NATHANIEL BLOOMFIELD.

“O come, blest spirit! whatsoe’er thou art,Thou kindling warmth that hoverest round my heart,Sweet inmate, hail! thou source of sterling joy,That poverty itself can not destroy,Be thou my muse; and faithful still to me,Retrace the paths of wild obscurity.No deeds of arms, my humble lines rehearse.NoAlpinewonders thunder through my verse.The roaring cataract, the snow-topt hill.Inspiring awe, till breath itself stands still;Nature’s sublimer scenes ne’er charmed mine eyes,Nor science led me through the boundless skies,From meaner objects far, my raptures flow,O point these raptures! bid my bosom glow!And lead my soul to ecstasies of praise.For all the blessings of my infant days.Bear me through regions where gay fancy dwells,But mould to Truth’s fair form, what memory tells.”

The manuscript of “the Farmer’s Boy,” after being offered to and refused by several London publishers, was printed under the patronage of Capel Lofft, Esq., in 1800; and the admiration it produced was so great, that within three years after its publication, more than 26,000 copies were sold. The appearance of such refinement of taste and sentiment in the person of an indigent artisan, elicited general applause. An edition was published in the following year at Leipsic. It was also translated into French, Italian, and Latin.

The fame of Bloomfield was further increased by the subsequent publication of “Rural Tales, Ballads, and Songs,” “Good Tidings, or News from the Farm,” “Wild Flowers,” and “Banks of the Wye.” He was kindly noticed by the duke of Grafton, by whom he was appointed to a situation in the seal office; but suffering from constitutional ill-health, he returned to his trade of ladies’ shoemaker, to which, being an amateur in music, he added the employment of making Æolian harps. A pension of a shilling a day was still allowed him by the duke, yet having now, besides a wife andchildren, undertaken to support several other members of his family, he became involved in difficulties, and being habitually in bad health, he retired to Shefford in Bedfordshire, where, in 1816, a subscription, headed by the duke of Norfolk, and other noblemen, was instituted by the friendship of Sir Edgerton Brydges, for the relief of his embarrassments. Great anxiety of mind, occasioned by accumulated misfortunes and losses, with violent incessant headaches, a morbid nervous irritability, and loss of memory, reduced him at last to a condition little short of insanity. He died at Shefford, August 19, 1823, at the age of fifty-seven, leaving a widow and four children, and debts to the amount of two hundred pounds sterling, which sum was raised by subscription among his benevolent friends and admirers.

The works of Bloomfield have been published in two volumes duodecimo. The author’s amiable disposition and benevolence pervade the whole of his compositions. There is an artless simplicity, a virtuous rectitude of sentiment, an exquisite sensibility to the beautiful, which can not fail to gratify every one who respects moral excellence, and loves the delightful scenes of English country life.

Nathaniel Bloomfield, brother of the foregoing, was likewise a shoemaker and a poet; and although “Nathan’s” name does not sound the most poetical in Lord Byron’s line, yet we believe many of our readers would admire some of his pieces before some of the noble poet’s, for reasons extrinsic of execution or subject. His stanzas on the Enclosure of Honnington Green, quoted by Kirke White in his essays, would be admired by most readers. We transcribe some of the remarks of the amiable critic, including a quotation that will give an idea of Mr. Bloomfield’s poetic abilities, whose writings are not so generally known as those of his brother.

“Had Mr. N. Bloomfield,” says Henry Kirke White, “made his appearance in the horizon of letters prior to his brother, he would undoubtedly have been considered as a meteor of uncommon attraction; the critics would have admired, because it was the fashion to admire. But it is to be apprehended that our countrymen become inured to phenomena—it is to be apprehended that the frivolity of the age can not endure a repetition of the uncommon—that it will no longer be the rage to patronize indigent merit—that thebeau mondewilltherefore neglect, and that, by a necessary consequence, the critics will sneer!

“Nevertheless, sooner or later, merit will meet with its reward; and though the popularity of Mr. Bloomfield may be delayed, hemust, at one time or other, receive the meed due to its deserts. Posterity will judge impartially; and if bold and vivid images, and original conceptions, luminously displayed, and judiciously apposed, have any claim to the regard of mankind, the name of Nathaniel Bloomfield will not be without its high and appropriate honors.

“That Mr. N. Bloomfield’s poems display acuteness of remark, and delicacy of sentiment, combined with much strength, and considerableselectionof diction, few will deny. The Pæan to Gunpowder would alone prove both his power of language, and the fertility of his imagination; and the following extract presents him to us in the still higher character of a bold and vividpainter. Describing the field after a battle, he says,

‘Now here and there, about the horrid field,Striding across the dying and the dead,Stalks up a man, by strength superior,Or skill and prowess in the arduous fight,Preserved alive:—fainting he looks around;Fearing pursuit—not caring to pursue.The supplicating voice of bitterest moans,Contortions of excruciating pain,The shriek of torture, and the groan of death,Surround him;—and as night her mantle spreads,To veil the horrors of the mourning field,With cautious step shaping his devious way,He seeks a covert where to hide and rest:At every leaf that rustles in the breezeStarting, he grasps his sword; and every nerveIs ready strained for combat or for flight.’

