X Boots, Shoes, and Other — Coverings for the Feet
“‘Who is there in the house?’ said Sam, in whose mind the inmates were always represented by that particular article of their costume which came under his immediate superintendence. ‘There’s a wooden leg in number six; there’s a pair of Hessians in thirteen; there’s two pair of halves in the commercial; there’s these here painted tops in the snuggery inside the bar; and five more tops in the coffee-room.’
“‘Nothing more?’ said the little man.
“‘Stop a bit,’ replied Sam, suddenly recollecting himself. ‘Yes; there’s a pair of Wellingtons a good deal worn, and a pair o’ lady’s shoes in number five.’
“‘What sort of shoes?’ hastily inquired Wardle, who, together with Mr. Pickwick, had been lost in bewilderment at the singular catalogue of visitors.
“‘Country make,’ replied Sam.
“‘Any maker’s name?’
“‘Brown.’
“‘Where of?’
“‘Muggleton.’
“‘It is them!’ exclaimed Wardle. ‘By Heaven, we’ve found them.’”
Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club.
X
BOOTS, SHOES, AND OTHER COVERINGS FOR THE FEET
The good St. Crispin, of blessed memory, cobbling shoes for the poor by the light of his candle and filling up the interval with preaching, is a figure which all shoemakers regard with reverence. How did Crispin become the tutelary saint of shoemakers? Well, it was in this wise. Crispin, travelling with his brother Crispinian, in company with St. Denis, to Soissons in France to propagate the Christian faith, towards the close of the third century, in order that he might not be a burden to others for his maintenance, exercised at night the trade of shoemaker, preaching the Gospel by day. The shoes were sold at a low price to the poor, an angel (so the legend recounts) miraculously furnishing the leather. According to another version of the legend, the saint stole the leather, so as to enable him to benefit the poor. Crispin’s efforts, like those of so many other benefactors of their kind, were poorly rewarded. He was ordered to be beheaded, and suffered martyrdom in 287 A.D., not, however, for his shoemaking, or for his thefts, but on account of his religious tenets. Some accounts state that he and his brother were flung into a cauldron of molten lead.
The brotherhood of the shoemakers has always included men of remarkable character and parts. Hans Sachs, born at Nuremburg in 1494, the most eminent German poet of his time; George Fox, first of Quakers, true follower of Crispin, dividing his time and energies between shoemaking and preaching; William Gifford, less remembered perhaps as a shoemaker than for his editorship of the famous Quarterly—these are a few only of the men “who have imparted a glory to the ‘gentle craft,’ as shoemaking has been called since the days of the illustrious Crispin,” and invested it with distinction.28
The universal observance by Eastern nations of the custom of removing the shoes as a mark of reverence is in obedience to the command given to Moses from the burning bush at Horeb: “Put off thy shoes from off thy feet, for the place whereon thou standest is holy ground.” The Western practice of uncovering the reverse end of the human anatomy presents a curious and somewhat startling contrast.
Footgear began as a protection to the soles of the feet, since it is the soles which necessarily demand some sort of protection until that time when the “rough places shall be made plain,” although Nature provides her own protection to the soles of feet which are habitually bare, by thickening the skin. The skin of the habitually barefooted Irish lassie varies, we are told, from a quarter to half an inch in thickness, and even more.
The sandal, then, may be considered as the precursor of the shoe. Most of the early nations wore sandals. The Egyptians, however, were usually barefooted, with the exception of the priests, who wore shoes of byblus, and were not permitted to wear any other. The Greek sandal consisted of a strip of thick hide, tanned or untanned, for the sole, with a thinner piece, assuming some ornamental form, upon the instep, the whole connected or drawn together with straps drawn crosswise over the instep and round the ankle, or a cord or thong passing between the great toe and the first of the smaller toes.
