• 3343

    This morning I finished replacing the sleeves of David's Tudor jerkin with wings.  When I made this three years ago, I didn't think to put in some extra ease to accommodate the shirt sleeves, which are rather voluminous — so the jerkin was always snug in the arms, which was not only a little less than comfortable in itself, but a little warmer in Southern-California-Elizabethan climes than David quite liked.  He didn't complain, as it happens, but when I offered to remake the jerkin, he said, "Yes, please!"

    First, I carefully picked out all of the stitching and removed the sleeves.

    3344

    Since I needed just the one pattern piece and I am still not very good at drawing curves freehand, I scanned the pattern from the Tudor Tailor book, cropped it to the surrounding gridlines, then resized the image so that each square was more-or-less one inch, and printed it out.  Luckily, I had scraps of the same fabric exactly the right size!

    3347

    I folded and pressed the new wings, pinned them into place — made sure they were symmetrical — and sewed them to the armholes.

    3351

    I graded the seam allowances this time, which I hadn't before as it was only the one turning of the outer fabric and lining each, but now it's three layers of the outer.  Since I'd clipped the lining quite a lot around the armhole curves, I had to press all of the little resulting tabs, because they were more than a little wonky after three Faires and laundering, but I wanted to understitch the lining, and so it needed to be fairly smooth.

    That was the easy part — then I pinned the lining and outer fabric back together at the original fold lines, with a lot of pins, and sewed it all up by hand.

    3352

    The wings look a bit newer than the rest of the jerkin, but I'm sure this won't last long!

    Understitching was a must, since despite a thorough pre-washing, the unbleached muslin I used as a lining fabric shrank more after sewing, and some of the hems are pooching rather unattractively.

    3358

    I couldn't seem to find any information about historical methods of understitching, so I just worked a line in a zig-zag, so that what is visible are the zags, as it were — thought it might hold down all of the little clips in the lining seam allowance better than just a straight line, but also I rather like the little slants!

    There will be some more fiddling with this jerkin, as the Venetian hose (sort of ur-trousers) stay up not with a belt but with "points" or ties to the inside waist of the jerkin — I'm not sure yet if I'm going to just tack on this eyelet-infused lacing strip or take the waist apart altogether to sew it in, and take the opportunity to fix that saggy hem at the same time.

    What is the difference between a doublet and a jerkin?  Not much, to be honest, but the Tudor Tailor calls this a jerkin, in both of its forms, viz. with sleeves or without.  The Renaissance Tailor says that a jerkin is much less fitted than a doublet, which makes sense in light both of the Tudor Tailor's pattern's shape and in the jerkin's frequent appearance in period clothing as a garment worn over a doublet.

  • NG-2006-110-2

    From 1979-1981, an archaeological expedition at Smeerenburg, on Svalbard in the Arctic Ocean, uncovered the remains of a nearly-mythological Dutch whaling station in operation from 1619 to about 1657.  The expedition was apparently somewhat deflated to find that the station was no larger than about sixteen houses and eight blubber-boiling stations, not the bustling metropolis of 10,000 residents with shops, churches, and (of course) brothels they had been led to expect (Nansen apparently had much to do with the exaggerated claims of Smeerenburg's size) — but there was, poignantly, a cemetery with a hundred or so graves, and I suppose due to the conditions so far north, much of the clothing of the occupants was very well-preserved.  Here are ten knitted caps from Smeerenburg graves, which caps are all on view in the Rijksmuseum today.

    Above, NG-2006-110-2, ca.1650-1700, about 61 cm x 30 cm h.  Knitted cap, double, in striped wool with ear flaps and a folded edge.

    SK-A-2355

    "The Whale-Oil Refinery near the Village of Smeerenburg" (1639) by Cornelis de Man (accession no. SK-A-235).  De Man did not actually travel much farther north than Denmark, but created this painting of Smeerenburg (literally "blubber-town") in his studio at home from a Danish painting of a Svalbard whaling station and from other images.  (Here, a whale is being carved into smaller pieces and rendered in vats on the beach at left, and the men's barracks can be seen at right in the background.)  Perhaps tellingly in light of the fact that de Man was never at Spitsbergen, few if any of the men in his painting are wearing caps like the ones found in the graveyard —

    Spitsbergen detail

    — but there is certainly a wide variety here as well, from black burgher's hats to the rather-Mongolian one on the portly fellow in the foreground at right.

    I can't seem to find much readily-available on the archaeological finds at Smeerenburg, only a brief mention in the Wikipedia article on the archaeology of Svalbard as a whole, except for a distractingly-interesting article from ScienceNordic, and another from the Basement Geographer.  But knitted caps, that's what I was talking about.

    "Muts" is specifically a knitted or crocheted cap in Dutch.  Many of these Smeerenburg caps are knitted in two layers — obviously for warmth, although the Dutch whalers only rarely wintered there, and apparently not in great numbers even then.  It is pretty cold in Svalbard, with average high-summer temperatures of 3 to 7° C (37.4 to 44.6° F) — the Rijksmuseum writes in each of their captions that the men were bundled up so tightly against the cold that "[they] recognized one another only by the pattern of stripes on the caps".  It isn't clear, though, from the descriptions, if the caps are double-knitted or simply knitted and then doubled.  Most of the caps are fulled to some extent, which certainly would make them thicker and warmer.  The variety even among these ten is impressive, though there is definitely a "family resemblance" among some.

    By the way, a number of these ten caps are noted as having "earflaps" but not a single photo shows what I would call earflaps, so it isn't clear what is meant, and images from various travelers' blogs of the caps on display, on short hat-stands, show nothing more than what is in the photos here, so if anyone can elaborate, I would be grateful!  Presumably they are something like the ones on a cap at the V&A (acc. no.1570-1901) ca.1500-1550, which could be folded up inside the cap.

