A flat cap dyed with madder

Head wear is one area of clothing practice where modern custom has diverged greatly from the customs of the past. Hats, though rare today, were a daily piece of dress for every level of society in pre-1600 Europe. One of the most popular shapes for caps at all levels of society in the mid to late 1500's was what is commonly called a Tudor cap.

This style of cap is perhaps more accurately called a flat cap as it was not limited to the shores of England. It was worn across most of Europe. These caps could be made of almost any material, from rich velvets to humble woolen cloths. They were also frequently knit.

The Flat Cap pre-1600: information gathered from extant examples

There are extant versions of the cap from Venice, England, and the German territories. In addition, there is a wide variety of portraits, engravings, and paintings from the time period that show this type of cap, and the many variations on the theme. If the scope of the investigation is limited to just those examples which are knitted, there is still a great deal to analyze.

The variations available in knit pre-1600 were many and seemingly not confined to any specific geographic area. Function, as well as fashion, seemed to play a role in the features of the flat cap. For example, the Swiss mercenary's cap from the 16th century attributed to Andreas Wild von Wynigen, has a very broad brim and a shallow crown. (Flury, 231) Such a feature would prove a bonus for a man that spent time in the field. The brim could shield his eyes from the sun as well as rain. The brim is also divided into two sections, allowing one section to be pinned up or flipped out of the way. There was no lining in the cap, but remnants of small silk ties were found scattered about the brim. Whether the ties were purely decorative or served some function is not known.

The caps from the ship wreck of the Gnalic, which went down in Venice in 1583, demonstrate some other features of the flat cap. These are all quite small and close to the head. The brim on each cap is a single round piece that is knitted out of the body of the cap. (Flury, 332) The brim and the crown of the cap are more closely related in size.

From the wreck of the Mary Rose which sank in 1545 three woolen knitted hats were recovered. Two of the three were found with the remnants of silk linings. One of the three has a split or "doubled" brim like the Swiss cap, while the brim on the other caps are plain, like those in Venice. So it appears that people in England followed both fashions.

Although there are many styles of brim shaping and variations on the width of the crown to brim, there seems to be a consistent trend in the processing of the caps. All of the caps were knitted starting at the inner edge of the brim and working to the center of the top. Also all of the caps were fulled to a greater or lesser extent. And it appears that they were also all dyed after completion, as opposed to the yarn being dyed and then knitted.

Recreating a flat cap from England in the 1550s

The many choices may seem like a blessing to the craftsman at first. But choosing form among all the available options was difficult. I needed to keep my goal for a finished product firmly in mind as I looked at all the possible choices. I wanted the cap I made to be appropriate for a merchant, or some other member of the professional classes.

Choosing the shape:

To accomplish this I looked for features that were perhaps more in line with fashion and less directly related to function. In this light I chose to make a solid brim on the cap, and to keep the proportions of the crown and brim very close. The brim does not extend over the eyes, face or back of the neck, as I thought that was more leaning towards dressing of necessity, and not for accessory.

Choosing the color: madder

Then I looked for an accurate color to dye the cap once it was knitted and considering my inexperience with dyeing, chose a madder based color, "Robin's Breast", more commonly called, orange. This was a common color of the day, and quite fashionable (Arnold, 91). Had I felt more comfortable with my own dyeing skills I would have liked to try to recreate the vivid kermes or cochineal based red of the Swiss mercenary's cap.

Choosing the materials: Merino wool

Material to use for knitting the cap was the next consideration. All the examples mentioned have been made of wool, so wool was the obvious answer. However, which particular wool remained a question. This is where the Elizabethan Knitted Suite project contributed to the equation. This is a project that a group of ladies have engaged in, namely to recreate a full knitted suite of undergarments for a prosperous merchants daughter or wife. We wanted to use the best materials that would have been available at the day. And so our minds leaped to the "Spanish woolle" that is often mentioned. Merino was the fleece of choice, but just how accurate would that be?

This led me on the search for just how accurate our choice of Merino wool was for a knitted item of the late 1500s.
- In a nutshell, not too bad.

