CERTAINLY now was the time to study the languages. The Peterkins had
moved into a new house, far more convenient than their old one, where
they would have a place for everything and everything in its place. Of
course they would then have more time.
Elizabeth Eliza recalled the troubles of the old house, how for a long
time she was obliged to sit outside of the window upon the piazza, when
she wanted to play on her piano.
Mrs. Peterkin reminded them of the difficulty about the table-cloths.
The upper table-cloth was kept in a trunk that had to stand in front of
the door to the closet under the stairs. But the under table-cloth was
kept in a drawer in the closet. So, whenever the cloths were changed,
the trunk had to be pushed away under some projecting shelves to make
room for opening the closet-door (as the under table-cloth must be taken
out first), then the trunk was pushed back to make room for it to be
opened for the upper table-cloth, and, after all, it was necessary to
push the trunk away again to open the closet-door for the knife-tray.
This always consumed a great deal of time.
Now that the china-closet was large enough, everything could find a
place in it.
Agamemnon especially enjoyed the new library. In the old house there was
no separate room for books. The dictionaries were kept upstairs, which
was very inconvenient, and the volumes of the Encyclopædia could not be
together. There was not room for all in one place. So from A to P were
to be found downstairs, and from Q to Z were scattered in different
rooms upstairs. And the worst of it was, you could never remember
whether from A to P included P. “I always went upstairs after P,” said
Agamemnon, “and then always found it downstairs, or else it was the
other way.”
Of course now there were more conveniences for study. With the books all
in one room, there would be no time wasted in looking for them.
Mr. Peterkin suggested they should each take a separate language. If
they went abroad, this would prove a great convenience. Elizabeth
Eliza could talk French with the Parisians; Agamemnon, German with the
Germans; Solomon John, Italian with the Italians; Mrs. Peterkin, Spanish
in Spain; and perhaps he could himself master all the Eastern Languages
and Russian.
Mrs. Peterkin was uncertain about undertaking the Spanish, but all the
family felt very sure they should not go to Spain (as Elizabeth Eliza
dreaded the Inquisition), and Mrs. Peterkin felt more willing.
Still she had quite an objection to going abroad. She had always said
she would not go till a bridge was made across the Atlantic, and she was
sure it did not look like it now.
Agamemnon said there was no knowing. There was something new every day,
and a bridge was surely not harder to invent than a telephone, for they
had bridges in the very earliest days.
Then came up the question of the teachers. Probably these could be found
in Boston. If they could all come the same day, three could be brought
out in the carryall. Agamemnon could go in for them, and could learn a
little on the way out and in.
Mr. Peterkin made some inquiries about the Oriental languages. He was
told that Sanscrit was at the root of all. So he proposed they should
all begin with Sanscrit. They would thus require but one teacher, and
could branch out into the other languages afterward.
But the family preferred learning the separate languages. Elizabeth
Eliza already knew something of the French. She had tried to talk
it, without much success, at the Centennial Exhibition, at one of the
side-stands. But she found she had been talking with a Moorish gentleman
who did not understand French. Mr.
Peterkin feared they might need more libraries, if all the teachers came
at the same hour; but Agamemnon reminded him that they would be using
different dictionaries. And Mr. Peterkin thought something might be
learned by having them all at once. Each one might pick up something
beside the language he was studying, and it was a great thing to learn
to talk a foreign language while others were talking about you. Mrs.
Peterkin was afraid it would be like the Tower of Babel, and hoped it
was all right.
Agamemnon brought forward another difficulty. Of course they ought to
have foreign teachers, who spoke only their native languages. But, in
this case, how could they engage them to come, or explain to them about
the carryall, or arrange the proposed hours? He did not understand how
anybody ever began with a foreigner, because he could not even tell him
what he wanted.
Elizabeth Eliza thought a great deal might be done by signs and
pantomime.
Solomon John and the little boys began to show how it might be done.
Elizabeth Eliza explained how “langues” meant both “languages” and
“tongues,” and they could point to their tongues. For practice, the
little boys represented the foreign teachers talking in their different
languages, and Agamemnon and Solomon John went to invite them to come
out, and teach the family by a series of signs.
