What renowned Princes, Heroes, and Worthies have been of the Shoemakers Trade, both in this and in other Kingdoms. Likewise why it is called the Gentle Craft; and that they say a Shoemaker's son is a Prince born &c.
"To send him to the lower World,
In triumph once again;
So with a puff or blast him hurl'd
Down with a mighty pain:
With mighty force it happened,
Did fall, as some report,
Into a pan of firmity,
In good King Arthur's* Court.
The Cook that bore it then along
Was struck with a surprise,
For with the fall the firmity
Flew up into his eyes."
The cook let the dish fall, and Tom was extricated; but the Court, disappointed of dinner, looked very evilly on him.
"Some said he was a fairy elf
And did deserve to die."
To escape this fate, Tom, unperceived, jumped down a miller's throat, but evidently behaved ungratefully in his asylum of safety:
"Tom often pinched him by the tripes,
And made the Miller roar,
Alas! Alas! ten thousand stripes
Could not have vexed him more."
At length the Miller got rid of him, and Tom was turned into a river, and swallowed by a salmon. The same thing occurred to him as before. The fish was caught, sent to the king, and Tom found by his old enemy the cook, who had not forgiven the loss of the firmity.
"He stared strait, and said, Alas!
How comes this fellow here?
Strange things I find have come to pass,
He shall not now get clear.
Because he vow'd to go thro' stitch,
And him to Justice bring,
He stuck a fork into his breech
And bore him to the King."
The king, however, was busy, and ordered Tom to be brought before him another time; so the cook kept him in custody in a mouse-trap.
The king, on hearing Tom's story, pardoned him "for good King Arthur's sake," took him into favour, and allowed him to go hunting with him, mounted on a mouse.
This, however, was the cause of his second death.
"For coming near a Farmer's house,
Close by a Forest side,
A Cat jump'd out and caught the mouse
Whereon Tom Thumb did ride.
She took him up between her Jaws,
And scower'd up a tree,
And as she scratch'd him with her claws,
He cry'd out, Woe is me!
He laid his hand upon his sword,
And ran her thro' and thro';
And he for fear of falling roar'd,
Puss likewise cry'd out Mew.
It was a sad and bloody fight
Between the Cat and he;
Puss valu'd not this worthy Knight,
But scratch'd him bitterly."
He was taken home; but his wounds were too bad, and he died, and was taken again to Fairy Land, and did not reappear on earth till Thunston's (?) reign.
* The chronology is somewhat involved. The king could not have been King Arthur, for Tom was not remembered by him, and at the end of the book it says—
"And to his memory they built
A monument of gold
Upon King Edgars dagger hilt
Most glorious to behold."
The Third Part opens with the Fairy Queen again despatching Tom to earth, and also, as before, his advent is unpropitious.
"Where he descended thro the Air,
This poor unhappy man,
By sad mishap as you shall hear
Fell in a close stool pan."
He was rescued, but narrowly escaped death, and was brought before King Thunston.
"In shameful sort Tom Thumb appear'd
Before his Majesty,
But grown so weak could not be heard,
Which caused his malady."
He recovered and was taken into high favour by the king, who
"For lodgings—Now the King resolv'd
A palace should be fram'd
The walls of this most stately place
Were lovely to behold.
For workmanship none can take place
It look'd like beaten gold
The height thereof was but a span,
And doors but one inch wide.
The inward parts were all Japan,
Which was in him great pride."
And not only was he lodged so magnificently, but the king did all in his power to make him happy.
"All recreation thought could have
Or life could e'er afford,
All earthly Joys that he would crave,
At his desire or word.
"Of smallest mice that could be found,
For to draw his coach appears
Such stately steeds his wish to crown
Long tails with cropped ears."
But the morals of this ungrateful little wretch had evidently grown lax during his stay in Fairy Land, and he forgot all his obligations to his benefactor.
"For his desires were lustful grown
Against her Majesty,
Finding of her one day alone,
Which proved his tragedy."
The queen was naturally furious.
"That nothing would her wrath appease
To free her from all strife,
Or set her mind at perfect ease,
Until she had his life."
Tom hid himself, and tried to escape on the back of a butterfly; but the insect flew into the palace, and Tom was captured. He was duly tried, and found guilty.
"So the King his sentence declar'd,
How hanged he should be,
And that a gibbet should be rear'd,
And none should set him free.
After his sentence thus was past,
Unto a prison he was led.
For in a Mousetrap he was fast,
He had no other bed.
