And now, having in the pursuit of our history of boots and shoes,

let us not dismiss the subject, without a parting glance at the sister island, and look at the “brogues” of Ireland; which upon the authority of Mr. and Mrs. S. C. Hall, especially deserve our attention. In their work on Ireland, they engrave the figure of this article, which we copy, plate IV., fig. 16, and say: “The brogue, or shoe, of the Irish peasantry, differs in its construction from the shoe of any other country. It was formerly made of untanned hide, but, for the last century at least, it has been made of tanned leather. The leather of the uppers is much stronger than what is used in the strongest shoes; being made of cowhide dressed for the purpose, and it never had an inside lining, like the ordinary shoe; the sole leather is generally of an inferior description. The process of making the brogue, is certainly different from that of shoemaking; and the tools used in the work, except the hammer, pinchers, and knife, bear little analogy. The awl, though used in common by those operators, is much larger than the largest used by the shoemaker, and unlike in the bend and form. The regular brogue was of two sorts, the single and double pump, the former consisted of the sole and uppers only; the latter had a welt sewed between the sole and upper leather, which gave it a stouter appearance and stronger consistency; in modern times, the broguemaker has assimilated his manufacture to the shoe, by sewing the welt on an inner sole, and then attaching the outer sole to it, in shoe-fashion. In the process of making the regular brogue, there formerly were neither hemp, wax, nor bristles, used by the workmen, the sewing all being performed with a thong, made of horsehide, prepared for the purpose.” Thus the construction of this article is quite different from that of the English shoe; and it is made and stitched without a last, the upper leather and side being secured by sewing together; it is then turned inside out, and for the first time put upon the last, and being well-fitted to it by a smooth iron surface, it is placed before the fire to dry and harden. “The heel of the brogue is made of what they call ‘jumps,’ tanner’s shavings stuck together with a kind of paste, and pressed hard, and dried, either before the fire or in the sun. This, when properly dried, is cut to the size of the heel, and sewed down with the thong, and then covered with a top-piece of very thin sole-leather, fastened on with deal or sally pegs; and in this one particular they had to boast over the shoemakers, in the neatness of execution. When the brogue is ready to be taken off the last, they give it the last finish by rubbing it over with a woollen rag saturated in tallow, and then the brogue is considered fit for sale. The brogue is worn larger than the foot, and the space is filled up with a sap of hay or straw. They are considered by the country people more durable for field-labor, being less liable to rip in the sewing, than if put together with hemp and wax; and being cheaper than shoes, are in more general use, although there are few people, particularly females, who can afford it, who do not keep shoes for Sunday or holyday wear. The brogue-makers pride themselves in the antiquity of their trade; and boast over the shoemakers, whom they consider a spurious graft on their most noble art.”

Sir Walter Scott, in his “Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border,” has noticed a peculiarity in the make of the “original” shoe of that country, in the notes to the ballad of the “Souters,” or shoemakers of Selkirk, who achieved immortality in song, by their bravery in aiding their sovereign, James IV., in the fatal field of Flodden; he says “the single-soled shoon,” made by the souters of Selkirk, were a sort of brogues, with a single thin sole; the purchaser himself performing the further operation of sewing on another of thick leather. The rude and imperfect state of this manufacture, sufficiently evinces the antiquity of the craft. He notices “a singular custom observed at conferring the freedom of the burgh. Four or five bristles, such as are used by shoemakers, are attached to the seal of the burgess ticket. The new-made burgess must dip in his wine, and pass through his mouth, in token of respect for the souters of Selkirk. This ceremony is on no account dispensed with.” And when Sir Walter afterward adds, in a note that he has “himself the honor to be a souter of Selkirk,” we may feel the additional zest that would give to the chorus of their old trade-song:—

CHAPTER IV.

COMMENCEMENT OF THE TRADE.

That it became, however, in a very early age, a trade, we may infer from the fact of it being an injunction of the Jewish social system, that every one, no matter what his rank or wealth, should be compelled to acquire the means of self-support by an acquaintance with some art or other, the better to secure himself against the adverse vicissitudes of life. (See note on Mark vi. 3, in Pictorial Bible, vol. 3.) This obligation naturally affords reason for belief in a variety of professions; and the shoe, from its constant requisition, may, therefore, be supposed to have given rise to one of the earliest.