“If Mr. Bloomfield had written nothing besides the Elegy on the Enclosure of Honnington Green, he would have had a right to be considered as a poet of no mean excellence. There is a sweet and tender melancholy pervading the elegiac ballad efforts of Mr. Bloomfield, which has the most indescribable effects on the heart. Were the versification a little more polished, in some instances, they would be read with unmixed delight.”

William Giffordwas born in 1755, at Ashburton, in Devonshire, England, and for several years led the miserable kind of life which is common among the children of a drunken and reckless father. His father died when only forty years of age, leaving his wife with two children, the youngest little more than eight months old, and no available means for their support. In about a year afterward his wife followed, and thus was William, at the age of thirteen, and his infant brother, thrown upon the world in an utterly destitute condition.

The parish workhouse now received the younger of the orphans, and William was taken home to the house of a person named Carlile, his godfather, who, whatever might have been his kindness in this respect, had at least taken care of his own interests, by seizing on every article left by the widow Gifford, on pretence of repaying himself for money which he had advanced to her, in her greatest necessities. The only benefit derived by William from this removal was a little education; as Carlile sent him to school, where he acquired the elements of instruction. His chief proficiency, as he tells us, was in arithmetic; but he was not suffered to make much progress in his studies, for, grudging the expense, his patron took him from school, with the object of making him a ploughboy. To the plough he would accordingly have gone, but for a weakness in his chest, the result of an accident some years before. It was now proposed to send him to a storehouse in Newfoundland; but the person who was to be benefited by his services declared him to be too small, and this plan was also dropped. “My godfather,” says William, “had now humbler views for me, and I had little heart to resist anything. He proposed to send me on board one of the Torbay fishing-boats. I ventured, however, to remonstrate against this, and the matter was compromised by my consenting to go on board a coaster. A coaster was speedily found for me at Brixham, and thither I went, when little more than thirteen.”

In this vessel he remained for nearly a year. “It will be easily conceived,” he remarks, “that my life was a life of hardship, I was not only a ‘ship-boy on the high and giddy mast,’ but also in the cabin, where every menial office fell to my lot; yet if I was restless and discontented, I can safely say it was not so much on account of this, as of my being precluded from all possibility of reading; as my master did not possess, nor do I recollect seeing, during the whole time of my abode with him, a single book of any description except the ‘Coasting Pilot.’”

While in this humble situation, however, and seeming to himself almost an outcast from the world, he was not forgotten. He had broken off all connexion with Ashburton, where his godfather lived; but “the women of Brixham,” says he, “who travelled to Ashburton twice a week with fish, and who had known my parents, did not see me without kind concern running about the beach, in ragged jacket and trousers.” They often mentioned him to their acquaintances at Ashburton; and the tale excited so much commiseration in the place, that his godfather at last found himself obliged to send for him home. At this time he wanted some months of fourteen. He proceeds with his own story as follows:—

“After the holydays, I returned to my darling pursuit—arithmetic. My progress was now so rapid, that in a few months I was at the head of the school, and qualified to assist my master (Mr. E. Furlong) on any extraordinary emergency. As he usually gave me a trifle on these occasions, it raised a thought in me, that, by engaging with him as a regular assistant, and undertaking the instruction of a few evening scholars, I might, with a little additional aid, be enabled to support myself. God knows my ideas of support at this time were of no very extravagant nature. I had, besides, another object in view. Mr. Hugh Smerdon (my first master) was now grown old and infirm; it seemed unlikely that he should hold out above three or four years; and I fondly flattered myself that, notwithstanding my youth, I might possibly be appointed to succeed him.

“I was in my fifteenth year when I built these castles. A storm, however, was collecting, whichunexpectedly burst upon me, and swept them all away.

“On mentioning my little plan to Carlile, he treated it with the utmost contempt; and told me, in his turn, that as I had learned enough, and more than enough, at school, he must be considered as having fairly discharged his duty (so indeed he had); he added that he had been negotiating with his cousin, a shoemaker of some respectability who had liberally agreed to take me, without a fee, as an apprentice. I was so shocked at this intelligence, that I did not remonstrate, but went in sullenness and silence to my new master, to whom I was soon after bound, till I should attain the age of twenty-one.

