Antique flax processing tools – Exquisite Machinery

Hackling is the final step in processing flax for spinning into linen.

*1673 Dutch Print of pigs processing flax to linen thread*

Processing requires many steps. At about ninety days from planting, flax plants are pulled and dried. The seeds are removed by rippling, the woody portions broken down through retting and crushed by breaking,

and separated from the fiber by scutching (to learn much more about these processes, see the previous posts “A Ripple and Breaks” and “Scutching Knives”).

Finally, to further refine, soften, and clean the fiber, it is combed through hackles, also known as heckles, hatchels, and hetchels.

*This 1797 Conder token from Dundee Scotland shows “Flax Heckling,”* *noting the amount of flax and hemp (3,336? tons) imported in 1796*

Hackling separates coarser, shorter fiber, called “tow,” from the longer line fibers, which are the most desirable for spinning.

Hackling also removes the small woody bits of boon or shive still clinging to the fiber, and splits ribbony pieces into finer filaments.

*Irish linen production–a hackling line*

Hackles come in as great a variety as the people who made them. All sport sharp–often very sharp–tines. But tines are of different sizes, shapes, lengths, and densities.

Ideally, several hackles are used, starting with large tines, spread far apart for the initial combing, and progressing to a medium density comb and then one with smaller, finer, more closely-spaced tines.

*William Hincks illustration of Irish linen industry, plate IV, 1783*

But, it is possible to get good results with one medium hackle, which likely often was all that was available.

I am fortunate because hackles are very easy to find in Maine. They turn up regularly at antique stores and barn sales. I have been able to pass on many hackles to others interested in processing their own flax and still have every gradation available for processing my own.

The three hackles above are a coarse grade and the ones I use for the first combing passes to remove the roughest tow and boon. The largest has huge angled tines and a handle.

It would make a formidable weapon.

Most hackles in this country were designed to be secured to a table or plank for use. But this one is unusual, being free-standing, which makes it easy to move around and to use while sitting. This one is my favorite for the first comb.

Typically, nails for tines were heated and driven through green wood, which would secure them tightly after drying. It’s always interesting to examine the backside of hackles. I know very little about nails, unfortunately, so am unable to translate nail types into any useful information about when or where specific hackles were made.

Some tines are square, others rounded. I have not been able to determine any real pattern for the difference. Hackles from New England seem to come in both varieties.

This lovely set of hackles is made of tiger maple,

is initialed,

and has a cover.

It is a coarse to medium size, with round tines.

This is a nice medium set, with a sheet of metal where the tines emerge, apparently used to help keep the wood from cracking.

On the underside is a faint incision of “Hackle 10.00,” indicating that “hackle” probably has been the term used in this area for some time. I found it at Maine antique mall and, when I went to check out, the man behind the counter asked if I had seen the other set with a cover. I hadn’t and what a treasure it turned out to be.

One side has the name “John Pain Darlington.”

On the other side, is the name “Thomas Paine Darlington.” Darlington is an old Maine name, but I have not yet pinned these two down. Given the “Thomas Paine,” I’m hoping this dates from the 1700s. (See Update below for more information.)

The back side is amazing. And when the cover was lifted, the longest, sharpest tines I have ever seen were revealed.

The cover inside is scarred from the tines, as are all the hackle covers that I have seen.

There was old flax on it when I bought it, complete with pieces of boon.

Most of the New England hackles I have seen have tines in a square or rectangular pattern. The one below one has a circle of tines, something more often seen in European and Scandinavian hackles.

It is on a thick plank of coarsely-grained wood, perhaps chestnut, with amazing scribe lines marking tine placement.

The blank holes probably were pre-drilled and then left empty, as shown by the darkened area on the underside, perhaps a result of heated nails.

The next two hackles are European, probably Scandinavian.

This style hackle was used while seated, held at an angle between the legs, anchored with a foot or board at the lower opening.

This style, with nails emerging through a separate wooden disc secured by a metal band, does not seem to hold the tines as securely as those where the nails are driven through the body of the hackle itself. As a result, the tines become skewed with use.

The tine disc is held to the body with nails bent over in the back.

This beauty is initialed and dated. I like to think that the decorative carved plants are flax.

I believe the next set of hackles is eastern European.

It is very long and narrow.

The raised area for the tine disc is hand carved.

Occasionally painted hackles turn up. These two came to me from Pennsylvania but I do not know if they were made there.

I have seen this particular paint design on several identical hackles for sale in Pennsylvania.

This one is dated 1899 and has the same tine design as the Scandinavian hackles.

