Fifty-Two Stories For Girls 25 – Anonymous · Verses Across
Literature · Short Stories
Fifty-Two Stories For Girls 25Part 2 · Caspar the Cobbler, of Cobweb Corner
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Literature · Short Stories
Fifty-Two Stories For Girls 25
Part 2 · Caspar the Cobbler, of Cobweb Corner
AnonymousEnglish
In the centre of a certain old city in the Land of Langaffer stood a king's castle, surrounded by a high turreted wall, with many little gablets and long windows, and balconies adorned with flowers. A courtyard full of soldiers was inside. Like the city, the castle was picturesque, with its quaint architecture, its nooks and turns, its solid masonry and stone-carving. The interior must have been beautiful indeed; for the king, who had a very excellent taste, could scarcely be induced to leave his royal home even for an hour, so much did he love it. He was wont to inhale the fresh air every morning on the southern parapet where the clematis trailed over the antique coping, and, in the long summer twilight he would enjoy gazing at the east, where the sinking sun had spread its golden hue over his dominions, from the tiny top turret pointing to the woods and mountains that lay away beyond the city.
Now, in close proximity to the castle were some of the darkest and narrowest streets of the city. One of these was Cobweb Corner; and here, in a small attic, dwelt a humpbacked, plain-visaged little man, who the whole day long loved to think about the king. He was called "Caspar the Cobbler, of Cobweb Corner."
The people all knew Caspar, but they did not know that Caspar's secret ambition was to become some day cobbler to the king.
Caspar's father and mother had been poor folk, like himself; and when he came into the world, a sickly, plain-featured babe, his mother sent for the very last of the fairies in the land to be her child's godmother, and to bequeath him some wonderful gift which might make up for his lack of strength and beauty.
"What an ugly child," said the fairy; "yet somebody will love him, and he may become beautiful--and, when all else forsake him, why, then the most graceful of the birds shall be his friends."
Poor Caspar's mother considered that she had accomplished a great thing in persuading the fairy to act as godmother; but his father thought he could do better for his son in teaching him his own handicraft to the best of his ability.
And therefore, with an extraordinary amount of care and patience, the old man instructed his little lad how to manage his awl; and, ere he died, had the satisfaction of knowing that his Caspar bade fair to become as clever a cobbler as any in the city.
Several years had passed, and Caspar lived on alone in the little attic near the castle wall. The way up to his room was dark and narrow, up rickety stairs, and along crooked passages; but, once at the top, there was plenty of cheerful light streaming in through the dormer-window, and the twittering of the birds, as they built their nests in the eaves, had something pleasant and gay.
The feathered songsters were Caspar's most constant companions, and he understood every word they said. He confided to them all his secrets, amongst others, what a proud man he should be, the day he made a pair of shoes for the king! Other secrets he imparted also to the birds, which the city folk down in the streets guessed little about.
Many and many a time, as Caspar sat so much alone, he would sigh, and wish that his fairy-godmother would come and see him sometimes. But, alas, that could not be, for the king had given strict orders that the sentinels posted at the city gates should allow "no fairy bodies" in. Even the very last of the kind was, by a new law, banished to far-distant fairyland. "No more magic wands, no more wonders nowadays," sighed poor Caspar; "nothing can be won but by hard and constant work, work, work!"
Moreover, poor Caspar had to learn that even honest work sometimes fails to ward off hunger and poverty. For many a long month the crooked little cobbler was doomed to toil, and to suffer privation as well. He might make his boots and shoes night and day, and lay them out, pair by pair, in neat rows along a shelf in the corner of his attic, but what availed all this if no customer ever ventured up to look at them, nor even to order mendings?
The fact was, that about this time the folk in that old city began to wear wooden shoes, which, they said, were good enough for them, and lasted longer than any other.
Only fair-haired, blue-eyed Mabel, Dame Dimity's daughter, who had the daintiest little feet in the world, and knew how to dance like any fairy--she wore lovely little shoes manufactured by Caspar.
When Midsummer-day came round Mabel was elected May-queen. Then she came tripping up the rickety staircase, and along the dingy passage to the attic workshop, in Cobweb Corner. "Caspar, Caspar, here, quick! My measure for a darling little pair of shoes to dance in!" and she held out the most elegant little foot which any shoemaker could possibly choose for a pattern.
Three days after that the shoes were finished, a bonnie wee pair of crimson ones, in the softest of kid-leather; and when Mabel came to fetch them, and tried them on, they fitted like a glove. She drew them both on, and danced round the room to show how delighted she was. And dear! how lovely they looked, all three--Mabel and the little red shoes!!
Poor deformed Caspar smiled as he watched her, and felt happy to have rendered her so happy.