“At this time,” he continues, “I possessed but one book in the world: it was a treatise on algebra, given to me by a young woman, who had found it in a lodging-house. I considered it as a treasure; but it was a treasure locked up; for it supposed the reader to be well acquainted with simple equations, and I knew nothing of the matter. My master’s son had purchased Fenning’s Introduction: this was precisely what I wanted; but he carefully concealed it from me, and I was indebted to chance alone for stumbling upon his hiding-place. I sat up for the greatest part of several nights successively, and, before he suspected that his treatise was discovered, had completely mastered it. I could now enter upon my own, and that carried me pretty far into the science. This was not done without difficulty. I had not a farthing on earth, nor a friend to give me one; pen, ink, and paper, therefore, were for the most part as completely out of my reach as a crown and sceptre. There was indeed a resource; but the utmost caution and secresy were necessary in applying to it. I beat out pieces of leather as smooth as possible, and wrote my problems on them with a blunted awl; for the rest, my memory was tenacious, and I could multiply and divide by it to a great extent.”

Persevering under these untoward difficulties, he at length obtained some alleviation of his poverty. Having attempted to write some verses, his productions were received with applause, and sometimes, he adds, “with favors more substantial: little collections were now and then made, and I have received sixpence in an evening. To one who had long lived in the absolute want of money, such a resource seemed a Peruvian mine. I furnished myself by degrees with paper, &c., and what was of more importance, with books of geometry, and of the higher branches of algebra, which I cautiously concealed. Poetry, even at this time, was no amusement of mine—it was subservient to other purposes; and I only had recourse to it when I wanted money for my mathematical pursuits.”

Gifford’s master having capriciously put a stop to these literary recreations, and taken away all his books and papers, he was greatly mortified, if not reduced to a state of despair. “I look back,” he says, “on that part of my life which immediately followed this event, with little satisfaction: it was a period of gloom and savage unsociability. By degrees I sunk into a kind of corporeal torpor; or, if roused into activity by the spirit of youth, wasted the exertion in splenetic and vexatious tricks, which alienated the few acquaintances which compassion had yet left me.”

Fortunately, this despondency in time gave way to a natural buoyancy of his disposition; some evidences of kindly feeling from those around him, tended a good deal to mitigate his recklessness; and especially as the term of his apprenticeship drew toward a close, his former aspirations and hopes began to return to him. Working with renewed diligence at his craft, he, at the end of six years, came under the notice of Mr. William Cookesley, and, struck with his talents, this benevolent person resolved on rescuing him from obscurity. “The plan,” says Gifford, “that occurred to him was naturally that which had so often suggested itself to me. There were indeed several obstacles to be overcome. My handwriting was bad, and my language very incorrect; but nothing could slacken the zeal of his excellent man. He procured a few of my poor attempts at rhyme, dispersed them among his friends and acquaintance, and when my name was become somewhat familiar to them, set on foot a subscription for my relief. I still preserve the original paper; its title was not very magnificent, though it exceeded the most sanguine wishes of my heart. It ran thus: ‘A subscription for purchasing the remainder of the time of William Gifford, and for enabling him to improve himself in writing and English grammar.’ Few contributed more than five shillings, and none went beyond ten and sixpence; enough, however, was collected to free me from my apprenticeship, and to maintain me for a few months, during which I assiduously attended the Rev. Thomas Smerdon.”

Pleased with the advances he made in this short period, it was agreed to maintain him at school for an entire year. “Such liberality,” says Gifford, “was not lost upon me: I grew anxious to make the best return in my power, and I redoubled my diligence. Now that I am sunk into indolence, Ilook back with some degree of skepticism to the exertions of that period.” In two years and two months from what he calls the day of his emancipation, he was pronounced by his master to be fit for the university; and a small office having been obtained for him, by Mr. Cookesley’s exertions, at Oxford, he was entered of Exeter college, that gentleman undertaking to provide the additional means necessary to enable him to live till he should take his degree. Mr. Gifford’s first patron died before his protegé had time to fulfil the good man’s fond anticipations of his future celebrity; but he afterward found, in Lord Grosvenor, another much more able, though it was impossible that any could have shown more zeal, to advance his interests.

Gifford was now on the way to fame, and he may be said to have ever afterward enjoyed a prosperous career. On the commencement of the “Quarterly Review,” in 1809, he was appointed editor of that periodical, and under his management it attained a distinguished success. After a useful literary career, Mr. Gifford died in London on the 31st of December, 1826, in the seventy-first year of his age. Reversing the Latin proverb, it might be justly observed, that in hima shoemaker happily went beyond his last.

Noah Worcesterwas born in 1758 at Hollis, New Hampshire, where some of his ancestors had been ministers; but his father was a farmer. In early life he received very little education, and the greater part of his time was consumed working as a laborer in the fields. He afterward became a soldier; but, horrified with the vices of that profession, and the slaughter which he saw take place at Bunker’s hill, he abandoned it for ever, and betook himself to farming. He now commenced a course of self-instruction; and to lose no time while so engaged, he employed himself in shoemaking. His diligence was unrelaxing. At the end of his bench lay his books, pens, ink, and paper; and to these he made frequent application. In this way he acquired much useful learning; and a pamphlet which he wrote had the effect of recommending him to a body of ministers, by whom he was advanced to the clerical profession.

