopham survived into the 20th century by focusing on high quality linen for prestigious clients including the Royal Household, having received the Royal Warrant as suppliers of Diaper and Huckaback Table Cloths to Her Majesty in 1837. Perhaps most famous for their damask tablecloths woven on Jacquard looms, they also made fine sheeting on very wide looms, and huckaback towels. Some of this ‘Lopham linen’ was acquired by Norfolk Museums when Buckenhams finally closed in 1925. ⁽¹⁾

I had first read about Lopham linen in Nesta Evans’ The East Anglian Linen Industry (Rural Industry and Local Economy 1500-1850), whilst trying to establish a context for the manuscripts written by the 18th century Yorkshire weavers Ralph Watson and Thomas Jackson. A history of linen manufacture in Yorkshire has yet to be written, but Evan’s book on East Anglia sheds much light on an industry that once flourished across Britain. Norfolk Museum’s collection of Lopham linen provides an opportunity to study examples of traditional cloth made using methods that had changed little for hundreds of years. The Jackson and Watson manuscripts both include drafts for patterned huckabacks, and I knew that the Norfolk collection included some similarly elaborate huckaback towels made for Osborne House, Queen Victoria’s residence on the Isle of Wight.

The Museum of Norfolk Life occupies the eighteenth century Workhouse buildings at Gressenhall, near Dereham. Among the collection is a photograph of the weaver Albert Tyler (above), sitting behind one of the North Lopham looms, taken around 1900. Gressenhall also has a small painting from the early 1800’s, depicting one of the carts used by linen manufacturer William Buckenham to transport and advertise his wares. The firm of T.W. & J. Buckenhams was formed around 1800 when William, of South Lopham, joined forces with his brother Thomas of North Lopham. Also in the collection at Gressenhall is a fine Jacquard-woven damask tablecloth, with a central chequerboard pattern and the famous Lopham ‘spider-web’ motif in the corners.

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Most of the Norfolk collection of Lopham linen is stored at Norfolk Museums Service in Norwich. My study visit was focused on the huckaback towels, which l describe below in order of their museum catalogue numbers. ⁽²⁾

1970.553.1 (above) is a piece of pale huckback towelling, apparently from 1906. All of the huckabacks are labelled as unbleached and vary considerably in colour, this being the lightest. The term ‘linen’ once referred to cloth made from either flax or hemp, the latter being easier to grow and much used for domestic production, particularly for coarser cloth, until the middle of the 19th century. I assume the yarn for these Lopham linens is all flax, although I can’t be certain. Unbleached flaxen yarn varies somewhat in colour, and it was once common practice to bleach cloth, rather than yarn, through a lengthy process of exposure to sunlight and water. Partly bleached or not, this cloth appears to have been washed and ironed.

The weave structure is a standard 5-end huckaback, with one repeat every 10 ends and picks (see my weavers draft amongst the images above). One side of the cloth has weft-wise floats, each passing over 5 warp-ends, while the other side has warp-wise floats, each passing over 5 weft threads (picks). My analysis based on the close-up photographs taken by Ruth Battersby-Took estimates that the sett is about 45 ends per inch and about 33 picks per inch.

A note on the box in which 1970.553.1 was stored states the following: “Huckaback; Lopham Linen; fairly coarse, unbleached; rococo st design with label; Wood reff bleach – 1906; one of three patterns cut from long lengths now owned by Ipswich Museum”. However, a note on the museum database states: “Bleached Huckaback, Lopham linen. Early 20^th C.”

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1970.553.1 is another standard huckback, about 70cm wide, also very pale, and rather finer than 1970.553.1. I estimate the sett to be about 85 ends per inch and 65 picks per inch. The notes on the storage box and the database read: “Lopham linen; bleached fine birds eye; hand towel type; one of three patterns cut from long lengths now owned by Ipswich Museum”; and “Unbleached huckaback, diapered with label ‘Woodroff Bleach, 1906″.