    NG-2006-110-10

    NG-2006-110-10 ca.1650-1800, about 58 cm x 23 cm h.  Knitted cap, dark blue with horizontal stripes, in chunky wool.  At the bottom edge, the stitches are reversed, so that the right-side of the stitches shows when the brim is folded (bij de rand is de procedure omgedraaid en zitten de tricot-steken aan de binnenkant).

    NG-2006-110-5

    NG-2006-110-5, ca.1650-1800, about 60 cm x 25 cm h.  Knitted cap with double ear-flaps (sic) and folded brim, in fine dark-brown wool, with a small "tail" at the top.

    NG-2006-110-12

    NG-2006-110-12, ca.1600-1800, about 48 cm x 24 cm h.  Knitted cap in green wool with horizontal stripes and blocks in dark and light brown, with ear flaps.  The turned-up edge is about 5 cm deep.

    NG-2006-110-3

    NG-2006-110-3, ca.1700-1800, about 60 cm x 28 cm h.  Knitted cap in fine wool, with ear flaps, striped in red, blue, green, black and light brown, with an inner cap also striped.  "Each part [i.e. the outer and inner caps] has been cut at the top and sewn together" (elk deel is aan de bovenkant ingeknipt en vastgenaaid).  The gauge is 45 rows per 10 cm, presumably after fulling.

    NG-2006-110-6

    NG-2006-110-6, ca.1650-1800, about 60 cm x 24 cm h.  Knitted cap, double, with ear-flaps, in a chunky ikat-striping wool.

    NG-2006-110-8

    NG-2006-110-8, ca.1740-1760, about 64 cm x 33 cm h x 29 cm d.  Knitted cap in fine wool with horizontal stripes in red, green, blue, yellow, and white, lined with a (much thicker) light brown knitted cap.  The inner cap is apparently much smaller than the finer outer one, so that the top of the outer one falls to one side "and the whole therefore looks a bit like a nightcap" (en het geheel lijkt daarom een beetje op een slaapmuts).  The gauge of the outer cap is 55 sts and 100 rows per ten cm, and it was cut and sewn from a piece of flat knitting.

    It isn't clear if the Rijksmuseum dates these from other evidence in the burials or from the caps themselves; this one is obviously a step above some of the rougher of these caps, but I don't know if that can be assigned to improved manufacturing techniques or fashion changes, or simply because this one was brought from home where, say, the ikat-striped one above was knitted perhaps by the whaler himself.  (Nor does the museum explain how a whaling station that was abandoned by 1657 could have a grave with goods dated a full century later, though other sources admit that some of the Rijksmuseum caps may have come from another Dutch station.)

    NG-2006-110-14

    NG-2006-110-14, ca.1642-1800 [sic], about 65 cm x 23 cm h.  Knitted cap in fine light-brown wool, double, with ear-flaps and a folded brim.  The brim is about 4 cm, 2 cm when folded, and has two blue stripes on the inside.

    NG-2006-110-1

    NG-2006-110-1, ca.1650-1700, about 52 cm x 22 cm h.  Knitted cap in light, fine wool with a folded hem and a small "button" at the top. 

    NG-2006-110-4

    NG-2006-110-4, ca.1700-1800, about 30 cm x 26 cm h.  Knitted cap with earflaps, knitted in fine multi-colored self-striping wool.  Much repaired.  The inner cap is knitted in light brown, and the two parts are sewn together.

    I find it really charming that each of these caps has a unique character, and yet poignant at the same time to think that the caps were buried with their wearers, who must have each had as unique a character as his cap.

  • Mount TBR

    Stack of books - ann arbor district library

    I noticed the other day that the stack of books by my bedside is almost all either books I haven’t even started to read yet, or got only part of the way into before something — something bookish, something parental, something woolly, I don’t know — distracted me.  So I decided, thinking it would be amusing, to walk through the house making a list of the books that I own that I haven’t actually read yet.  Of course I’ve heard the joking reference to “Mount To-Be-Read”, but this morning I’m rather ashamed to find that my personal mountain is less like the photograph above, and more like this one —

    Books in a stack - evan lawrence bench

    There are all sorts of excuses, of course — I’ve added a number of free titles from the Gutenberg Project and others of that ilk to my Kindle faster than I can read them, I pick up things that look interesting from the remainder shelf, I buy up series from going-out-of-business sales, I buy titles from authors I’ve read previously and like, I get Christmas and birthday presents, I just have lots of interests.  A good portion of the books on my list were for essays in college, when I was taking classes about women artists and Victorian literature and doing my senior project on feminist literary criticism — a number of the books I browsed and made use of, but did not actually read from start to finish.  Some on my list are related to family history — the Swedish history, obviously, but also the coal one and the German villages one.  One at least — the O’Brian — I keep wistfully putting off because I want there to be an Aubrey/Maturin story I haven’t read already.

    It’s somewhat comforting to find that I am not the only one with a massive stack of unread books — there is even an ongoing challenge (in its fourth year, so you can see how perpetual it is) at Bev’s blog “My Reader’s Block” with different mountainous attainments for however many books you want to finish —

    Pike’s Peak: Read 12 books from your TBR pile
    Mount Blanc: Read 24 books from your TBR pile
    Mt. Vancouver: Read 36 books from your TBR pile
    Mt. Ararat: Read 48 books from your TBR pile
    Mt. Kilimanjaro: Read 60 books from your TBR pile
    El Toro: Read 75 books from your TBR pile
    Mt. Everest: Read 100 books from your TBR pile
    Mount Olympus: Read 150+ books from your TBR pile

    I am somewhat consoled to find that my own list of a hundred and seventeen books is, though high, at least not at the very top, but as Bertie Wooster would say, I hardly know whether to laugh or weep.  Does it put things into perspective that 117 is probably less than a tenth of the books in the house?