In a short time an opening occurred for a preacher, in a small town in the neighborhood, and to this he was promoted by universal consent; yet, in a worldly sense, it was a poor promotion. His salary scantily supported life, being only two hundred dollars, and as many could ill afford to pay their proportion of even that small sum, he was accustomed, as the time of collecting it drew nigh, to relinquish his claims, by giving to the poorer among them receipts in full. The relief granted in this way sometimes amounted to a fourth, or even a third part of his salary. He was thus made to continue still dependent for his support in a great measure on the labor of his hands, partly on the farm, and partly in making shoes. But he was far from fancying this scantiness of pay and necessity of toil, any exemption from his obligation to do the utmost for his people. On the contrary, he was ready to engage in extra labor for them; and when it happened, for example, as it sometimes did, that the provision for a winter school failed, he threw open the doors of his own house, invited the children into his study, and gave them his time and care as assiduously as if he had been their regularly-appointed teacher.

His short experience of soldiering, gave him, as has been said, a horror of war, and against this scourge he preached with untiring zeal. In 1814, he gave vent to his whole soul, in a remarkable tract, “A Solemn Review of the Custom of War,” one of the most successful and efficient pamphlets of any period. It has been translated into many languages, and circulated extensively through the world. It is one of the chief instruments by whichthe opinions of society have been affected within the present century. The season of its publication was favorable; the world was wearied with battles, and longed for rest. “Such was the impression made by this work,” says Dr. Channing, “that a new association, called the ‘Peace Society of Massachusetts,’ was instituted in this place [Brighton, Massachusetts, whither he had removed in 1813]. I well recollect the day of its formation in yonder house, then the parsonage of this parish; and if there was a happy man that day on earth, it was the founder of this institution. This society gave birth to all the kindred ones in this country, and its influence was felt abroad.” He conducted its periodical, which was commenced in 1819, and was published quarterly for ten years. It was almost entirely written by himself, and is remarkable not only for its beautiful moral tone, but for fertility of resource and ingenuity of illustration. He wished it to be inscribed on his tombstone: “He wrote the Friend of Peace.” Eight years after he began to write the “Solemn Review,” he declares his belief that the subject of war had not been absent from his mind, when awake, an hour at a time, during that whole period. This concentration of all the powers of an earnest and vigorous mind, enabled him to produce a greater effect than perhaps any other individual. Dr. Worcester died in 1837, in the seventy-ninth year of his age. Of character Dr. Channing thus speaks:—

“Two views of him particularly impressed me. The first was the unity, the harmony of his character. He had no jarring elements. His whole nature had been blended and melted into one strong, serene love. His mission was to preach peace, and he preached it, not on set occasions, or by separate efforts, but in his whole life.... And this serenity was not the result of torpor or tameness, for his whole life was a conflict with what he deemed error. He made no compromise with the world; and yet he loved it as deeply and as constantly as if it had responded in shouts to all his views and feelings.

“The next great impression which I received from him was that of the sufficiency of the mind to its own happiness, or of its independence on outward things.” Notwithstanding his poverty and infirmities, “he spoke of his old age as among the happiest portions, if not the very happiest, of his life. In conversation, his religion manifested itself more in gratitude than any other form.” His voice was cheerful, his look serene, and he devoted himself to his studies with youthful earnestness. “On leaving his house, and turning my face toward thiscity, I have said to myself, how much richer is this poor man than the richest who dwell yonder! I have been ashamed of my own dependence on outward good. I am always happy to express my obligations to the benefactors of my mind; and I owe it to Dr. Worcester to say, that my acquaintance with him gave me clearer comprehension of the spirit of Christ and of the dignity of a man.”

Acelebratedbookseller of Finsbury Square, London, and proprietor of the great bookselling establishment there, which he called the “Temple of the Muses,” was born in 1746, and brought up a shoemaker, at Wellington, in Shropshire. By industry and perseverance he succeeded in the bookselling business, almost beyond precedent. On the publication of the seventh edition of his memoirs, written by himself, in 1794, he had set up his carriage, and his profits in each of the two preceding years, were £5,000 (equal to $24,000). He observes that—

“Cobblers from Crispin boast their public spirit,And all are upright, downright men of merit.”

Lackington mentions a brother shoemaker, named Ralph Tilney, who died in 1789: “one who had not dignity of birth or elevated rank in life toboast of, but who possessed what is far superior to either, a solid understanding, amiable manners, a due sense of religion, and an industrious disposition. Among other acquisitions, entomology was his peculiar delight—his valuable cabinet of insects, both foreign and domestic, supposed to be one of the completest of a private collection in the kingdom, all scientifically arranged, with peculiar neatness, and in the finest preservation.”