Sandals were worn either with bare feet or with stockings or hose, in which case a division of the stocking would be necessary between the great and little toes. Some modern hygienic reformers have, indeed, recommended toed stockings for present use, i.e., stockings provided with a separate receptacle for each toe, like the fingers of a glove, to be worn even with the modern shoe or boot, on the ground of healthiness, and this would seem to be reasonable, since the objectionable condition of the skin between the toes, which no amount of cleanliness and care can wholly avert, is due to the inability of the perspiration to escape when the surfaces are in contact. “The interposition in the five-toed socks of a layer of woollen or other material between each toe absorbs the perspiration and rapidly effects a remarkable change. The skin between the toes becomes dry and wholesome, and the squeezed, crippled appearance of the toes greatly alters for the better.”29
Both the Greeks and Romans wore buskins, which reached to about the middle of the calf. These were variously ornamented and laced, and were usually lined with the skins of the smaller animals, the heads and claws being allowed to fall over the top by way of ornament. Buskins have, as a matter of fact, been worn at all periods; several examples are given, notably in the portraits by Vandyke, of Lords John and Bernard Stuart (p. 287).
The footgear of the Italian peasant of the present day may be considered as the most primitive form of sandal. It consists of a simple oblong piece of thick leather, perforated at the sides and ends to allow of straps being drawn through, crosswise over the instep and round the ankle, and half way up the leg, to the knee, either in circular bands or crosswise, the foot and leg being encased in a more or less loose stocking or hose, in many instances the whole of the leg being cross gartered.
The early Britons wore a shoe which was almost as simple in construction as the last mentioned. It consisted of a piece of raw cowhide, with a leather thong fastened at the heel, threaded along the upper edge, drawing the shoe like a purse over the foot. This form of shoe, however, was not confined to the early Britons, but was adopted by most primitive peoples at different periods; in fact, it is the first and readiest method of covering the feet which would occur to the primitive mind.
The Anglo-Saxon shoe was provided with long thongs of leather or other material attached to the shoe at the ankles and wound crosswise round the leg to the knee, or round the whole of the leg to the middle, always, however, with some form of hose. This fashion obtained, more or less, during the whole of the Anglo-Saxon period, and was common to most of the Northern nations.
During the reign of William the Conqueror, short boots reaching above the ankle, with a plain band round the tops, prevailed. Robert, Duke of Normandy, eldest son of the Conqueror, who died in 1134, was called “Curta Ocrea,” or Short Boots, either from his setting the fashion or from retaining it when abandoned by the beaux of the day.
The usual footgear of the period, however, is the close shoe, made of cloth, velvet, leather, or other material, and terminating in a point. From this period for more than a century onward, shoes varied very little, except in the character of their ornamentation.
During the reigns of Henry II. and Richard I., a kind of loose top-boot appeared. These boots resembled loose socks or galoches, drawn over the hose, sometimes reaching as high as the knee, and occasionally to the middle of the thigh, but more often half way up the leg only. They were worn in various forms by all classes, and by the common people during a long period. They had no fastenings or lacings, but were allowed to fall at will, according to the stiffness or otherwise of the material of which they were made.
In the miniatures of the “Facta et Dicta Memorabilia” of Valerius Maximus, begun by Simon de Hesdin for Charles V. of France in 1375, and completed by Nicholas de Gonesse for Jean, Duc de Berry, in 1405, a number of figures have boots, made apparently of soft leather and coloured either red or white, reaching to the knee; in some instances the tops turned down, with long, pointed toes. This series of miniatures is extremely interesting as giving an insight into the domestic life of the fourteenth century, some of the interiors being especially so.
During the reign of the Plantagenets, footgear, like the rest of the costume of that period, was exceedingly sumptuous. The shoes were usually close-fitting, with pointed toes, and ornamented with the richest variety of patterning. The tops were of various materials, soft leather, silk, cloth, cloth-of-gold, &c. The soles were usually of thicker leather, but occasionally of wood, and even of cork. Upon the opening of the tomb of Henry VI. of Sicily, the dead monarch was discovered wearing shoes of which the uppers were of cloth-of-gold embroidered with pearls, and the soles of cork, covered with cloth-of-gold.
The reign of Richard II. was the period of abnormally long pointed toes, which occasionally reached the length of six inches and more, and assumed various shapes, the toes being stuffed with tow or other substance to keep them in shape.
