Chapter 2

“It's only Lord Cornwallis, sir,” said the boys, “battling with his shoemaker about the price of a pair of top-boots.”

“Oh, 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 on 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 won't 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 playground 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 rang 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.

APRIL.--FOOLING.

After this, as you may fancy, I left this disgusting establishment, and lived for some time along with pa and mamma at home. My education was finished, at least mamma and I agreed that it was; and from boyhood until hobbadyhoyhood (which I take to be about the sixteenth year of the life of a young man, and may be likened to the month of April when spring begins to bloom)--from fourteen until seventeen, I say, I remained at home, doing nothing--for which I have ever since had a great taste--the idol of my mamma, who took part in all my quarrels with father, and used regularly to rob the weekly expenses in order to find me in pocket-money. Poor soul! many and many is the guinea I have had from her in that way; and so she enabled me to cut a very pretty figure.

Papa was for having me at this time articled to a merchant, or put to some profession; but mamma and I agreed that I was born to be a gentleman and not a tradesman, and the army was the only place for me. Everybody was a soldier in those times, for the French war had just begun, and the whole country was swarming with militia regiments. “We'll get him a commission in a marching regiment,” said my father. “As we have no money to purchase him up, he'll FIGHT his way, I make no doubt.” And papa looked at me with a kind of air of contempt, as much as to say he doubted whether I should be very eager for such a dangerous way of bettering myself.

I wish you could have heard mamma's screech when he talked so coolly of my going out to fight! “What! send him abroad, across the horrid, horrid sea--to be wrecked and perhaps drowned, and only to land for the purpose of fighting the wicked Frenchmen,--to be wounded, and perhaps kick--kick--killed! Oh, Thomas, Thomas! would you murder me and your boy?” There was a regular scene. However, it ended--as it always did--in mother's getting the better, and it was settled that I should go into the militia. And why not? The uniform is just as handsome, and the danger not half so great. I don't think in the course of my whole military experience I ever fought anything, except an old woman, who had the impudence to hallo out, “Heads up, lobster!”--Well, I joined the North Bungays, and was fairly launched into the world.

I was not a handsome man, I know; but there was SOMETHING about me--that's very evident--for the girls always laughed when they talked to me, and the men, though they affected to call me a poor little creature, squint-eyes, knock-knees, redhead, and so on, were evidently annoyed by my success, for they hated me so confoundedly. Even at the present time they go on, though I have given up gallivanting, as I call it. But in the April of my existence,--that is, in anno Domini 1791, or so--it was a different case; and having nothing else to do, and being bent upon bettering my condition, I did some very pretty things in that way. But I was not hot-headed and imprudent, like most young fellows. Don't fancy I looked for beauty! Pish!--I wasn't such a fool. Nor for temper; I don't care about a bad temper: I could break any woman's heart in two years. What I wanted was to get on in the world. Of course I didn't PREFER an ugly woman, or a shrew; and when the choice offered, would certainly put up with a handsome, good-humored girl, with plenty of money, as any honest man would.

Now there were two tolerably rich girls in our parts: Miss Magdalen Crutty, with twelve thousand pounds (and, to do her justice, as plain a girl as ever I saw), and Miss Mary Waters, a fine, tall, plump, smiling, peach-cheeked, golden-haired, white-skinned lass, with only ten. Mary Waters lived with her uncle, the Doctor, who had helped me into the world, and who was trusted with this little orphan charge very soon after. My mother, as you have heard, was so fond of Bates, and Bates so fond of little Mary, that both, at first, were almost always in our house; and I used to call her my little wife as soon as I could speak, and before she could walk almost. It was beautiful to see us, the neighbors said.

Well, when her brother, the lieutenant of an India ship, came to be captain, and actually gave Mary five thousand pounds, when she was about ten years old, and promised her five thousand more, there was a great talking, and bobbing, and smiling between the Doctor and my parents, and Mary and I were left together more than ever, and she was told to call me her little husband. And she did; and it was considered a settled thing from that day. She was really amazingly fond of me.

