Flax Hackles

On November 18, 2021November 19, 2021 By BrendaIn Antique flax processing tools, Flax processing tools6 Comments

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/

A Ripple and Breaks

Flax is amazing. It has been used by humans for fiber for about 30,000 years.

*From a children’s textbook, Orbis Sensualium Pictus (Visible World in Pictures), by Johann Amos Cornelius (1592-1670), 1705 edition at Huntington Library, Museum, and Botanical Gardens.*

Fiber flax today, Linum usitatissimum, is a slender plant, often three feet or more in height, topped with a blue flower that bobs and sways in the wind.

Its stem contains long fibrous strands that, when separated from the woody parts, can be twisted or spun into strong, long-lasting linen thread. But getting from plant to linen is a laborious, exhausting process, made somewhat easier by tools developed over centuries. Fortunately, in New England, where I live, many of these tools can still be found in barns, antique stores, and at auctions.

Many European settlers in New England came from flax growing regions and brought with them the skills and knowledge for flax production. New England’s climate was well-suited for growing flax and during the 17^th and 18^th centuries, it was widely grown and processed by households for bedding, clothing, ropes, string, and sails.

It must have been a beautiful sight to see acres on acres of flax in bloom. But the work involved for a family to process enough for its own use is almost unimaginable to me. After processing my own flax for several years, I will never look at linen in the same way again. I am in awe of the fabric and the people who produced it, one backbreaking season after another.

I became intrigued with the thought of growing and processing my own flax after seeing a demonstration at Maine’s Common Ground Fair the year we moved here. Soon after, I read A Midwife’s Tale, Laurel Thatcher Ulrich’s book based on the diary of a Maine woman, Martha Ballard. I found a complete copy of Ballard’s diary online and searched for all references to flax growing and processing to get a better idea of how it fit in to the rhythm of her year. http://dohistory.org/diary/1785/01/17850101_txt.html. When I planted my flax seeds the next year, I followed Martha’s schedule.

Flax is easy to grow in Maine and has thrived in my garden. I plant it in May and harvest it 90-100 days later, when the plant has turned a golden-yellow on the bottom third. The flowers only last a day and then rapidly turn into roundish seed pods, which change color from green to gold as they mature.

Flax also is valuable crop for seeds and seed oil, but seed flax is a different variety than fiber flax and does not grow as long and tall. Fiber flax is harvested by pulling it up, roots and all (the roots are small). It then is bundled and dried, usually by setting the bundles into shocks or by hanging them.

After it has dried, the seeds are removed—a process called rippling. This can be done by laying the flax down and crushing the seeds with a wooden mallet or flail or by using a rippling comb, also called a ripple.

Of all the flax processing tools, ripples are the hardest to find in New England. It was not until this summer that I found one, and I had already rippled the year’s flax.

So, I don’t have a photo of it in use. Instead, I took some stray flax plants that grew from seeds dropped in the garden while harvesting and used them in the photo to give an idea how it works. The ripple has metal teeth, nicely spaced to whomp off the seeds while allowing for a nice smooth motion pulling the plants through.

Two prongs at the bottom can be secured between or in boards and allow the ripple to be easily carried for use in different places.

There are initials “CW” in a corner on mine and some decorative lines and balls. I can’t wait to put it to use next year.

Rippling is just the start of processing. The next stage, retting, is a tricky one. Retting dissolves the pectins connecting the fiber bundles in the stem, allowing the fibers to be separated from the woody inner core and outer skin. It is essentially a bacterial rotting process, but must be handled carefully so that it doesn’t progress too far and break down the fiber itself. Traditionally, two types of retting were used—water retting and dew retting. I also use a third, less common method—snow retting. In water retting, the flax is submerged and weighted down.

It is the fastest, and smelliest, retting method, usually taking about 5 days for me in summer heat. For dew retting, the flax is laid on the grass and turned regularly. I usually dew ret in September and it can take anywhere from 10 days to three weeks, depending on the weather.

For the last two years, I have retted some of my flax on snow, laying it down when there is sufficient snow cover to keep it from touching the ground then leaving it there until snow melt—2 to 3 months.

Every type of retting produces a different color fiber—almost white for tub-retted, gray for dew-retted, and golden for snow-retted.

*Retted and ready for breaking. From front to back: snow-retted, dew-retted, water-retted.*

It is tricky to time the retting just right, but every year I get better at it. Once the flax is retted and dried again, it is ready for breaking–the process that removes the fibrous strands from the wood core and epidermis. The woody bits that break off are called boon or shive.

Mallets can be used for breaking but hinged wooden flax breaks (or brakes) are much more efficient.

They have a blade or blades on the upper arm that descend into grooves in the lower part, smashing the flax between them.

Most breaks are on legs, but some were designed to be used on a table. This break has three blades on top and four on the bottom. I bought it from a friend in Maine and another Maine friend has one that is almost identical.

Interestingly, there is one just like them from Lunenberg County, Nova Scotia, pictured in a book about early handweaving in eastern Canada, Keep Me Warm One Night (p. 28, photograph 6).

I have also seen a photo of one in Kentucky and some similar ones in Switzerland.

It is a good solid break, the crossbars on the legs make it easy to pick up and move around.

My second break appears to be much newer.

In fact, I suspect it may have been made in the 1960s or 70s. I bought it at an auction for $10.

The auctioneer had no idea what it was and called it a “farm implement of some sort, maybe it could be used to make pasta, ha, ha.”

It has two blades on the top and three on the bottom.

It is simple, sturdy and works well.

Each break has its own feel and way of working—both good, but different.

I also bought this beauty at an auction.

It had belonged to couple living on Rings Island near Newburyport, Massachusetts. Unlike most breaks, it is dated and initialed and has a seat. I have seen a few breaks with these seats and would love to know more about them. (see the update below) Breaking is rough and repetitive—hard on the back, the hands, the wrists, and the legs. It must have eased the burden to be able to sit on the bench. I like to think of it as an old woman’s break. Sadly, it is riddled with woodworm tunnels, so I only use it occasionally.

Finally, here is a little toy break.

I would love to know how old it is and for whom it was made.

After breaking, flax still needs to be scutched and hackled before it can be spun. Scutching knives and hackles come in a wide variety of shapes and sizes and I will do later posts on them. In the meantime, there are wonderful books on flax for anyone interested. I only skimmed the surface here.

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.

Update on October 1, 2021: Recently Christiane Seufferlein, who started the wonderful group, Berta’s Flax, on Facebook, posted this photograph of a woman using a seated flax break like the one I bought from Newburyport.

According to Christiane, this photograph was taken in the 1930s in the Bavarian region of Austria. She also sent me a photo of a similar seated break and scutching wheel from the Mühlviertel region of Austria. Similar scutching wheels were used in North America and there is a photograph of one from Pennsylvania in the post “Scutching Knives.”

And, finally, here is a drawing of flax processing in Austria with an intriguing multi-station flax break.

As Christiane explained, “There have been many customs when it came to flax processing. In Kärnten, one part of Austria it was common to celebrate the breaking of the retted flax. This task was done by the women if a farm and whenever a man came near he was ‘attacked’ with flax. The girls stuffed the little flax bundles in his collar and pockets and only stopped when he paid for his freedom. In the evening there used to be a dance in the barn.”

Thank you to Christiane for allowing me to use these photos and, especially, for her work in sharing the dowry flax of Berta, Rosa, Maria, and others to people around the world.