and he looked up the costume of the Greek king of men. But he was
dissatisfied with the representation given of him in Dr. Schliemann's
"Mykenæ." There was a picture of Agamemnon's mask, but very much
battered. He might get a mask made in that pattern, indeed, and the
little boys were delighted with the idea of battering it. Agamemnon
would like to wear a mask, then he would have no trouble in keeping up
his expression. But Elizabeth Eliza objected to the picture in Dr.
Schliemann's book; she did not like it for Agamemnon,--it was too
slanting in the eyes. So it was decided he should take the part of Nick
Bottom, in "Midsummer Night's Dream." He could then wear the ass's head,
which would have the same advantage as a mask, and would conceal his own
face entirely. Then he could be making up any face he pleased in the
ass's head, and would look like an ass without any difficulty, while his
feet would show he was not one. Solomon John thought that they might
make an ass's head if they could get a pattern, or could see the real
animal and form an idea of the shape. Barnum's Circus would be along in
a few weeks, and they could go on purpose to study the donkeys, as there
usually was more than one donkey in the circus. Agamemnon, however, in
going with a friend to a costumer's in Boston, found an ass's head
already made.
The little boys found in an illustrated paper an accurate description
of the Hindu snake-charmer's costume, and were so successful in their
practice of shades of brown for the complexion, that Solomon John
decided to take the part of Othello, and use some of their staining
fluid.
There was some discussion as to consulting the lady from Philadelphia,
who was in town.
Solomon John thought they ought to practise getting on by themselves,
for soon the Atlantic would lie between her and them. Mrs. Peterkin
thought they could telegraph. Elizabeth Eliza wanted to submit to her
two or three questions about the supper, and whether, if her mother were
Queen Elizabeth, they could have Chinese lanterns. Was China invented at
that time? Agamemnon was sure China was one of the oldest countries in
the world and did exist, though perhaps Queen Elizabeth did not know it.
Elizabeth Eliza was relieved to find that the lady from Philadelphia
thought the question not important. It would be impossible to have
everything in the house to correspond with all the different characters,
unless they selected some period to represent, such as the age of Queen
Elizabeth. Of course, Elizabeth Eliza would not wish to do this when her
father was to be Julius Cæsar.
The lady from Philadelphia advised Mrs. Peterkin to send for Jones the
"caterer" to take charge of the supper. But his first question staggered
her. How many did she expect?
They had not the slightest idea. They had sent invitations to everybody.
The little boys proposed getting the directory of the place, and marking
out the people they didn't know and counting up the rest. But even if
this would give the number of invitations, it would not show how many
would accept; and then there was no such directory. They could not
expect answers, as their invitations were cards with "At Home" on them.
One answer had come from a lady, that she too would be "at home" with
rheumatism. So they only knew there was one person who would not come.
Elizabeth Eliza had sent in Circumambient ways to all the members of
that society,--by the little boys, for instance, who were sure to stop
at the base-ball grounds, or somewhere, so a note was always delayed by
them. One Circumambient note she sent by mail, purposely omitting the
"Mass.," so that it went to the Dead-Letter Office, and came back six
weeks after the party.
But the Peterkin family were not alone in commotion. The whole town was
in excitement, for "everybody" had been invited. Ann Maria Bromwick
had a book of costumes that she lent to a few friends, and everybody
borrowed dresses or lent them, or went into town to the costumer's.
Weeks passed in preparation. "What are you going to wear?" was the only
question exchanged; and nobody answered, as nobody would tell.
At length the evening came,--a beautiful night in late summer, warm
enough to have had the party out-of-doors; but the whole house was
lighted up and thrown open, and Chinese lanterns hung in the portico and
on the pillars of the piazzas.
At an early hour the Peterkins were arrayed in their costumes. The
little boys had their legs and arms and faces browned early in the day,
and wore dazzlingly white full trousers and white turbans.
Elizabeth Eliza had prepared a dress as Queen Elizabeth; but Solomon
John was desirous that she should be Desdemona, and she gave up her
costume to her mother. Mrs. Peterkin therefore wore a red wig which Ann
Maria had found at a costumer's, a high ruff, and an old-fashioned
brocade. She was not sure that it was proper for Queen Elizabeth to wear
spectacles; but Queen Elizabeth must have been old enough, as she lived
to be seventy. As for Elizabeth Eliza, in recalling the fact that
Desdemona was smothered by pillows, she was so impressed by it that she
decided she could wear the costume of a sheet-and-pillow-case party. So
she wore a white figured silk that had been her mother's wedding-dress,
and over it draped a sheet as a large mantle, and put a pillow-case upon
her head, and could represent Desdemona not quite smothered. But Solomon
John wished to carry out the whole scene at the end.
