Should Prince William Take Up Knitting?
It ought be as natural a pastime for the prince as polo or grouse shooting.
Knitting runs in the royal family. In this sense, the titular question is almost rhetorical: of course Prince William should learn to knit. He would be following in the hallowed footsteps of his ancestors.
So who were these royal knitters? Queen Victoria was one of them, of course; she also crocheted and awarded handmade scarves to veterans of the Boer War. The Queen Mother, Queen Elizabeth, and Princess Margaret also knitted. The three of them were famously photographed knitting socks for soldiers during World War II, but the girls had learned to knit long before the war began. In 1936, at the ages of 10 and 6, the princesses were profiled in the press as having “an unusual aptitude for knitting”:
…already Princess Elizabeth has knitted herself a pair of gloves in a simple pattern, but very accurately done. The younger Princess has been more ambitious, and is busy knitting herself a black skirt and jumper.
Yet knitting was not limited to the distaff side. In 1904, newspapers reported that a surprising number of royal and aristocratic men knitted, crocheted, and embroidered.
The shah is one of the most expert knitters in the world, and when last in England presented the Prince of Wales with a beautifully knitted silk pair of stockings which the royal giver had worked himself… The Crown Prince of Denmark delights in doing crochet work… The Grand Duke of Hesse devotes a great deal of his time to doing embroidery work… The emperor of Austria was at one time an enthusiastic embroidery worker, though it is some time now since he has done anything with his needle.
Royal British men were no exception. During World War I, Queen Mary “had all the ‘unemployed’ members of the Royal household knitting socks and sewing for the soldiers.” Among them were the Princes Henry and George, the future dukes of Gloucester and Kent. Henry reportedly thought very little of this work, but George knitted scarves during the school holidays. He donated them to his mother’s charity, Queen Mary’s Needlework Guild; in 1915, he “sent the Guild quite a big collection of scarves, which he had knitted in a pretty shade of green, and just to give them a touch of colour he decorated them with tassels of bright red!” With these colours, it seems unlikely that these scarves were destined for military use. The guild may have distributed them to the poor instead.
In the early 1920s, the Prince of Wales — later Edward VIII — was photographed wearing a Fair Isle jumper. He probably hadn’t knitted it himself, but he did make scarves and wristlets that garnered praise in the media.
“His knitting is even and firm,” newspapers reported in 1930 after seeing his contribution to the queen’s Needlework Guild. “If he dropped any stitches, he must have picked them up skilfully, for there is no evidence of them in the two scarves he has made.”
It is hard to know whether media interest in Edward’s scarves derived from the fact that he was a man engaging in a traditionally female activity; a royal whose common hobby made him more relatable; or simply because anything done by the royal family was considered newsworthy. Perhaps it was a combination of all three. His scarves were certainly unremarkable but for their royal provenance: “One is done in plain garter stitch…and the other in stocking stitch.” A third scarf was crocheted “in a simple treble stitch…reasonably even, the edges neat, and the loops of uniform size” — from these descriptions, his work was so mundane that if it were attributed to a common woman, it would go unnoticed.
Although Edward did not “practice the craft as a regular hobby,” he acquired enough skill to knit “a pair of red woollen mittens.” He seems to have sampled other pursuits involving needles and thread too; he later learned petit point and even exhibited a backgammon board embroidered in red, blue, and fawn.
The Prince of Wales and one of his younger brothers also tried their hands at knitting socks by machine. Upon visiting an Armistice Week Exhibition of Disabled Ex-Servicemen’s Work in 1927, Edward acquitted himself well:
Shown a stocking knitting machine, he asked if he might work it. Seating himself at the machine, the Prince vigorously turned the handle and set to work, completing half a stocking.
Several years later, the Duke of York made a rather less impressive impression.
At the stand of the Eastbourne Knitters he found a machine for knitting stockings, and, after having the process explained to him, essayed to work the machine. The experiment though creditable, was not wholly successful, for the Duke dropped a stitch and the ground had to be retraced.
The dropped stitch notwithstanding, with such illustrious “men who knit” in the family, Prince William would stand in good stead if he were to learn to the same craft today.