In one of the Greek dramatic writings, allusion is made to the daily earnings of the shoemaker; and in the far-famed anecdote of Apelles exposing to public scrutiny some masterpiece of his painting, the criticism of the cobbler, about the form or disposition of the latchet or tie of the shoe, implies, as in the other case, a distinctive character in the calling: the one receives his daily wages as a regular acknowledged workman; and the other, from his proficiency in his art, detects at once an error in the imitation.

The streets of Rome in the reign of Domitian, as Fosbrooke tells us in his “Dictionary of Antiquities,” were at one time so filled with cobblers’ stalls, (cobbler being the usual way among writers of naming the profession), that the emperor had to issue an order to clear them away, probably to some less ambitious situation—to the narrow and by-places of the city. St. Anianus, a contemporary with St. Mark, as Alban Butler writes in his Lives of the Saints, was a shoemaker; and Crispin and Crispianus, brothers and martyrs, have the well-known repute of belonging to the trade; they are its patrons, and have their fête-days yet in all catholic countries; and though there is no longer any religious observance of the day in England, the name of Crispin is still placed in the church calendar against the 25th of October: and the shoemaker has still his traditions and his usages connected with the time.

The law of England formerly, not only took cognizance of the quality of the leather which the shoemaker wrought into his goods, but of the number of stitches that he furnished. In one of the small towns in the north of England, the custom of gauging shoes brought to market was prevalent until lately, and the gauger had legal authority to take away any shoe which had not the proper number of stitches. As his measure he used the breadth of his thumb, which was meant for an inch. This, therefore, is not an unpleasant retrospection; the king and his parliament making enactments concerning the quality of the leather and scrutinizing even the number of stitches.

The trade, as at present conducted in London and other large towns, may be divided into two departments, viz.: the bespoke and the ready-made, or sale-trade. The first of these ranks as chief, on account of the superiority of the article; although the latter is the most general, and is patronized by the bulk of the population.

A lady or gentleman requiring boots or shoes, pays a visit to a respectable shop, and the measure is taken, either by the master or the clicker; the order is entered in the order-book, and the time named when they are to be ready. After the departure of the customer, the first business is to select a pair of lasts adapted to the feet—the measure is then applied to the length and circumference, and if suitable in the general form and proportions, the number of the last entered in a column opposite the name, &c.

The next business is to cut the pattern in paper; and, presuming it to be a lady’s boot, the greatest care is taken in seeing that it stands well—neither dropping back, nor pitching too much forward. The goloshes round the side, the leather toe-caps, or whatever the form may be, of the lower part of the boot, has its pattern cut also in paper; for much depends on the correctness of these little matters.

The linen linings are then cut true to this pattern; the cashmere, prunella, or cloth, cut to form the outside, and the morocco, patent leather, or cordovan, added for the goloshing; and in this state it is given to the binder. Great care is now required and exacted, in working up the boot-leg true to the pattern; and if it be lace, button, or elastic, the binder has it in her power to spoil the whole affair. More, perhaps, depends on fitting the work, than the workmanship; a union, therefore, of skill, in these two points, constitutes a good boot-binder. The leg is next passed on to the closer, who, with the awl, instead of the needle, closes the seams of the golosh; and then, having lasted the boot, attaches the leather by means of a neat row of stabbing round the edge, thoroughly through the leg and its lining. This is the most secure, the neatest, and also the most expensive method, of getting up a good boot-leg.

This boot-leg, which has been twice sent out from the shop, now comes in to be again handed over to the maker, who receives the lasts, together with the leather soles, insoles, welts, stiffenings, shank-pieces, and other little matters essential to the work; not omitting, if the master knows his business, or considers the comfort of his customers, a good piece of felt, to insert between the insole and outsole, to prevent the intolerable nuisance of creaking. Neglect this, and besides the music (the fillings, which are bits of leather pasted between the soles, and which the workman is obliged to put in to make a level sole), you get lumps, after a little wear, at the bottom of the tread, which give great pain, and often produce corns and callosities on the soles of the feet.

It would be tedious to the reader to describe the various manipulations of the workman in making a pair of boots. If he accomplishes his work in the course of a day, he does well; and keeping the boots on the last during the night, to dry and get solid, is all that is required of him before bringing them to the shop.