    Ackroyd, Peter. London : the biography.
    Ackroyd, Peter. The Tudors.
    Bailey, Anthony. Standing in the sun : a life of J.M.W. Turner.
    Beauman, Nicola. A very great profession : the woman’s novel, 1914-1939.
    Benjamin, Melanie. Alice I have been.
    Benson, Clara. The mystery at Underwood House. (Kindle)
    Bloom, Harold. Shakespeare : the invention of the human.
    Brownstein, Rachel M. Why Jane Austen?
    Burney, Fanny. Evelina, or, The history of a young lady’s entrance into the world. (Kindle)
    Browne, Ray B., and Kreiser, Lawrence A. Jr. The detective as historian : history and art in historical crime fiction.
    Brook, Timothy. Vermeer’s hat : the seventeenth century and the dawn of the global world.
    Chesterton, G.K. The complete Father Brown. (Kindle)
    Christiansen, Rupert. The Victorian visitors : culture shock in nineteenth-century Britain.
    Crosby, Alfred W. The measure of reality : quantification and western society, 1250-1600.
    Cunnington, C. Willett and Phillis Cunnington. The history of underclothes.
    Delaney, Frank. Ireland : a novel.
    Dickens, Monica. The house at World’s End.
    Dickens, Monica. Summer at World’s End.
    Ekirch, A. Roger. At day’s close : night in times past.
    Englund, Peter. The beauty and the sorrow : an intimate history of the First World War.
    Finlay, Victoria. Color, a natural history of the palette.
    Fossier, Robert. The axe and the oath : ordinary life in the Middle Ages.
    Freese, Barbara. Coal, a human history.
    Gaskell, Mrs. Ruth. (Kindle)
    Gaskell, Mrs. Sylvia’s lovers.
    Gaskell, Mrs. Wives and daughters. (Kindle)
    Gladwell, Malcolm. David and Goliath.
    Greenblatt, Stephen. Shakespeare’s freedom.
    Greer, Germaine. The obstacle race : the fortunes of women painters and their works.
    Greer, Germaine. Shakespeare : a brief insight.
    Griffin, Susan. A chorus of stones : the private life of war.
    Grudin, Robert. The grace of great things : creativity and innovation.
    Hardy, Thomas. A pair of blue eyes. (Kindle)
    Henry, O. Selected stories of O. Henry.
    Heyer, Georgette. The black moth. (Kindle)
    Hutton, Olwen. The prospect before her : a history of women in Western Europe, 1500-1800.
    Ilich, Ivan, and Barry Sanders. A b c : the alphabetization of the popular mind.
    James, M.R. Ghost stories of an antiquary. (Kindle)
    Jekyll, Gertrude. Old English household life.
    Juster, Norman. A woman’s place : yesterday’s women in rural America.
    Kennedy, Annie E. and Bidwell, John. Dear General : the private letters.
    King, Margaret L. Women of the Renaissance.
    Kingsnorth, Paul. The wake.
    Kohn, Alfie. The brighter side of human nature.
    Kurlansky, Mark. Salt.
    Lendon, J.E. Song of wrath : the Peloponnesian War begins.
    Lerley, Merritt. The comforts of home : the American house and the evolution of modern convenience.
    Levi, Primo. Other people’s trades : essays.
    Lorénzen, Lilly. Of Swedish ways.
    MacArthur, T.E. The volcano lady : volume 1, a fearful storm gathering.
    Macdonald, Anne L. No idle hands : the social history of American knitting.
    MacGregor, Neil. Shakespeare’s restless world.
    Marshall, H.E. Our island story.
    Masterson, Martha Gay. One woman’s west : recollections of the Oregon Trail.
    McCall Smith, Alexander. The novel habits of happiness. (Kindle)
    McCall Smith, Alexander. The revolving door of life. (Kindle)
    Moberg, Vilhelm. A history of the Swedish people. (2 vols.)
    Mortimer, Ian. The time traveler’s guide to Elizabethan England.
    Mortimer, Ian. The time traveler’s guide to medieval England.
    Morton, Kate. The forgotten garden.
    Muir, Frank. An irreverent and thoroughly incomplete history of everything.
    Novik, Naomi. Uprooted.
    O’Brian, Patrick. 21.
    Pargeter, Elizabeth. The brothers of Gwynedd. (Kindle)
    Porter, Roy. English society in the 18th century.
    Potter, Lois. The life of William Shakespeare : a critical biography.
    Power, J. Tracy. Lee’s miserables : life in the Army of Northern Virginia from the Wilderness to Appomattox.
    Ransome, Arthur. Great Northern?
    Ransome, Arthur. Pigeon post.
    Ransome, Arthur. Secret water.
    Ransome, Arthur. Swallowdale.
    Ransome, Arthur. We didn’t mean to go to sea.
    Ransome, Arthur. Winter holiday.
    Richardson, Henry Handel. The getting of wisdom. (Kindle)
    Ruck, Berta. The boy with wings. (Kindle)
    Ruck, Berta. The disturbing charm. (Kindle)
    Rybczynski, Witold. Home : a short history of an idea.
    Sackville-West, V. Country notes in wartime. (Kindle)
    Schama, Simon. Dead certainties : unwarranted speculations.
    Schama, Simon. A history of Britain, vols, 2 and 3.
    Scheer, Teva J. Our daily bread : German village life, 1500-1850.
    Schlink, Bernhard. The weekend.
    Schultz, Gladys Denny. Lady from Savannah : the life of Juliette Low.
    Scott, Franklin Daniel. Sweden, the nation’s history.
    Sebald, W.G. Austerlitz.
    Shanley, Mary Lyndon. Feminism, marriage, and the law in Victorian England.
    Shapiro, James. 1599 : a year in the life of William Shakespeare.
    Smiley, Jane. Charles Dickens.
    Spufford, Francis. I may be some time : ice and the English imagination.
    Stabiner, Karen. My girl : adventures with a teen in training.
    Stevenson, D.E. Five windows.
    Stevenson, D.E. Found in the attic.
    Tanner, Tony. Prefaces to Shakespeare.
    Thackeray, William Makepeace. Vanity fair.
    Thirkell, Angela. Pomfret Towers.
    Thompson, Flora. The illustrated “Lark Rise to Candleford”.
    Tillyard, E.M.W. The Elizabethan world picture.
    Tinagli, Paola. Women in Renaissance art.
    Tomalin, Claire. Samuel Pepys.
    Trollope, Anthony. Barchester Towers. (Kindle)
    Trollope, Anthony. Dr Thorne.
    Trollope, Anthony. The last chronicle of Barsetshire.
    Trollope, Anthony. The warden. (Kindle)
    Turner, Thomas. The diary of Thomas Turner, 1754-1765.
    Ulrich, Laurel Thatcher. The age of homespun.
    Unsworth, Barry. The songs of the kings.
    Ustinov, Peter. Dear me : a memoir.
    Vickery, Amanda. Behind closed doors : at home in Georgian England.
    Vickery, Amanda. The gentleman’s daughter : women’s lives in Georgian England.
    Visser, Margaret. The rituals of dinner.
    Wainwright, Alfred. Westmoreland heritage.
    Warner, Marina. Monuments and maidens : the allegory of the female form.
    Welty, Eudora, and Ross Macdonald. Meanwhile there are letters.
    Wickersham, Joan. The news from Spain : stories.
    Wilder, Laura Ingalls. Little house in the Ozarks : rediscovered writings.
    Wiley, Bell I. The life of Johnny Reb, and The life of Billy Yank.
    Wilson, A.N. The Victorians.