“Honor and shame from no condition rise;Act well your part, there all the honor lies.”“You’ll find if once the monarch acts the monk,Or, cobbler-like, the parson will get drunk,Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow,The rest is all but leather or prunella.”

Lackington’s memoirs bring his life down to 1793. His memoirs abound in severe remarks on the methodists (whom he had joined in early life and afterward left), both as to life, and doctrine; these Lackington subsequently repented having written. Uniting himself again to the Wesleyan society, he endeavored to obviate the injustice of his sarcasms by publishing a confession of his errors. Much of what he had stated, he acknowledged to have taken on trust; and many things he now discovered to have been without a proper foundation. These “Confessions,” which appeared in 1803, never altogether accomplished their purpose; sodifficult is it to recall or make reparation for a word lightly spoken. In sincere humiliation of spirit, Lackington retired to Budleigh Sulterton, in Devonshire, where he built and endowed a chapel, and performed various other acts of munificence, and spent the conclusion of his days. He died on the 22d of November, 1815, in the seventieth year of his age.

Joseph Pendrell, who died in London about the year 1830, had received at school nothing more than the ordinary education, in English reading and writing. At an early age he was apprenticed to a shoemaker, which business he followed until his death. He had when young a great taste for books. Stopping at a book-stall one day, he laid hold of a an arithmetical work, marked four pence sterling; he purchased it, and availed himself of his leisure hours, in making himself master of the subject. At the end of the volume he found a short introduction to mathematics; this stimulated him to make further purchases of scientific works; and in this way he gradually proceeded from the elements to the highest departments of mathematical learning. When a journeyman, he made every possible saving in order to purchase books. He subsequentlyacquired a knowledge of French, Greek, and Latin, and formed a large collection of classical books, many of which he purchased at the auction-rooms, always concealing his name as purchaser. The late Bishop Lowth became interested in him, from occasional conversation at the auction sales, but the shoemaker, from extreme diffidence, declined telling his name, although the introduction to the bishop might have drawn him from his obscurity. Pendrell’s knowledge of mathematical science, was profound and extensive, embracing fortification, navigation, astronomy, and various departments of natural philosophy. He was also familiar with poetical literature; and had a thorough acquaintance with most English writers in the department ofbelles lettres.

Thomas Holcroft, an English miscellaneous writer of considerable reputation, was born in Orange court, Leicesterfields, December 22, 1744. His father was a shoemaker in low circumstances, and the son, early in life, was employed in the stables of the honorable Mr. Vernon. He also worked at his father’s business of shoemaking, but being fond of reading, and his fellow-workmen sneering at his efforts to acquire knowledge, he leftthe trade, and opened a school in London. This not proving successful, he tried his fortune on the stage, but after much suffering, being often almost reduced to starvation, he abandoned the stage as an actor. In the midst of his distresses, however, he retained his love of books, and had made himself extensively acquainted with English literature.

He then turned dramatic writer, in which he was more fortunate, some of his plays being very popular at the time. Besides these productions, he wrote several novels, and translated a number of works from the French and German languages. At the commencement of the French revolution, he espoused the cause of the republicans, and was committed for high treason; but when Hardy, Tooke, and Thelwall, were acquitted, he was discharged, without trial. His last speculation was a publication of his travels in Germany and France, in two volumes quarto. Many of his works exhibit high talents, and have an established popularity in England. He died in 1809.

Thiseminent Christian missionary, and distinguished oriental scholar, was born at Paulerspury, Northamptonshire, England, in 1761. He followed the business of shoemaking in early life, duringwhich time, he learned several languages, studying with his books by his side while at work. A gentleman in New York, has preserved in his library, among the works of Dr. Carey, a pair of shoes made by him.

Dr. Carey commenced preaching as a baptist minister in 1783; in 1793 he embarked as a missionary to India, and in 1799, he took up his residence at the Danish settlement of Serampore, which became celebrated for being the seat of this mission which was sustained by Carey, Ward, and Marshman.

Dr. Carey’s philological labors in preparing grammars and dictionaries of different languages, and in making versions of the Scriptures, were immense. He lived to see the sacred Text, chiefly by his instrumentality, translated into the vernacular dialects of more than forty different tribes, and thus made accessible to nearly two hundred millions of human beings. In addition to his extensive philological learning, Dr. Carey was well versed in natural history and botany, and made valuable communications to the Asiatic society, of which he was for twenty-eight years a member. He died at Serampore, in Hindostan, June 9, 1834, in his seventy-third year.