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1970.553.3 is a patterned huckaback. Whereas standard huckback is based on a 5-end unit, these patterned huckabacks are made up of 4-end units with pairs of floats in a tabby ground. These weaves are sometimes called spot weaves or Bronson spots. Here the pairs of floats are arranged in a staggered cross formation. This can be woven on 5 shafts. The cloth is about 70cm wide and the sett is about 48 ends and picks per inch. It has a creamy gold colour, definitely unbleached.

The notes on the box and database read: “Lopham linen; cream coloured, fairly fine, with diaper pattern; one of three patterns cut from long lengths now owned by Ipswich Museum”; and “Cream coloured, diamond patterned diapered, Lopham linen.”

–

 

1979.193.1 is similar to 1970.553.3, but the pairs of floats form a diagonal trellis arrangement. The colour is also similar, but it is somewhat coarser, sett at about 33 ends and picks per inch. There are no detailed notes on the box.

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1979.193.3 is an unusual 9-end huckaback, each repeat being 18 ends and picks, with floats over 9 ends or picks. The sett is about 42 ends per inch.

–

 

2006.282 is perhaps the highlight of the collection. It has a pale golden colour and is about 94cm wide. It has been partly finished, keeping the woven selvedges, but hemmed at the end and embroidered in red with “Osborne Kitchens 3” on the back and “VRI 1899” and a crown motif, on the front. This elaborate huckaback uses the same structure as 1970.553.3 and 1979.193.1 but creates a larger pattern in the threading and treadling. It can also be woven on a loom with 5 shafts. The sett is about 36 ends and picks per inch.

The notes on the box reads: “Kitchen Towel made from Lopham linen for kitchens of Osborne House, Isle of Wight home of Victoria and Albert and family”.

Notes

1. For more information about the linen industry in the Lophams, see Michael Friend Serpell (1980): A History of the Lophams; and Eric Pursehouse (1966) Waveney Valley Studies.

2. The museum’s numbering system seems to have changed at some point; e.g. 553.970.1 is now 1970.553.1

(September 2022)

Concerning a nineteenth century loom and the recollections of a hemp worker in the French Alps.

 

Ecomusée du Clos Parchet

The star exhibit of the Ecomusée du Clos Parchet is the building itself, situated on a mountainside in the Haute Savoie, built in 1815 and now preserved as a typical example of a traditional Savoyard farmhouse. The form of these farmhouses evolved over centuries to be exquisitely fit for purpose. The stone-built bottom storey is divided into two, with a byre for cattle, sheep & pigs on the north side, and living quarters on the south. A tapering chimney, large enough at the bottom for smoking hams, runs up from the kitchen through the timber built barn which comprises the upper story and where winter feed was stored. The building now houses an astonishing array of old tools and household items, including a loom dated 1868.

 

Our museum guide Nora explained how most farmers in the region had two farms, one in the valley and another on the mountainside. Hemp was one of the crops grown in the valley, for processing into yarn for weaving. The museum has an interesting collection of hemp processing equipment and antique hempen textiles, including tablecloths, blankets and items of clothing.

 

The growing and weaving of hemp was once common across Europe. In Britain it had largely disappeared by the early 19th century, but before that the english word ‘linen’ was used to refer to cloth made from either flax or hemp, and the latter was easier to grow. I have not found any examples of old hempen cloth in Britain.

 

Le Chanvre

Pinned to the museum wall is a letter from a Madame Minier who, after visiting the museum in 2000, was moved to share her experience of harvesting and processing hemp. She had worked on a farm in Coulombier, Pays de la Loire, in North West France, in 1928-30.

Here is my translation of Madame Minier’s story:

LE CHANVRE
by Madame Minier

My father, a railway employee, was transferred to the Gare La Hutte Coulombiers in November 1928. We moved from Chartres to Coulombiers. I swapped a landscape of wheat fields for one of pasture, and the cultivation of a new crop – hemp. My father had heard about it from his brother who was a farrier in Balon.