    Well — I don’t think I will actually sign up for a challenge officially — I think I know myself too well for that — but now that I can see them all written down like this, I will make a concerted effort to read a good many of these before the year is out.  (I was going to say, “before I buy any more” but, well, I think I know myself too well for that!)  I also must say that I don’t really like the idea of churning through a list simply to be able to cross things off, and so I am in no hurry.  Besides, I am already in the middle of two new books, Ruth Goodman’s How to be a Tudor and Helen Simonson’s The summer before the war — but after that, I know there is a lot of good stuff on this list, so I’ve no reason to put it off any longer.  I have a bit of a hankering for something funny, so perhaps Frank Muir?  (Does anyone else sorely miss “My Word” on the radio?)  Though I must admit that both Pepys and Turner are very tempting, since I already know that their biographers are excellent writers, and I’ve been looking forward to reading these ever since they landed on my shelves….

    The two photos are “Stack of Books” from the Ann Arbor Public Library, and “Books in a Stack” by Evan Lawrence Bench, both reusable under Creative Commons with credit.

  • 4860

    The foot for these man’s stockings is a re-creation of a 16th-century stocking foot in the Museum of London (no.A13833). The original was knitted in silk at a gauge of 18 sts per inch (approx. 72 sts per 10 cm), a far finer gauge than is practical now.  My version is knitted in Regia 4-ply, at a gauge less than half of the original, so that much detail is necessarily lost.

    Stocking foot - mid 16th century - Museum of London A13833

    In the earlier medieval period people wore cloth hose or leg coverings. It was only during the reign of Henry VIII that knitted stockings started to appear in England. These were either in wool or silk but would have been relatively rare. This skilfully knitted silk stocking-foot is the only example of its kind in England. A highly fashionable garment, it was probably imported from Italy or Spain. It may have been sold in one of the luxury drapery shops in Cheapside.

    4646

    Cheapside, a street in the City of London, has been from its earliest days a center for markets (the name is from the Old English “cēap”, a trade or bargaining) and later in the Tudor and Stuart periods was lined with numerous shops selling luxury goods. 

    This particular stocking foot is clearly related to the “Barnim foot” with its inverted gusset opening from the center bottom of the heel outwards to the toe along the bottom of the foot, but it is clear even from the single photograph available that there are certain details rather unique to this stocking: the heel flap has a gentle decrease that narrows it towards the bottom of the foot, there is a double line of garter stitch not only along the edge of the heel flap but also along the top of the gusset and a single line along the edges of the sole gusset as well, and the line of garter stitches along the top gusset continues around the wedge toe.  I have therefore included all of these details in my version below.

    4870

    4859

    4861

    4865

    Please feel free to comment on the historical accuracy (or not), or with any suggestions for improving it, or clarifications!

    Note that on the first section of the instep gusset, where the decreases come more rapidly than they do later, in order to keep the instep and sole gussets traveling towards each other consistently, you will need to omit some of the decreases at certain points.  This is because the sole gusset is decreased at its outside edge every 5 rounds but the instep gusset is decreased (at the same spot!) every 2 rnds, so that if you just work the two gussets side-by-side, as it were, you would have some places where the instep gusset would decrease on 3 successive rounds, creating a crooked line.  This omission comes every fifth round, up to rnd 30.

    These instructions presume some familiarity with sock foot knitting, and, obviously, that you have just knitted the leg of a period stocking with a center-back “seam” stitch.

     

    Cheapside Foot (v.1.3)

     

    Heel flap

    Work all sl sts p-wise with yarn to WS. You do not need a marker for the center of the sole at this point, because the seam st will indicate it.

    Set-up: From beg of previous rnd (center sole/seam st), work ¼ the total number of stitches in the stocking. Turn, and working flat, work these sts and the same number of sts on the other side of seam st, for ½ of the total number of sts in the stocking less 1 (the seam st). You should have the same number of plain sts on either side of the seam st, i.e. an odd number of heel sts. Work heel flap over these sts, keeping seam st as set.