George Fox, the founder and first preacher of the Christian sect of Friends, or Quakers, was born at Drayton, Leicestershire, England, in 1624. He was bound by his father, who was a weaver, to a shoemaker and grazier; and the occupation of his youth was divided between shoemaking and the tending of sheep. He did not, however, long follow either of these occupations, as, in 1643, he began his wandering life; and, after retiring to solitude, and at other times frequenting the company of religious and devout persons, he became a public preacher in 1647 or 1648. In his pious zeal, Fox visited, not only England, Ireland, and Scotland, but he extended his travels to Holland and Germany, to the American colonies and the West India islands. He died in London, in 1690. His journal was printed in 1694, his epistles in 1698, his doctrinal pieces, about one hundred and fifty in number, in 1706. The name of quakers was first given to him and his followers, at Derby, in England.

James Nichol, of Traquair, Selkirkshire, Scotland, was the son of a shoemaker, and he also learned the same trade of his father, and continued to labor at it, in the summer vacations, after he had entered college. With the manners of a gentleman, Mr. Nichol possessed uncommon talents. He was a most able and eloquent pulpit orator; an eminent scholar; and an acute, ingenious, and liberal theologian. In early life he published two or three volumes of poems, of considerable celebrity. He wrote several articles in one of the encyclopedias, and in various periodicals; and left a number of theological and literary works for publication.

Thislate celebrated and popular preacher of Providence chapel, Gray’s Inn lane, London, worked for some time as a shoemaker, as he informs us, in his “Bank of Faith,” a work singularly curious and interesting.

HAVING given, in the preceding chapter, biographical sketches of some of the sons of St. Crispin, who have risen from thelast, to the first rank among their fellow-men, in the several departments of knowledge, we shall conclude this work with a few anecdotes, and such matters as are of interest to the craft in general.

Patron Saints of the Shoemakers.—Crispin and Crispianus were brethren, born at Rome, from which city they travelled to Soissons, in France, for the purpose of propagating the Christian religion, A. D., 303; and in order that they might not be chargeable to others for their maintenance, they exercised the trade of shoemakers; but Rectionarius, governor of the town, discovering them to be Christians, condemned them to be beheaded; hence they became the tutelar saints of the shoemakers.

The following singular passage with reference tothe preservation of the relics of these saints, occurs in Lusius’s Acts of the Martyrs, where he notices the blessed Crispin and Crispianus. After their execution, their bodies, according to our author, were cast out to be devoured by dogs and birds of prey: nevertheless, being protected by the power of Christ, they suffered no harm. During the same night in which they were martyred, a certain indigent old man, who resided with his aged sister, was warned by an angel to take the bodies of these holy martyrs, and to deposite them, with all proper care, in a sepulchre. The old man, without hesitation, arose, and, accompanied by his venerable sister, went to the place where the bodies of the martyrs lay. As this was near the river Arona, they could easily, with the assistance of a small boat, have brought them to their own dwelling; this, however, on account of their poverty and infirmity, they were unable to procure, nor, indeed, had they any experience in the management of a vessel, which, moreover, must have been rowed against the current. When, however, after diligently searching in the dark, they at last found the precious corpses wholly uninjured—lo! they discovered a small boat close to the shore, and thereupon assuming courage immediately, they each took up a body, so staggering under the weight from weakness, that they appearnot so much to carry their burdens as to be carried by them. Placing the bodies in the boat, they floated with great celerity against the current of the river, and, without the assistance of either rudder or oars, presently arrived at their own cottage; near to which, with equal secresy and joy, they interred the bodies of the deceased martyrs.

In Soissons, there are many churches and religious places dedicated to these saints. There is a tradition of their interment in England.

St. Crispin’s Day.—Crispin stands marked in our almanacs for remembrance, on the 25th of October, though his brother, Crispianus or Crispinian, appears to have an equal claim to that respect. Their history is only imperfectly known, and affords nothing particularly interesting beyond the preceding notice. In an old romance, a prince of the name of Crispin is represented as having exercised the profession of a shoemaker; and thence is supposed to be derived the expression of the “gentle craft,” as applied to that art:—

“Our shoes were sewed with merry notes,And by our mirth expelled all moan;Like nightingales, from whose sweet throatsMost pleasant tunes are nightly blown:The Gentle Craft is fittest thenFor poor distresséd gentlemen.”

The immortal Shakspere has given a speech to Henry the Fifth, before the battle of Agincourt, that will mark the anniversary of St. Crispin to the latest posterity:—

“This day is called—the feast of Crispian:He, that outlives this day, and comes safe home,Will stand a tiptoe when this day is named,And rouse him at the name of Crispian:He, that shall live this day, and see old age,Will yearly on the vigil feast his friends,And say, To-morrow is St. Crispian:Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars.Old men forget; yet shall not all forget,But they’ll remember with advantages,What feats they did that day: Then shall our names,Familiar in their mouth as household words,—Harry the king, Bedford, and Exeter,Warwick, and Talbot, Salisbury, and Glo’ster,—Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered:This story shall the good man teach his son:And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,From this day to the ending of the world,But we in it shall be remembered:We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;For he to-day that sheds his blood with me,Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,This day shall gentle his condition:And gentlemen in England, now abed,Shall think themselves accursed they were not here;And hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaksThat fought with us upon St. Crispin’s day.”