If he has attended to all his instructions for width of tread, thickness of forepart, thinness of waist, height of heel, left no pegs sticking up, and kept his work clean, there is every probability of the lady being pleased, the master pleased, clicker pleased, workman pleased. But should either have failed, inadvertently or through carelessness, in one of the minute matters before mentioned, the boots are returned, and the whole must be gone over again.

Few ladies are aware of the many little points required to produce a good article with precision of fit; but let them consider, before they try another artiste, that the first failure may insure a correct fit the second time, and give no further trouble to them perhaps for life. A little patience at the proper time, would often save a world of annoyance in running from one shop to another, only to find out that all were pretty much alike.

In describing the other department, and by far the most general in large towns, the ready-made trade, it may at first be supposed that all the evils of the bespoke system may be avoided. According to Barny O’Rierdon, in Ireland they are entirely avoided, as a man comes into market with a barrow full of brogues, and every one helps himself; there is no measuring in the case, and if a brogue is too long, he claps a wisp of straw in the toe.

There is a large class of persons in London, &c., who sell boots and shoes, but do not manufacture them. The greater part of those persons know no more how a boot or shoe is made, than the boots and shoes can be said to possess such knowledge. These articles are principally made in the country, or the eastern part of the metropolis, and sent up for sale. Perhaps a hundred dozen pairs are made on one pair of lasts; the makers, of course, have no idea who will be the purchasers, or of the form of the feet of the parties who may wear them; nor do they care, their object being merely the sale and the money.

Persons may occasionally purchase a pair of these articles which will suit them tolerably well, as there is no rule without an exception; but for one such instance, there are, perhaps, fifty to the contrary. While some may prove good, others will be, perhaps, worthless; and though some persons may be satisfied, most people will have abundant cause to regret having risked a purchase.

In the “cheap women’s trade,” there is also much deception practised; so that cheap is only another word for what at last proves to be, perhaps, the dearest part of the female’s expenditure for wearing apparel.

The cause of the evil here indicated must be ascribed to one of those many misconceptions of people’s own affairs, which are so often made manifest in the conduct of individuals and classes. Masters and workmen, quarrelling with each other, do not see, in the blinded and blinding system of their reprisals, what must finally be the result. The employer, in some cases, must be ignorant of the effect of his curtailments; and the journeyman as ignorant as to the method he takes to protect himself against such injustice. It is thus that the woman’s shoemaker, more than any other class in the trade, has found himself lowered within the last twenty-five or thirty years, in the scale of society; and his abilities also, as a workman, deteriorated; the master at the same time losing his own proper position, through the inferiority of those articles he sells, and the public in general, as well as the character of the nation itself, in a sense, injured. The master curtails, or the journeyman exacts too much, differences ensue, fresh men are employed, and the old ones, finding they must do something for a living, move about and struggle on as they can, and ultimately, in their despair, turn a sort of master for themselves. Here, however, as these parties have no shop to expose their goods in, they must sell to those who have; and thus finding shop purchasers, the trade now takes a new complexion. The issue may be readily told. The journeyman now becomes the competitor in a closer sense than ever, with his fellow-journeyman; and as the cheapening system widens, the work still gets worse and worse done, and money bulk, not money worth, becomes the only standard in the business. London is at present the chief seat for the manufacture of these sale women’s shoes and boots, though various establishments of the same nature are growing up, day by day, throughout the country. What the penny and twopenny paid shirts are to the hapless needlewoman, the fourpenny and sixpenny-paid slippers are to the poor sadly-miscalled ladies’ shoemaker. The evil, too, as connected with the London journeyman, and those in other places, is still taking a worse phase day after day. Leather, it is well known, as with all other commodities, can be more profitably purchased in large than in small quantities; and hence the master returns, in part, to his old character. He now again gets ready his own materials, and gives these to be manufactured by whom he pleases, as was formerly the case; the only difference being, that his cuttings-out are now in manifold pairs, for a chance sale, and not, as before, to a separate measure. There is now, too, no other option for the workman; he must do this work, and at the very lowest wages, or starve. He may, it is true, considerably slight the articles; indeed, he must do so, to live at all: and this is now his last and only dependence. And thus an art is found to retrograde, and the fair face of our social progress to become spotted with these deeply-to-be-lamented blemishes, the source of as much national demerit and weakness, as they are of far-spread individual misery.