It is in excellent condition.

It is decorated with little indentation carvings along with the painting.

There is penciled writing on the back that I cannot decipher.

I have three sets of fine hackles. They are much harder to find than the mediums.

This one has beautiful reddish wood for the cover.

It is dated 1767 on both sides and has decorative punchwork along the metal edges.

The wooden ends are covered with metal plates, giving a more durable and steady surface for securing the smaller hackle to a table.

The next set is quite small and fine, with the whole hackle body covered in metal. I have seen three sets like this one in New England, all identified as hackles.

They all had a number stamped in the end, likely a grade of tine size.

Recently, someone posted in a Facebook flax group an advertisement for modern wigmaking hackles. They looked a lot like this one. Diderot’s Encyclopedia of manufacturing in 18th century France, included this illustration of wigmaking tools. So perhaps these very small hackles were used for wigmaking rather than flax processing. Or maybe not.

The finer the hackle, the finer and cleaner the flax for spinning. This is the finest hackle I have ever seen.

It’s a gorgeous tool.

Research turned up H. Taylor & Sons in a 1901 Belfast/Ulster street directory. Henry Taylor manufactured hackles, gills and wood card clothing, leather belting, and pickers.

Extremely fine, closely set tines were bound in brass.

On the downside, hackles this fine remove a lot of perfectly usable line flax. On the upside, they produce a gorgeous product, without a hint of boon in sight.

After hackling, in some parts of the world, the final step is brushing. As far as I know, this was not a practice used in New England but a finishing touch given to fine flax in parts of Sweden, Finland, and Belgium.

Flax brushes were typically made of boar bristles, with a handle bound with linen thread, tar and resin.

Using it on nicely hackled flax is a bit like brushing a horse’s tail.

And results in a final product of fine, shiny line flax ready for spinning.

November 19, 2021 Update: In the middle of the night after posting this, I realized I had not recently read over the articles on hackles in The Spinning Wheel Sleuth. A bad oversight. This morning, I found a clue to the “Darlington” hackle in an article by Carlton Stickney, who has an absolutely amazing collection of hackles. One of the hackles featured in Carlton’s article was marked “Ridsdale Porter Darlington.” The lettering on the hackle side matches the lettering on my hackle marked with “John Pain Darlington” and “Thomas Pain(e) Darlington.” Carlton’s research found that Ridsdale and Porter were “forgers, makers and grinders of Heckle-pins in Darlington for several years.” (p. 9) Darlington is in Durham, England.

I immediately started researching John and Thomas Pain and found reference to “Catherine Pain” listed as a Hecklemaker in Durham, in the Universal British Directory of Trade, Commerce & Manufacture (post 1791, pre 1800). In the Durham Probate Records (1776-1799), I found reference to both “Catherine Pain & Co.” and “John Pain” as hecklemakers in Darlington. I have not yet found the exact probate dates or a relationship between John and Catherine. Nor have I found a relationship between the Pains and Ridsdale or Porter. Because the printing of the word “Darlington” on the hackles looks so similar, however, it would seem there was some relationship there.

No wonder I could not find Thomas and John Darlington in my Maine research. I was barking up the wrong tree. I will continue the research and post updates.

See: Stickney, Carlton, “Flax Tools,” The Spinning Wheel Sleuth #96 (April 2017).

For more information on flax processing and hackles:

Henzie, Suzie, “Three Hackles,” The Spinning Wheel Sleuth #54, (October 2006).

Burnham, Harold B. and Dorothy K., ‘Keep me warm one night,’ Early handweaving in eastern Canada, Univ. of Toronto Press, Toronto and Buffalo, 1972.

Dewilde, Bert, Flax in Flanders Throughout the Centuries, Lannoo, Tielt, Belgium, 1987.

Heinrich, Linda, Linen From Flax Seed to Woven Cloth, Schiffer Publishing, Atglen, PA, 1992.

Meek, Katie Reeder, Reflections From a Flaxen Past, Pennannular Press Int’l, Alpena, Mich., 2000.

Merrimack Valley Textile Museum, All Sorts of Good and Sufficient Cloth, Linen-Making in New England 1640-1860, Merrimack Valley Text. Mus., North Andover, Massachusetts, 1980.

Zinzendorf, Christian and Johannes, The Big Book of Flax, Schiffer Publishing, Atglen, PA, 2011.

For more information on flax brushes see Josefin Waltin’s blog “For the Love of Spinning.” https://waltin.se/josefinwaltinspinner/flax-brush/

It is not easy to turn flax into linen. There are multiple steps, with marvelous names that evoke the Middle Ages—rippling, retting, breaking, scutching, and hackling.

