When my mamma heard of the treatment of her darling she was for bringing
an action against the schoolmaster, or else for tearing his eyes out
(when, dear soul! she would not have torn the eyes out of a flea, had it
been her own injury), and, at the very least, for having me removed from
the school where I had been so shamefully treated. But papa was stern
for once, and vowed that I had been served quite right, declared that I
should not be removed from the school; and sent old Swishtail a brace of
pheasants for what he called his kindness to me. Of these the old
gentleman invited me to partake, and made a very queer speech at dinner,
as he was cutting them up, about the excellence of my parents, and his
own determination to be _kinder still_ to me, if ever I ventured on such
practices again; so I was obliged to give up my old trade of lending,
for the doctor declared that any boy who borrowed should be flogged, and
any one who _paid_ should be flogged twice as much. There was no
standing against such a prohibition as this, and my little commerce was
ruined.
I was not very high in the school: not having been able to get further
than that dreadful _Propria quæ maribus_ in the Latin grammar, of which,
though I have it by heart even now, I never could understand a syllable—
but, on account of my size, my age, and the prayers of my mother, was
allowed to have the privilege of the bigger boys, and on holidays to
walk about in the town; great dandies we were, too, when we thus went
out. I recollect my costume very well: a thunder-and-lightning coat, a
white waistcoat, embroidered neatly at the pockets, a lace frill, a pair
of knee-breeches, and elegant white cotton or silk stockings. This did
very well, but still I was dissatisfied, I wanted _a pair of boots_.
Three boys in the school had boots—I was mad to have them too.
There was a German bootmaker who had just set up in _our_ town in those
days, who afterwards made his fortune in London; I determined to have
the boots from him, and did not despair, before the end of a year or
two, either to leave the school, when I should not mind his dunning me,
or to screw the money from mamma, and so pay him.
So I called upon this man, Stiffelkind was his name, and he took my
measure for a pair.
"You are a vary young gentleman to wear dop boots," said the shoemaker.
"I suppose, fellow," says I, "that is my business and not yours; either
make the boots or not—but when you speak to a man of my rank, speak
respectfully;" and I poured out a number of oaths, in order to impress
him with a notion of my respectability.
They had the desired effect.—"Stay, sir," says he, "I have a nice littel
pair of dop boots dat I tink will jost do for you," and he produced,
sure enough, the most elegant things I ever saw. "Day were made," said
he, "for de Honourable Mr. Stiffney, of de Gards, but were too small."
"Ah, indeed!" said I, "Stiffney is a relation of mine: and what, you
scoundrel, will you have the impudence to ask for these things?" He
replied, "Three pounds."
"Well," said I, "they are confoundedly dear, but as you will have a long
time to wait for your money, why I shall have my revenge, you see." The
man looked alarmed, and began a speech: "Sare, I cannot let dem go
vidout;"—but a bright thought struck me, and I interrupted—"Sir! don't
sir me—take off the boots, fellow, and, hark ye! when you speak to a
nobleman, don't say—Sir."
"A hundert tousand pardons, my lort," says he: "if I had known you were
a lort, I vood never have called you, Sir. Vat name shall I put down in
my books?"
"Name?—oh! why—LORD CORNWALLIS, to be sure," said I, as I walked off in
the boots.
"And vat shall I do vid my lort's shoes?" "Keep them until I send for
them," said I; and, giving him a patronizing bow, I walked out of the
shop, as the German tied up my shoes in a paper....
This story I would not have told, but that my whole life turned upon
these accursed boots. I walked back to school as proud as a peacock, and
easily succeeded in satisfying the boys as to the manner in which I came
by my new ornaments.
Well, one fatal Monday morning, the blackest of all black-Mondays that
ever I knew—as we were all of us playing between school-hours—I saw a
posse of boys round a stranger, who seemed to be looking out for one of
us—a sudden trembling seized me—I knew it was Stiffelkind: what had
brought him here? He talked loud, and seemed angry—so I rushed into the
school-room, and, burying my head between my hands, began reading for
the dear life.
"I vant Lort Cornvallis," said the horrid bootmaker. "His lortship
belongs, I know, to dis honourable school, for I saw him vid de boys at
church, yesterday."
"Lord who?"
"Vy, Lort Cornvallis, to be sure—a very fat yong nobleman, vid red hair,
he squints a little, and svears dreadfully."
"There's no Lord Cornvallis here," said one—and there was a pause.
"Stop! I have it!" says that odious Bunting. "_It must be Stubbs_;" and
"Stubbs! Stubbs!" every one cried out, while I was so busy at my book as
not to hear a word.
At last, two of the biggest chaps rushed into the school-room, and
seizing each an arm, run me into the play-ground—bolt up against the
shoemaker.
"Dis is my man—I beg your lortship's pardon," says he, "I have brought
your lortship's shoes, vich you left—see, dey have been in dis parcel
ever since you vent avay in my boots."
"Shoes, fellow!" says I, "I never saw your face before;" for I knew
there was nothing for it but brazening it out. "Upon the honour of a
gentleman," said I, turning round to the boys—they hesitated; and if the
trick had turned in my favour, fifty of them would have seized hold of
Stiffelkind, and drubbed him soundly.
"Stop!" says Bunting (hang him!), "let's see the shoes—if they fit him,
why, then, the cobbler's right." They did fit me, and not only that, but
the name of STUBBS was written in them at full length.
"Vat?" said Stiffelkind, "is he not a lort? so help me himmel, I never
did vonce tink of looking at de shoes, which have been lying, ever
since, in dis piece of brown paper;" and then gathering anger as he went
on, thundered out so much of his abuse of me, in his German-English,
that the boys roared with laughter. Swishtail came in in the midst of
the disturbance, and asked what the noise meant.
"It's only Lord Cornwallis, sir," said the boys, "battling with his
shoemaker, about the price of a pair of top-boots."
"O, sir" said I, "it was only in fun that I called myself Lord
Cornwallis."
"In fun! Where are the boots? And you, sir, give me your bill." My
beautiful boots were brought; and Stiffelkind produced his bill. "Lord
Cornwallis to Samuel Stiffelkind, for a pair of boots—four guineas."
"You have been fool enough, sir," says the doctor, looking very stern,
"to let this boy impose upon you as a lord; and knave enough to charge
him double the value of the article you sold him. Take back the boots,
sir, I wont pay a penny of your bill; nor can you get a penny. As for
you, sir, you miserable swindler and cheat, I shall not flog you as I
did before, but I shall send you home: you are not fit to be the
companion of honest boys."
"_Suppose we duck him_ before he goes," piped out a very small voice.
The doctor grinned significantly, and left the school-room; and the boys
knew by this they might have their will. They seized me, and carried me
to the play-ground pump—they pumped upon me until I was half dead, and
the monster, Stiffelkind, stood looking on for the half-hour the
operation lasted.
I suppose the doctor, at last, thought I had had pumping enough, for he
rung the school-bell, and the boys were obliged to leave me; as I got
out of the trough, Stiffelkind was alone with me. "Vell, my lort," says
he, "you have paid _something_ for dese boots, but not all; by Jubider!
_you shall never hear de end of dem_." And I didn't.
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