For two years, from 1928 to 1930 (I was ten years old in 1928), I had the opportunity of doing hemp work. Fields of good quality soil were ploughed and then sown. The stems grew tall and easily reached over a meter in height. The farmers were looking for labour. The uprooting was done by hand, a stem at a time. Each person (more men than women) would make bundles of a specific number (which I forget) of stems and tie them all together with the last strand. Your earnings depended on the number of bundles pulled out during the day. It was very arduous work, often it was hot, the soil was very dry and it was necessary to extract the roots with the stem and shake them to get rid of the soil, and above all not to break the stems.

By the time the field had been completely uprooted, a stem at a time, and your wrists were aching as a result, the bundles of hemp were piled up in a truck fitted with its sides, and transported to the edge of the stream or the river, for retting.

The bundles were then placed side by side on the stony bottom of the clear stream, then crossed and crossed again and so on until about 20 to 30 centimeters from the surface. The piles were then loaded with very large stones to ensure their stability. The current had to be regular and of medium speed for the water to pass through these piles. The leaves and the soft parts of the stems rotted and in doing so gave off a very strong and very bad smell. The water became cloudy very quickly and the poisoned fish rose to the surface, opening their gills wide. They showed signs of drunkenness and quickly all the fauna of the river was poisoned.

When the putrefaction of the pectic cement which enveloped the hemp fibers was finished, the piles were undone and the bundles, all sheathed in rot, were grouped in bigger bundles or spread out on the bare ground. There was then an unbearable nauseating smell that spread throughout the countryside and sometimes reached the town. And it was in the middle of summer!!!

Once well dried the bundles were shaken vigorously, still by hand, to loosen and remove as many fragments of decomposed material as possible. After this drying, essential for preserving the fibres, the bundles were stored in a barn.

In the heart of winter, around the months of January / February, when the agricultural work had stopped because of the weather, and once the maintenance work on equipment and buildings was completed, the agricultural employees found themselves without work. They would then be hired on the farms where the hemp had been harvested – often many of them relocating for the work.

It was now necessary to rid the fibers of all the impurities that remained. For this it was necessary to crush and cut the stems. First, the bundles had to be heated for 24 hours in the hemp oven. This was cylindrical, topped with a pepperbox roof and with two doors (one for each level).

It was first necessary to light the fire and maintain it with fagots and logs. Hot air rose through a vault pierced with numerous holes. The hemp was loaded through the top door. There are still a few farmyards with hemp ovens that are no longer maintained or are used as sheds on both levels.

The “cooked” hemp was then taken out of the oven. In the barn we had installed the rollers and the breaking machines (les teilleuses). The bundles were first passed over a kind of table and between two or four fluted rollers which crushed the hemp – that is to say what remained of the bark of the hemp stalks.

Then it was necessary to break or beat the stalks.

The bundles were untied. While the right hand lifted and then lowered the blade, the left hand shook the bundles side to side and then pulled them so that the entire length of the fibers was well treated. It was often necessary to make two or three passages and to shake well to detach the bark from the fibers. The pale straw-colored tow had to be cleared of all impurities.

These bundles were then grouped into “poupées” ou “poupines”. (Note: I cannot find equivalent English terms for poupées or poupines.)

The salary therefore depended on the number of “poupées” perfectly crushed and cut during the day. It was very difficult to synchronize this asymmetrical movement, you had to get the hang of it. The room (the barn) was unheated and draughty. The atmosphere was hard to breathe because it was dusty: the light hemp fragments fluttered in the air before coming to rest on the ground.

All this work: uprooting, retting, crushing and breaking, was done under the supervision of the master while the mistress prepared the meals. The workers were fed on the farm. The owner-operators were referred to as Master and Mistress (Maître et maîtresse). I worked at the breaking and scutching of hemp at the farm called La Fuye, owned by Mr. & Mrs. Evrard, in Coulombiers.

We left the village in 1932 (I went to a boarding school in 1930) and later learned how the cultivation of hemp declined: the fibre sold less well, labor became scarce, farm workers moved to the city and demanded a higher salary. Hemp was was replaced by other crops, including beet, a sugar factory having been set up in Mamers.

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