The Northampton, Daventry, and Wellingborough wholesale manufacture of the man’s shoe and boot, may be traced to the same cause, and is as productive of the like bad result. The system has grown in these places to a portentous bulk, and that too in the short space of about a quarter of a century. We see at present the goods of these places in the shop-windows of almost every town in the kingdom, ticketed up at so much the pair; the prices charged being in many cases much less than what some masters pay to the better-qualified journeyman for the mere making of similar-looking articles. The wealthier and more tasteful class of consumers still continue, however, to prefer bespeaking (or to have their measure taken for) their shoes and boots, than to run the risk of any of these chance bargains; and thus, so far, the trade maintains a certain degree of respectability, which is alike beneficial to both the employer and the employed.

The English boot and shoe about thirty years since, was generally speaking, the first article of its kind in the world, and so there was nothing to apprehend while the master’s price was good and the workman’s wages were good also; an evident decline, however, took place in the character of our workmanship. The Spectator of the 15th Dec., 1838, thus notices the absence of style in our boots and shoes: “A clumsy boot was till lately a distinguishing mark of a true Englishman abroad; now travellers get their feet neatly fitted in France, while all at home, who regard personal appearance, prefer French boots, and the predilection of the fair sex for shoes of Paris manufacture is notorious.”

This competition has had the effect of improving the homemade article: but still it is easier to bawl for prohibiting duties than to beat the foreign workmen out of the market. An intelligent cordwainer, named James Devlin, an experienced workman of a literary turn, has put forth a little book on the boot and shoe trade of France, recommending to his brethren of the craft the adoption of the French method, which he describes with technical minuteness, and denouncing in his strictures on the character of English upper-leathers, the hurried and careless process of the tanner and currier. What Mr. Devlin says on the subject of leather, accounts for the difference between a French boot that draws on like a glove, and an ordinary English one that confines the foot as in a vice, and hangs about the leg like a clog. If we look to the nature of our leather, excepting that used for the soles, we shall find the article not so good as that which the French bootmaker can purchase, and what, still more pertinent to the matter is, that formerly it was not so; confident I am, however, that a change might be obtained, as well from the nature of our raw hides and skins themselves, as from the ability of the working currier; and, in proof of this, let me instance the superior quality of our own jockey, or topboot legs—so clear, so soft, and workable—so handsomely grained, and so exquisitely drated. No country can equal the British currier in this particular, nor in the white leather, for the tops of these boots; why his inferiority in other articles? The reason is obvious: England, if not now, was at least some years ago, the only jockey-boot nation par excellence; and hence, so far our superiority: the competition among us being so extensive as to urge to the highest progressive perfection; and that perfection always meeting its proper reward in the greater commands for orders.

Another fact to be attended to, is that in the boot department, we have an inferior manner of blocking, or the turning the front piece of our Wellington boot; in this we are far behind our neighbors.

Take up one of our bootfronts so prepared, and compare it with a front coming from France (the Bordeaux is the best), and the difference is as perceptible as lamentable. How stiff, how dead, and how forced, is the one; and how easy, moist, and elastic, the other. The first, to one unskilled in the operation, seems to be baked, rather than gently moulded, when wet, into the position it has received; and then catch it by top and toe and pull it ever so tenderly back, and lo! at once its crabbed beauty is gone! and though you may press, push, or contract it again into something of its original form, still it can never be made to look the same as before. Now, do the like to the French front; nay, more, you need not pull it tenderly, but with full force apply your strength to the two extremities, force it until it be straight, and then letting it go again, lay it on your board, and by a little application of the hand, it will nearly look as well as ever—no puckerings, no looseness, and still possessing the requisite curve.

Nothing can be more to the point than these strictures on the English leather and English blocking, as compared with the French. For the last seven years, I have in every order where calfskin fronts have been required, used Bordeaux leather; it was not only soft, elastic, and durable, but in addition to the pleasure derived from making up a good article, it was as cheap as the English in the end, as we never had to put in a new front or repair cracks and breakages, a constant source of trouble and expense, incidental to the English fronts. It was no uncommon case, a few years since, after having bought the best article the trade could produce in calf-leather, after paying an extravagantly high price, and making up the article in the best possible manner, to find, after six or eight times wearing, a decided crack across the bend of the foot. I have tried every expedient on those occasions I could think of to prevent it, and acted on numerous suggestions from my foreman and workmen, and all to no purpose: not unfrequently the “most unkindest cut of all,” has been from the currier, who has laid the blame by turn on the blocker, clicker, bootman; even the feather[1] has had to bear its share of the blame.