"At last by chance the cat him spy'd,
And for a mouse did take,
She him attacked on each side,
And did his prison break.
The Cat perceiving her mistake,
Away she fled with speed,
Which made poor Tom to flight betake,
Being thus from prison freed.
Resolving there no more to dwell
But break the Kings decree,
Into a spider's web he fell,
And could not hence get free.
The spider watching for his prey
Took Tom to be a fly,
And seized him without delay,
Regarding not his cry.
The blood out of his body drains,
He yielded up his breath;
Thus he was freed from all his pains,
By his unlook'd for death."
Thus sadly ended the favourite of immortals and of kings; but, from the fact that we hear no more of his going to Fairy Land, it is probable that his immoral conduct could not be condoned by the "good people."
What renowned Princes, Heroes, and Worthies have been of the Shoemakers Trade, both in this and in other Kingdoms. Likewise why it is called the Gentle Craft; and that they say a Shoemaker's son is a Prince born &c.
Newcastle: Printed at the Printing office in Pilgrim Street.
What renowned Princes, Heroes, and Worthies have been of the Shoemakers Trade, both in this and other Kingdoms. Likewise, Why it is called the Gentle Craft; and that they say, A Shoemakers Son is a Prince born.
Printed and Sold in Aldermary Church Yard. Bow Lane London.
This book is in reality two: one, the history of Sir Hugh, and the other, of Crispin and Crispianus. Sir Hugh seems to have been the son of Arviragus, King of Powisland in Britain, and Genevra, daughter of a king in North Wales. He went abroad for his education, and there distinguished himself by slaying monsters and giants, and by fighting against the Saracens—so much so, that he was knighted by the Roman Emperor, and promised one of his daughters as a wife; but this he would not have, although the princess loved him dearly.
He returned home, and whilst visiting Donvallo, King of Flintshire, fell in love with his daughter Winnifred. Finding her one day reading in her bower in the garden, he declared his love, but was courteously, though firmly, declined by the princess. Grieved at this disappointment, Sir Hugh went again abroad, was shipwrecked, and finally returned to Harwich in a destitute condition. Here he fell in with some shoemakers, and tarried with them a whole year, learning their trade.
In Chap-books one does not look for extreme historical accuracy, so we are not surprised that Diocletian came over to England, and sent Winnifred to prison for refusing to worship idols. Sir Hugh heard of this, and in order to join her, spoke loudly in favour of the Christian religion, and soon had his wish gratified. In prison, journeymen shoemakers brought him relief, and were so kind to him, that he styled them all gentlemen of the "gentle craft;" but the tale winds up informing us that "Sir Hugh and Winnifred remained a long time in prison, and were at last, for their steadfastness to the Christian religion, put to death by order of this cruel tyrant."
Crispin and Crispianus seem to have lived in Britain in the reign of Maximinius, and were the sons of King Logrid. Maximinius sent for them in order to slay them, but their mother, Queen Esteda, disguised them, and caused them to flee. They wandered to Faversham, where, tired out, they knocked at the door of a shoemaker, who took them in, and finally apprenticed them to himself. Crispianus, however, could not "stick to his last," so he went to assist the King of France against the Persians; whilst Crispin, whose master was the Court shoemaker, being a handsome young man, used to be sent there with shoes, and the Princess Ursula fell violently in love with him, declared her passion for him, and they were privately married under an oak tree in the park.
Crispianus, meanwhile, had been performing prodigies of valour, and at length returned to Maximinius with letters of commendation from the French king; whilst the Princess Ursula, whose confinement drew nigh, did not know how to screen herself. Love, however, is proverbially sharp-witted; so a false rumour of an enemy having landed being spread by means "of firing a gun," she escaped in the confusion, and took refuge in the shoemaker's house, where a son was born, whence the saying, "A shoemaker's son is a prince born." Maximinius received Crispianus with effusion, sent for his mother, acknowledged his birth, and would have given him his daughter in marriage could she have been found. At this juncture the young couple turned up, were forgiven, "and they lived very happy all their lives afterwards."
The original of this book seems to have been written by Thomas Deloney; an edition of it was printed in 1598, and it was entered on the Stationers' Books on October 19, 1597, as "a booke called the gentle Crafte, intreatinge of Shoomakers."
Newcastle: Printed in this present Year.