As they stood together, all ready to receive, in the parlor at the
appointed hour, Mr. Peterkin suddenly exclaimed,--
"This will never do! We are not the Peterkins,--we are distinguished
guests! We cannot receive."
"We shall have to give up the party," said Mrs. Peterkin.
"Or our costumes," groaned Agamemnon from his ass's head.
"We must go out, and come in as guests," said Elizabeth Eliza, leading
the way to a back door, for guests were already thronging in, and up
the front stairs. They passed out by a piazza, through the hedge of
hollyhocks, toward the front of the house. Through the side windows of
the library they could see the company pouring in. The black attendant
was showing them upstairs; some were coming down, in doubt whether to
enter the parlors, as no one was there. The wide middle entrance hall
was lighted brilliantly; so were the parlors on one side and the library
on the other.
But nobody was there to receive! A flock of guests was
assembling,--peasant girls, Italian, German, and Norman; Turks, Greeks,
Persians, fish-wives, brigands, chocolate-women, Lady Washington,
Penelope, Red Riding-hood, Joan of Arc, nuns, Amy Robsart, Leicester,
two or three Mary Stuarts, Neapolitan fisher-boys, pirates of Penzance
and elsewhere,--all lingering, some on the stairs, some going up, some
coming down.
Charles I. without his head was entering the front door (a short
gentleman, with a broad ruff drawn neatly together on top of his own
head, which was concealed in his doublet below).
Three Hindu snake-charmers leaped wildly in and out among the throng,
flinging about dark, crooked sticks for snakes.
There began to be a strange, deserted air about the house. Nobody knew
what to do, where to go!
"Can anything have happened to the family?"
"Have they gone to Egypt?" whispered one.
No ushers came to show them in. A shudder ran through the whole
assembly, the house seemed so uninhabited; and some of the guests were
inclined to go away. The Peterkins saw it all through the long
library-windows.
"What shall we do?" said Mr. Peterkin. "We have said _we_ should
be 'At Home.'"
"And here we are, all out-of-doors among the hollyhocks," said Elizabeth
Eliza.
"There are no Peterkins to 'receive,'" said Mr. Peterkin, gloomily.
"We might go in and change our costumes," said Mrs. Peterkin, who
already found her Elizabethan ruff somewhat stiff; "but, alas! I could
not get at my best dress."
"The company is filling all the upper rooms," said Elizabeth Eliza; "we
cannot go back."
At this moment the little boys returned from the front door, and in a
subdued whisper explained that the lady from Philadelphia was arriving.
"Oh, bring her here!" said Mrs. Peterkin. And Solomon John hastened to
meet her.
She came, to find a strange group half lighted by the Chinese lanterns.
Mr. Peterkin, in his white toga, with a green wreath upon his head, came
forward to address her in a noble manner, while she was terrified by the
appearance of Agamemnon's ass's head, half hidden among the leaves.
"What shall we do?" exclaimed Mr. Peterkin. "There are no Peterkins;
yet we have sent cards to everybody that they are 'At Home'!"
The lady from Philadelphia, who had been allowed to come without
costume, considered for a moment. She looked through the windows to the
seething mass now crowding the entrance hall. The Hindu snake-charmers
gambolled about her.
"_We_ will receive as the Peterkin family!" she exclaimed. She
inquired for a cap of Mrs. Peterkin's, with a purple satin bow, such as
she had worn that very morning. Amanda was found by a Hindu, and sent
for it and for a purple cross-over shawl that Mrs. Peterkin was wont to
wear. The daughters of the lady from Philadelphia put on some hats of
the little boys and their India-rubber boots. Hastily they went in
through the back door and presented themselves, just as some of the
wavering guests had decided to leave the house, it seeming so quiet
and sepulchral.
The crowd now flocked into the parlors. The Peterkins themselves left
the hollyhocks and joined the company that was entering; Mr. Peterkin,
as Julius Cæsar, leading in Mrs. Peterkin, as Queen Elizabeth. Mrs.