This fashion of long pointed toes lasted during the three succeeding reigns. “Even boys wore doublets of silk, satin, and velvet; and almost all, especially in the Courts of Princes, had points at the toes of their shoes a quarter of an ell long and upwards, which they now called poulaines.” Paradin describes the men as “wearing shoes with a point before, half a foot long: the richer and more eminent personages more than a foot, and Princes two feet long, which was the most ridiculous thing that ever was seen; and when men became tired of these pointed shoes, they adopted others in their stead denominated duck-bills, having a bill or beak before, of four or five fingers in length.”
The sumptuary laws regulating these matters have been referred to in the introduction to this work. The Act of 3 Edward IV. restricted the length of toe to two inches.
Clogs and pattens were worn from the time of Richard II. onwards as a protection to the soles of the shoes, and were variously shaped. Randal Holme calls pattanes “irons to be tied under the shoes to keep them out of the dirt.” In an anonymous work called the “Eulogium,” cited by Camden, it states: “Their shoes and pattens are snouted and piked, more than a finger long, crooking upwards, which they call crackowes, resembling devils’ claws, and fastened to the knees with chains of gold and silver.”
This fashion of appending chains to the peaks of the shoes lasted intermittently for a considerable time. In a work on “Ancient Costume,” by Major Hamilton Smith, a portrait of James I. of Scotland is mentioned, in which the peaks of the monarch’s shoes are fastened by chains of gold to his girdle.
There is a manuscript in the Royal collection in which the Duke of Gloucester, afterwards Richard III., is depicted as wearing a clog. This has been adopted by Abbey in his famous picture of “Gloucester and the Lady Anne.”
Clogs were of wood, thickened at the heel and ball of the foot for the purpose of raising it from the ground. Afterwards it was further raised by means of two pieces set at right angles to the foot, on precisely the same principle as the Japanese shoes of to-day. An illustration is given from the Cluny Museum (p. 282).
Another means of raising the foot was the “chopine,” which was a kind of stilt; it was, in fact, the sole, elongated to an extravagant degree. Hamlet thus addresses the lady players: “What! my young lady and mistress! By’r-lady, your ladyship is nearer heaven than when I saw you last, by the altitude of a chopine!”
Towards the close of the fifteenth century it became the fashion to bend the long toe over the shoe backwards. The two examples figured at the head of this chat are from the Cluny Museum, and are characteristic. Both have high heels, and resemble the shoes with which the Chinese ladies until quite recently tortured and mutilated their feet, for the purpose, it is said, of pleasing the distorted fancy of the men and to be qualified for marriage.30
A number of examples of shoes of the fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth centuries are given from the interesting collection in the Musée de Cluny, and will serve, far better than any written description, to give an idea of the character of the footgear of these periods. The two child’s shoes given on p. 291 are of leather, and are typical of the shoe worn during the greater part of the fifteenth century. The side view shows the point turned upwards. The man’s shoe is short-toed, richly worked in stamped leather. The ladies’ shoes of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries given on p. 293 are of various materials, and for the most part richly embroidered; two of the three lower ones show the clog of leather which was fixed from the heel to the toe, the centre one of the three having a sharp pointed heel and a rounded sole, surely a most uncomfortable thing to wear. Sir Thomas Parkins (“Treatise on Wrestling,” 1714) says: “For shame, let us leave off aiming at the outdoing our Maker in our true symmetry and proportion; let us likewise, for our own ease, secure treading and upright walking, as He designed we should, and shorten our heels.”
During the reign of the Tudors the character of the shoe suddenly changed from the long pointed toe to the broad-toed shoe, made either of various cloths, kid, or velvet, slashed and puffed with silk, an example of which will be seen in Holbein’s picture of the “Two Ambassadors.” The shoes of this period afford a minimum of protection to the feet, the whole of the instep being uncovered. It was again found necessary for legislation to step in—this time, however, to restrict their breadth, instead of the length of the toes, as heretofore.
Bulwer’s “Pedigree of the English Gallant” says: “In the reign of Queen Mary, the people in general had laid aside the long points they formerly wore at the end of their shoes, and caused them to be made square at the toes, with so much addition to the breadth, that their feet exhibited a much more preposterous appearance than they had done in the former instance; therefore,” says the author, “a proclamation was made, that no man should wear his shoes above six inches square at the toes.” He then tells us that “picked shoes soon after came again in vogue, but they did not, I presume, continue any great time in use.”
