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I N SPITE of their wide distribution and vast quantity, the number of quilts readily accessible to those who are interested in them is exceedingly small. This is particularly true of those quilts which possess artistic merit and historic interest, and a considerable amount of inquiry is sometimes necessary in order to bring forth even a single quilt of more than ordinary beauty. It is unfortunate for this most useful and pleasant art that its masterpieces are so shy and loath to display their charms, for it is mainly from the rivalry induced by constant display that all arts secure their best stimulus. However, some very remarkable achievements in quilting have been brought to light from time to time, to the great benefit of this best of household arts.
There is in existence to-day no complete collection of quilts readily available to the public at large. No museum in this country or abroad has a collection worthy of the name, the nearest approach to it being in the great South Kensington Museum in London. While many institutions possess one or more specimens, these have been preserved more often on account of some historic association than because of exceptional beauty or artistic merit. It is only in the rare instance of a family collection, resulting from the slow accumulation by more than one generation of quilt enthusiasts, that a quilt collection at all worth while can be found. In such a case the owner is generally so reticent concerning his treasures that the community as a whole is never given the opportunity to profit by them.
In families where accumulations have reached the dignity in numbers that will justify being called collections, the quilts belonging to different branches of the family have been passed along from one generation to another, until they have become the property of one person. Among collections of this sort are found many rare and beautiful quilts, as only the best and choicest of all that were made have been preserved. There are also occasional large collections of quilts that are the work of one industrious maker who has spent the greater portion of her life piecing and quilting. The Kentucky mountain woman who had “eighty-three, all different, and all her own makin’,” is a typical example of this class.
The vastness of their numbers and the great extent of their everyday use serve to check the collecting of quilts. As a whole, quilts are extremely heterogeneous and democratic; they are made so generally over the whole country that no distinct types have been developed, and they are possessed so universally that there is little social prestige to be gained by owning an uncommonly large number. Consequently even the most ardent quilt lovers are usually satisfied when they possess enough for their own domestic needs, with perhaps a few extra for display in the guest chambers.
Much of the social pleasure of the pioneer women was due to their widespread interest in quilts. Aside from the quilting bees, which were notable affairs, collecting quilt patterns was to many women a source of both interest and enjoyment. Even the most ambitious woman could not hope to make a quilt like every design which she admired, so, to appease the desire for the numerous ones she was unable to make, their patterns were collected. These collections of quilt patterns—often quite extensive, frequently included single blocks of both pieced and patched designs. There was always a neighbourly and friendly interest taken in such collections, as popular designs were exchanged and copied many times. Choice remnants of prints and calicoes were also shared with the neighbours. Occasionally from trunks or boxes, long hidden in dusty attics, some of these old blocks come to light, yellowed with age and frayed at the edges, to remind us of the simple pleasures of our grandmothers.
At the present time there is a marked revival of interest in quilts and their making. The evidences of this revival are the increasing demand for competent quilters, the desire for new quilt patterns, and the growing popularity of quilt exhibitions. Concerning exhibits of quilts, there is apparent—at least in the northern part of the United States—a noticeable increase in popular appreciation of those held at county and state fairs. This is a particularly fortunate circumstance for the development of the art, because the county fair, “our one steadfast institution in a world of change,” is so intimately connected with the lives and is so dear to the hearts of our people.
In addition to the pleasures and social diversions which that annual rural festival—the county fair—affords, it is an educational force that is not sufficiently appreciated by those who live beyond the reach of its spell. At best, country life contains long stretches of monotony, and any interest with which it can be relieved is a most welcome addition to the lives of the women in rural communities. At the fair women are touched to new thoughts on common themes. They come to meet each other and talk over the latest kinks in jelly making, the progress of their children, and similar details of their family affairs. They come to get standards of living and to gather ideas of home decoration and entertainment for the long evenings when intercourse, even with the neighbours, becomes infrequent.
There is not the least doubt concerning the beneficial influence of the local annual fair on the life of the adjacent neighbourhood. At such a fair the presence of a varied and well-arranged display of needlework, which has been produced by the womenfolk, is of the greatest assistance in making the community one in which it is worth while to live. Not only does it serve as a stimulus to those who look forward to the fair and put into their art the very best of their ability in order that they may surpass their competitor next door, but it also serves as an inspiration to those who are denied the faculty of creating original designs, yet nevertheless take keen pleasure in the production of beautiful needlework. It is to this latter class that an exhibition of quilts is of real value, because it provides them with new patterns that can be applied to the quilts which must be made. With fresh ideas for their inspiration, work which would otherwise be tedious becomes a real pleasure.