The longer answer goes like this. What we now call a Merino sheep was probably not exactly what the 1500s shepherd would have called a Merino. Since the 1500s the breed has been refined yet further to get even more fleece per animal, and to see the quality of that fleece improve. However, the basic traits of the Merino sheep were established by the 1300s. (Ryder, 426) The main trait was, of course, the very fine quality to the wool. So the actual fleece of our Merino was close, though not exactly the same as the medieval fleece.

Then there is the accessibility issue. It is more likely that a cap knitted from Merino would have been knitted locally to the sheep and then exported to other nations. Goods were more usually traded and shipped than raw materials. That being said, there is a unique relationship between England and Spain in regards to the wool trade.

For many centuries in the early middle ages, English wool was the ultimate in luxury and quality. With the development of the Merino breed of sheep, a new standard in the quality of wool was reached. And although it did break the English monopoly on wool, it did not remove the English wool from the international marketplace. And so Spanish wool and English wool competed with one another from the 1300s forwards until almost the 1900s.

Both countries enacted strict laws to protect their woolen trades. Tariffs were high for importing foreign goods and penalties were higher for exporting breeding stock to competing nations. Ryder depicts the Spanish economy in the fourteenth century as reliant on the Merino sheep. (Ryder, 427) But even given all the incentives in England for buying local goods, maximizing exports and minimizing imports, some foreign goods and materials were imported. (Ryder, 427)

Choosing the gauge: 10 st/inch 12 ‡ rw/inch

Gauge refers to the number of stitches and rows required to make one inch of knitted cloth. Gauges in pre-1600 knitted textiles range from coarse (3-5 stitches per inch) to very fine (20+ stitches per inch). An illustration to compare the gauge, year, social status and fiber of extant items is located at the end of this document. I developed this tool to help me determine an accurate feel for the item I was attempting to recreate.

As I had already settled on the fiber to use, wool, I needed to choose a gauge that reflected the social status of our targeted person. So this meant I needed a very fine gauge in wool. This meant my project should be executed between 10 to 15 stitches per inch.

Choosing the materials: needles

I wanted to achieve a relatively close gauge in knitting this cap. The York Archaeological Trust for Excavation and Research published information on the first pre-1600 knitting needles to be found in England. Volume17 of their series "The Archaeology of York: the Small Finds" was published in 2002 and describes item numbers 14697 and 14698. The items were both slender rods with a taper to a rounded tip at each end. They were made of a copper alloy and both measure 180 mm in length. One needle is 2.6 mm in diameter, which corresponds to today's British size 12 knitting needle (#14697). The other needle (#14698) is smaller in diameter, measuring 1.9 mm and corresponding to the modern British knitting needle size 14 (US size1).

They were found together on the suspected floor of a tenement in an excavation layer that is dated to the late 14th century. Articles found in the vicinity of the needles and on the same level confirm the date.

I chose to use a set of needles that closely resembled the smaller of the knitting needles found by the York excavations. Because I wanted a fine gauge I chose to use a set of five needles that were 2mm in diameter. This size is US 1 for needles and closely approximates the 1.9mm size of item #14698. I used aluminum needles, and after comparing their weight to a set of brass needles was glad that I had used the lighter set of needles.

The heavier brass needles would have added even more stress to the wool as it was knit. Stress on the wool provided by the needles as they hang from the piece in progress contribute to stretching and deformation of the product. The lighter the needles the less stress is placed on the item being worked.

Choosing the stitch: stockinette

All of the examples that we have of this style of cap are knit in very plain stockinette stitch. Stockinette stitch is the unbroken use of knit stitch when working in the round. All of the stitches are formed in the same direction knit-wise. This produces a very flat surface, with a minimum of space between the stitches. It is also very accommodating of fulling.

From sheep to cap:

I wanted to do something new. So I chose to challenge myself and become familiar with every process in taking a raw fiber to a finished product.

This cap started out as the fleece on a Merino sheep. And although I had plans to attend a sheep shearing workshop at the local university, I did not shear this fleece. Nor any others, modern matters interfered and I was unable to attend. Maybe next year.

The fleece was bought at a weaving and spinning congress held in Westchester County, NY. The fleece was in fair condition with very little vegetable matter, and a lot of grease.