Can any one call me mercenary after that? Though Miss Crutty had twelve thousand, and Mary only ten (five in hand, and five in the bush), I stuck faithfully to Mary. As a matter of course, Miss Crutty hated Miss Waters. The fact was, Mary had all the country dangling after her, and not a soul would come to Magdalen, for all her 12,000L. I used to be attentive to her though (as it's always useful to be); and Mary would sometimes laugh and sometimes cry at my flirting with Magdalen. This I thought proper very quickly to check. “Mary,” said I, “you know that my love for you is disinterested,--for I am faithful to you, though Miss Crutty is richer than you. Don't fly into a rage, then, because I pay her attentions, when you know that my heart and my promise are engaged to you.”

The fact is, to tell a little bit of a secret, there is nothing like the having two strings to your bow. “Who knows?” thought I. “Mary may die; and then where are my 10,000L.?” So I used to be very kind indeed to Miss Crutty; and well it was that I was so: for when I was twenty and Mary eighteen, I'm blest if news did not arrive that Captain Waters, who was coming home to England with all his money in rupees, had been taken--ship, rupees, self and all--by a French privateer; and Mary, instead of 10,000L. had only 5,000L., making a difference of no less than 350L. per annum betwixt her and Miss Crutty.

I had just joined my regiment (the famous North Bungay Fencibles, Colonel Craw commanding) when this news reached me; and you may fancy how a young man, in an expensive regiment and mess, having uniforms and what not to pay for, and a figure to cut in the world, felt at hearing such news! “My dearest Robert,” wrote Miss Waters, “will deplore my dear brother's loss: but not, I am sure, the money which that kind and generous soul had promised me. I have still five thousand pounds, and with this and your own little fortune (I had 1,000L. in the Five per Cents!) we shall be as happy and contented as possible.”

Happy and contented indeed! Didn't I know how my father got on with his 300L. a year, and how it was all he could do out of it to add a hundred a year to my narrow income, and live himself! My mind was made up. I instantly mounted the coach and flew to our village,--to Mr. Crutty's, of course. It was next door to Doctor Bates's; but I had no business THERE.

I found Magdalen in the garden. “Heavens, Mr. Stubbs!” said she, as in my new uniform I appeared before her, “I really did never--such a handsome officer--expect to see you.” And she made as if she would blush, and began to tremble violently. I led her to a garden-seat. I seized her hand--it was not withdrawn. I pressed it;--I thought the pressure was returned. I flung myself on my knees, and then I poured into her ear a little speech which I had made on the top of the coach. “Divine Miss Crutty,” said I; “idol of my soul! It was but to catch one glimpse of you that I passed through this garden. I never intended to breathe the secret passion” (oh, no; of course not) “which was wearing my life away. You know my unfortunate pre-engagement--it is broken, and FOR EVER! I am free;--free, but to be your slave,--your humblest, fondest, truest slave!” And so on. . . . .

“Oh, Mr. Stubbs,” said she, as I imprinted a kiss upon her cheek, “I can't refuse you; but I fear you are a sad naughty man. . . . .”

Absorbed in the delicious reverie which was caused by the dear creature's confusion, we were both silent for a while, and should have remained so for hours perhaps, so lost were we in happiness, had I not been suddenly roused by a voice exclaiming from behind us--

“DON'T CRY, MARY! HE IS A SWINDLING, SNEAKING SCOUNDREL, AND YOU ARE WELL RID OF HIM!”

I turned round. O heaven, there stood Mary, weeping on Doctor Bates's arm, while that miserable apothecary was looking at me with the utmost scorn. The gardener, who had let me in, had told them of my arrival, and now stood grinning behind them. “Imperence!” was my Magdalen's only exclamation, as she flounced by with the utmost self-possession, while I, glancing daggers at the SPIES, followed her. We retired to the parlor, where she repeated to me the strongest assurances of her love.

I thought I was a made man. Alas! I was only an APRIL FOOL!

MAY.--RESTORATION DAY.

As the month of May is considered, by poets and other philosophers, to be devoted by Nature to the great purpose of love-making, I may as well take advantage of that season and acquaint you with the result of MY amours.