This inferiority of calfskin has not only been the fault and disgrace of the British tanner and currier, but his loss to an enormous amount; he has been slow to admit it, but it is “a great fact;” a brighter day, however, now opens upon him.

Dr. Turnbull, after patient and repeated experiments on the science of tanning, has discovered the true cause of all this hardness and breaking. To him the tanners and the public owe a debt of gratitude, which they will both best discharge by patronising his invention. I have had an opportunity of personally inspecting his process at Bermondsey, from beginning to end, and I am enabled, through his kindness, to convey the following information respecting his improved process of tanning:—

“The skins of the animals are composed of two chief parts: the corium or cutis, and the cuticle or epidermis. The former, which is the true skin, is a tissue of delicate fibres, crossing each other in all directions, more thickly interwoven toward the surface, than in the deeper parts of the skin. It is pervaded by a great number of conical channels, the small extremities of which terminate at the external surface of the skin. These channels, which are placed obliquely, contain nerves, secretory vessels, and cellular membranes.

“The cuticle or exterior covering is an insensible horny membrane, composed of several layers of cells, devoid of blood-vessels.

“The process of tanning consists in the combination of the gelatinous substance of which the skin is principally composed, and the tonic acid, or tannin. The gelatinous substance in skins, and the tannic acid, having a strong chymical affinity for each other, the hide or skin is converted into leather whenever tannin is brought into contact with the gelatinous tissue or fibre.

“The slowness of the process in tanning leather, and the imperfect manner in which it has hitherto been accomplished, arise from the difficulty in bringing the tannin or tannic acid into contact with the gelatinous tissue, or fibre of the skins; and although, of late years, considerable modifications of the old method of tanning have been introduced, chiefly consisting in the employment of new materials, and the application of hydrostatic pressure, yet the result, upon the whole, has been merely to effect a saving of the time consumed in tanning, and a consequent reduction of the price, without any improvement in the quality of the leather, but rather the reverse. This has given rise to a strong prejudice in the minds of persons connected with the leather trade, against leather tanned by any quick process. The difficulty of bringing the tannin, or tannic acid, immediately and effectually into contact with the gelatinous fibre of the skin, arises from several causes, which it may be useful to enumerate.

“In preparing the skins and hides for the tanpit, they are steeped for a considerable time in a solution of lime, to remove the hair and epidermis. In this process, the skin imbibes a considerable quantity of lime, which has the effect of either removing from the hide or skin, a portion of the gelatinous substance, in the form of soluble gelatine, or, of altering the gelatinous fibre, so as to render it incapable of speedily and effectually combining with the tannin or tannic acid, and the pores of the skin are so impregnated with lime, as to prevent the tanning principle from operating freely, or reaching the heart of the skins.

“The great object to be obtained, therefore, is to find out some means of removing these obstructions and antagonistic principles, and of bringing about a speedy and effectual combination of the fibre of the hides or skins, and the tanning matter, and thus produce in a short space of time, leather superior in weight, quality, and durability, to any yet produced. The object of my improvements, is to remove these difficulties, and obstructions, either by extracting the lime with which hides and skins are impregnated in the process of removing the hair, or removing the same without the use of lime, by means not hitherto attempted.”

The old plan of using lime, by which, no doubt, the skin was injured to an extent we never before supposed, and the consequent process in the tanyard, of puring, as it is termed, by means of the dung of animals—a process the most filthy and disgusting, one would have thought, that could be imagined—gives way to Dr. Turnbull’s discovery of “sugar and sawdust.” This simple and delicate preparation, we are told, is more effectual; and “you may drink it,” say the workmen, “for it is fit for any table in the land.”