    • Row 1: Sl 1, K to end, keeping seam st as established.
    • Row 2: Sl 1, K2, P to last 3 sts (keeping seam st as established), K2, P1.
    At the same time, work mirrored decreases at each side of heel flap (just inside the garter edging) 4 times evenly down length of heel flap (e.g., on rows 9, 17, 25, and 33 of a 34-row heel flap).

    Rep these 2 rows until you have worked the same number of rows as there are sts at the top of the heel flap. (8 sts dec’d)

     

    Turn heel

    • Row 1: Sl 1, work to 2 sts before marker, K2tog, sl m, SSK, work to end — 2 sts dec’d.
    • Row 2: Sl 1, P to last 3 sts (keeping seam st as established if desired), K2, P1.

    Rep these 2 rows 4 times more, for a total of 10 rows except on the last row work the seam st together with its neighbor, for an even number of rem sts — 11 sts dec’d.

    Work half of the sts. Fold heel flap inside out, RS together, and work a 3-needle bind-off on these sts. 1 st rem. Do not cut yarn.

    Place marker, pick up and K 1 st for each sl st along edge of heel flap, plus 2 more at join to avoid a gap at that spot. Place marker. Work across instep sts, place marker, pick up and K 2 sts before heel flap (again, to avoid a gap later), then 1 st for each sl st along rem edge of heel flap, place marker, pick up and K 1 st, place marker for beg of round. There is 1 st on either side of beg marker at the sole.

     

    Shape instep and foot gussets

    Work in the round, beg at center sole. Right-leaning lifted increase (RLI) = With the right-hand needle, lift the stitch below the next st on the left-hand needle, and place it on the left-hand needle, being careful not to let it slip under the next st; K the new st. Left-leaning lifted increase (LLI) = With the left-hand needle, lift the stitch two stitches below the st on the right-hand needle, leaving it on the left-hand needle, and K this new st.

    Note that on the very first round worked only, there is only 1 st on either side of the round marker, so Kfb may be easier — on all successive increase rnds, work mirrored lifted increases. It is easier to work the RLI one st to the left, which is a knit st, rather than in the garter column.

    **Important: In order to keep the two gusset shapings consistent, you will need to omit the sole gusset decrease on every fifth round, from Rnd 5 to Rnd 30 — see note above.

    • Rnd 1: K to 1 st bef m (first sole marker), Kfb, sl m, K to 2 sts bef m (first instep marker), K2tog, sl m, K across instep sts to marker (second instep marker), sl m, SSK, K to marker (second sole marker), sl m, Kfb, K to end.
    • Rnds 2, 4, 6, and 8: K to m, sl m, P1, K to 2 sts before m, K2tog, sl m, P2, K across instep sts to 2 sts before m, P2, sl m, SSK, K to 1 sts bef m, P1, sl m, K to end — 2 sts dec’d.
    • Rnds 3, 7, and 9: K.
    • **Rnd 5: K to 1 st before marker, LLI, sl m, K to marker, sl m, K across instep sts to marker, sl m, K to marker, sl m, RLI, K to end — 2 sts inc’d.
    • **Rnd 10: K to 1 st before marker, LLI, sl m, P1, K to 2 sts before marker, K2tog, sl m, P2, K across instep sts to 2 sts bef marker, P2, sl m, SSK, K to 1 st before marker, P1, sl m, RLI, K to end.

    Work as established, keeping the two gussets increasing or decreasing as established with the exceptions noted above, and at the same time keeping as established the column of 1 garter st each side on outside of sole gusset and the column of 2 garter sts on instep side of each instep gusset.

    Work until you have the desired number of foot sts.

     

    Continue sole gusset

    Next rnd: SSK, K to m, sl m, M1, K to m, M1, sl m, K to 2 sts bef instep sts, K2tog, K to end.

    Work 3 rnds even.

    Rep these last 4 rnds until all sole sts are between the two markers.

    If necessary, work even until desired length of foot less 2 inches.

     

    Toe

    • Rnd 1: Work to 3 sts from end of needle 1, K2 tog, K1; on needle 2, K1, SSK, K to end; on needle 3, K to 3 sts from end, K2tog, K1: on needle 4, K1, SSK, to to end — 4 sts dec’d.
    • Rnd 2: Work plain.

    Rep these 2 rnds until sts have been reduced by half on each needle. Work Rnd 2 only, until there are 2 sts on each needle. Work a 3-needle bind off, graft, or cut yarn and draw the end through the remaining sts — though note that grafting is probably not correct for a period stocking.  (The ones in these photos have a drawn-up finish.)

    Common heel and wedge toe adapted from Nancy Bush’s Folk Socks (Interweave Press, 1994), and  foot adapted from Anne DesMoines’ “Barnim-Style Stockings” in Knitting Traditions magazine, Spring 2014 issue.

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  • 3301

    I took the time from David's Faire stocking this morning to sew up a banner for our Girl Scout International Day (a.k.a. Thinking Day) this weekend.  Our girls are putting it all on this year, from planning to clean-up, and as the hosts they are representing not a country but the World Association of Girl Guides and Girl Scouts, or WAGGGS for short.  I was astonished to find that there is apparently no such thing as a WAGGGS banner for sale, not even for ready money, so homemade felt banner it is.  After ten years (ten years!) of summer day camp, I've had a bit of experience with glued-felt banners and, while they're great for a week, they can get a bit ratty-looking after a while, and you can't really store them easily as the glued areas are difficult to fold, and so I offered to sew it, so that the banner can be re-used year after year.

    3296

    I got an outline image of the logo, and made a "poster" in Publisher, with "WAGGGS" underneath, and printed it out for the pattern, then the girls cut out all of the felt pieces and pinned them into place.  I used felt from a bolt for the blue background and the trefoil symbol, as I wanted them to be all one piece.  I sewed the inner trefoil pieces to the blue circle, then the large yellow outline to both the blue circle and the black banner, since it was so much easier to sew the fiddly pieces to a comparatively small piece than to the big banner.  It took most of the morning to sew, and that's without mistakes (!), but to be honest, this was much quicker than I expected it to be!