Peterkin hardly knew what to do, as she passed the parlor door; for one
of the Osbornes, as Sir Walter Raleigh, flung a velvet cloak before
her. She was uncertain whether she ought to step on it, especially as
she discovered at that moment that she had forgotten to take off her
rubber overshoes, which she had put on to go through the garden. But
as she stood hesitating, the lady from Philadelphia, as Mrs. Peterkin,
beckoned her forward, and she walked over the ruby velvet as though it
were a door-mat.
For another surprise stunned her,--there were three Mrs. Peterkins! Not
only Mrs. Bromwick, but their opposite neighbor, had induced Amanda to
take dresses of Mrs. Peterkin's from the top of the trunks, and had come
in at the same moment with the lady from Philadelphia, ready to receive.
She stood in the middle of the bow-window at the back of the room, the
two others in the corners. Ann Maria Bromwick had the part of Elizabeth
Eliza, and Agamemnon too was represented; and there were many sets of
"little boys" in India-rubber boots, going in and out with the Hindu
snake-charmers.
Mr. Peterkin had studied up his Latin grammar a little, in preparation
for his part of Julius Cæsar. Agamemnon had reminded him that it was
unnecessary, as Julius Cæsar in Shakspeare spoke in English. Still he
now found himself using with wonderful ease Latin phrases such as "E
pluribus unum," "lapsus linguæ," and "sine qua non," where they seemed
to be appropriate.
Solomon John looked well as Othello, although by some he was mistaken
for an older snake-charmer, with his brown complexion, glaring white
trousers, and white shirt. He wore a white lawn turban that had belonged
to his great-grandmother. His part, however, was more understood when he
was with Elizabeth Eliza as Desdemona; for they occasionally formed a
tableau, in which he pulled the pillow-case completely over her head.
Agamemnon was greeted with applause as Nick Bottom. He sang the song of
the "ousel cock," but he could not make himself heard. At last he found
a "Titania" who listened to him.
But none of the company attempted to carry out the parts represented by
their costumes. Charles I. soon conversed with Oliver Cromwell and with
the different Mary Stuarts, who chatted gayly, as though executions were
every-day occurrences.
At first there was a little awkwardness. Nuns stood as quiet as if in
their convent cells, and brave brigands hid themselves behind the doors;
but as the different guests began to surprise each other, the sounds of
laughter and talking increased. Every new-comer was led up to each
several Mrs. Peterkin.
Then came a great surprise,--a band of music sounded from the piazza.
Some of the neighbors had sent in the town band, as a farewell tribute.
This added to the excitement of the occasion. Strains of dance-music
were heard, and dancing was begun. Sir Walter Raleigh led out Penelope,
and Red Riding-hood without fear took the arm of the fiercest brigand
for a round dance.
The various groups wandered in and out. Elizabeth Eliza studied the
costumes of her friends, and wished she had tried each one of them. The
members of the Circumambient Society agreed that it would be always well
to wear costumes at their meetings. As the principles of the society
enforced a sort of uncertainty, if you always went in a different
costume you would never have to keep up your own character. Elizabeth
Eliza thought she should enjoy this. She had all her life been troubled
with uncertainties and questions as to her own part of "Elizabeth
Eliza," wondering always if she were doing the right thing. It did not
seem to her that other people had such a bother. Perhaps they had
simpler parts. They always seemed to know when to speak and when to
be silent, while she was always puzzled as to what she should do as
Elizabeth Eliza. Now, behind her pillow-case, she could look on and do
nothing; all that was expected of her was to be smothered now and then.
She breathed freely and enjoyed herself, because for the evening she
could forget the difficult role of Elizabeth Eliza.
Mrs. Peterkin was bewildered. She thought it a good occasion to study
how Mrs. Peterkin should act; but there were three Mrs. Peterkins. She
found herself gazing first at one, then at another. Often she was
herself called Mrs. Peterkin.
[Illustration: The ass's head proved hot and heavy, and Agamemnon was
forced to hang it over his arm.]
At supper-time the bewilderment increased. She was led in by the Earl
of Leicester, as principal guest. Yet it was to her own dining-room,
and she recognized her own forks and spoons among the borrowed ones,
although the china was different (because their own set was not large
enough to go round for so much company). It was all very confusing. The
dance-music floated through the air. Three Mrs. Peterkins hovered before
her, and two Agamemnons; for the ass's head proved hot and heavy, and
Agamemnon was forced to hang it over his arm as he offered coffee to
Titania. There seemed to be two Elizabeth Elizas, for Elizabeth Eliza
had thrown back her pillow-case in order to eat her fruit-ice. Mr.