The new method is to prepare a mixture of sugar and water, and sawdust—it may be of any other substance containing saccharine matter, such as beetroot, potatoes, turneps, honey, &c. The action of the sugar and pyroxalic, or wood spirit, is so rapid, that the skins are rendered fit to receive and imbibe the tannic acid; and thus the operation of tanning is perfectly accomplished in a very short time. The leather thus produced is considerably heavier, and of finer quality, than any leather produced by the present method of tanning. This method of removing the lime is of immense importance, as it not only improves the leather in weight and durability, but enables the tanner to produce a superior article in a much less space of time, and at a much less expense, than heretofore. Attempts have been made to remove the lime by a preparation called grainer, which is mainly composed of the dung of animals. This being of a strong alkaline nature, necessarily destroys a considerable portion of the gelatinous matter, in the operation of extracting the lime; at the same time much injury is done to the texture of the skin by its rapid action in causing decomposition, and destroying the grain side of the skin, especially in summer. It must be obvious, however, that the moment the skin imbibes lime in any quantity, its effect and influence on the hide or skin are to a considerable extent permanent and destructive.

The advantages of the new method appear to be, first, a great additional weight of leather, especially in calfskins; second, leather of much better quality, soft and not liable to crack or strain; third, a considerable diminution in the expense; and fourth, the tanning is effected in one quarter of the time consumed by the present mode of tanning.

These improvements will, it is needless to say, prove of immense importance to our home manufacture, and now that the true principles of tanning skins comes to be understood, many other improvements will gradually suggest themselves. The Rouel leather, which is the name given to it by the doctor, is certainly the best article ever produced in England (I speak now of calfskin), and works up as fine or even finer than the French, without its accompaniment of dubbing, or its impost of 30 per cent.

In Queen Elizabeth’s time, parliament busied itself much in matters of “leather and prunella;” numerous enactments being made, especially in reference to the former. A letter to lord-treasurer Burleigh, by W. Fleetwood, recorder of London, explains the opposition of the tanners to some enactments against them: “the one for lymyng [an old grievance, after all, this lymyng], the other raisyng.” He says: “All the excellencie and conning of a tanner consisteth in skilfull making of his owes [lyes;] surelie they must be many and severall and one stronger than another. The time of changing of the lether from one owes must be timed at proscribed hours, or else the lether will be utterly spoiled. My Lo, there be an infinite number of rules to be observed in tanning, the few which tanners did ever conceive, much less the parliament, who conveyed their information of such whome nowe I do by experiens knowe not to be skilfull.” A conclusion which many of good Queen Victoria’s as well as Queen Bess’s subject have arrived at, after parliamentary evidence and enactment, in matters which history, experience, and philosophy, have long since taught us, flourish best by being let alone.

CHAPTER V.

THE STRUCTURE OF THE HUMAN FEET, ETC.

“There is nothing more beautiful than the structure of the human foot,” says Sir Charles Bell; “nor perhaps any demonstration which would lead a well-educated person to desire to know more of anatomy than that of the foot. The foot has in its structure all the fine appliances you see in a building. In the first place, there is an arch, in whatever way you regard the foot; looking down upon it, we perceive several bones coming round the astralagos, and forming an entire circle of surfaces in the contact. If we look at the profile of the foot, an arch is still manifest, of which the posterior part is formed by the heel, and the anterior by the ball of the great toe; and in the front, we find in that direction a transverse arch: so that, instead of standing, as might be imagined, on a solid bone, we stand upon an arch composed of a series of bones, which are united by the most curious provision for the elasticity of the foot; hence, if we jump from height directly upon the heel, a severe shock is felt; not so, if we alight upon the ball of the great toe, for there an elasticity is formed in the whole foot, and the weight of the body is thrown upon this arch, and the shock avoided.”

Another writer, on the “diseases of the feet,” thus alludes to the beauty and perfection of the human foot in its natural state:—

“The matchless forms of sculptured beauty which the destroying hand of time has left us in the works of the mighty masters of the classic time, exhibit to us the finest specimens of what the foot would be, if allowed its free and uninterrupted action.

“We are immediately struck with the admirable manner in which it is organized, both for the support of the frame and for motion; its flexibility, its power of action, its form, seem all to have been the result of the examination of the most perfect human models. We see that there have been no artificial coverings, no compression, no restraints; that the gait must have been free, firm, and elastic; that the natural and healthful action of every muscle, tendon, joint, and bone, was fully studied and expressed. There is no stiffness, no contraction of the heel or the sole of the foot; to the toes are given their proper functions; we see that only the sandal has been worn, merely to cover and protect the integument under the broad and expanded foot, there have been no ligatures, no unyielding bandages, no cramping compresses—all is alike free, healthful, natural.