Mr. Peterkin thought their success was admirable, and that they might
almost go abroad without any study of the languages, and trust to
explaining themselves by signs. Still, as the bridge was not yet made,
it might be as well to wait and cultivate the languages.
Mrs. Peterkin was afraid the foreign teachers might imagine they were
invited out to lunch. Solomon John had constantly pointed to his mouth
as he opened it and shut it, putting out his tongue; and it looked a
great deal more as if he were inviting them to eat, than asking them
to teach. Agamemnon suggested that they might carry the separate
dictionaries when they went to see the teachers, and that would show
that they meant lessons, and not lunch.
Mrs. Peterkin was not sure but she ought to prepare a lunch for them,
if they had come all that way; but she certainly did not know what they
were accustomed to eat.
Mr. Peterkin thought this would be a good thing to learn of the
foreigners. It would be a good preparation for going abroad, and they
might get used to the dishes before starting. The little boys were
delighted at the idea of having new things cooked. Agamemnon had heard
that beer-soup was a favorite dish with the Germans, and he would
inquire how it was made in the first lesson. Solomon John had heard they
were all very fond of garlic, and thought it would be a pretty attention
to have some in the house the first day, that they might be cheered by
the odor.
Elizabeth Eliza wanted to surprise the lady from Philadelphia by her
knowledge of French, and hoped to begin on her lessons before the
Philadelphia family arrived for their annual visit.
There were still some delays. Mr. Peterkin was very anxious to obtain
teachers who had been but a short time in this country. He did not want
to be tempted to talk any English with them. He wanted the latest
and freshest languages, and at last came home one day with a list of
“brand-new foreigners.”
They decided to borrow the Bromwicks’ carryall to use, beside their own,
for the first day, and Mr. Peterkin and Agamemnon drove into town to
bring all the teachers out. One was a Russian gentleman, travelling, who
came with no idea of giving lessons, but perhaps he would consent to do
so. He could not yet speak English.
Mr. Peterkin had his card-case, and the cards of the several gentlemen
who had recommended the different teachers, and he went with Agamemnon
from hotel to hotel collecting them. He found them all very polite,
and ready to come, after the explanation by signs agreed upon. The
dictionaries had been forgotten, but Agamemnon had a directory, which
looked the same, and seemed to satisfy the foreigners.
Mr. Peterkin was obliged to content himself with the Russian instead
of one who could teach Sanscrit, as there was no new teacher of that
language lately arrived.
But there was an unexpected difficulty in getting the Russian gentleman
into the same carriage with the teacher of Arabic, for he was a Turk,
sitting with a fez on his head, on the back seat! They glared at each
other, and began to assail each other in every language they knew, none
of which Mr. Peterkin could understand. It might be Russian, it might be
Arabic. It was easy to understand that they would never consent to sit
in the same carriage. Mr. Peterkin was in despair; he had forgotten
about the Russian war! What a mistake to have invited the Turk!
Quite a crowd collected on the sidewalk in front of the hotel. But the
French gentleman politely, but stiffly, invited the Russian to go with
him in the first carryall. Here was another difficulty. For the German
professor was quietly ensconced on the back seat! As soon as the French
gentleman put his foot on the step and saw him, he addressed him in
such forcible language that the German professor got out of the door the
other side, and came round on the sidewalk, and took him by the collar.
Certainly the German and French gentlemen could not be put together, and
more crowd collected!
Agamemnon, however, had happily studied up the German word “Herr,” and
he applied it to the German, inviting him by signs to take a seat in the
other carryall. The German consented to sit by the Turk, as they neither
of them could understand the other; and at last they started, Mr.
Peterkin with the Italian by his side, and the French and Russian
teachers behind, vociferating to each other in languages unknown to
Mr. Peterkin, while he feared they were not perfectly in harmony, so
he drove home as fast as possible. Agamemnon had a silent party. The
Spaniard by his side was a little moody, while the Turk and the German
behind did not utter a word.