"I love to see you, little Mabel," he said, "and that is why I shall shut up my workshop on Midsummer-day, and go out to the common when you are crowned 'Queen o' the May.' I only wish the sky may be as blue--as blue--as your eyes are, Mabel!" And then the crooked little cobbler stammered and blushed at his own forwardness in paying such a compliment to the prettiest maiden in the land.
But little Mabel said, "I will watch out for you, Caspar. I shall care for nobody on all the green so much as you."
Caspar could scarcely quite believe little Mabel when she said this; yet he was greatly touched by her kindness, and he promised to go and look at her from afar.
When Midsummer-day dawned over that old city the weather was beautiful--the sky, as blue as Mabel's eyes; and young and old flocked out to bask in the sunshine, and enjoy the games and the merry-making. Even the king sallied forth from his castle, accompanied by his courtiers, to favour with his presence the time-honoured custom of crowning the May-queen.
When he beheld little Mabel he exclaimed, "What a lovely maiden, fit to be a princess!"
Caspar was standing quite near, and heard it with his own ears. He expected after that to see Mabel drop a curtsey to the king. But no, the little maiden looked straight at him--poor Caspar--instead, and with her queen's flowery wand, pointed down to her bonnie crimson shoes.
The cobbler of Cobweb Corner was becoming dazed with happiness. Curious thoughts about his fairy-godmother crept into his head; strange thrills of pleasure and of pain shot through his dwarfish frame, and turned him well-nigh sick with emotion. It seemed to Caspar that he had grown older and younger in that one summer day. He felt giddy, and suddenly longed for his quiet attic in Cobweb Corner.
He stole silently away, and had left the crowd behind him on the Common, when he suddenly became aware of a tiny hand slipped into his own; and, looking down to the ground, observed a dainty pair of red shoes tripping lightly by his side. "What! little Mabel?"
"I just wanted to leave when you would leave, Caspar. For there was nobody on all the green I cared for so much as you."
Ah, this time he did believe her,--poor Caspar! And so he must tell her all his secret. "I love you, little Mabel, oh so much! And oh, if some day you could marry me, I should keep you in darling little crimson shoes all your life! And who knows--perhaps through your love Mabel--I might grow better-looking. They said my godmother promised it."
"I love you as you are, plain or handsome, you dear, good Caspar," cried little Mabel, "and I will marry you just as soon as my mother, Dame Dimity, gives her consent!"
Alas! True love is ever doomed to be crossed, else this little tale of ours had been a good deal shorter; had, perhaps, even ended here!
Dame Dimity would on no account yield her consent to the union of her daughter, the beauty of the town, with the cobbler of Cobweb Corner. Why, if it came to that, there was Christopher Clogs, the wooden shoemaker, who was a good figure and a wealthy man to boot! He lived in the Market Place, and drove a thriving business, whilst Caspar was known to have only one coat to his back. Really the effrontery of Cobweb Corner was astounding!
Poor Mabel's eyes were now often dimmed with tears; yet once every day she passed through the narrow street near the castle wall, and gazed up at Caspar's gable-window, until she saw the little shoemaker smile down at her. After she had vanished, Caspar would feel very lonely; yet he said to himself, "When I want to see her blue eyes, then I must look at the sky. She'll always have blue eyes, and she'll always be my Mabel."
These days Caspar rarely left his workshop in the old garret. He was very poor, and had nothing to buy with; so he went to no shops, and he avoided the neighbours, as they were beginning to make merry about him, and Mabel, and Dame Dimity. He could not bear to hear them say that Mabel was betrothed to Christie Clogs, the wooden shoemaker. Anything but that!
When he had nobody to talk to, why, he opened his window to converse with the swallows, and asked them every evening what was the news--for Caspar could not afford to take in a newspaper.
"Oh, what do you think!" they cried one night, swirling round his head in circles, as their custom was, "here is something to interest you, Caspar! The king has got sore feet--from wearing tight boots, they say,--and sits in an arm-chair with his feet wrapped up in a flannel. We saw it all just a while ago."
"I took stock of His Majesty's feet that day," said Caspar promptly, "the day he was out on the 'Green.' I can't help measuring people's feet with my eye," he added apologetically to the swallows; "you see, it's my trade, and it is the only thing I am good at."
But ere he had finished speaking, the friendly swallows had described their last swift circle in the air, and, with a sharp scream of "Goodnight," had darted into their nests under the old pointed roof.
That evening, ere he lay down in his nest, poor Caspar had cut out of soft, well-tanned leather a pair of shoes, which he knew to be the king's own measure. "Ah," said Caspar, "the poor king must have his new shoes as soon as possible, for it is awful to suffer toe-ache, and to be obliged to sit all day long with one's feet swathed in flannel." And Caspar sat with his leather apron on, and wrought as if for life and death at the new shoes. He was too busy even to rise and look at the window for little Mabel passing by.
