The pins of a later date than the above were made of boxwood, bone, ivory, and some few of silver. They were larger than those of the present day, which seem to have been unknown in England till about the middle of the fifteenth century. In 1543, however, the manufacture of brass pins had become sufficiently important to claim the attention of the legislature, an Act having been passed that year by which it was enacted, “That no person shall put to sale any pins, but only such as shall be double headed and have the head soldered fast to the shank, the pins well smoothed, and the shank well sharpened.”
Gloucestershire is noted for the number of its pin manufactories. They were first introduced in that county, in 1626, by John Tilsby; and it is said that at this time they employ 1,500 hands, and send up to the metropolis upwards of £20,000 of pins annually.
Our motto says, however, that his garment
“With thornes together pind and patched was;”
and a French writer says, that before the invention of steel needles people were obliged to make use of thorns, fish bones, &c., but that since “l’établissement des sociétés, ce petit outil est devenu d’un usage indispensable dans une infinité d’arts et d’occasions.”
He proceeds:—“De toutes les manières d’attacher l’un à l’autre deux corps flexibles, celle qui se pratique avec l’aiguille est une des plus universellement répandues: aussi distingue-t-on un grand nombre d’aiguilles différentes. On a les aiguilles à coudre, ou de tailleur; les aiguilles de chirurgie, d’artillerie, de bonnetier, ou faiseur de bas au métier, d’horloger, de cirier, de drapier, de gainier, de perruquier, de coiffeuse, de faiseur de coiffe à perruques, de piqueur d’étuis, tabatières, et autres semblables ouvrages; de sellier, d’ouvrier en soie, de brodeur, de tapissier, de chandelier, d’emballeur; à matelas, à empointer, à tricoter, à enfiler, à presser, à brocher, à relier, à natter, à boussole ou aimantée, &c. &c.”
Needles are said to have been first made in England by a native of India, in 1545, but the art was lost at his death; it was, however, recovered by Christopher Greening, in 1560, who was settled with his three children, Elizabeth, John, and Thomas, by Mr. Damar, ancestor of the present Lord Milton, at Long Crendon, in Bucks, where the manufactory has been carried on from that time to the present period.[115]
Thus our readers will remark, that until far on in the sixteenth century, there was not a needle to be had but of foreign manufacture; and bearing this circumstance in mind, they will be able to enter more fully into the feelings of those who set such inestimable value on a needle. And, indeed, if all we are told of them be true, needles could not be too highly esteemed. For instance, we were told of an old woman who had used one needle so long and so constantly for mending stockings, that at last the needle was able to do them of itself. At length, and while the needle was in the full perfection of its powers, the old woman died. A neighbour, whose numerous “olive branches” caused her to have a full share of matronly employment, hastened to possess herself of this domestic treasure, and gathered round her the weekly accumulation of sewing, not doubting but that with her new ally, the wonder-working needle, the unwieldy work-basket would be cleared, “in no time,” of its overflowing contents. But even the all-powerful needle was of no avail without thread, and she forthwith proceeded to invest it with a long one. But thread it she could not; it resisted her most strenuous endeavours. In vain she turned and re-turned the needle, the eye was plain enough to be seen; in vain she cut and screwed the thread, she burnt it in the candle, she nipped it with the scissars, she rolled it with her lips, she twizled it between her finger and thumb: the pointed end was fine as fine could be, but enter the eye of the needle it would not. At length, determined not to relinquish her project whilst any hope remained of its accomplishment, she borrowed a magnifying glass to examine the “little weapon” more accurately. And there, “large as life and twice as natural,” a pearly gem, a translucent drop, a crystal tear stood right in the gap, and filled to overflowing the eye of the needle. It was weeping for the death of its old mistress; it refused consolation; it was never threaded again.
We give this incident on the testimony of a gallant naval officer; an unquestionable authority, though we are fully aware that some of our readers may be ungenerously sceptical, and perhaps even rude enough to attempt some vile pun about the brave sailor’s “drawing a long yarn.”
If, however, Gammer Gurton’s needle resembled the one we have just referred to, and that, too, at a time when a needle, even not supernaturally endowed, was not to be had of English manufacture, and therefore could only be purchased probably at a high price, we cannot wonder at the aggrieved feelings of her domestic circle when the catastrophe occurred which is depicted as follows:—The parties interested were the Dame Gammer Gurton herself; Hodge, her farming man; Tib, her maid; Cocke, her boy; and Gib, her cat. The play from which our quotation is taken is not without some pretensions to wit, though of the coarsest kind: it is supposed to have been first performed at Christ’s College, Cambridge, in 1566; and Warton observes on it, that while Latimer’s sermons were in vogue at court, Gammer Gurton’s needle might well be tolerated at the university.