The first step upon getting the fleece home was to wash the fleece. The fleece was torn apart into smaller areas which were individually processed by hand. The washing of the fleece took place in several large basins and every precaution was taken to prevent temperature shocks and agitation that might cause the fleece to felt.

The first basin was a very hot water only pre-rinse. The purpose of this bath was simply to remove loose vegetable matter and the first layers of grease.

The second basin was hot water with soap. A commercial liquid dish soap was used. Further removal of the grease from the wool.

The third basin was also hot water with soap. Again using the same commercial liquid dish soap. Further removal of the grease from the wool.

The fourth basin was also simply hot water. Further removal of the grease from the wool and removal of the bulk of the soap.

The fifth basin was also simply hot water, but a splash of vinegar was added. Further removal of the grease from the wool and removal of the soap. The acidic nature of the vinegar helps to counteract the basic nature of the soap.

The fleece was placed into the baths, not agitated, only allowed to soak for between 7 - 10 minutes per bath. The fleece was immersed by hand, occasionally using a wooden spoon to help support the pieces of fleece as they were moved from one basin to another. The water was very hot, but using hands allowed me to remain aware of the temperature of the baths. Without hot water, the grease removal would have been far less effective.

After removal from the final rinse the fleece was squeezed very gently (no rubbing, no wringing, no twisting) to encourage more water out of the fleece before it was laid out to dry on towels.

The next step in the process was the sorting (Ryder, 427). And at the time, I didn't know about this step. The sorting would have grouped parts of the fleece with similar length and quality together. This little detail would have given an even finer quality to the yarn that was spun from the fleece. And it would have likely prevented the streak in the top of the cap. The streak is the proof of a change in the quality of the yarn, most likely because the fleece wasn't sorted. The dye was taken up more strongly by one type of yarn, and to a lesser degree by the rest. The result is the narrow, faintly more intense band of color that appears about two thirds of the way into the crown. I know about sorting now.

A friend showed me how to card. This was the first time I had carded anything. So using her cards I worked my way through half of the fleece. She combed the other half of the fleece so that we could also produce some worsted yarn.

An aside for those who are interested...

What is the difference between worsted and woolen yarn?

The difference in a worsted and in a woolen yarn comes from how the wool fiber is prepared before it is spun. In worsted yarn the fibers are combed until the majority of them run in the same direction. In a woolen yarn the fibers are carded, which removes the vegetable matter, same as in combing, but does little to direct all of the fibers into the same orientation. The result is, that since most of the fibers in worsted yarn run in the same direction, that worsted yarn has a flatter, smoother surface which can give more sheen than the woolen. Woolen yarn, which has fibers in many directions appears fuzzier, and is more likely to felt together.

I wanted woolen yarn for this cap because of my intention to full the final product. Woolen fulls more easily than worsted yarn.

On to the spinning& I tried, and discovered that stank at it. And seeing that I didn't have time to spin the fleece AND knit the cap, and dye it, my friend took pity on me again, and spun the woolen yarn for me. She made a fine less than fingering weight 2-ply yarn for me to work into this cap.

Now in period professional knitters didn't typically spin their own yarn. In fact the laws of Coventry very specifically outline the way that knitters are to obtain their yarn. They are only to employ reputable spinners, who must have references. (Leet, 673)

Knitting the Cap:

I followed the method of construction used in knitting the medieval caps. (Flury, 481) I was knitting approximately 10 stitches to the inch, and calculating that the cap would be 22 inches around. Actually 22 inches was larger than I needed, but I added in about an extra inch that I planned to lose in the fulling process.

As demonstrated in the medieval caps I started at the inner point of the brim by casting on my initial 220 stitches onto four needles. I worked out to the farthest point of the brim adding eight stitches on every other row. The stitches were added by knitting twice into the same loop, one stitch into the front of the loop, one stitch created from the back of the loop.

(An aside, if you notice those tiny holes near the inner edge on the underside of the brim. Initially, I had tried to increase the number of stitches by using a yarn-over. I only used this method on one round of increases. Using a yarn over left a tell tale hole in the cloth, which was not present on any of the medieval caps.)

I continued to increase by eight stitches every other row for 22 rows. On the last row I had 308 stitches on my needles.