A youth named Aurelius was the son of wealthy parents in the county of Chester, and, being of singular beauty, caused a flutter in all the feminine hearts in his neighbourhood; one young lady, named Dorinda, even going so far as to write him a most unmaidenlike love letter, which, being dropped by accident, was found by one of the young lady's lovers, who, taking counsel with three others, set upon Aurelius as he was going through a wood. It is needless to say that he speedily overcame them; but his parents, fearing revenge, and wishing to remove him from the wiles of Dorinda, sent him to London, and bound him apprentice to a Turkey merchant on London Bridge. Here the young gentleman, after some time, must needs fall in love with his master's daughter; but, unlike the usual course of events in such cases, his passion was not reciprocated, so in dudgeon he applied for, and obtained, the merchant's leave for him to go to Turkey as his factor.
He set out with a gallant equipage, and was well received by the English merchants in Turkey. Merchants at that time do not seem to have been of the same prosaic class as they are now; for, on the occasion of a tournament held in honour of a marriage, Aurelius must go fully armed, in order to take part in the joust. His blood boiled to see the knights of other nations overthrown by the Turkish champions; so he joined in the fray, soon disposed of the Turkish chivalry, and killed Grodam, the son-in-law of the Great Turk, who, in his rage, ordered "the English boy" to be sent to prison, and afterwards to be cast alive to two lions, who were kept fasting many days.
"The day of his death, as appointed being come, and the King, his nobles, and all his ladies seated to behold the execution, the brave Aurelius was immediately brought forth in his shirt of Cambric, and the drawers of white Satin, embroidered with gold and a crimson cap on his head, but had scarce time to bow respectfully to the ladies, who greatly praised his manly beauty, and began highly to pity his misfortunes ere the lions were let loose, who at the sight of their prey, casting their eyes upon him, began to roar horridly, insomuch that the spectators trembled and beheld Aurelius whom death could not daunt, laying aside all fear, as they came fiercely to him, with open mouths, he thrust his hands into their throats and ere they had power to get from his strong Arms, he forced out their hearts, and laid them dead at his feet, demanding of the King what other dangerous enterprises they had to put on him, as he would gladly do it for the Queen and his country's sake; when immediately the Emperor descended from his throne, tenderly embracing him, swearing he was some Angel withal pardoning him, and gave him the beautiful Teoraza his daughter in marriage, with great riches, who for his sake became a Christian; and after spending some time in that place, they both returned to England with great joy, where they lived many years very loving and happy."
Newcastle: Printed in this Year.
This metrical romance is more commonly known by the name of "Tommy Potts," and somewhat extravagantly recounts the love between him and fair Rosamond, daughter of the Earl of Arundel, who, being wooed by Lord Phœnix, confessed her passion to him, to his natural and great disgust; but their marriage being settled by their friends, as a last resource she sent her little foot page to Tommy Potts, telling him of her dilemma, and begging him to meet her on Guildford Green. Tommy, whose position was only that of a servant at Strawberry Hall, sent back word by her messenger that he would be there, and went and asked his master for leave, which his master not only readily granted, but offered to enrich him so that their fortunes might be equalized; also, he wished to furnish him with an armed force—both of which offers Tommy declined. He met Rosamond and Lord Phœnix at Guildford Green, was taunted by the latter with his menial position, and challenged him to a course of spears, at a future day, on that very spot. His master behaved very kindly to him, and reiterated his offers, which were again refused, Potts only accepting the loan of an old white horse and a suit of armour. The combatants duly met, and Tom Potts was run through the thick of the thigh. He bound up his wound with his handkerchief, and continued the combat, this time running Lord Phœnix through the right arm. He doctored Lord Phœnix, and offered to resume the fight, which his lordship refused, and they agreed to refer their claims to the lady herself. She, of course, chose Tommy; but to prove her still more, Lord Phœnix pretended to fight with Tommy behind a wall, and reported to her that he had slain him. The lady declared she would spend all her fortune rather than Lord Phœnix should not be hanged, and then swooned. From this time everything prospered with the lovers. Lord Arundel joyfully gave his consent to their marriage, and made Tommy his heir.
There is a Second Part, but it lacks the interest of the first.
I cannot trace any connection between the Chap-book and the frontispiece; but it is evidently the proper thing, as it occurs in the same place in the black-letter edition of 1675, which is the earliest I can find. It is entitled, "The Lovers Quarrel, or Cupid's Triumph being The Pleasant History of fair Rosamond of Scotland. Being Daughter to the Lord Arundel whose Love was obtained by the Valour of Tommy Pots: who conquered the Lord Phenix, and wounded him, and after obtained her to be his wife. Being very delightful to read. London. Printed by A. P. for F. Coles, T. Vere and J. Wright."