    (The wobbly bits are the girls' pinning, and the ripples are mine.  I certainly have more respect now for people who can appliqué circles!  Even with felt, the pieces tended to wander under the presser foot.)

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    As for knitting, I'm afraid that I could have been a lot further along with this stocking if I hadn't been so charmed by that miniature Shirvan carpet!  Since David is away again to Shanghai in a few days, I turned the needlepoint face-down and resolved to knit like billy-o this past weekend — as a result, I turned the heel yesterday afternoon, and am now about two inches into the foot gusset.  I decided on the so-called Barnim foot, as I like the pair I made for myself, and this type of stocking foot was known in Scandinavia in the early 1600s, so that if David wants a Faire persona, he can stick with the Swedish soldier.  I can get more knitting in while I wait for Julia at the orthodontist's this afternoon …

  • Rg4

    The other day I was delighted to see in our local bookstore a stack of Ruth Goodman's new book, How to Be a Tudor.  I enjoyed very much her How to Be a Victorian, a sensible and very readable description of the daily life of the average Victorian, and although I am fascinated by the Victorian period, I admit that — like Ruth herself — I can hardly get enough of the Tudors/Elizabethans.

    Like her Victorian book, Ruth has organized this new one according to the daily routine of the average person of the period, "from dawn to dusk" — that is, getting up from bed and saying one's prayers, getting dressed, having breakfast, and so on.  I have noticed, in my own explorations of the Tudor period, quite a lot of sources insisting that the people as a rule smelled bad, so I was interested to find that one of the first things Ruth does is refute this, not only with her historical research, but with the personal experience she has had in living, for months at a time, as the Tudors would have done, in her series, "Tales from the Green Valley" and "Tudor Monastery Farm".

    Rg3

    It is generally known now to be correct that the Tudors didn't bathe, but what is misunderstood is that just because they didn't actually get into a tub of hot water doesn't mean that they didn't keep themselves clean.  Since it was commonly thought in the period that disease entered the body not only by breathing noxious vapors but also through the pores of the skin, the importance of maintaining personal cleanliness was widely accepted, and one of the surest ways to do this was to keep the filth of the outside world and of one's own body from contact with the skin through clean clothing, most especially the layer closest to the skin.  Since the outer garments were usually of wool, and sometimes silk, and therefore difficult to launder, the clothing that was next to the skin was generally made of linen, and changed and washed as regularly as possible.  You would have a linen smock or shirt, under-breeches, hose, cuffs, coifs and caps (to wear under a hat), and so on, which meant that essentially everything in contact with your skin or hair could be fairly easily cleaned.  In addition, many authorities of the time also recommended that one's daily routine should include a vigorous rub-down with a linen cloth, since linen's absorbent properties were well-known, with the added benefit of the light roughness of the weave gathering up the sweat and dirt from the skin.

    Rg2

    Rg8

    What about the less well-off people?  Wills and probate inventories, even of non-nobles, seems to indicate that most people had two or three sets of undergarments — presumably one to wear, one in the laundry, and a "best" for Sundays — though of course nobles sometimes had several dozen shirts or smocks, and changed at least once a day.  Was two or three changes enough?  Allow me to quote Ruth at length —

    Did people in the Tudor era stink to high heaven? …

    I have twice followed the regime [of linen undergarments and a daily scrub of the skin with a linen cloth].  The first time was for a period of just over three months, while living in modern society.  No one noticed!  It helps, of course, if you wear natural-fibre clothes over the top of your linen underwear.  I used a fine linen smock, over which I could wear a modern skirt and top without looking odd, and I wore a pair of fine linen hose beneath a nice thick pair of woollen opaque tights (these, of course, did contain a little elastane).  I changed the smock and hose daily and rubbed myself down with a linen cloth in the evening before bed, and I took neither shower nor bath for the entire period.  I remained remarkably smell-free — even my feet.  My skin also stayed in good condition — better than usual, in fact.  This, then, was the level of hygiene that a wealthy person could achieve if they wished: one that could pass unnoticed in modern society.  While we know that some people did follow the full regime outlined above, we have no way of knowing how many.  Several advice books that include some form of early-morning hygiene regime don't mention the rubbing cloth at all, stopping short after telling young men to wash their hands and face and comb their hair.

    I have also followed the regime in a more Tudor context while filming a TV series, during which I wore all the correct period layers and head coverings.  I was working on a farm, so this entailed a much heavier coarse linen smock, woollen hose and far fewer changes of underwear.  Although I was working mostly outdoors, often engaged in heavy labour and also lurking around an open fire, I found that just changing my linen smock once a week proved acceptable both to me and to my colleagues — including those behind the camera, who had more conventional modern sensibilities.  The woollen hose I changed just three times over the six months; the linen parts of the head-dress I changed weekly along with the smock.  There was a slight smell, but it was mostly masked by the much stronger smell of woodsmoke.  Once again my skin remained in good condition.  This, of course, was much more representative of the majority of the population's experience in Tudor times, in the frequency of changes, the lifestyle and the types of material that the underwear was made from.

    A friend and colleague has also tried it the other way around, washing his body but not the underwear.  The difference between the two was stark and revealing.  He continued with a full modern hygiene routine, showering at least once a day and using a range of modern products, but wore the same linen shirt (and outer clothes) for several months without washing them at all.  The smell was overpowering, impossible to ignore.  He looked filthy, too.