At last they were completed. Then the humpbacked cobbler, having washed his hands, and brushed his one coat, went off, quivering with excitement, bearing the new shoes in his hands, away downstairs, and through the narrow street under the castle wall, till he came and stood before the castle gate. Here the sentinel on duty demanded what he wanted.
"Pair of shoes for His Majesty," responded Caspar in a businesslike manner, and was admitted.
When he had crossed the courtyard, and had arrived at the entrance of the inner apartments, he was accosted by a couple of lackeys covered with gold lace, and with powdered hair.
"Heigho! What's all this!" they exclaimed. "Where dost thou hail from, old Hop-o'-my-thumb?"
"I am Caspar the cobbler, of Cobweb Corner," replied the little man gravely; "as you may perceive by these new shoes which I bring for the king, and which are His Majesty's exact fit."
"Begone, knave!" cried the lackeys indignantly. "Dost thou imagine the king would wear anything contrived by the likes of thee. Be off, old mountebank, ere thou and thy shoes are flung into the castle dungeon!"
In vain poor Caspar intreated; they would not even listen to him. At last, in utter terror for his life, he hurried away, disappointed, mortified, sick at heart, carrying the despised piece of workmanship, at which he had toiled so carefully and conscientiously all these weeks, back home to his obscure lodging in Cobweb Corner. Here, overcome with vexation, the little man flung himself upon his bed, and cried himself asleep.
When he awoke it was evening. A fresh breeze was gently stirring the casement, the window was open, and the swallows passing and repassing it in circles, producing a screaming, chattering noise all the time.
Caspar's eye fell first on his work-table, on which lay, side by side, his latest, best work, the brand new shoes for the king. Ah! the swallows saw them too, and this was the cause of all the extra twittering and screaming this evening.
"Dear feathered friends," cried Caspar, springing to the open window, "how can ye help me? They are finished! They fit! But how are they to be conveyed to His Majesty? The menials in the castle would not let me in."
"Wee--wee--we could carry one!" piped the swallows, slily, dipping their long lanced wings, and swirling swiftly by.
"No, not one, ye silly creatures!" cried Caspar all out of breath; "both or none!"
The swallows made a second long sweep, and as they neared the gablet again, hissed forth, "Singly were surer." But, as Caspar made a sign of impatience, four of his friends, the swifts, darted straight across the window-sill to the work-table, and, seizing the new shoes by heel and toe, sped off with them across the old wall to the royal castle.
It seemed but an instant and they were back, screaming and hissing and circling towards their nest in the eaves. Caspar put his head out at the open casement, and listened anxiously to their sounds.
"Dropped them at his bed-room window--the little balcony--some one opened--took them in--so, so, sleep well, sleep well,--goodnight!"
The following morning Caspar the cobbler was up and dressed before daybreak, and down in the streets, in and out amongst the crowds, trying to overhear some gossip about the king.
The city folk were surprised to see him once more in their midst; and good-naturedly permitted him to sit at their firesides for old times' sake, although he called for no ale, nor lighted a long pipe like the others. All poor Caspar desired was to ascertain the latest court news; but, to his annoyance, he was doomed to learn first a great many things that did not please him about Dame Dimity and Christie Clogs.
At last, late on in the afternoon, somebody inquired if the company were informed of the good tidings, "that His Majesty the king was recovered of his foot-ache, and could walk about again, thanks to a shoemaker who had succeeded in fitting His Majesty's foot to a 'T.'"
"That shoemaker, whoever he be, has founded his own fortune this day!" exclaimed the innkeeper.
Caspar sprang to his feet, and at the same time the pewter tankards and all the pipes, the host and all the customers, danced round before his eyes. With a great gasp of excitement he bounded out to the street, and sped on to the market place, past Dame Dimity's, and past Christie Clogs', and on to the narrow street with the overshadowing wall, and on, and on, until he arrived at the royal entrance. He obtained admittance as before, and pressed forward till he was arrested by the supercilious lackeys in gold-lace livery.
"What! here again, old Hop-o'-my-thumb!" cried they.
"But I am the royal shoemaker, gentlemen!" exclaimed Caspar, proudly, "and that was my own work which I carried in my hand yesterday morning."
"What knavery is this?" returned the head menial of the castle, "the royal shoemaker, villain, is no clumsy clown from these parts; but he and his wares come from abroad, from Paris. He is, moreover, with the king at present, receiving his reward for the beautiful new pair of shoes in softly-tanned leather, which arrived last night at dusk. He is an elegant gentleman, this Parisian, and knows fine manners as well as his trade, for he ne'er goes nor comes without dealing out largesse to us, the gentlemen attendants, and therein exhibits his good breeding."
"But the shoes!" stammered out Caspar all aghast. "The shoes! I made them, and His Majesty the king has them on at this very moment. Confound your Parisian!" he screamed, waxing wroth; "it was I who made the shoes--they were found on the western balcony last night--His Majesty must know that they are the work of Caspar the cobbler, of Cobweb Corner!"
