Isn’t that a funny picture? One doesn’t begrudge the old dears their patent happiness, but it’s still a funny picture. [In deference to royalty, no doubt, Blogger has allowed me a scanned image this morning.]

I have a small collection of photographs of gents in kilt hose, in which the pattern in the turnover can be discerned from the photograph. I will add this one (from the front page of yesterday’s Scotsman). I keep them with Lady Gainford’s book. The Prince of Wales figures more than once in my little collection. I’ve got an earlier one of him in a diced pattern like this, but a different colourway. He was visiting a shortbread factory, that time.

Do you suppose there’s a little old lady somewhere, By Appointment Knitter in Ordinary? Or do you think he just gets them from an expensive kilt outfitter?


Anyway, some social history today. My husband found this in some photocopied pages from the Atheneum which he had for other purposes:

The Ladies’ Knitting and Netting Book, 1st and 2nd Series – The Fancy Work Book

There was a time when the motley patchwork held its sway over the work-table; but that was of a piece with hoops, and stately dowagers with lappets and ruffles and powdered and cushioned heads, and they all vanished from the fashionable world together. After that, knitting and netting took the lead; then bead-work was the fashion; and well do we remember the deformed taper-stands with dislocated handles, and tumble-down dropsical pitchers that graced or rather disgraced the rooms of modern time, the consequences of the bead-counting of the fair novices. This too had its day, and of late we have been startled by a battery of worsted frames: the triangular shawl frame, the large standing frame, the table frame, the hand frame, in fact every sort of frame, till the visitor is bewildered how to advance so as to avoid these wooden barriers. Yet who but felt admiration when informed that our economising ladies were about to furnish their own drawing-rooms, and that chairs, sofas, ottomans, screens, all were proofs of the unwearying industry of these self-appointed Gillows. It is then to be wondered at that so few books of the class, now before us, have been published during the late prevailing rage for worsted work, and that at a time when the embroidery frame had usurped the place of every other home amusement, so little instruction was to be obtained through the usual medium of books. Now, however, when we believe, and hope, that the injurious extent to which this species of fancy slavery was carried has decreased, we may recommend these little volumes as containing much that is instructive, without the fear of too many hours being devoted to working out the rules contained in them. The rules in the Knitting and Netting Book are clearly laid down, and each series contains an explanation of the various terms used and the quantity of materials required for the different works. The Fancy Work Book gives several useful hints about shading in embroidery, and also instruction in how to dress the frames. Every kind of fancy-work is satisfactorily explained, and the work will no doubt be a valuable addition to the ladies’ table. But, as the knitters say, we must “cast off”.

Athenaeum, May 29, 1841

Consulting Bishop Rutt, and given the date, I think this must refer to Miss Watts’ book. Not the least extraordinary thing about this passage, is that so august a publication should notice a knitting book at all.