    Many modern writers have presumed that without hot soapy water being regularly applied to bodies, Tudor England must have been a place inhabited by people who smelt like the long-term homeless.  Much play has been made about the difference between beautiful clothes on the surface and an imagined filth and stench on the inside.  I would refute that reading of the situation.  The sixteenth-century belief in the cleansing power of linen turns out in practice to have some truth in it.  The laundry makes a vast difference.  The smell of the past undoubtedly was not the same as the smell of the present, but we need to be aware that cleanliness and being neat and sweet-smelling were important issues for Tudor people.  Charitable institutions were eager to ensure that their inmates conformed to the social norm, and masters wanted their servants to be so attired.  There must of course have been the occasional "stinking beast" among those having a particularly hard time, but it appears to be the absence of laundry, rather than the absence of washing the body in water, that has the biggest impact upon personal hygiene.

    [From chapter 2, "To Wash or Not to Wash". Photos from "Tales from the Green Valley" and "Tudor Monastery Farm".]

    Rg7

  • Dobbins o n probate 1852 - andrew mo - 02 of 14

    Sometimes the things you find in your family story just tear at your heart.  My ggg-grandmother is one of those mysteries you sometimes have — the family today remembered nothing about her, but I later found her as "E.E. Mallory" born around 1824 in Virginia, though she lived most of her life, as far as I can tell, in Missouri.  Her name was in fact Elizabeth, I discovered on the marriage record to my ggg-grandfather Jesse Mallory in December 1855.  She was listed as "Miss Elizebeth E. Dobbins" but upon further research I found that this was the surname of her first husband, who was a Dr. O.N. Dobbins of Andrew Co., Missouri.  Elizabeth had married Dr. Dobbins around 1840, and had four children by the time of the 1850 census — Ada, Oscar G., Cornelia E., and Delasco Benjamin.  Now, with names like these, you'd think I could find them later on, but I have traced only Cornelia with any certainty — she married a man called George F. Martin and lived to the age of ninety in Kansas City.

    Dr. Dobbins' first name is not given anywhere that I can find — something embarrassing, perhaps, like Ozymandias, or just Oscar, like his son.  I can't find him in 1840, either, when a thirty-year-old man of some learning at least should be in the records somewhere.  He was said on the 1850 census to have been born in Ohio.  He died intestate in 1852, during a smallpox epidemic in Missouri, leaving his wife with four children under ten years old.  The image at the top is the second page in his probate file in Andrew Co., which file is almost exclusively a list of outstanding debts — presumably to him, the writing is very poor — and a sad little inventory of his belongings —

    • six Books & 1 Lot Pamphlets [10.50]
    • one Trunk, 2.00, 1 Table 2.50, 1 Clock 5.00
    • 7 Chairs 4.00, 1 Horse 75.00, Saddle & Bridle 10.00
    • 1 Medicine Chest Bottles & Medicine [15.00]
    • 1 Stove, 15.00, 1 Gold watch 75.00
    • 2 vol. Woods Practice [3.00]
    • 3 forceps [3.00]

    The "Woods Practice" I think is a set like this —

    Woods2

    A Treatise on the Practice of Medicine by George B. Wood (this image is from Civil War Medical Books, which has an article about Wood and his manual, the 1858 edition having been issued by the US Army Hospital Dept. to army medical personnel).

    There is no mention of Dr. Dobbins's clothing in the inventory — I don't know if this was standard practice in the US and it was just given to the widow, or if in this case everything had been burned because of the smallpox.

    Apparently the estate representative managed to collect a number of the outstanding accounts in the year following Dobbins's death, but a second list at the end of the file shows those "not collectible", with notes such as "dead" or "claims paid", or (quite a number of times) "gone to Calaforna".  ("William Hale, not known, 5.00 … Levi Macey, worthless, 17.25")  The total outstanding is over $400, which in 1852 was astronomical — at least $12,000 today, perhaps as much as $86,000.  I find myself wanting to think that Dr. Dobbins treated so many of these people on account because he was a generous soul ("Mrs. Tribble, 5.00 … Mrs. Woodcock, 31.25"), but it is also quite possible that he simply didn't keep very good accounts ("Thomas Clemons, proved paid, 24.00 … Thomas Roberts, shows receipt, 0.50"), which is almost as sad.

    There is nothing — nothing — in the file about the children.  The unnamed "widow as dower" got $200 cash, and I hope at least the gold watch, as there is no mention of that nor the horse anywhere else in the file, even on the list of who bought the rest of the things.  (Seventy-five dollars! that's a fine watch.)

    I must admit that it was a bit of a shock to read, as I was trying to decipher the handwriting, a standard we-do-solemnly-swear that the evaluators were not related or connected to anyone concerned with the estate, etc. etc. etc., "and that we will, to the best of our abilities, view and appraise the slaves and other personal estate to us produced".  But of course, Missouri was a slave state, and although I was relieved to find that Dr. Dobbins owned no slaves, I can't help but remember that Elizabeth's second husband, although he also owned no slaves, was a Confederate sympathizer, and would be killed with a neighbor in 1864, by a group of US militia men who accused the two, probably correctly, but certainly without due process, of aiding Confederate bushwhackers.

    Dobbins notice liberty mo weekly tribune 13 feb 1852

  • 3270

    The miniature carpet and the Elizabethan stocking are running neck-and-neck, as it were, although I confess that the carpet is a little more interesting to me at present — I could have been a lot further down the stocking, I suspect, if I'd given my mind to it.  Oh, well.  I am finding a lot more inconsistencies in the carpet chart, which is annoying, and working from a photocopy of the finished carpet is like a game of Needlepoint Telephone, in that sometimes I work what I think I see, which may not always be what Cooper actually did (wh. wasn't like the chart anyway!).  But, as it happens, now that a good portion of it has been worked completely and I can see the patterns and colors, I remember why I fell in love with it in the first place, so despite all of the irritations regarding the chart, I'm still delighted with the carpet itself.  I have just realized that I miscounted on the little white triangle at upper left, so after I post this, I am going to have to go and pick it out.