For the women of the farm the exhibit of domestic arts and products occupies the preëminent place at the county fair. In this exhibit the display of patchwork is sure to arouse the liveliest enthusiasm. A visitor at a fair in a western state very neatly describes this appreciation shown to quilts: “We used to hear a great deal about the sad and lonely fate of the western farmer’s wife, but there was little evidence of loneliness in the appearance of these women who surrounded the quilts and fancywork in the Domestic Arts Building.”
In connection with the display of needlework at rural fairs, it is interesting to note how ancient is this custom. In the “Social History of Ancient Ireland” is the following description of an Irish fair held during the fourth century—long before the advent of St. Patrick and Christianity: “The people of Leinster every three years during the first week of August held the ‘Fair of Carman.’ Great ceremony and formality attended this event, the King of Leinster and his court officiating. Music formed a prominent part of the amusement. One day was set apart for recitation of poems and romantic tales, another for horse and chariot racing. In another part of the Fair people indulged in uproarious fun, crowded around showmen, jugglers, clowns with painted faces or hideously grotesqued masks. Prizes publicly presented by King or dignitary were given to winners of various contests. Needlework was represented by ‘the slope of the embroidering women,’ where women actually did their work in the presence of spectators.”
A very important factor in the recent revival of interest in quilts has been the springing up of impromptu exhibits as “benefits” for worthy causes, the raising of funds for which is a matter of popular interest. Does a church need a new roof, a hospital some more furnishings, or a college a new building? And have all the usual methods of raising money become hackneyed and uninspiring to those interested in furthering the project? To those confronted with such a money-raising problem the quilt exhibition offers a most welcome solution. For not only does such an exhibition offer a new form of entertainment, but it also has sources of interesting material from which to draw that are far richer than commonly supposed.
Not so very long ago “The Country Contributor” undertook the task of giving a quilt show, and her description of it is distinctly worth while:
“My ideas were a bit vague. I had a mental picture of some beautiful quilts I knew of hung against a wall somewhere for people to come and look at and wonder over. So we announced the quilt show and then went on our way rejoicing. A good-natured school board allowed us to have the auditorium at the high school building for the display and the quilt agitation began.
“A day or two before the show, which was to be on a Saturday, it began to dawn upon me that I might be buried under an avalanche of quilts. The old ones were terribly large. They were made to cover a fat feather bed or two and to hang down to hide the trundle bed underneath, and, though the interlining of cotton was very thin and even, still the weight of a quilt made by one’s grandmother is considerable.
“We betook ourselves to the school building at an early hour on Saturday morning and the fun began. We were to receive entries until one o’clock, when the exhibition was to begin.
“In looking back now at this little event, I wonder we could have been so benighted as to imagine we could do it in a day! After about an hour, during which the quilts came in by the dozen, I sent in a general alarm to friends and kindred for help. We engaged a carpenter, strung up wires and ropes, and by some magic of desperation we got those quilts on display, 118 of them, by one o’clock.
“One lovely feature of this quilt show was the reverence with which men brought to us the quilts their mothers made. Plain farmers, busy workers, retired business men, came to us, their faces softened to tenderness, handed us, with mingled pride and devotion, their big bundle containing a contribution to the display, saying in softened accents, ‘My mother made it.’ And each and every quilt brought thus was worthy of a price on its real merit—not for its hallowed association alone.
“Time and space would fail if I should try to tell about the quilts that came in at our call for an exhibition. There were so many prize quilts (fully two thirds of the quilts entered deserved prizes) that it is difficult to say what finally decided the blue ribbon. However, the quilt which finally carried it away was fairly typical of those of the early part of the nineteenth century. A rose pattern was applied in coloured calicoes on each alternate block. The geometrical calculation, the miraculous neatness of this work, can scarcely be exaggerated. But this is not the wonder of the thing. The real wonder is the quilting. This consisted in copying the design, petal for petal, leaf for leaf, in needlework upon every alternate block of white muslin. How these workers accomplished the raised designs on plain white muslin is the mystery. How raised flowers, leaves, plumes, baskets, bunches of fruit, even animal and bird shapes, could be shown in bas-relief on these quilt blocks without hopelessly ‘puckering’ the material, none of us can imagine.”
No other inspiration that can equal our fairs has been offered to the quilters of our day. Public recognition of good work and the premiums which accompany this recognition augment the desire to excel in the art of quilt making. The keen competition engendered results in the most exact and painstaking work possible being put upon quilts that are entered for the “blue ribbon.” The materials, designs, and colours chosen for these quilts are given the most careful consideration, and the stitchery is as nearly perfect as it is possible to make it.