At this moment a musical murmur of voices was audible from within, and a creaking of boots; and at once the angry lackeys turned smiling faces towards the departing French merchant, who politely pressed a little coin into each of their outstretched palms.
When at length he took his departure, Caspar followed him some way with a very ugly expression disfiguring his features. "I could kill this dandy interloper, who steals the reward and credit of my hard-earned toil! I could stick my awl through him!"
Poor Caspar, it was well that at this instant he was accosted by his loving little angel, his sweet, blue-eyed Mabel!
"Eh, my Caspar, whatever has come over you, and whither are you going, that you do not even see your own Mabel? And, oh! I am thankful to have met you now, for look, Caspar, with trudging past Cobweb Corner every day my pretty shoes are well-nigh worn through! So I must have a new pair, and you may set about making them at once."
Then poor Caspar told her about his grievous disappointment at the castle, and the insults and humiliation he had experienced at the hands of the royal underlings. "It is too bad." he said, "to think that nobody knows that I made them!"
"The swallows know it," added Mabel pensively, "and you should have followed their advice; for, after all, they are your best friends."
"What!" returned Caspar sharply, "and sent only one at a time? Is that what you mean, Mabel?"
"I dare say that was what they meant," she returned.
Caspar groaned.
"But look," continued the little maiden gaily, her blue eyes dancing with a bright idea, "remember this, O Caspar, the king's shoes must by-and-by become worn through, like mine! And then--and then, he must have new ones too--and then--and then we'll take the swallows' advice, and act with greater caution."
That evening when Caspar went home to Cobweb Corner, and flung open his gable-window, there were no graceful circles described overhead, and no twittering amongst the eaves. All was silent. The swallows had taken leave of Cobweb Corner, and of the royal castle, and of the quaint old city, with its many spires and turrets. They were off, all together, a joyous merry troup of tourists, swiftly, swiftly winging their way to warmer climes for the winter.
Poor Caspar missed them sadly, and reproached them a little at first for being heartless, selfish creatures. Soon, however, he gained courage again; and began to work at Mabel's shoes ... and then at the king's--to have them ready by spring time, when, as the little maiden said, "the others should be worn out."
Several times that winter Caspar saw the king walk out in the identical shoes his hands had manufactured; and his heart gave a leap every time he observed them becoming thinner.
At last the soft western breezes, the budding flowers, and the bright-blue, sunny sky of springtime came again; and the swallows returned swiftly, swiftly, swirling and screaming, just as they had done last year. They nested in their old corner under the eaves of Caspar's gable-roof. And by-and-by, when it was gossipped throughout the city that the king's feet were paining him again, because the very last new shoes--which really came from Paris, didn't fit at all, then the swallows at nightfall hissed at Caspar's window, "Soon, soon, see they be ready! Singly is surely!"
The dandified tradesman from Paris arrived at the castle with all his samples; but he was received with suspicion, and dismissed in disgrace, and this time distributed no largesse amongst the gold-laced lackeys.
The same night the swallows might have been observed darting off from Cobweb Corner, bearing one neatly-made shoe in soft, well-tanned leather. They dropped it outside the royal window, on the western balcony.
The following morning there was a great proclamation out all over the town. The mayor read it aloud on the market place in front of Christie Clogs' house, offering an immense reward to the person who could produce the missing shoe, "fellow to that one discovered on the king's balcony last night"; and a second reward, "ten times as great to the manufacturer of the said pair of shoes, which fitted His Majesty to a 'T.'"
In front of the crowd thronging the market place stood Caspar, his figure erect, his face transformed into a beautiful face by the delight which had taken possession of his whole soul. The success of an honest workman beamed in his countenance, and rendered the poor cobbler noble.
Mabel ran to his side, and he placed the missing shoe in her hands. "It is safe with my true, blue-eyed darling!" cried Caspar proudly; and the people raised a hearty cheer.
Then they formed a procession, and, with Caspar and Mabel at their head, marched to the royal presence.
This time the king received Caspar himself, and from Mabel's lips learned the whole story of the shoes from the very beginning.
After that, there was great rejoicing in the quaint old city; for both Caspar and Mabel were now the favourites with all the better folk. The king issued a command for their immediate marriage, and appointed Caspar to a post in the castle.
But the only title Caspar was willing to accept was that of "Cobbler to the King"; and, as such, he subsequently removed his belongings from Cobweb Corner to a fine large house which was prepared for him in the market place.
The fairy godmother was allowed to come and grace the wedding with her presence; and she promised so many blessings that Caspar and Mabel ought to have been still happier if that had been possible.
As for Dame Dimity, she married Christie Clogs herself; and report says she led a sore life of it when he came home tipsy at night, and began to fling his wooden shoes about.