In the figure of the exquisite of 1670, after Mitelli (p. 129), the squareness of the toes is emphasised, the two corners even projecting from the flat edge. There are small bunches of ribbons at the toes, an abnormally large stiffened bow at the instep, and, by way of “piling Pelion upon Ossa,” the bend of the stiffened bows is supplemented by smaller bows, representing the very acme of whimsical extravagance.
Usually these bows or ribbons were allowed to fall loose, in which case, however, they never reached such extravagant proportions as in the before-mentioned instance. A square-toed shoe of a Dutch officer of the Guards, 1662, is given, having a loose bow, also a shoe of a musketeer with a small buckle on the instep and a large tongue or flap in front.
Buckles have been worn from quite an early period, an example of a circular buckle occurring on a brass of 1376. They formed the usual fastening of the shoe during the Commonwealth, and were worn until the close of the eighteenth century, when they fell into disuse. The buckle-makers of 1800, alarmed at their declining trade, petitioned the Prince of Wales to discard his new strings and adopt the buckle, but, although the Prince complied with the wishes of the petition, it was of no avail.
Buckles were often richly jewelled, and consequently very costly. Those worn by the Hon. John Spencer on the occasion of his marriage were said to be worth £30,000.
In the anonymous portrait of Prince Henry, eldest son of James I. (p. 103), the shoes are of leather, slashed, showing the coloured stocking underneath, and otherwise ornamented, with the strap drawn over the instep, covered by a jewelled rosette, or “shoe-rose.” These shoe-roses had a great vogue during the time of Elizabeth; they were usually of bunches of ribbons made to form a rose, and were occasionally ornamented with costly jewels.
“With two Provencal roses on my razed shoes.”
Hamlet, Act III, sc. 2.
In “Hæc-Vir, or the Womanish Man,” 1621, is described a fashionable man, who “takes a full survey of himself, from the highest sprig in his feather to the lowest spangle that shines in his shoe-string.”
We now come to the period of high-topped boots, which continued with variations to the time of George II. In the portrait of Charles I. by Daniel Mytens in the National Portrait Gallery will be seen an example of the earlier form of top-boot. The tops fit close, and are turned down at the knee, and the edges again turned up half-way down the calf of the leg. A large flap with double edges protects the instep.
The form of top-boots was developed in various ways, until it reached an extravagant pitch in France in the reign of Louis XIV. The variations were mainly in the shape or adjustment of the tops, rather than in that portion of the boot which covered the foot. They were worn by the dandies with a profusion of costly lace. Several examples are given.
This was the period of the highest, or rather widest, development of the tops of the boots; so wide, indeed, did they become, that the gait of a man might be described as straddling rather than walking.
An example is given of a boot worn by the Comte de Soissons, 1628, which has a stiff rounded top like a basin, with a short hose worn over the hose proper, turned down below the knee and edged with rich lace.
A variation of the top-boot worn from the time of Elizabeth onwards is a kind of soft leather hose or buskin drawn up to the middle of the thigh, the edge folded over and slashed; these were worn during the slashed period, when everything was slashed—hat, sleeves, doublet, and tunic (p. 297).
The “Wellington” boot of the present day is practically identical with that worn by the illustrious soldier from whom it takes its name, and is a very slight variation of the form of riding boot which was in use at the beginning of the eighteenth century, except that it is of softer leather, allowing the boot to fall into folds at the ankle. The boot in the portrait of Napoleon by Isabey, in the Musée de Versailles, may be described as a sort of half Wellington, but the top-boot which is usually associated with Napoleon is cut away at its upper edge at the back, the front forming a kind of mask to the knee, a form of boot which, in fact, had been worn from the time of William III.
Cloth and woollen boots and shoes, as were worn in the Middle Ages, have been recommended for modern wear as being more healthy, and as allowing the natural perspiration of the foot to exhale, their sponsors affirming that “cloth and wool are perfectly suitable and safe for wet weather, as the wetting of the wool does not chill the feet, the heat of which promptly evaporates the moisture from the covering, which soon dries.” It must, however, be admitted that with a cloth covering, the dirt and mud of a London winter would be a trial, and here, doubtless, we have a reason for the cobblestones of mediæval towns. Cobble-stones are clean, but must at once be ruled out of the question for London. Cobble-stones would indeed add a fresh horror to London life. But is it too much to expect the richest city in the world, with its thousands of unemployed, to keep its streets clean? Is there any reason why large cities should not be kept clean as well as small cities?