Peterkin was wondering how Julius Cæsar would have managed to eat
his salad with his fork, before forks were invented, and then he fell
into a fit of abstraction, planning to say "Vale" to the guests as they
left, but anxious that the word should not slip out before the time.
Eight little boys and three Hindu snake-charmers were eating copiously
of frozen pudding. Two Joans of Arc were talking to Charles I., who had
found his head. All things seemed double to Mrs. Peterkin as they
floated before her.
"Was she eating her own supper or somebody's else? Were they Peterkins,
or were they not?"
Strains of dance-music sounded from the library. Yes, they were giving a
fancy ball! The Peterkins were "At Home" for the last time before
leaving for Egypt!
VI.
MRS. PETERKIN IN EGYPT.
The family had taken passage in the new line for Bordeaux. They supposed
they had; but would they ever reach the vessel in New York? The last
moments were terrific. In spite of all their careful arrangements, their
planning and packing of the last year, it seemed, after all, as if
everything were left for the very last day. There were presents for the
family to be packed, six steamer-bags for Mrs. Peterkin, half a dozen
satchels of salts-bottles for Elizabeth Eliza, Apollinaris water,
lunch-baskets. All these must be disposed of.
On the very last day Elizabeth Eliza went into Boston to buy a bird, as
she had been told she would be less likely to be sea-sick if she had a
bird in a cage in her stateroom. Both she and her mother disliked the
singing of caged birds, especially of canaries; but Mrs. Peterkin argued
that they would be less likely to be homesick, as they never had birds
at home. After long moments of indecision, Elizabeth Eliza determined
upon two canary-birds, thinking she might let them fly as they
approached the shore of Portugal, and they would then reach their native
islands. This matter detained her till the latest train, so that on her
return from Boston to their quiet suburban home, she found the whole
family assembled in the station, ready to take the through express train
to New York.
She did not have time, therefore, to go back to the house for her own
things. It was now locked up and the key intrusted to the Bromwicks; and
all the Bromwicks and the rest of the neighbors were at the station,
ready to bid them good-by. The family had done their best to collect all
her scattered bits of baggage; but all through her travels, afterward,
she was continually missing something she had left behind, that she
would have packed and had intended to bring.
They reached New York with half a day on their hands; and during this
time Agamemnon fell in with some old college friends, who were going
with a party to Greece to look up the new excavations. They were to
leave the next day in a steamer for Gibraltar. Agamemnon felt that here
was the place for him, and hastened to consult his family. Perhaps he
could persuade them to change their plans and take passage with the
party for Gibraltar. But he reached the pier just as the steamer for
Bordeaux was leaving the shore. He was too late, and was left behind!
Too late to consult them, too late even to join them! He examined his
map, however,--one of his latest purchases, which he carried in his
pocket,--and consoled himself with the fact that on reaching Gibraltar
he could soon communicate with his family at Bordeaux, and he was easily
reconciled to his fate.
It was not till the family landed at Bordeaux that they discovered the
absence of Agamemnon. Every day there had been some of the family unable
to come on deck,--sea-sick below. Mrs. Peterkin never left her berth,
and constantly sent messages to the others to follow her example, as she
was afraid some one of them would be lost overboard. Those who were on
deck from time to time were always different ones, and the passage was
remarkably quick; while, from the tossing of the ship, as they met rough
weather, they were all too miserable to compare notes or count their
numbers. Elizabeth Eliza especially had been exhausted by the voyage.
She had not been many days seasick, but the incessant singing of the
birds had deprived her of sleep. Then the necessity of talking French
had been a great tax upon her. The other passengers were mostly French,
and the rest of the family constantly appealed to her to interpret their
wants, and explain them to the _garçon_ once every day at dinner.
She felt as if she never wished to speak another word in French; and
the necessity of being interpreter at the hotel at Bordeaux, on their
arrival, seemed almost too much for her. She had even forgotten to let
her canary-birds fly when off shore in the Bay of Biscay, and they were
still with her, singing incessantly, as if they were rejoicing over an
approach to their native shores. She thought now she must keep them till
their return, which they were already planning.