Some of the finest old quilts that have been preserved are repeatedly exhibited at county and state fairs, and have more than held their own with those made in recent years. One shown at an exhibition of quilts and coverlets, held in a city in southern Indiana in 1914, had been awarded the first premium at thirty-seven different fairs. This renowned and venerable quilt had been made more than seventy-five years before. Its design is the familiar one known as the “Rose of Sharon”; both the needlework on the design and the quilting are exquisite, the stitches being all but invisible.
A striking instance of the influence of fairs upon quilt making is shown in the number of beautiful quilts that have been made expressly for display in exhibitions at state fairs in the Middle West. One such collection, worthy of special notice, consists of seven quilts: three of elaborate designs in patchwork and four made up of infinitesimal pieces. Every stitch, both on the handsome tops and in the perfect quilting, was wrought with careful patience by an old-time quilt maker. The aggregate amount of stitching upon these seven quilts seems enough to constitute the work of a lifetime. The material in these quilts, except one which is of silk, is fine white muslin and the reliable coloured calicoes of fifty years ago.
This extraordinary and beautiful collection is now being carefully preserved by an appreciative daughter, who tells how it was possible for her mother to accomplish this great task of needlework. The maker was the wife of a busy and prosperous farmer of northern Indiana. As on all farms in that region during the pioneer days, the home was the centre of manufacture of those various articles necessary to the welfare and comfort of the family. This indulgent farmer, realizing that his wife’s quilt making was work of a higher plane than routine housekeeping, employed two stout daughters of a less fortunate neighbour to relieve her of the heavier household duties. Such work that required her direct supervision, as jelly making and fruit canning, was done in the evenings. This allowed the ambitious little woman ample time to pursue her art during the bright clear hours of daylight.
Belonging to the collections of individuals are many old quilts which possess more than ordinary interest, not so much on account of their beauty or unusual patterns, but because of their connection with some notable personage or historic event. The number of quilts which are never used, but which are most carefully treasured by their owners on account of some sentimental or historic association, is far greater than generally supposed. While most of the old quilts so jealously hidden in closet and linen chest have no extraordinary beauty, yet from time to time there comes into notice one which possesses—in addition to its interesting connection with the past—an exquisite and mellow beauty which only tasteful design enhanced by age can give.
Quite often beautiful quilts are found in old trunks and bureaus, which have gathered dust for untold years in attics and storerooms. Opportunities to ransack old garrets are greatly appreciated by collectors, as the uncertainty of what may be found gives zest to their search. It was of such old treasure trove that the hangings were found to make what Harriet Beecher Stowe in her novel, “The Minister’s Wooing,” calls “the garret boudoir.” This was a cozy little enclosure made by hanging up old quilts, blankets, and coverlets so as to close off one corner of the garret. Her description of an old quilt used in this connection is especially interesting. It “was a bed quilt pieced in tiny blocks, none of them bigger than a sixpence, containing, as Mrs. Katy said, pieces of the gowns of all her grandmothers, aunts, cousins, and female relatives for years back; and mated to it was one of the blankets which had served Mrs. Scudder’s uncle in his bivouac at Valley Forge.”
To view the real impromptu exhibitions of quilts—for which, by the way, no admission fee is charged—one should drive along any country road on a bright sunny day in early spring. It is at this time that the household bedding is given its annual airing, and consequently long lines hung with quilts are frequent and interesting sights. During this periodical airing there becomes apparent a seemingly close alliance between patchwork and nature, as upon the soft green background of new leaves the beauty of the quilts is thrown into greater prominence. All the colours of the rainbow can be seen in the many varieties of design, for there is not a line that does not bear a startling “Lone Star of Texas,” “Rising Sun,” or some equally attractive pattern. Gentle breezes stir the quilts so that their designs and colours gain in beauty as they slowly wave to and fro. When the apple, cherry, and peach trees put on their new spring dresses of delicate blossoms and stand in graceful groups in the background, then the picture becomes even more charming.
This periodical airing spreads from neighbour to neighbour, and as one sunny day follows another all the clothes lines become weighted with burdens of brightest hues. Of course, there is no rivalry between owners, or no unworthy desire to show off, yet, have you ever seen a line full of quilts hung wrong side out? It has been suggested that at an exhibition is the logical place to see quilts bloom. Yet, while it is a rare chance to see quilts of all kinds and in all states of preservation, yet it is much like massing our wild Sweet Williams, Spring Beauties, and Violets in a crowded greenhouse. They bravely do their best, but you can fairly see them gasping for the fresh, free air of their woodland homes. A quilt hung on a clothes line in the dooryard and idly flapping in the wind receives twice the appreciation given one which is sedately folded across a wire with many others in a crowded, jealous row.