Can you imagine Jane Austen at her spinning wheel? We will soon have the possibility of seeing the Austen family’s spinning wheel at Chawton Cottage after its restoration. My sense is that it was highly unlikely that Jane Austen herself spent much time using it for spinning.
A lady spinning at her wheel, after Wm Bunbury, 1781. Image @Grosvenor Prints*
She wrote in a letter from Chawton dated Friday, May 31, 1811 to Cassandra, who was staying at Godmersham Park:
I have taken your hint, slight as it was, and have written to Mrs. Knight, and most sincerely do I hope it will not be in vain. I cannot endure the idea of her giving away her own wheel, and have told her no more than the truth, in saying that I could never use it with comfort. I had a great mind to add that, if she persisted in giving it, I would spin nothing with it but a rope to hang myself, but I was afraid of making it appear a less serious matter of feeling that it really is.
Jane’s wit and humor came to the fore, and she used it to good effect to show how little such a gift would mean to her. Mrs. Knight eventually died and biographer, David Nokes, writes:
There came news from Kent of the sad death of Mrs. Knight. The old lady left a donation of £20 to be distributed among the poor of Chawton parish, but Jane was relieved to find there was no mention of the spinning-wheel. - David Nokes, Jane Austen: A Life, p. 392
Cottage woman at work on her spinning wheel. Burnett
And so Jane was saved from the burden of spinning. Many of her female friends and relations enjoyed the pasttime. Her nephew, Edward Austen-Leigh, wrote in his memoir:
With regard to the mistresses, it is, I believe, generally understood, that at the time to which I refer, a hundred years ago, they took a personal part in the higher branches of cookery, as well as in the concoction of home-made wines, and distilling of herbs for domestic medicines, which are nearly allied to the same art. Ladies did not disdain to spin the thread of which the household linen was woven. Some ladies liked to wash with their own hands their choice china after breakfast or tea. In one of my earliest child’s books, a little girl, the daughter of a gentleman, is taught by her mother to make her own bed before leaving her chamber. It was not so much that they had not servants to do all these things for them, as that they took an interest in such occupations. – Edward Austen Leigh, A Memoir of Jane Austen, p 37
Spinning was popular with ladies all over Europe. Late 19th c. painting by German artist Mihaly Munkacsy
It is quite likely that the thread used for the lace on Mrs. Hurst’s gown in Pride and Prejudice (over which Mrs. Bennet exclaims) was spun by the lady who made it. In those days, ladies of the highest order spun yarn used for embroidery or lace making. They gathered in small groups to spin wool and wile away the time as they gossiped or engaged in pleasant conversation. Jane Austen notes on January 14, 1796 that “Anna is now here; she came up in her chaise to spend the day with her young cousins, but she does not much take to them or to anything about them, except Caroline’s spinning-wheel.”
The unlikely accomplishment of spinning had been a social skill practiced at the highest levels of society, probably because the parlor spinning wheels which the socially prominent operated were beautifully wrought and highly decorative. (In Jane Austen’s letters, we find Austen commenting to her sister regarding a proposed gift of a spinning-wheel, which she refuses because of the sense of identification of the fine tools of women’s work with their owners [Selwyn 68].) Further, a woman’s ability to create a smooth sewing thread was considered a remarkable accomplishment; – Susan E. Jones, Thread-cases, Pin-cushions, and Card-racks: Women’s Work in the City in Jane Austen’s Persuasion
Fashionable ladies most likely did not bother to do the hard work of cleaning, sorting, dyeing, carding, and greasing yarn in preparing the wool for the spinning wheel. Instead, they performed the lighter tasks of spinning the wool yarn into a finer thread.
In a recent BBC Radio 4 interview, Val and David Bryant discussed the very special “Planta” wheel owned by the Austen family. Val is an expert on the history of spinning wheels and her husband is a spinning wheel restorer. The couple spoke about their remarkable acquisition, which is being restored in Chesire.
Austen family "Planta" spinning wheel in the shape of a table, with Sheraton style legs and a drawer. Image @BBC Radio 4
The spinning wheel once owned by the Austens is a beautiful and rare specimen made like a piece of furniture. It looks like a little table with Sheraton-style legs and had a little drawer. Its maker, John Planta (c. 1798-1824), was a craftsman from Fulneck, Yorkshire near Leeds. His specialty was to produce high quality spinning wheels in a unique Sheraton style.
This spinning wheel resembles the fine drawing room models that were designed for ladies who spun for pleasure: It is a world away from ordinary spinning wheels destined for the cottage industry. The Bryants speculated that this elegant spinning wheel was a “must-have” gadget for its day. They were becoming so fashionable and desirable, that some were embellished with inlays and finials. The Austen’s spinning wheel is remarkable in that it still has the original instructions on how to use it.