“We well can comprehend, on examining them, how the Macedonian phalanx or the Roman legion, performed its long day’s march. We can see how ten thousand Greeks pursued their daily wearying course through the destroying climate of Asia, marching firmly, manfully, alike across the arid sand, the mountain pass, or the flinty plain.

“We are almost led to the wish to see the European soldier similarly prepared for his toilsome march, unencumbered by the unyielding shoe, which sometimes becomes in the day a source of greater annoyance than of comfort to him. He would be enabled to undertake fatigue and privations for which he is now totally unprepared. He would find an elastic tread, a firm command over his muscular system, follow upon such a plan. He would be capable of making a charge upon the enemy with greater steadiness, and enabled to bear the shock which he is now less capable of resisting. In this respect we should do well to imitate the native soldier of India, who, under the English banner, has followed a Clive, a Hastings, or a Keane, when the British soldier has almost sunk from the insuperable difficulties which attend wearing all parts of the dress he has been accustomed to do in England, forgetful of the climate in which he is placed.”

For upward of twenty years as a bootmaker, I have made the feet my study, and during that period many thousand pairs of feet have received my attention. I have observed with minute care the cast from the antique as well as “the modern instances,” and I am obliged to admit, that much of the pain I have witnessed, much of the distortion of the toes, the corns on the top of the feet, the bunion on the side, the callosities beneath, and the growing-in of the nails between, are attributable to the shoemaker. The feet, with proper treatment, might be as free from disease and pain as the hands; their structure and adaptation to the wants and comfort of man, as we have seen, is most perfect. Thirty-six bones and thirty-six joints have been given by the Creator to form one of these members, and yet man cramps, cabins, and confines, his beautiful arrangements of one hundred and forty-four bones and joints, together with muscles, elastic cartilage, lubricating oily fluid, veins, and arteries, into a pair of shoes or boots, which, instead of protecting from injury, produces the most painful as well as permanent results. Many volumes have been written on the cause of corns, and it has been my lot to wade through many of them, without gaining much for my pains. I have therefore arrived at the conclusion, notwithstanding all that has been said to the contrary, that corns are in all cases the result of pressure.

I am confirmed in this opinion by one of the most respectable chiropodists of the present day (Mr. Durlacher), a gentleman who has had a considerable experience in the treatment of corns and bunions. He says:—

“Pressure and friction are unquestionably the predisposing causes of corns, although, in some instances, they are erroneously supposed to be hereditary. Improperly-made shoes invariably produce pressure upon the integuments of the toes and prominent parts of the feet, to which is opposed a corresponding resistance from the bone immediately beneath, in consequence of which the vessels of the dermis are compressed between them, become injured, congested, and, after a time, hypertrophied.

“When corns are produced by friction and slight pressure, they are the result of the shoes being too large and the leather hard, so that, by the extension of the foot, the little toe, or any prominent part, is constantly being rubbed and compressed by its own action.

“This may continue on and off for months, or even years, before any inconvenience is experienced, but, progressively, the cuticle increases, and is either detached from the dermis by serum being poured out between them, similar to a common blister, and a new covering produced, or the epidermis thickens into layers adhering to each other.”

Chiropodists have been in the habit of classifying corns into—

1. Hard corns.

2. Soft corns.

3. Bleeding corns.

And these classes have been subdivided into many varieties, but it is enough, in a treatise on the feet and their covering, to allude to the cause of torment generally, as a hard substance and a soft one, pressing into the foot, as the Roman name emphatically describes it, “clavus dura”—a small tack.

The approach of a corn, as all who ever felt it know, commences with a slight inflammatory smart on the prominent part of the little toe; then comes on the excessive burning, the throbbing, the stabbing: “a little longer, yet a little longer;” and then the point of the tack begins to enter, the outer skin is penetrated, the next membrane becomes inflamed, and, from the delicate “network” of the rete mucosum, an increased quantity of secretion is poured out: gradually a substance is formed, hard, horny, and with a sharp point, that descends deeper and deeper into the foot, until not unfrequently it reaches and enters the blood-vessels and very joints themselves.

All attempts at cure must be directed to the point of the corn. It has been usual to salve and plaster and cut the head of this tack, generally with little or no success—call it a thorn in the foot, “spina pedum,” a name given to it by some practitioners; and how absurd this palliative treatment appears—every one knows that the thorn must immediately be extracted, and if we delay, great pain is the consequence, and soon nature expels it herself.