“Boots and shoes should be roomy, to prevent the toes from being squeezed together, and should be so made that the great toe is not pressed against its neighbours, but is encouraged to lie in a straight line drawn from the heel to the root of the great toe. The heel of the boot should be low and broad.”31
The Greek ideal of the foot is the true one. The Greeks rightly regarded the foot as an undeveloped hand, and they endeavoured in their sculpture to impart that hand-like character to their feet. One has only to notice the flexible toes of new-born and young babies, in order to perceive the reasonableness of this position. The Greeks in their sculpture made a distinct division between the great toe and the rest of the toes, as between the thumb and the fingers of the hand—the three toes well forward in a bunch; the first the longest, the next a little shorter, and the third shorter still; the little toe by itself, raised up. Now compare with this any natural foot habituated to shoes or boots. The bunch of three toes is pressed back, and also sideways against the great toe, thus losing the division between them and the great toe, and destroying the true contour of the foot. The pads of all the toes are pressed sideways instead of being immediately under the nails, and the foot has entirely lost its original character, and has become grotesquely malformed by corns, bunions, and similar growths. The most beautiful natural foot, the only beautiful foot which we ever remember having seen, was a cast in Sir Edgar Boehm’s studio of the foot of a black woman who had never worn shoes.
Of late there has been a disposition to return to the sandal as a covering or rather protection for children’s feet (one fears that it will be long before grown-ups adopt the sandal, except perhaps at the seaside or in the country). The change is a healthy one from every point of view. Upon æsthetic grounds it is especially welcome. One walks along the street during the summer months, the mind perhaps preoccupied, and the eye suddenly lights upon the rosy feet of one of these little ones as they trip along the street. One involuntarily exclaims, “What a charming design! What a beautiful piece of ornament!” Of a truth, in place of the uninteresting product of the shoemaker, which we had become so inured and accustomed to, one is suddenly introduced to that masterpiece of the Great Designer, the human foot, and the foot, too, in its natural state, before it has become crippled and distorted by long confinement in a leather prison.
Footnotes
1 Gen. iii. 7, 21.
2 This fable is so quaintly told in Lyly’s “Euphues” (1580), that it may be worth while to repeat it. “A gentleman walking abroard, the Winde thought to blowe of(f) his cloake, which with great blastes and blustering striving to vnloose it, made it to stick faster to his backe, for the more the winde encreased the closer his cloake clapt to his body, then the Sunne, shining with his hoat beames began to warme this gentleman, who waxing som(e)what faint in this faire weather, did not on(e)ly put of(f) his cloake but his coate, which the Wynde perceiuing, yeelded the conquest to the Sunne.”
3 Carlyle, “Sartor Resartus.”
4 Stephen Gosson, “The School of Abuse.”
5 Exodus xxviii. 6-8.
6 With the object of making more complete a work on ancient textile fabrics which the Prussian Government is issuing, the sarcophagus at Aix-la-Chapelle Cathedral in which the remains of Charlemagne rest has been opened, and certain pieces of valuable silk have been extracted in order that they may be examined and photographed. The great Frankish Emperor’s bones were wrapped in these costly cloths. One of them is ancient Constantinople work, the production of the celebrated Imperial Byzantine workshops, and represents a brilliantly coloured surface with elephants embroidered in circles. The other piece is believed to be of Sicilian origin, with a design of birds and hares.
Charlemagne’s bones are still intact, with the exception of the skull and one arm, which are in another part of the Cathedral. Medical men who have examined these bones say that the Emperor was a man of huge proportions. The Kaiser is greatly interested in the preparation of this work on ancient tissues, and it was his Majesty who induced the Archbishop of Cologne to consent to the opening of the sarcophagus.—Daily Paper.
7 Scott’s “Kenilworth.”
8 “The Four Sons of Aymon,” Caxton’s version.
