“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.”