From here I built in just a bit of height to the brim. I thought that just switching directions and starting the decreases would leave a very sharp angle at the edge. I thought this would prove to be a point of weakness in the wearing. So instead of simply reversing direction, I knit two rounds at 308 stitches.

From here I decreased by eight stitches every other round until I reached my initial number of 220 stitches. Decreases were accomplished by knitting 2 stitches together.

Again I chose to build in just a bit of height to the cap. The same issues of wear and longevity were present. So instead of simply reversing direction, I knit two rounds at 220 stitches.

It was time to work outwards again. I worked out to the farthest point of the brim adding eight stitches on every other row. The stitches were added by knitting twice into the same loop, one stitch into the front of the loop, one stitch created from the back of the loop. I continued to increase by eight stitches every other row for 22 rows. On the last row I had 308 stitches on my needles.

Again I built in just a bit of height to the brim. So instead of simply reversing direction, I knit two rounds at 308 stitches.

From here I decreased by eight stitches every other round. This continued until I finally reached 8 stitches. Decreases were accomplished by knitting 2 stitches together. To finish the cap, the yarn was cut and threaded onto a needle. The final 8 stitches were slipped onto the tail of the knitting yarn and drawn up tightly into the center. The tail was tied off and woven back into the body of the cap.

Currently the cap is unlined. The better to allow the work to be examined. However, I do plan to follow the example of the Mary Rose caps and add a silk lining.

Do you pick or throw?

I was planning to have a detailed recap and a discussion of a recent interlude on the Historic Knit community list. But, I see that I am on page seven, and only just getting to the dyeing process. Suffice it to say, there are a myriad of ways that people can hold their needles and the yarn in order to form the same knit-wise and purl-wise stitches. Which is more medieval? Unfortunately, the discussion will have to wait.

Experiments in Dyeing:

When I first considered creating a hat from sheep to product, most of my attention was on the process that proceeded the knitting. I was somehow under the impression that dyeing was going to be - well - quick. Take it as a mark of my ignorance. This was my very first attempt at dyeing, and I knew nothing.

Thank goodness for lots of friends who were fountains of knowledge, willing to share their experiences with me and be supportive. I was amazed at how many folks had stories and 'little tidbits' to share that I would not have thought of, and which I didn't find in my reading.

As in all things new, I retreated to the library, to try to get some idea of what I had signed on for. My thanks for the advice I received to read Buchanan's "A Weavers Garden", Lisles' "The Art and Craft of Natural Dyeing" and the "The Plictho" of Gioanventura Rosetti.

Preparing the Mordanting:

The first step in the process was to weigh the cap in order to calculate the amount of alum needed to mordant the cap. To properly mordant the cap between 3-4 ounces of alum need to be used per pound of wool to be dyed. Doing a little math gave me a result of .6 ounces of alum required. I weighed out .6 grams of alum.

The alum was dissolved in a large pot of heated tap water. The pot was big enough to let the cap move freely and I used a thermometer to keep the water just around 160 degrees. Heat is one of the basic components in the mordanting and dyeing process. Too little heat and the wool won't accept the mordant, and therefore your color will not be as intense. Too much heat may not be critical in the mordanting process, but it is in using madder, so I took the opportunity to practice keeping my dye pot at a consistent temperature.

The washed and rinsed cap was immersed in the alum solution. The cap was rolled over or stirred about every 5 minutes so that the mordant would cover the cap equally. The temperature was also checked to make sure it didn't stray from the desired mark. After an hour of this, the heat under the cap was cut, and the cap was allowed to soak in the mordanting bath for 48 hours.

Iron in the Water:

And this is where I thought I had really botched the job. I used tap water. Many of the dyers in my region had warned against using tap water, because of the high iron content in many of the local wells. Pft.

Well if I had indeed just mordanted my cap with alum and iron, then the color of my cap would be affected. I could expect a more sober, less bright color. And the color might have a very heavy overcast of brown. Dang.

Preparing the Madder:

While waiting for the alum bath I took the opportunity to take some ground madder from a retail provider and put it in water to soak overnight. I had heard that allowing the madder to 'bloom' would produce a richer color. Also as I understand it, allowing the madder to ferment will also produce a richer color.