Young, gay, fascinating, and an ensign--I had completely won the heart of my Magdalen; and as for Miss Waters and her nasty uncle the Doctor, there was a complete split between us, as you may fancy; Miss pretending, forsooth, that she was glad I had broken off the match, though she would have given her eyes, the little minx, to have had it on again. But this was out of the question. My father, who had all sorts of queer notions, said I had acted like a rascal in the business; my mother took my part, in course, and declared I acted rightly, as I always did: and I got leave of absence from the regiment in order to press my beloved Magdalen to marry me out of hand--knowing, from reading and experience, the extraordinary mutability of human affairs.

Besides, as the dear girl was seventeen years older than myself, and as bad in health as she was in temper, how was I to know that the grim king of terrors might not carry her off before she became mine? With the tenderest warmth, then, and most delicate ardor, I continued to press my suit. The happy day was fixed--the ever memorable 10th of May, 1792. The wedding-clothes were ordered; and, to make things secure, I penned a little paragraph for the county paper to this effect:--“Marriage in High Life. We understand that Ensign Stubbs, of the North Bungay Fencibles, and son of Thomas Stubbs, of Sloffemsquiggle, Esquire, is about to lead to the hymeneal altar the lovely and accomplished daughter of Solomon Crutty, Esquire, of the same place. A fortune of twenty thousand pounds is, we hear, the lady's portion. 'None but the brave deserve the fair.'”

*****

“Have you informed your relatives, my beloved?” said I to Magdalen, one day after sending the above notice; “will any of them attend at your marriage?”

“Uncle Sam will, I dare say,” said Miss Crutty, “dear mamma's brother.”

“And who WAS your dear mamma?” said I: for Miss Crutty's respected parent had been long since dead, and I never heard her name mentioned in the family.

Magdalen blushed, and cast down her eyes to the ground. “Mamma was a foreigner,” at last she said.

“And of what country?”

“A German. Papa married her when she was very young:--she was not of a very good family,” said Miss Crutty, hesitating.

“And what care I for family, my love!” said I, tenderly kissing the knuckles of the hand which I held. “She must have been an angel who gave birth to you.”

“She was a shoemaker's daughter.”

“A GERMAN SHOEMAKER! Hang 'em,” thought I, “I have had enough of them;” and so broke up this conversation, which did not somehow please me.

*****

Well, the day was drawing near: the clothes were ordered; the banns were read. My dear mamma had built a cake about the size of a washing-tub; and I was only waiting for a week to pass to put me in possession of twelve thousand pounds in the FIVE per Cents, as they were in those days, heaven bless 'em! Little did I know the storm that was brewing, and the disappointment which was to fall upon a young man who really did his best to get a fortune.

*****

“Oh, Robert,” said my Magdalen to me, two days before the match was to come off, “I have SUCH a kind letter from uncle Sam in London. I wrote to him as you wished. He says that he is coming down to-morrow, that he has heard of you often, and knows your character very well; and that he has got a VERY HANDSOME PRESENT for us! What can it be, I wonder?”

“Is he rich, my soul's adored?” says I.

“He is a bachelor, with a fine trade, and nobody to leave his money to.”

“His present can't be less than a thousand pounds?” says I.

“Or, perhaps, a silver tea-set, and some corner-dishes,” says she.

But we could not agree to this: it was too little--too mean for a man of her uncle's wealth; and we both determined it must be the thousand pounds.

“Dear good uncle! he's to be here by the coach,” says Magdalen. “Let us ask a little party to meet him.” And so we did, and so they came: my father and mother, old Crutty in his best wig, and the parson who was to marry us the next day. The coach was to come in at six. And there was the tea-table, and there was the punch-bowl, and everybody ready and smiling to receive our dear uncle from London.

Six o'clock came, and the coach, and the man from the “Green Dragon” with a portmanteau, and a fat old gentleman walking behind, of whom I just caught a glimpse--a venerable old gentleman: I thought I'd seen him before.

*****

Then there was a ring at the bell; then a scuffling and bumping in the passage: then old Crutty rushed out, and a great laughing and talking, and “HOW ARE YOU?” and so on, was heard at the door; and then the parlor-door was flung open, and Crutty cried out with a loud voice--

“Good people all! my brother-in-law, Mr. STIFFELKIND!”