    I'm really tempted to take my steam iron to the thing — it's a poor workman who blames his tools, but the canvas is warping a lot, and I'm tending to blame the thick/thin irregularities of the Paternayan, as sometimes the coverage is a bit thin and other times it is so thick that it squooshes out that section of the canvas.  Or it may just be me, that I chose a canvas gauge that is just slightly too small for the wool — there is always that to be considered.

    As for the stocking I've moved it off of the circular needle and onto dpns.  Am amused to find that the irregularities in the stitches have smoothed out noticeably in the two inches or so since I did, as common knowledge has it that your knitting is smoother on dpns!  Some of the irregularities are due, I suspect, to my catching a few hairs of the easily-splitted yarn in previous stitch, which makes them pull out of shape — hope this will not be too obvious once worn.

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  • 3065

    Here is Julia's hat-and-mitts set for her Washington DC 8th-grade trip, which is coming up quickly at the end of the month.  I made a set for Laura two years ago, and used the same yarns again — Lorna's Laces Shepherd Worsted and Shepherd Sock — in Julia's choice of blue.

    The hat is Minty by Erica Jackofsky from Knitty a few years back, which works up very quickly and satisfyingly — this is the striped version without the stripes (the solid version has a different crown shaping).  Julia wanted something that wasn't close-shaped, so I chose this one because the shaping gives it a little squareness at the top of the head.  The scrunch at the side is accomplished with a column of double eyelets with the i-cord laced through — simple but effective.  The yarn is (of course!) very pleasant in itself, and suits this hat well, too.

    3076

    The mitts are my own standard Norwegiany mitts, with a ribbed thumb.  As I mentioned previously, I tried something new with this pair, working them "inside out" so as to keep the floats from pulling too tightly.  It turns out that they are quite loose, not quite too loose, but nearly — but I think this will be all right in the long run, as Laura's have pulled in a little bit with wear and washing, so I expect this pair will be no different.  The places where it is a little too loose are along the edges of the thumb gusset, where I think there would have been problems anyway, with the long floats across the gusset, so I'm still pleased with the method and will certainly avail myself of it in future.

    The star is a sort of impromptu one, not from any pattern — I simply graphed out the initials and date in a block about the right size, and filled in a star pattern.  These initials are a bit larger than Laura's, so I had less space to work with for the star, wh. ended up looking as much Navajo as Norwegian, but I don't think that's a problem per se!

    I still haven't worked out to my satisfaction a method of securing the floats behind 2×2 ribbing, but the flashes of white underneath the china blue here are not unpleasing, as it happens —

    3077

    3078

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    I think that Julia is actually beginning to come round to the idea that not all wool is scratchy, but I'm not going to tell her I've noticed that she likes wearing these!  We had a cold snap yesterday — with hail — after a few weeks of mid-springlike weather, so hurriedly got out the sweaters and scarves we'd discarded, and Julia wore the mitts to school yesterday and today both!

  • ,

    Grrr…

    2986

    I've been stitching along, happily if intermittently, on the Shirvan miniature carpet — happily although more than a little daunted by the small size of the chart and the mid-1990s photocopy-generation printing quality in the book.  Mystifyingly, Cooper also used two very similar symbols for two very similar shades of red and for two similar shades of green — a serious error of judgment, in my opinion, since of course it is therefore very easy to confuse not only the two reds, but the two greens.

    Well, I was quite pleased to feel myself ready to start the center section the other day, and carefully counted out the white stitches — since of course if you make a mistake setting it up, everything from there after is thrown off! — and was rather puzzled to find that the next-lightest shade, an off-white, was combined with the white in the round medallions in the corners, and then in the diamonds a little further up.  Two whites together — well, he knows what he's doing, right?

    Then after I'd worked a substantial amount of the second white, I looked at the color photo, and it isn't two whites at all in the finished carpet, it's white and medium-red!  And not even in the same places as on the chart!  See the little tuning-fork shapes in the chart? those, the blank squares, are white, the slash "background" is off-white, and the dot is dark red — but in the finished carpet, the tuning-fork is definitely red, the background maybe off-white, and the outline white?

    Cooper's symbol for medium-red is the dot with a slash through it — I thought maybe he'd confused the slashed dot with the plain slash, medium-red for off-white — but no, it's actually the reverse of that in the finished carpet.  And that's just the round medallion — the diamond above is also completely different.

    Let's not even get started on what happened to those little plusses across the bottom, under the spidery figure, which have almost completely disappeared in the finished carpet!  They are all fairly bright colors in the chart — including white and off-white! — and should stand out clearly.

    What a shame — these are all wonderfully detailed charts of some really beautiful little carpets, and while I'm still excited about making many of them in future, I'm feeling really frustrated not only at the difficulty of deciphering similar symbols on a small and not-very-high quality print of a chart, but now I can't trust that the chart will produce something that looks like the photo of the finished carpet.  Hence the "grrr."  I think this carpet will be really lovely when it's done, but … grrr.

    (I have, by the way, found only a single instance of this miniature carpet on the internet, by a stitcher on the American Needlepoint Guild website, but she obviously changed her colors along the way to look more like Cooper's finished one.  I'm guessing she just said to herself, "the heck with it," and did what she wanted for the center section, as those diamonds at the sides, the ones I'd just started, are like neither Cooper's chart nor his finished carpet!)

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    No, I didn't really like the white/off-white combination anyway, so — heavy sigh — I am going to pick it all out now.

    Perhaps needless to say, I have also just now enlarged my high-resolution photograph of the two center-section charts, enlarged those, and made myself some copies of half of each — so four gigantic charts, each one quarter of the center section, which I am now going to cross-check and re-color.  But first, a nice cup of tea, I should think.