I chose madder to be the dye for the cap. Not only did I think that the Robin's Breast was a lovely color, but I was also thinking, plant = gentle dye. I was under the impression when I chose the color that madder was a very friendly dye, it was cooperative, idiot proof. Later, I found out that madder can stain almost anything, floors, jeans, skin, bone, metal, enamel. Fortunately, all this knowledge came second hand.

On the night of the dyeing, I took the time to clear everything out of my way. I used an old big pot so that the cap could move around freely. I put the 'blooming' madder into the pot with bottled water and turned on the heat. I wanted to raise the temperature of the solution without shocking the madder. After about 30 minutes at 160 degrees the liquid was a rich clear color, kind of like a nice red wine.

I strained the dye to get out any solid bits of the madder that might be in there. Then I returned the strained dye to my pot after rinsing my pot of the solids.

Big breath, it was time to take the plunge. I put the cap into the dye pot.

Being new at this I really took all the warnings about uneven dyeing and hot spots to heart. I spent the next hour with my hand, in a heavy rubber glove, in the dye pot almost constantly stirring, turning and stroking the cap.

Adding Bran:

Now I had heard that bran was a good agent for creating a lively color, and since I was afraid that I had potentially darkened the color in the mordanting process I thought I'd try it.

I added some bran, about 3 big double handfuls in a nylon stocking, about 25 minutes into the process. I wasn't sure about it, especially when my clear dye turned the color of a melted raspberry smoothy. I was convinced that I had just really botched the color.

Nothing to do but wait, keep the cap moving and wonder why I didn't use a wooden spoon instead of my now uncomfortably hot hand.

When I was nearing the 40 minute mark, I started to check the cap to see how much dye it had actually taken up. I'd pinch a small bit between my fingers, hard, to squeeze out all the liquid. When it was the color I wanted, and amazingly it was the color I wanted, I lifted the cap out of the dye bath and into the sink to rinse. Lots of hot water went over the cap, into the cap, and through the cap to drive out any dye that wasn't permanently affixed to the wool .

Now I got to see the first really good look at how the wool had taken up the dye. Overall, for a first job, not bad. There are a couple of features to the dyeing that deserve mention. There is a streak of slightly more intense color on the crown. I think this is a result of not sorting the wool.

The streak follows the line of the knitting, which means it is a property of the yarn. If the color shift was a blob or a block of color then that would be indicative of allowing the cap to sit in a hot spot in the dye.

Also, if I had fulled the cap, even lightly, before placing it in the dye I would have removed even more of the grease and allowed both a more even color and a more intense color. From what I have read and looking at the pre-1600 caps, I believe that the fulling was done before the caps went to the dyer.

Fulling:

Fulling is a method used to put a finished surface on knitted and woven goods. The fulling encourages the fibers on the surface of the item to mat together, which in the case of knitting gives a smoother finish and helps to reduce the visibility of individual stitches. Taking fulling to an extreme creates an almost waterproof surface and obliterates the ability to detect individual stitches (Flury, 481)

The cap was dropped into a hot soapy solution of water. I agitated it briefly in the water and then lifted it out. While it was still hot I scrubbed it with my hands on a washboard over the sink. When the cap started to cool, I plunged it into a large basin filled with snow and water.

The process kept being repeated. I tracked the size of the cap with a yard stick and by occasionally trying it on.

Once the cap was the size I wanted, I placed it on a felt covered block and took a stiff bristled brush to the surface. This raised up the nap of the wool and gave the cap a soft finish. It also stretched the cap. So back it went into the fulling process. Then it was brushed again. And it still isn't as brushed as I would like it.

Flocking:

Flocking was another medieval practice to increase the feeling of thickness in a cap's material. The practice was forbidden in many towns from the early 1500s. (Leet, 645) It was a deceptive practice to hide thin yarn by covering the cap with powdered wool or cloth shavings. Needless to say, I didn't flock my cap.

A Selected Bibliography

For the Cap:

Arnold, Janet. Patterns of Fashion: The Cut and Construction of Clothes for Men and Women C. 1560-1620. London: MacMillan London Ltd., 1985.