Part the First
Printed and sold at the London and Middlesex Printing
Office 81. Shoe Lane Holborn.
"It was the custom of King Henry 8 to walk late in the night into the City disguised, to observe how the constables and watch performed their duty; not only in guarding the City gates but also diligently watching the inner part of the city, that they might prevent those dangers and casualities that happens to great and populous Cities, in the night time—This he did oftentimes, without the least discovery who he was, returning home to Whitehall early in the morning.—Now on his return home through the Strand he took notice of a certain Cobler, who was always up at work whistling and singing every morning, so he resolved to see him, in order which he immediately knocks the heel off his shoe by hitting it against the Stones."
The King gives the shoe to be mended, and tells the cobbler to bring it to him at the opposite inn when done. The cobbler obeys. The king gives him liquor, and they hobnob in the most familiar manner; the king telling him his name was Harry Tudor, that he belonged to the Court, and should be very glad to see the cobbler whenever he liked to call. In fact, they became so friendly, that the cobbler would insist on the king's going over to his cellar, and trying some wonderful brown ale and a Cheshire cheese; and there they kept it up until Joan, the cobbler's wife (who slept in the same apartment), awoke, and then the King retired.
The cobbler sadly missed his boon companion, and at length, with his wife's permission, he started to pay him a visit, Joan having made him as spruce as possible.
On his arrival at Whitehall, he asked for Harry Tudor, and by the King's express command, was immediately ushered into his presence.
* This illustration is from another edition.
This so bewildered the cobbler that he turned and fled; but being captured, and once more brought to the king, the latter, on hearing his tale, bids him go to the cellar and he will send Harry Tudor to him.
The king disguises himself and joins the cobbler, and they have a jovial tune together, until their noise attracts some of the nobility, who enter, and then the cobbler discovers who his boon companion really is.
Bluff King Hal, however, must needs reward his humble friend, so he gave him a pension of forty marks yearly, with the freedom of his cellar, and made him "one of the courtiers"—a position which he must have graced, judging by his deportment as depicted in the illustrations.
* This illustration is from another edition.
The earliest book on this subject I can find, is the "Cobler turned Courtier, being a Pleasant Humour between K. Henry 8th and a Cobler," 1680, quarto.
The witty Adventures betwixt the Fryar and Boy in relation to his Step Mother, whom he fairly fitted for her unmerciful cruelty.
Newcastle: Printed in this Year.
His witty Pranks in Relation to his Step Mother,
whom he fitted for her unkind Treatment.
Part the First
Printed and sold in Aldermary Church Yard London
The father of the "boy" Jack had married a second time, and Jack's stepmother behaved most harshly to him, and half starved him.
"Nay, tho' his meat and drink was poor
He had not half enough.
Yet, if he seem'd to crave for more
His ears she strait did cuff."
His father, however, behaved kindly, and to get the lad away, proposed he should look after the cows all day, taking his provision with him. One day, an old man came to him and begged for food, on which Jack offered him his dinner, which the old man thankfully took and eat.
Indeed, he was so grateful that he told Jack he would give him three things, whatever he liked to choose. Jack replied—
"The first thing I'd have thee bestow
On me without dispute,
Pray let it be a cunning bow,
With which I birds may shoot.
Well thou shalt have a bow, my son,
I have it here in store,
No archer ever yet had one
Which shot so true before.
Take notice well of what I say.
Such virtues are in this
That wink or look another way
The mark you shall not miss."
Jack also asked for a pipe, and the old man said—
"A pipe I have for thee my son,
The like was never known,
So full of mirth and mickle joy,
That whensoe'er 'tis blown,
All living creatures that shall hear
The sweet and pleasant sound
They shan't be able to forbear
But dance and skip around."
The third thing Jack chose was, that whenever his stepmother looked crossly at him, she should, against her will, behave in a rude and unseemly manner, which was also granted.
The old man left him; and at evening Jack took the cattle home, and as he went, he tried his pipe with wonderful effect.
"His Cows began to caper then,
The Bulls and Oxen too,
And so did five and twenty men
Who came this sight to view,
Along the road he piping went,
The Bulls came dancing after,
Which was a fit of merriment,
That caus'd a deal of laughter.
For why, a friar in his gown
Bestrides the red cow's back,
And so rides dancing thro' the town,
After this young wag Jack."
He found his father at home, and telling him how he had disposed of his dinner, the good man handed him a capon; at which his mother-in-law frowned, and, to her great disgust, her punishment was prompt, and she had to retire, Jack bantering her. She vowed vengeance, and
"A Friar whom she thought a saint,
Came there to lodge that night;
To whom she made a sad complaint,
How Jack had sham'd her quite.