In a previous post, I wrote about the first steps for processing flax into linen.

In short, after flax is grown and the seeds starting to mature, it is pulled and dried.

At this point, the seeds usually are removed

—a process called rippling–and the stalks are retted, so that the fiber can be separated from the woody boon or shive—usually with a flax break. For detailed explanations and photographs of these initial steps, see my previous post “A Ripple and Breaks.”

After breaking, the next step in most flax growing regions is the scutching process. Scutching helps further remove the woody boon and shorter tow fibers, while softening and aligning the long fibers for the final step—hackling (or heckling or hatcheling).

*The* *breaks are on the left, scutching board in the middle, and hackles on the right*

The term “scutching” derives from the Middle French word “escochier,” meaning to beat or strike. Another term for the process, “swingling,” similarly came from the Middle Dutch term with the same meaning, “swinghel.” And that is how scutching works, by striking the flax fibers at an angle to scrape away the bits of boon still clinging to the flax fibers after breaking.

*The scutching board is not antique–it was made by my husband*

The simplest method is to use a wooden scutching knife while holding a bundle of flax against an upright board. As with most steps in flax processing, there are regional variations. In Sweden, for example, other tools were also used to remove the boon, a draga (puller), which looks much like a flax break with metal edges and a stångklyfta (cleft bar), which looks like a long pole with alligator jaws, again with metal on the edges. In some places, the scutching step is skipped altogether.

*Swedish stångklyfta–this image is from the Skansen/DigitaltMuseum*

But in most flax growing regions in the 18^th and 19^th centuries, some version of a scutching knife was used. By the 19^th century, scutching machines were developed. These had multiple blades on a turning wheel, powered by foot or, later, water.

*Scutching machine at Landis Valley Farm Museum in Pennsylvania*

Eventually scutching machines were mechanized and in Ireland, scutching mills were commonly used by the mid 19^th century. They were efficient and dangerous, with fast whirring blades always a threat to cut off fingers and hands, or even entangle long hair.

Before mechanization, the biggest danger in scutching may have been over-imbibing at a community scutching bee, as depicted in this wonderful 1885 painting by Linton Park.

Sober scutchers on the right, working diligently,

While those who have had a few drams are getting rowdy, brandishing their scutching knives as weapons.

As for scutching knives themselves, they ranged from extremely basic to elaborately decorated. They come in various shapes and sizes and usually are not too heavy, so that they can be used for extended periods without putting too much stress on the wrist and arm.

In New England, it is hard to find scutching knives these days.

*A New England scutching knife–this one is actually too heavy for me to use*

Probably because they were plain and utilitarian and would have been burned or thrown out once flax was no longer produced.

*This New England knife survived some dog chewing–the handle extends from the upper edge*

Those that have survived in New England usually seem to have the handle on the upper part of the blade. Those from Pennsylvania, on the other hand, more often have handles in the center of the blade.

*Pennsylvania knives at* *the Schwenkfelder Museum–the handles extend from the midpoint*

Of course, scutching knives that were decorated were less likely to be thrown away and some truly beautiful ones have survived.

These two initialed knives came from a Pennsylvania auction.

They carry the same initials.

Unfortunately, I do not know whether they were originally from Pennsylvania or Europe or Scandinavia. Having a “D” as the last initial suggests Scandinavia for a “daughter” name, but the decorative compass stars are typical of Pennsylvania and Germany.

Another two that I bought as a pair are also a mystery.

Both have “D” as the last initial, so I am assuming they are Scandinavian, but, other than that, I have no evidence as to their origin.

They have lovely details.

I use both of them regularly—they are light but work well and fit my hand as if they were made for it.

*Comparison of heavy large New England knife on top and smaller, lighter (likely) Scandinavian knife on bottom*

At the other end of the spectrum from the simple knives of New England are the elaborately painted ones from Scandinavia, especially Sweden.

They were often bridal gifts,

usually from the husband-to-be, typically with initials and dates, and painted with flowers.

But my favorite has no initials or dates. It is much more personal than that.

It depicts a woman standing in front of a house with a birch tree at the edge of a lake, with amazing details such as the rocks and grasses at the lake edge.

She is exquisitely dressed in the traditional costume from Rättvik in the Dalarna region of Sweden.

Painted on the handle is “Rik nog som nöjd är,” which roughly translates to “you are rich enough if you are content” (Swedish speakers, please correct me if I am wrong). I am in awe of this knife and the history it carries with it.

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