Cordwainers’ Hallis a modern structure, situated in Distaff lane, London. It is a plain, but very neat and substantial brick building, with a stone front, and a sculpture of the cordwainers’ arms, on a shield, in the pediment, supported on each side by the cornucopia, or horn of plenty. Over the centre window is a bass-relief of Clotho, one of the parcæ or fates, spinning the thread of life.

The hall is entered by two side-wings, by an ascent of a few steps. On the right and left are rooms for counting-houses, and other offices for the use of the clerks and different persons belonging to the company. The ballroom, 60 feet by 30, is a neat, commodious room, but without ornaments, except merely the royal arms, the city arms, and the arms of the company. Over the entrance is a music gallery or orchestra, underneath which are some extremely neat representations of musical instruments.

The court-room, 30 feet by 15, is a very neat room, the walls hung with various plans of estates belonging to the company. Over the fireplace is a beautiful engraved view of the hall, drawn by Mr. Michael Meredith. The view is taken from the southwest angle, and gives a correct view, in perspective, of the west entrance, as well as of thefront. Opposite this picture, at the other end of the room, is another view of the hall, an entire front view, showing both the wings. This was drawn by Mr. Robinson, of Lothbury, surveyor to the company. Over this room is the smoking-room, a perfectly plain, but clean and neat apartment. Opposite to this is the dining-room, at the, east end of which is a capital picture, by Sir William Beechy, of William Williams, Esq., who, after being three times elected master of the company, died on the 5th of November, 1809, aged eighty-seven. The portrait is very large, and painted in Beechy’s best style. The frame is superbly gilt and ornamented. It is surmounted by Mr. Williams’s own arms. At the other end of this room, are the arms of the company, richly emblazoned. Under this, in a niche, is a massy sepulchred urn, of white marble, on a base of the same material, bearing the following inscription:—

“This tablet is dedicated to the memory of Mr. John Carne, many years a valuable member of this company, in testimony of the many virtues which adorned his character, particularly that spirit of benevolence and charity so manifestly displayed in his last will, dated the 12th of August, 1782, by which he gave, in trust, to the master, wardens, and stewards of this company for ever, £37,200three per cent. government annuities, the interest arising therefrom he bequeathed to this company, and also subject to certain annuities, amounting to £145, to be by them annually distributed in £5 each, to clergymen’s widows. Mr. Carne died the 13th of May, 1796, aged seventy-eight years, and was buried in the church of St. Mary-le-bow, London. Mr. Carne, during several years prior to his death, gave £300 for the same purposes as those mentioned on the tablet.”

On one side of this room is a neat music gallery. There are, besides, several other minor apartments, and beneath, a most excellent kitchen, with all sorts of culinary apparatus.

Incorporated Shoemakers.—When and where the shoemakers first began to form themselves into societies, and to observe the festival of their saint, does not appear; it is natural enough to suppose that the celebrity of Crispin and Crispianus, would confer on the day and place an honor, which they who wrought at the same occupation would wish to record and celebrate; at Soissons, therefore, it is probable that a trade, which had been selected and distinguished by saints and martyrs, would be also distinguished by some principles of recognition byits members. Be this as it may, it is certain that the memory of the above saints is honored in the city of their decollation, where churches, and other religious buildings, are dedicated to “St. Crispin,” “St. Crispin the Greater,” “St. Crispin the Less,” “St. Crispinen chay,” &c.

In Paris, there are two pious societies, with the title of “Freres Cordonniers,” or brothers shoemakers. They were established by authority, about the middle of the sixteenth century; the one under the patronage of St. Crispin, and the other of Crispianus. They live in community, and are governed by fixed statutes and officers, both in their secular and spiritual concerns. The produce of the shoes which they make goes to the common stock, to furnish necessaries for their support, the overplus to be distributed among the poor.

Shoemakers are legally called cordwainers, or cordovanners, from Cordova, a town and province in Spain, whence the leather called cordovan was brought. The Latin appellation of a shoemaker isSUTORorCALCEOLARIUS, in Greek it is ΡΑΠΤΗΣ, in ArabicSABBATERO, in FrenchCORDINNIER. The cordwainer’s company was first incorporated in England by the letters patent of Henry IV., in the year 1410, by the style of the “Cordwainer’s and Cobbler’s Company.” The incorporation of thisbody was again recognised early in the fifteenth century, by an act of parliament, the provisions of which were to restrict the making of boots, shoes, &c., after a certain “preposterous” fashion then prevalent: defaults to be adjudged by the wardens of the company, and a line of twenty shillings to be levied on the party so offending. A like penalty was inflicted by the same act upon any “cordwainer or cobbler,” in London, or within three miles of it, who should be convicted of making, or putting upon the legs or feet of any person, any shoes, boots, or buskins, onSundays, or feasts of the nativity and ascension of our Lord, and Corpus Christi. Shoemakers are incorporated in Edinburgh, and calledCORDINERS.