Said she, For sweet St. Francis sake,
To-morrow in the field,
Pray thrash him till his bones you break
No shew of comfort yield."
* This illustration is from another edition.
The friar went the next morning to give Jack his thrashing, but Jack begged him not to be angry, and he would show him something; so he took his bow and shot a pheasant, which fell in a thorn bush. The friar ran to secure the bird, and when well in the bush, Jack played his pipe, with woeful effects as regards the friar, who in his involuntary dancing got literally torn to pieces, till he begged Jack—
"For Good St. Francis sake,
Let me not dancing die."
He naturally told his pitiful tale when he reached Jack's father's house, and the father asked him if it were true, and if so, to play the pipe and make them dance. The friar had already experienced the sensation, and
"The Friar he did quake for fear
And wrung his hands withal.
He cry'd, and still his eyes did wipe,
That work kills me almost;
Yet if you needs must hear the pipe,
Pray bind me to a post."
This was done; the pipe struck up, and every one began their involuntary dance, to the delight of the father, and the great disgust of the stepmother and the friar, who
"was almost dead,
While others danced their fill
Against the post he bang'd his head,
For he could not stand still.
His ragged flesh the rope did tear,
And likewise from his crown,
With many bangs and bruises there
The blood did trickle down."
The lad led them all into the street, where every one joined in the mad scene, until his father asked him to stop. Then the friar summoned him before the proctor, and the gravity of the court was disturbed by Jack's playing his pipe at the proctor's request. All had to dance, nor would Jack desist until he had a solemn promise that he should go free. Here the First Part ends, as also does the first printed version of the romance, which is entitled, "Here begynneth a mery Geste of the Frere and the Boye, emprynted at London in Flete strete at the sygne of the sonne by Wynkyn de Worde." There is no date, and there is a copy in the public library, Cambridge. It has been reprinted both by Ritson and Hazlitt. Ritson says, "From the mention made in v. 429 of the city of 'Orlyance,' and the character of the 'Offycial,' it may be conjectured that this poem is of French extraction; and, indeed, it is not at all improbable that the original is extant in some collection of old Fabliaux."
It is a most popular Chap-book, and went through many editions. A Second Part was afterwards added, but it is coarser in its humour. The Newcastle frontispiece is extremely quaint.
His witty tricks and pleasant pranks, which he play'd from his youth to his riper years: Right pleasant and delightful for winter and summer recreations.
Newcastle: Printed in this present Year.
This is somewhat similar to "The Friar and the Boy," but is even coarser.
"Jack Horner was a pretty lad,
Near London he did dwell,
His father's heart he made full glad
His mother lov'd him well;
She often set him on her lap,
To turn him dry beneath
And fed him with sweet sugar'd pap,
Because he had no teeth.
While little Jack was sweet and young,
If he by chance should cry,
His mother pretty sonnets sung,
With a Lulla ba by;
With such a dainty, curious tone,
As Jack sat on her knee,
So that e'er he could go alone,
He sung as well as she.
A pretty boy, of curious wit,
All people spoke his praise
And in the corner he would sit
In Christmas holy-days:
When friends they did together meet,
To pass away the time;
Why, little Jack, he sure would eat
His Christmas pye in rhime.
And said, Jack Horner, in the corner,
Eats good Christmas pye,
And with his thumbs pulls out the plumbs,
And said Good boy am I.
These pretty verses which he made
Upon his Christmas cheer,
Did gain him love, as it is said,
Of all both far and near."
Jack Horner was a dwarf, and never exceeded thirteen inches in height. His first exploit was to frighten a tailor who stole some of his cloth, by putting on the head of a goat lately killed, and pretending to be the devil. He had a fight with a cook-maid who chastised him for making a sop in the dripping-pan, in which he got the best of it. An old hermit being desirous of a jug of beer, Jack brought it to him, and in return the hermit presented him with a coat in which he should be invisible, and a pair of enchanted pipes, both of which he tried on some fiddlers, making them dance sorely against their will. He had many adventures, but his last was with a giant who had seized and imprisoned a knight's daughter. Jack armed himself, and mounting on a badger, rode down the giant's throat, and with his pipes and sword created such a disturbance in his inside, that the giant died, and Jack delivered the lady, whom he afterwards married.
His Merry Jests, odd Conceits and Pleasant Tales, being
very delightful to read.