Charlotte Paludan, Lone De Hemmer Egeberg. 98 Monsterboger Til Broderi, Knipling Og Strikning (98 Pattern Books for Embroidery Lace and Knitting). Trans. Martha Gaber Abrahamsen Adam Granjean , Patricia Covell: Det Danske Kunstindustrimuseum, 1991.

The Coventry Leet Book or Mayor's Register. Trans. Mary Dormer Harris. Ed. Mary Dormer Harris. 1 ed. Vol. 1. 4 vols. soho, london: Kegan Paul TrenchTrubner & Co. Ltd., 1907.

Crowfoot, Elisabeth. Frances Pritchard, Kay Staniland. Textiles and Clothing C. 1150 - C. 1450. Medieval Finds from Excavations in London:4. London: HMSO, 1992.

Flury-Lemberg, Mechthild. Textile Conservation and Research: ... Vol. VII. Berm: Schriften Der Abegg-Stiftung, 1988.

Righetti, Maggie. Knitting in Plain English. New York: St. Martin's Press, 1986.

Riu, Manuel. "The Woolen Industry in Catalonia in the Later Middle Ages." Cloth and Clothing in Medieval Europe: Essays in Memory of Professor E.M. Carus-Wilson. Ed. N.B. and Harte K.G. Ponting. 1 ed. London: Heinemann Educational Books - The Pasold Research Fund Ltd, 1983. 401.

Rutt, Richard. A History of Hand Knitting. Loveland, Colorado: Interweave Press, 1987.

Ryder, M.L. Sheep and Man. 1 ed. London: Gerald Duckworth & Co. Ltd., 1983.

Staniland, Kay. "Getting There, Got It: Archaeological Textiles and Tailoring in London." The Age of Transition: the Archaeology of English Culture 1400-1600. Ed. David Gaimster and Paul Stamper. 1 ed. London: Oxbow Books, 1997. 263.

Turnau, Irena. "The Diffusion of Knitting in Medieval Europe." Cloth and Clothing in Medieval Europe: Essays in Memory of Professor E.M. Carus-Wilson. Ed. N.B. and Harte K.G. Ponting. 1 ed. London: Heinemann Educational Books - The Pasold Research Fund Ltd, 1983. 401.

For the Dyeing and Fulling:

Arnold, Janet. Queen Elizabeth's Wardrobe Unlock'd. Leeds: W.S. Maney & Son Ltd., 1988.

Buchanan, Rita. A Weaver's Garden: Growing Plants for Natural Dyes and Fibres. Mineola, New York: Dover Publications Inc., 1987.

The Coventry Leet Book or Mayor's Register. Trans. Mary Dormer Harris. Ed. Mary Dormer Harris. 1 ed. Vol. 1. 4 vols. soho, london: Kegan Paul TrenchTrubner & Co. Ltd., 1907.

Hofenk-DeGraff, Judith H. "The Chemistry of Red Dyestuffs in Medieval and Early Modern Europe." Cloth and Clothing in Medieval Europe: Essays in Memory of Professor E.M. Carus-Wilson. Ed. N.B. and Harte K.G. Ponting. 1 ed. London: Heinemann Educational Books - The Pasold Research Fund Ltd, 1983. 401.

Lemberg, Mechthild. "The Problem of Brown Wool in Medieval Tapestries." Studies in Textile History in Memory of Harold B. Burnham. Ed. Veronika Gervers. 1 ed. Toronto: Royal Ontario Museum, 1977. 371.

Liles, J.N. "The Art and Craft of Natural Dyeing: traditional recipes for modern use." Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press. 1990.

Munro, John H. "The Medieval Scarlet and the Economics of Sartorial Splendour." Cloth and Clothing in Medieval Europe: Essays in Memory of Professor E.M. Carus-Wilson. Ed. N.B. Harte and K.G. Ponting. 1 ed. London: Heinemann Educational Books - The Pasold Research Fund Ltd., 1983. 401.

Rosetti, Giovanventura. fl. 1530 -1548. "The Plictho: instructions in the art of the dyers which teaches the dyeing or woolen cloths, linens, cottons, and silk by the great art as well as by the common." Cambridge, M.I.T Press. 1969.