The little boys, indeed, would like to have gone back on the return trip
of the steamer. A son of the steward told them that the return cargo
consisted of dried fruits and raisins; that every stateroom, except
those occupied with passengers, would be filled with boxes of raisins
and jars of grapes; that these often broke open in the passage, giving
a great opportunity for boys.
But the family held to their Egypt plan, and were cheered by making the
acquaintance of an English party. At the _table d'hôte_ Elizabeth
Eliza by chance dropped her fork into her neighbor's lap. She apologized
in French; her neighbor answered in the same language, which Elizabeth
Eliza understood so well that she concluded she had at last met with a
true Parisian, and ventured on more conversation, when suddenly they
both found they were talking in English, and Elizabeth Eliza exclaimed,
"I am so glad to meet an American," at the moment that her companion was
saying, "Then you are an Englishwoman!"
From this moment Elizabeth Eliza was at ease, and indeed both parties
were mutually pleased. Elizabeth Eliza's new friend was one of a large
party, and she was delighted to find that they too were planning a
winter in Egypt. They were waiting till a friend should have completed
her "cure" at Pau, and the Peterkins were glad also to wait for the
appearance of Agamemnon, who might arrive in the next steamer.
One of the little boys was sure he had heard Agamemnon's voice the
morning after they left New York, and was certain he must have been on
board the vessel. Mr. Peterkin was not so sure. He now remembered that
Agamemnon had not been at the dinner-table the very first evening; but
then neither Mrs. Peterkin nor Solomon John was able to be present, as
the vessel was tossing in a most uncomfortable manner, and nothing but
dinner could have kept the little boys at table. Solomon John knew that
Agamemnon had not been in his own stateroom during the passage, but he
himself had seldom left it, and it had been always planned that
Agamemnon should share that of a fellow-passenger.
However this might be, it would be best to leave Marseilles with the
English party by the "P. & O." steamer. This was one of the English
"Peninsular and Oriental" line, that left Marseilles for Alexandria,
Egypt, and made a return trip directly to Southampton, England. Mr.
Peterkin thought it might be advisable to take "go-and-return" tickets,
coming back to Southampton; and Mrs. Peterkin liked the idea of no
change of baggage, though she dreaded the longer voyage. Elizabeth Eliza
approved of this return trip in the P. & O. steamer, and decided it
would give a good opportunity to dispose of her canary-birds on her
return.
The family therefore consoled themselves at Marseilles with the belief
that Agamemnon would appear somehow. If not, Mr. Peterkin thought he
could telegraph him from Marseilles, if he only knew where to telegraph
to. But at Marseilles there was great confusion at the Hôtel de
Noailles; for the English party met other friends, who persuaded them to
take route together by Brindisi. Elizabeth Eliza was anxious to continue
with her new English friend, and Solomon John was delighted with the
idea of passing through the whole length of Italy. But the sight of the
long journey, as she saw it on the map in the guide-book, terrified Mrs.
Peterkin. And Mr. Peterkin had taken their tickets for the Marseilles
line. Elizabeth Eliza still dwelt upon the charm of crossing under the
Alps, while this very idea alarmed Mrs. Peterkin.
On the last morning the matter was still undecided. On leaving the
hotel, it was necessary for the party to divide and take two omnibuses.
Mr. and Mrs. Peterkin reached the steamer at the moment of departure,
and suddenly Mrs. Peterkin found they were leaving the shore. As they
crossed the broad gangway to reach the deck, she had not noticed they
had left the pier; indeed, she had supposed that the steamer was one she
saw out in the offing, and that they would be obliged to take a boat to
reach it. She hurried from the group of travellers whom she had followed
to find Mr. Peterkin reading from his guide-book to the little boys an
explanation that they were passing the Château d'If, from which the
celebrated historical character the Count of Monte Cristo had escaped by
flinging himself into the sea.
"Where is Elizabeth Eliza? Where is Solomon John?" Mrs. Peterkin
exclaimed, seizing Mr. Peterkin's arm. Where indeed? There was a pile
of the hand-baggage of the family, but not that of Elizabeth Eliza, not
even the bird-cage. "It was on the top of the other omnibus," exclaimed
Mrs. Peterkin. Yes, one of the little boys had seen it on the pavement
of the court-yard of the hotel, and had carried it to the omnibus in
which Elizabeth Eliza was sitting. He had seen her through the window.