Given Prince William’s focus on mental health charities, knitting is a natural hobby for him to take up. As Knit for Peace reported in their 2018 review of evidence-based research on the health benefits of knitting, practitioners of the craft sustain tangible advantages.
One of the studies, a 2007 study conducted by Harvard Medical School’s Mind and Body Institute, found that knitting lowers heart rate, by an average of 11 beats per minute, and induces an “enhanced state of calm,” similar to that of yoga.
Another study from 2013 found that
respondents who knitted for relaxation, stress relief and creativity reported higher cognitive functioning, improved social contact and communication with others.
In short, knitting made them happier.
Furthermore, Prince William’s aversion to being in the public eye is well-known. His often-adversarial relationship with the press has doubtlessly been a source of stress throughout his life. Learning to knit may thus allow him to better manage the strain. Indeed, Edward VIII supposedly found “an occasional half-hour devoted to knitting or crochet [to be] a much-needed mental relaxation. By the occupation of his hands in this way he can take his mind off State business for a little while.”
Knitting could also help William to maintain a calmer demeanor. A variety of (admittedly questionable) journalistic sources describe the prince as someone who easily “flies off the handle,” is often “incandescent with rage,” and possesses an “earthshattering” temper. In other words, he sounds like a person who could benefit greatly from a knitting-derived state of zen.
William is keen to champion the environment, as evidenced by his founding of the Earthshot Prize. Here, he could parlay an interest in knitting into greater advocacy for sustainability: a knitting prince could lead by example in the arenas of slow fashion, environmentally-friendly textiles, and regenerative farming practices.
As a representative of the United Kingdom abroad, he could advocate for British culture by highlighting British knitting traditions: for example, Fair Isle sweaters, Shetland lace shawls, fishermen’s ganseys, and Sanquhar gloves. (The latter even feature motifs called the “Duke” and the “Prince of Wales.”) Knitting would also give William a natural opportunity to boost the profile of British manufacturing. Yarn companies such as Blacker Yarns, Garthenor Organic, Jamieson and Smith, and John Arbon Textiles source their wool and spin their yarn in Britain. Furthermore, he could promote the British entrepreneurial spirit as embodied by small-scale handdyers like Lamington Lass, Hilltop Cloud, and Countess Ablaze.
Two years ago, the consultancy Giving Evidence published a report in which they analyzed the effects of royal patrons on a charity’s revenue. Among other things, they pointed out that while the royal family depicts charitable engagement as one of its main activities,
…most UK charities with Royal patrons did not get a single public engagement with their Royal patron last year: 74% of them got none.
Knitting provides an easy way for royal patrons to engage with their charities and to fundraise. Namely, a prince who knits can contribute finished objects to charity auctions. We can again look to the past for precedent. In 1933, “many people admired recently the scarf of intricate design that [the Prince of Wales] sent to one of the Scottish charities.” It was further noted that “Scarves made by Royal hands, and particularly by the Princes, sell rapidly at charity bazaars.”
Alternatively, Prince William could craft for charities that accept knitted donations, such as Cancer Hair Care, Woolly Hat Day, and Sands. Yet such efforts may not make a difference to a charity’s bottom line:
As well as finding no evidence that Royals bring revenue to their patronee charities, we also found no reason that donors should assume that a charity with a Royal patronage outperforms its peers.
Even if no material advantages accrued to the charity, the PR from such a donation would certainly burnish the royal family’s image. Admittedly, this relationship seems imbalanced and even parasitic. Perhaps a knit-a-long, headed by the prince, for a specific charitable endeavour would be a better way to obtain concrete results for the charity.
William could also host a public knitting event on Worldwide Knit in Public Day (the second Saturday of June every year). It could build on the traditional garden parties hosted by the queen during the summer, though I think it would be best to dispense with formal dress in favour of handknitted shawls and stockings. Opening palace grounds in this more informal way would strengthen the monarchy’s relationship with the public, build community, and connect people.
Let’s be honest. I don’t think that Prince William will take up knitting any time soon. However, perhaps he will surprise us one day by cranking out some socks on a machine in the spirit of his great-grandfather. Hopefully he won’t drop any stitches.