Some balsams and tinctures have been much spoken of by the older writers on the different excrescences, but modern practice has very judiciously excluded them, from their insufficiency to produce any good effect. The radical cure is more dependent upon surgical than medical means.

“Although I have devoted,” says Mr. Durlacher, “nearly thirty years practical experience to the investigation, and have tried various chymical and other remedial agents, yet I have never been able to discover any certain cure for corns. Nevertheless, men are found bold enough in their ignorance and presumption, to assert, by public advertisement, that they possess an infallible nostrum, capable of thoroughly eradicating corns; and others who pretend to extract them, seek to aid their trickery and charlatanry by exhibiting small spiculæ as the roots of the corns they have extracted, although it is a positive fact from the structure of the skin, that such an assertion must be false, and the whole proceeding the veriest imposition imaginable.”

The reader must, by this time have arrived at the conclusion, that the whole mischief is to be laid upon the covering of the feet, and not on the feet themselves. In some instances it may be admitted that the feet are peculiarly exposed to injury from the delicacy of the skin; some persons are constitutionally predisposed to corns, the slightest friction or pressure being sufficient to cause irritation, or, as in some cases, to develop a corn that has sometime been lying dormant. The illustrations given in former chapters of fashions, will sufficiently prove the cause of distortion of the feet; and the result of this infliction of pain for the sake of fashion, has been a plentiful harvest of corns.

Every one who has corns knows and feels that pressure is the cause; “no one knows better where the shoe pinches, than he who wears it.” Yet few persons know why it hurts, or are aware how the remedy should be applied.

Sometimes a shoe is too large, often too small, very often too short, but generally the wrong shape altogether. The fault is not so much in the shoes themselves, as in the lasts from which they are made; there the cause is to be found, and there it has been my study for many years to apply the remedy.

The best materials may have been used for sole and upper leather; the most exquisite closing and stabbing been put in till the work “looked like print;” the workmanship may have been “firstrate,” but deficient in the primary and most essential part—the suitable form of the last on which the article was to be moulded. The boot or shoe would not be a suitable or comfortable covering for the foot, and the unfortunate wearer again finds that he has put his feet into the “shoemaker’s stocks.”

Every one who wishes to be comfortably fitted, should have a pair of lasts made expressly for his own use; experience has taught me, and doubtless many other masters who have had much to do with bespoke work for tender or peculiar feet, that no plan is equal to this to secure a good fit and save inconvenience and disappointment for the future.

The length and the width are now every-day affairs, but the judgment of fitting is another thing, and here is the true skill.

A last fitted up to the length and width may do or it may not; it may do by chance, or fail of necessity; but if fitting be anything, it is a skilful adaptation of the last to the true form and requirements of the foot generally.

The outlines, 1, 2, 3, will show the direction and bearing of three different feet, neither of which would be comfortably fitted, if the length and width were the only points attended to. For No. 1 we require a straight-formed last, with an equal proportion of wood on each side the centre line. No. 2 requires considerable fulness of the inside joint, to allow for a bunion; the great toe requires a bed for the ball to rest in; the waist must be very hollow, else the quarter will bag; while No. 3 requires a wide flat tread and great thickness of wood, for the toes which are covered with corns.

Many persons have an idea that right and left shoes are a comparatively modern invention, but the illusions and illustrations to the contrary, in pages 39-44 disprove this; straight lasts are decidedly a modern invention, and notwithstanding what many persons say to the contrary, are decidedly inferior to a well-formed right and left pair.

The great evil has been that all right and left lasts, of late have been crooked. It was thought in abandoning the straight last with its faults, that a perfect fit could be secured in rights and lefts; and from one extreme, as is generally the case in fashion, the opposite was adopted, and a twisted right and left made the matter still worse.

It was thought nothing could be right and left but that which took a decided turn, and the consequence has been that for years lasts have been made with an ugly twist inward, where no wood was required, and on the outside, where the toes with all their tenderness and liability to injury have required thickness and breadth, nothing has been left.

I have pointed out this fault to last-makers a thousand times—have stood by them at their work, and have seen the part—where, of all things, I wished the room to be left—cruelly sliced off, or rasped away: the consequence to the unfortunate wearer of a shoe or boot made on that last must have been, months of torture.

Some workmen, however, have at last seen the error they have all along been committing, and adopted the improved form, wondering how it was never thought of before.