9 This chivalrous monarch not only founded the Order of the Garter, but even contemplated the revival of the Round Table.
10 Pilch or pilcher, a scabbard, a covering for the sword.
11 Embroidery.
12 Fairholt, “Costume in England.”
13 The term “spencer” is a modern one, and is said to originate from an accident to Lord Spencer, in which he lost his coat-tails during a hunt, temp. George III.
14 “This day I did first see the Duke of York’s room of pictures of some Maids of Honour, done by Lilly; good, but not like.”—Pepys’s Diary.
15 Carlyle.
16 Fairholt, “Costume in England.”
17 Stow.
18 This lady, in 1601, registered a vow not to change her linen until the town of Ostend was taken. The siege lasted three years and three months, by which time her under-clothing had attained a colour which is perhaps easier to imagine than to describe. It provided a name for a stuff, “Couleur Isabella,” which was fashionable in France for over a century.
19 “What I have said, I have said” (the Right Hon. Joseph Chamberlain).
20 The Castalian spring is at the foot of the mountain, but it should have been at the top, where the tired and thirsty traveller would be most likely to need it. Besides, it is not to be expected that we could reverse the order of the paragraph—“we have said it.”
21 It would appear to be a corruption of “mad as an atter (adder)”. The word “adder” is atter in Saxon, natter in German. Its origin, however, is apparently somewhat obscure.
22 The above story was told to the knight by a lady of his acquaintance who was an eye-witness of the event. We give here Caxton’s version:—“For her clothyng and araye was different and no thyng lyke to theyr, and therefore she had wel her part beholdyng and lokyng. Thenne said the good ladyes to her, ‘My frende, telle ye us, yf it please yow, how ye name that aray that ye have on your heed?’ She answerde and saide, ‘The galhows aray.’ ‘God bless us,’ said the good lady, ‘the name of hit is not faire.’... ‘As ferre as I me remembre of it,’ continued the knight’s informant, ‘hit was highe culewed with longe pynnes of sylver uppon her hede, after the makynge and maner of a gybet or galhows, right straunge and merveylous to se.’”
23 William of Malmesbury.
24 2 Sam. xiv. 25, 26.
25 “Phisicke is good, and yet I would wish that every ignorant doult, and especially women, that have as much knowledge in phisick or surgery as hath jackeanapes, being but smatterers in the same noble sciences, should be restrained from the publike use therof” unless they do it gratis (Stubbes, “Anatomy of Abuses,” 1583).
26 The fillet which encircles the barber’s pole indicates the ribbon used for bandaging the arm in bleeding, and the basin the vessel to receive the blood.
27 “He speaks like a lady for all the world, and never swears, as Mr. Flash does, but wears nice white gloves, and tells me what ribands become my complexion, where to stick my patches, who is the best milliner, where they sell the best tea, and which is the best wash for the face and the best paste for the hands; he is always playing with my fan, and showing his teeth; and when ever I speak, he pats me—so—and cries, ‘The devil take me, Miss Biddy, but you’ll be my perdition—ha, ha, ha!’” (David Garrick, “Miss in Her Teens,” 1747).
28 Thomas Deloney’s “booke called the Gentle Crafte, intreating of Showmakers,” tells how Crispin and Crispianus, sons of King Logrid of Britain and of Queen Estreda, were sheltered at Faversham, Kent. Crispin wooed and married Princess Ursula, whose son was born in the shoemaker’s house. Hence the saying, “A shoemaker’s son is born a Prince.” From their high lineage, shoemaking is named “The Gentle Craft.”
“I am of Crispin’s trade, a brave Shooemaker,
He loved a Princess dear, and ne’r forsak’t her....
This craft was never held in scorn, Sir Thomas Eyer did it adorn,
A Shoemaker’s son a Prince is born.”
Roxburghe Ballads.
29 “Health Culture,” G. Jaeger, M.D.
30 A movement, headed by the Empress, has been instituted recently for the abolition of the practice of mutilating the feet of Chinese women, which was universal throughout all classes of society. In the cities, ladies were carried through the streets pick-a-back, and moved about their houses on their knees. In the fields the women worked on their knees, being unable to stand.
31 “Health Culture,” G. Jaeger, M.D.