The old Border song, sung at public dinners “when Selkirk folks began to be merry”—

has made the “Souters of Selkirk” famous throughout Scotland. The origin of the song seems to be lost. Whether it has reference, as the common tradition in Selkirk goes, to the part which a gallant band of Selkirk men played at the battle of Flodden Field, 1513, “when the flower of the Scottish nobility fell around their sovereign, James IV.,” which Sir Walter Scott and Mr. Plummer assert,[102] or to “a bet between the Philiphaugh and Home families“ on a match of football ”between the souters (or shoemakers) of Selkirk against the men of Home,” as Mr. Robertson in his “Essay on Scottish Song” declares, it is not easy to determine. At any rate, whether the song points to the historical event or not, the event itself is beyond dispute. Selkirk did “certainly send a brave band of eighty or a hundred men to Flodden Field to support the cause of James. No doubt a large proportion of these men were veritable souters, for the chief trade of the town in the sixteenth century was the making of “a sort of brogues with a single thin sole.” This local manufacture seems to have given a name to the inhabitants of the burgh, who were called souters, pretty much as natives of Sheffield might be called blades, or Birmingham folk buttons. The people of Selkirk are not ashamed of the designation, but rather glory in perpetuating the name and the tradition on which it rests. “A singular custom,” we are told, is 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. These 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.[103]

WATT TINLINN.

That the souters of that time knew how to fight and win renown by their valor and skill may be gathered from the story which the author of “The Lay of the Last Minstrel” tells us anent the reference to Watt of Liddelside in the fourth canto of the “Lay”:

This Watt was a shoemaker and a soldier, and if he had no large field for the display of his skill and valor in the Border skirmishes of his time, he nevertheless deserves a place among his more illustrious brethren of the craft, if only for the sake of the following note respecting him. “This person was in my younger days,” says Sir Walter Scott,[104] “the theme of many a fireside tale. He was a retainer of the Buccleuch family, and held for his Border service a small tower on the frontiers of Liddesdale. Watt was by profession a sutor, but by inclination and practice an archer and warrior. Upon one occasion, the captain of Bewcastle, military governor of that wild district of Cumberland, is said to have made an incursion into Scotland, in which he was defeated and forced to fly. Watt Tinlinn pursued him closely through a dangerous morass; the captain, however, gained the firm ground, and seeing Tinlinn dismounted and floundering in the bog, used these words of insult, “Sutor Watt, ye cannot sew your boots; the heels risp and the seams rive.“[105] ”If I cannot sew,” retorted Tinlinn, discharging a shaft which nailed the captain’s thigh to his saddle—“if I cannot sew I can yerk.”[106]

COLONEL HEWSON, THE “CERDON” OF “HUDIBRAS.”

In the turbulent days of the Stuarts and the Commonwealth, when the lofty were laid low and the lowly were set in high places, it can hardly be matter of surprise that the shoemaker should have had his share of the favors of fortune. The circumstances of the time had led to the adoption of the rational rule of granting promotion by merit. In an army commanded by Cromwell it is not likely that any other rule would be adopted. His two chief requirements were military capacity and moral character. With men of this class he made up his invincible Ironsides. One of his colonels was John Hewson. “This man,” Grainger says,[107] “once wore a leather apron, and from a mender of old shoes became a reformer of government and religion. He was, allowing for his education, a very extraordinary person. His behavior in the army soon raised him to the rank of a colonel; and Cromwell had so great an opinion of him as to intrust him with the government of the city of Dublin, whence he was called to be a member of Barebones’[108] parliament. He was a frequent speaker in that and the other parliament of which he was a member, and was at length thought a fit person to be a lord of the upper house. He was one of the committee of safety, and was, with several of his brethren, very intent upon a new model of the republic at the eve of the Restoration.“ Rugge, in his ”Diurnal,” 5th December, 1659, says that Hewson “was a very stout man, and a very good commander;” and adds, “But in regard of his former employment, they (the city apprentices) threw at him old shoes and slippers, and turnip-tops and brickbats, stones and tiles.” He was the object of no end of lampooning on the part of the Royalists. Pepys, in his “Diary,” 25th January, 1659-60, has an interesting memorandum in regard to the notoriety of the cobbler-colonel: “Coming home, heard that in Cheapside there had been but a little before a gibbet set up, and a picture of Huson (Hewson) hung upon it, in the middle of the street.”[109] One of these squibs bore the title, “Colonel Hewson’s Confession; or, a Parley with Pluto,” and referred to his removal of the gates of Temple Bar. Lord Braybrooke informs us that Hewson “had but one eye, which did not escape the notice of his enemies.” Nor did the burly cobbler-colonel escape the notice of Dr. Butler, who makes him a conspicuous figure in the first part of “Hudibras”[110] under the nickname of Cerdon:

Later on,[112] Hudibras describes the scene at the bear-gardens when Hewson and the Puritan party endeavor to put a stop to the savage sport of bear-baiting. The mob turn on the Puritans, but as for the fat colonel—

One of the squibs alluded to above was entitled “A Hymn to the Gentle Craft; or, Hewson’s Lamentation.”[113] The reader will observe that Hewson’s one eye “does not escape the notice of his enemies.” This piece was sung as a ballad in the streets:

Having been one of the men who sat in judgment on King Charles I., the Colonel was with other regicides condemned to be hung October 14th, 1660;[114] but he is said to have escaped hanging by flight, and to have died at Amsterdam “in his original obscurity,” 1662.[115]

SIR CHRISTOPHER MYNGS, ADMIRAL OF THE ENGLISH FLEET.

Christopher Myngs (or Minns), “the son of an honest shoemaker in London, from whom he inherited nothing but a good constitution,”[116] is said to have worn the leathern apron for a short time before he went to sea. Speaking of the men of humble origin who, toward the end of the seventeenth century, made their way to high office by their skill and bravery, Lord Macaulay says: “One of the most eminent of these officers was Sir Christopher Mings, who entered the service as a cabin-boy, who fell fighting bravely against the Dutch, and whom his crew, weeping and vowing vengeance, carried to the grave. From him sprang, by a singular kind of descent, a line of valiant and expert sailors. His cabin-boy was Sir John Narborough, and the cabin-boy of Sir John Narborough was Sir Cloudesley Shovel. To the strong natural sense and dauntless courage of this class of men England owes a debt never to be forgotten.”[117] Myngs knew how to be familiar and friendly with his men, and yet to keep his position and authority. Seamen learn to love bravery, and of this they saw enough in their gallant Admiral. They had additional reason for their devotion in the care he always took to see them well paid and fed, and the justice he did them in the distribution of prizes. It was in the great four days’ fight off the English coast, June 1st-4th, 1666, between the English and Dutch fleets, that this brave man met with his death. The English fleet was commanded by the Duke of Albemarle and Prince Rupert, and the Dutch by De Ruyter and Van Tromp the younger. The battle was one of the most memorable on record, both for its length and the valor displayed on both sides. “On the fourth day of the famous battle that began on the 1st of June, he received a shot in the neck; after which, though he was in exquisite pain, he continued in his command, holding his wound with both his hands for above an hour. At length another shot pierced his throat and laid him forever at rest.”[118]

The portrait of Sir Christopher Myngs is now in the Painted Hall of Greenwich Hospital. It is a half-length by Sir Peter Lely, and came from Windsor Castle, having been presented by George IV. in 1824.[119]