Victorian photograph of a cottage woman at her spinning wheel, 1850. Image @Daily Mail
The Austen family spinning-wheel is currently missing a treadle and footman that drives the crank, and it needs a new pulley. It also squeaks. Once it is restored, it will go on display in Chawton Cottage for all the visitors to see! I’ll keep you posted.
More on the topic:
- Val and David Bryant: Knutsford Guardian
- Listen to BBC Radio 4: A Woman’s Hour, and click on Chapter 5, Jane Austen’s Spinning Wheel
- *Image: Lady at her Spinning Wheel, Grosvenor Prints
- Victorian Rhapsody: Mail Online
- What Did Jane Austen Do With a Spinning Wheel? Knitting Daily
- Spinning Wheel Magazine
Click on image.
As an American spinner I was fascinated by the photo of the Austen table-style spinning wheel, the likes of which I have never seen before. The apparatus at the far left with the curved metal wires forming a sort of cage is a distaff, so this was a flax wheel, or else an ordinary wool/cotton wheel adaptable for flax. Usually (not always) ladies spun cotton or wool from rovings or rolags held in their laps, but flax was always dressed upon a distaff which helped the spinner handle the yard-long fibers. Your second and last photos also show flax wheels with distaffs.
It doesn’t surprise me about the Austen’s having a spinning wheel. Wools for knitting were spun and dyed at home in those days. My grandmother, living in Alton near Chawton, regularly spun her own wool. I still remember how itchy they were!
How much fun, to know that when I am spinning with my friends, I am carrying on a tradition enjoyed in Jane Austen’s time! That and my afternoon tea….
This is my first post, as an occasinal reader and fan of all things Austen. This was an interesting article, however, there are some inaccuraries- I thought it might be worth mentioning- for anyone interested specifically in lace and spinning etc. The reference to the lace on Mrs Hurst’s gown in P & P- I think it extremely unlikely that the lace was made of wool, as the finest laces were made then, from fine linen from Flanders that was worth more than its weight in gold, and if the wearer happened to be aristocratic, it might be made of linen, gold or silver, threaded with pearls, which was popular in Russia, for example. England didn’t produce the finer threads suitable for lace making. Mostly they would have come been imported from France. Imported laces and threads were more prized in England than what was produced there at the time. Lovely images of wheels- I wouldn’t mind trying that lovely flax wheel pictured! For interest sake, the shape of the pear shaped distaff allows you to tie fine flax usually tied with a silken ribbon so that you can feed threads of flax smoothly during spinning, to be spun into fine linen thread. I liked Jane Austen’s witticism about hanging herself wth the rope, if that wheel was thrust upon her!!!! For anyone with a remote interest in spinning- you don’t want just any wheel, either! I have an New Zealand made Ashford flax spinning wheel that looks like a prop from Sleeping Beauty. I had a go at growing flax, to spin, but spend more time with my embroidery project. As an idea for new posts, what if we Jane Austen fans shared some of our own accomplishments? Melinda from Australia
Thank you, Melinda. I meant to write “thread” or “yarn”in that sentence and have made the correction. You are right about the cost of expensive lace made in Flanders, but I believe that during the Napoleonic wars such lace was almost impossible to come by, even for aristocrats. Machine-made net became all the rage. I did find a reference about women spinning linen thread in those days, and they spun silk thread to make their own embroidery thread.Another reference to spinning threads for embroidery and lace making came from the BBC radio interview with the Bryants.
so, was the flax grown in their own fields? how many acres of flax would you have to plant to make thread for fabric or lace? i am assuming the thread is finer for lace than fabric, or would the opposite be true? and what would be the steps for turning flax into thread?
i wasn’t as interested until i read the comments. they change the picture into something different. i am impressed that they are making linen thread. i have met women who spin at the state fair, but they use wool.
I am a lacemaker and weaver, and I have heard that it takes an acre of flax to make one man’s shirt. That’s a lot of work! It’s no wonder that items of clothing were made to last as long as possible. Lace would have been willed to the next generation – even if it were used to retrim another garment.
Informative post. I always get transported to another world on this site. :)
Your blog is such an abundance of information! I haven’t read it in a while and I’m just kicking myself for it. I just laughed when I read that first letter excerpt. For some reason I’m (morbidly) delighted that Jane Austen of all people would make a joke about hanging herself.
But sigh, I wish I’d read this post before my novel was finished—I could have put a detail or two about spinning into it! There’s always sequels, I suppose.