MR. STIFFELKIND!--I trembled as I heard the name!

Miss Crutty kissed him; mamma made him a curtsy, and papa made him a bow; and Dr. Snorter, the parson, seized his hand and shook it most warmly: then came my turn!

“Vat!” says he. “It is my dear goot yong frend from Doctor Schvis'hentail's! is dis de yong gentleman's honorable moder” (mamma smiled and made a curtsy), “and dis his fader? Sare and madam, you should be broud of soch a sonn. And you my niece, if you have him for a husband you vill be locky, dat is all. Vat dink you, broder Croty, and Madame Stobbs, I 'ave made your sonn's boots! Ha--ha!”

My mamma laughed, and said, “I did not know it, but I am sure, sir, he has as pretty a leg for a boot as any in the whole county.”

Old Stiffelkind roared louder. “A very nice leg, ma'am, and a very SHEAP BOOT TOO. Vat! did you not know I make his boots? Perhaps you did not know something else too--p'raps you did not know” (and here the monster clapped his hand on the table and made the punch-ladle tremble in the bowl)--“p'raps you did not know as dat yong man, dat Stobbs, dat sneaking, baltry, squinting fellow, is as vicked as he is ogly. He bot a pair of boots from me and never paid for dem. Dat is noting, nobody never pays; but he bought a pair of boots, and called himself Lord Cornvallis. And I was fool enough to believe him vonce. But look you, niece Magdalen, I 'ave got five tousand pounds: if you marry him I vill not give you a benny. But look you what I will gif you: I bromised you a bresent, and I will give you DESE!”

And the old monster produced THOSE VERY BOOTS which Swishtail had made him take back.

*****

I DIDN'T marry Miss Crutty: I am not sorry for it though. She was a nasty, ugly, ill-tempered wretch, and I've always said so ever since.

And all this arose from those infernal boots, and that unlucky paragraph in the county paper--I'll tell you how.

In the first place, it was taken up as a quiz by one of the wicked, profligate, unprincipled organs of the London press, who chose to be very facetious about the “Marriage in High Life,” and made all sorts of jokes about me and my dear Miss Crutty.

Secondly, it was read in this London paper by my mortal enemy, Bunting, who had been introduced to old Stiffelkind's acquaintance by my adventure with him, and had his shoes made regularly by that foreign upstart.

Thirdly, he happened to want a pair of shoes mended at this particular period, and as he was measured by the disgusting old High-Dutch cobbler, he told him his old friend Stubbs was going to be married.

“And to whom?” said old Stiffelkind. “To a voman wit geld, I vill take my oath.”

“Yes,” says Bunting, “a country girl--a Miss Magdalen Carotty or Crotty, at a place called Sloffemsquiggle.”

“SHLOFFEMSCHWIEGEL!” bursts out the dreadful bootmaker. “Mein Gott, mein Gott! das geht nicht! I tell you, sare, it is no go. Miss Crotty is my niece. I vill go down myself. I vill never let her marry dat goot-for-nothing schwindler and tief.” SUCH was the language that the scoundrel ventured to use regarding me!

JUNE.--MARROWBONES AND CLEAVERS.

Was there ever such confounded ill-luck? My whole life has been a tissue of ill-luck: although I have labored perhaps harder than any man to make a fortune, something always tumbled it down. In love and in war I was not like others. In my marriages, I had an eye to the main chance; and you see how some unlucky blow would come and throw them over. In the army I was just as prudent, and just as unfortunate. What with judicious betting, and horse-swapping, good-luck at billiards, and economy, I do believe I put by my pay every year,--and that is what few can say who have but an allowance of a hundred a year.

I'll tell you how it was. I used to be very kind to the young men; I chose their horses for them, and their wine: and showed them how to play billiards, or ecarte, of long mornings, when there was nothing better to do. I didn't cheat: I'd rather die than cheat;--but if fellows WILL play, I wasn't the man to say no--why should I? There was one young chap in our regiment of whom I really think I cleared 300L. a year.