At last they reached the house, and were greeted by Mrs. Peterkin
and Elizabeth Eliza, Mrs. Peterkin with her llama lace shawl over her
shoulders, as a tribute to the Spanish teacher. Mr. Peterkin was careful
to take his party in first, and deposit them in a distant part of the
library, far from the Turk or the German, even putting the Frenchman and
Russian apart.
Solomon John found the Italian dictionary, and seated himself by his
Italian; Agamemnon, with the German dictionary, by the German. The
little boys took their copy of the “Arabian Nights” to the Turk. Mr.
Peterkin attempted to explain to the Russian that he had no Russian
dictionary, as he had hoped to learn Sanscrit of him, while Mrs.
Peterkin was trying to inform her teacher that she had no books in
Spanish. She got over all fears of the Inquisition, he looked so sad,
and she tried to talk a little, using English words, but very slowly,
and altering the accent as far as she knew how. The Spaniard bowed,
looked gravely interested, and was very polite.
Elizabeth Eliza, meanwhile, was trying her grammar phrases with the
Parisian.
She found it easier to talk French than to understand him. But
he understood perfectly her sentences. She repeated one of her
vocabularies, and went on with--“J’ai le livre.” “As-tu le pain?”
“L’enfant a une poire.” He listened with great attention, and replied
slowly. Suddenly she started after making out one of his sentences, and
went to her mother to whisper, “They have made the mistake you feared.
They think they are invited to lunch! He has just been thanking me for
our politeness in inviting them to déjeûner,--that means breakfast!”
“They have not had their breakfast!” exclaimed Mrs. Peterkin, looking at
her Spaniard; “he does look hungry! What shall we do?”
Elizabeth Eliza was consulting her father. What should they do? How
should they make them understand that they invited them to teach, not
lunch. Elizabeth Eliza begged Agamemnon to look out “apprendre” in the
dictionary. It must mean to teach. Alas, they found it means both to
teach and to learn! What should they do? The foreigners were now sitting
silent in their different corners. The Spaniard grew more and more
sallow. What if he should faint? The Frenchman was rolling up each of
his mustaches to a point as he gazed at the German. What if the Russian
should fight the Turk? What if the German should be exasperated by the
airs of the Parisian?
“We must give them something to eat,” said Mr. Peterkin, in a low tone.
“It would calm them.”
“If I only knew what they were used to eating,” said Mrs. Peterkin.
Solomon John suggested that none of them knew what the others were used
to eating, and they might bring in anything.
Mrs. Peterkin hastened out with hospitable intents. Amanda could make
good coffee. Mr. Peterkin had suggested some American dish. Solomon John
sent a little boy for some olives.
It was not long before the coffee came in, and a dish of baked beans.
Next, some olives and a loaf of bread, and some boiled eggs, and some
bottles of beer. The effect was astonishing. Every man spoke his own
tongue, and fluently. Mrs.
Peterkin poured out coffee for the Spaniard, while he bowed to her. They
all liked beer, they all liked olives. The Frenchman was fluent about
“les moeurs Américaines.” Elizabeth Eliza supposed he alluded to their
not having set any table. The Turk smiled, the Russian was voluble. In
the midst of the clang of the different languages, just as Mr. Peterkin
was again repeating, under cover of the noise of many tongues, “How
shall we make them understand that we want them to teach?”--at this
very moment the door was flung open, and there came in the lady from
Philadelphia, that day arrived, her first call of the season!
She started back in terror at the tumult of so many different languages!
The family, with joy, rushed to meet her. All together they called
upon her to explain for them. Could she help them? Could she tell the
foreigners they wanted to take lessons? Lessons? They had no sooner
uttered the word than their guests all started up with faces beaming
with joy. It was the one English word they all knew! They had come to
Boston to give lessons! The Russian traveller had hoped to learn English
in this way. The thought pleased them more than the déjeûner.
Yes, gladly would they give lessons. The Turk smiled at the idea. The
first step was taken. The teachers knew they were expected to teach.