Proverbs.—Several common and proverbial expressions are taken from the shoemaker’s trade. “To stick to the last,” is used of perseverance in an undertaking till its completion. “Nothing is like leather,” signifies to cry up one’s own craft, as in the case of the currier, who would have defended the town with tanned cowhides. “Urit pedem, calceus,” I am in the shoemaker’s stocks. “Ne sutor ultra crepidam,” the shoemaker must not go beyond his last. These were the words of Apelles, a famous painter of antiquity, to a critical Crispin, who properly found fault with an ill-designed slipper. The artist amended his picture accordingly; but the cobbler, ascending to other parts, betrayed the grossest ignorance. “No man,” says a commentator on this proverb, “should pass his opinion in a province of art where he is without a qualification.”—“Etre sur un grand pied dans le monde,” to be on a great foot (or footing) in the world. This favorite French proverb originated at the time when a man’s rank was known by the size of his shoes. Those of a prince measured two feet and a half; a plain cit was allowed only twelve inches. A noble Roman being asked why he had put away his beautiful wife, put forth his foot, and showed his buskins. “Is not this,” said he, “a handsome and complete shoe? yet no man but myself knows where it pinches me.” Hence the saying, “None but the wearer knows where the shoe pinches.” As “tight as a bristle,” is still a common saying of anything that is attached dexterously, or that fits nicely, and is derived from the exactness required by the cobbler in fixing a bristle to the thread orendwith which he sews, that it may follow the awl the better. The waxed string pointed with bristle, as at present, was in use as early as the twelfth century.

Thefollowing pleasant anecdote used to be told by the eccentric Dr. Monsey. The duke of Leeds, the doctor, and his grace’s chaplain, being one morning, soon after breakfast, in his library, Mr. Walkden, of Pall Mall, his grace’s shoemaker, was shown in with a pair of new shoes for the duke. The latter was remarkably fond of him, as he was at the same time clerk of St. James’s church, where the duke was a constant attendant. “What have you there, Walkden?” said the duke.—“A pair of shoes for your grace,” he replied.—“Let me see them.” They were handed to him accordingly. The chaplain taking up one of them examined it with great attention: “What is the price?” asked the chaplain. “Half a guinea, sir,” said the shoemaker. “Half a guinea! what for a pair of shoes?” said the chaplain. “Why I could go to Cranbourn alley, and buy a better pair of shoes than they ever were or ever will be, for five and sixpence.” He then threw the shoe to the other end of the room. Walkden threw the other after it, saying as they were fellows they ought to go together; and at the same time replied to the chaplain: “Sir, I can go to a stall in Moorfields and buy a better sermon for twopence, than my lord gives you a guinea for.” The duke clapped Walkden on the shoulder, and said “That is amost excellent retort, Walkden; make me half a dozen pairs of shoes directly.”

Thegreatest multitude of shoemakers ever known to have been assembled on one occasion, were collected by the celebrated mob-orator, Henley, at his oratory near Lincoln’s-Inn-Fields. This public declaimer used to discourse on general topics during the week, and on some subject of morality on the Sunday. On the above occasion he had announced that on a given day he should discourse to shoemakers, and that he could teach them a most expeditious method of making shoes—which proved to be no other than cutting off the tops of ready-made boots! The admission ticket on that occasion bore the following motto: “Omne majus continet in se minus.” The writer of this anecdote says: “I can not think the representatives of Prince Crispin would have pocketed this insult. I think they would havebristledup, one andall, and,waxingwroth, would not have waited for theendsof justice, but would have brought the orator down from his ‘gilt tub,’ and persevering to thelast, have put theirsolesupon his neck till he had discovered too late, that the ‘gentle craft,’ might not be insulted with impunity.”

Ashoemakerattending a public ball, where he happened to be the handsomest and best-dressed gentleman, the mushroom gentry thought to play a trick on him. While engaged in a dance, a stocking manufacturer begged to be measured for a pair of boots, to be ready by five o’clock next morning. The shoemaker, observing his drift, and the approbation of a considerable part of the company, immediately desired him to hold it on the floor, and with one knee on it measured the foot: then saying, “You may depend upon it, the boots will be ready according to your order;” he ordered half a dozen pairs of silk stockings, to be ready at the same hour, and proceeded with the dance. Having stayed till two o’clock in the morning, he waked some of his workmen, and had the boots finished by five o’clock; then sending and obliging the stocking manufacturer to rise, and try on his boots, which exactly fitted, he ordered instant payment of five guineas for them, and threatened prosecution, as the stockings were not ready according to promise.

THE END.

Back to Index Next