His name was Dobble. He was a tailor's son, and wanted to be a gentleman. A poor weak young creature; easy to be made tipsy; easy to be cheated; and easy to be frightened. It was a blessing for him that I found him; for if anybody else had, they would have plucked him of every shilling.

Ensign Dobble and I were sworn friends. I rode his horses for him, and chose his champagne, and did everything, in fact, that a superior mind does for an inferior,--when the inferior has got the money. We were inseparables,--hunting everywhere in couples. We even managed to fall in love with two sisters, as young soldiers will do, you know; for the dogs fall in love, with every change of quarters.

Well, once, in the year 1793 (it was just when the French had chopped poor Louis's head off), Dobble and I, gay young chaps as ever wore sword by side, had cast our eyes upon two young ladies by the name of Brisket, daughters of a butcher in the town where we were quartered. The dear girls fell in love with us, of course. And many a pleasant walk in the country, many a treat to a tea-garden, many a smart ribbon and brooch used Dobble and I (for his father allowed him 600L., and our purses were in common) present to these young ladies. One day, fancy our pleasure at receiving a note couched thus:--

“DEER CAPTING STUBBS AND DOBBLE--Miss Briskets presents their compliments, and as it is probble that our papa will be till twelve at the corprayshun dinner, we request the pleasure of their company to tea.”

Didn't we go! Punctually at six we were in the little back-parlor; we quaffed more Bohea, and made more love, than half a dozen ordinary men could. At nine, a little punch-bowl succeeded to the little teapot; and, bless the girls! a nice fresh steak was frizzling on the gridiron for our supper. Butchers were butchers then, and their parlor was their kitchen too; at least old Brisket's was--one door leading into the shop, and one into the yard, on the other side of which was the slaughter-house.

Fancy, then, our horror when, just at this critical time, we heard the shop-door open, a heavy staggering step on the flags, and a loud husky voice from the shop, shouting, “Hallo, Susan; hallo, Betsy! show a light!” Dobble turned as white as a sheet; the two girls each as red as a lobster; I alone preserved my presence of mind. “The back-door,” says I--“The dog's in the court,” say they. “He's not so bad as the man,” said I. “Stop!” cries Susan, flinging open the door, and rushing to the fire. “Take THIS and perhaps it will quiet him.”

What do you think “THIS” was? I'm blest if it was not the STEAK!

She pushed us out, patted and hushed the dog, and was in again in a minute. The moon was shining on the court, and on the slaughter-house, where there hung the white ghastly-looking carcasses of a couple of sheep; a great gutter ran down the court--a gutter of BLOOD! The dog was devouring his beefsteak (OUR beefsteak) in silence; and we could see through the little window the girls hustling about to pack up the supper-things, and presently the shop-door being opened, old Brisket entering, staggering, angry, and drunk. What's more, we could see, perched on a high stool, and nodding politely, as if to salute old Brisket, the FEATHER OF DOBBLE'S COCKED HAT! When Dobble saw it, he turned white, and deadly sick; and the poor fellow, in an agony of fright, sunk shivering down upon one of the butcher's cutting-blocks, which was in the yard.

We saw old Brisket look steadily (as steadily as he could) at the confounded, impudent, pert, waggling feather; and then an idea began to dawn upon his mind, that there was a head to the hat; and then he slowly rose up--he was a man of six feet, and fifteen stone--he rose up, put on his apron and sleeves, and TOOK DOWN HIS CLEAVER.

“Betsy,” says he, “open the yard door.” But the poor girls screamed, and flung on their knees, and begged, and wept, and did their very best to prevent him. “OPEN THE YARD DOOR!” says he, with a thundering loud voice; and the great bull-dog, hearing it, started up and uttered a yell which sent me flying to the other end of the court.--Dobble couldn't move; he was sitting on the block, blubbering like a baby.

The door opened, and out Mr. Brisket came.

“TO HIM, JOWLER!” says he. “KEEP HIM, JOWLER!”--and the horrid dog flew at me, and I flew back into the corner, and drew my sword, determining to sell my life dearly.