from Sam himself, dated Havana. It detailed at full length the delights
of the voyage, and the various qualifications of black Bob, the
cabin-boy, and it was finished by two postscripts from Uncle Philip; one
celebrating the rapid progress of Sam in nautical knowledge, and another
stating that they should return in the schooner Winthrop.
They did return--Uncle Philip bringing with him, among other West India
productions, a barrel of pine-apples for Mrs. Clavering, and three
parrots, one for each of his young nieces; to all of whom he observed
the strictest impartiality in distributing his favours. Also, a large
box for Dick, filled with numerous specimens of tropical woods.
It was evening when they arrived at Corinth, and they walked up directly
from the steamboat wharf to Mrs. Clavering's house; leaving their
baggage to follow in a cart. Intending to give the family a pleasant
surprise, they stole cautiously in at the gate, and walked on the grass
to avoid making a noise with their shoes on the gravel. As usual at this
hour, a light shone through the Venetian shutters of the
parlour-windows. But our voyagers listened in vain for the well-known
sounds of noisy mirth excited by the enjoyment of various little games
and plays in which it was usual for the children to pass the interval
between tea and bed-time; a laudable custom, instituted by Uncle Philip
soon after he became one of the family.
"I hope all may be right," whispered the old captain, as he ascended
the steps of the front porch, "I don't hear the least sound."
They sat down the three parrot-cages, which they had carried themselves
from the wharf, and then went up to the windows and reconnoitered
through the shutters. They saw the whole family seated round the table,
busily employed with books and writing materials, and all perfectly
silent. Uncle Philip now hastily threw open the front door, and,
followed by Sam, made his appearance in the parlour, exclaiming--
"Why, what is all this? Not hearing any noise as we came along, we
concluded there must be sickness, or death in the house."
"We are not dead yet," said Dick, starting up, "though we are learning
French."
In an instant the books were abandoned, the table nearly overset in
getting from behind it, and the whole group hung round the voyagers,
delighted at their return, and overwhelming them with questions and
caresses. In a moment there came prancing into the room the dog Neptune,
who had remained behind to guard the baggage-cart, which had now arrived
at the front gate. The faithful animal was literally received with open
arms by all the children, and when he had nearly demolished little Anne
by the roughness of his gambols, she only exclaimed--"Oh! never
mind--never mind. I am so glad to have Neptune back again, that I don't
care, if he _does_ tear my new pink frock all to tatters."
Mrs. Clavering made a faint attempt at reproaching Uncle Philip for thus
stealing a march and carrying off her son, but the old captain turned it
all into a subject of merriment, and pointed out to her Sam's ruddy
looks and improved height; and his good fortune in having a brown skin,
which, on being exposed to the air and sun of the ocean, only deepened
its manly tint, instead of being disfigured by freckles. On Mrs.
Clavering remarking that her poor boy had learnt the true balancing gait
of a sailor, the uncle and nephew exchanged glances of congratulation;
and Sam, in the course of the evening, took frequent occasions to get up
and walk across the room, by way of displaying this new accomplishment.
As Mrs. Clavering understood that her uncle and son had not yet had
their supper, she quitted the room "on hospitable thoughts intent,"
while the children were listening with breathless interest to a minute
detail of the voyage; Sam leaning over the back of his uncle's great
chair, into which Fanny had squeezed herself beside the old gentleman,
who held Jane on one knee and Anne on the other; and Dick making a seat
of the dog Neptune, who lay at his master's feet.
"Who are those people talking in the porch?" asked little Anne,
interrupting her uncle to listen to the strange sounds that issued from
without.
"Oh! they are the parrots," said Sam, laughing, "I wonder they should
have been forgotten so long."
"Parrots!" exclaimed all the children at once, and in a moment every one
of the young people were out in the porch, and the cages were carried
into the parlour. The parrots were duly admired, and made to go through
all their phrases, of which (being very smart parrots) they had learnt
an infinite variety, and Uncle Philip told the girls to draw lots for
the first choice of these new pets. Dick supplying for that purpose
little sticks of unequal lengths. After this the box of tropical woods
was opened, and Dick's happiness became too great for utterance.
Supper was now brought in, and placed by Mrs. Clavering's order on a
little table in the corner, it not being worth while, as she said, to
remove the books and writing apparatus from the centre-table, as the
lessons must be shortly resumed.
"What lessons are these," said Uncle Philip, "on which you seem so
intent? Before I went away there was no lesson-learning of evenings.
Have Mr. Fulmer and Miss Hickman adopted a new plan? I think, children,
I have heard you say that your lessons were very short, and that you
always learned them in school, which was one reason, why I approved of
Mr. Fulmer for the boys, and Miss Hickman for the girls. I never could
bear the idea of poor children being forced to spend their play-time in
learning lessons. The school hours are long enough in all conscience."
"Oh--we don't go to Miss Hickman now," exclaimed the girls:--"And I
don't go any longer to Mr. Fulmer," cried Dick, with something like a
sigh.
"And where do you go, then?" inquired Uncle Philip.
"We go to Monsieur and Madame Franchimeau's French Study," replied Dick.
"He teaches the boys, and she the girls--and our lessons are so long
that it takes us the whole evening to learn them, and write our
exercises. We are kept in school from eight in the morning till three in
the afternoon. And then at four we go back again, and stay till dusk,
trying to read and talk French with Monsieur and Madame Ravigote, the
father and mother of Madame Franchimeau."
"What's all this?" said Uncle Philip, laying down his knife and fork.
Mrs. Clavering, after silencing Dick with a significant look, proceeded
to explain--
"Why, uncle," said she, "you must know that immediately after you left
us, there came to Corinth a very elegant French family, and their
purpose was to establish an Institute, or Study, as they now call it, in
which, according to the last new system of education, everything is to
be learnt in French. Mrs. Apesley, Mrs. Nedging, Mrs. Pinxton, Mrs.
Slimbridge and myself, with others of the leading ladies of Corinth, had
long wished for such an opportunity of having our children properly
instructed, and we all determined to avail ourselves of it. We called
immediately on the French ladies, who are very superior women, and we
resolved at once to bring them into fashion by showing them every
possible attention. We understood, also, that before Monsieur
Franchimeau and his family came to Corinth, they had been on the other
side of the river, and had visited Tusculum with a view of locating
themselves in that village. But these polished and talented strangers
were not in the least appreciated by the Tusculans, who are certainly a
coarse and vulgar people; and therefore it became the duty of us
Corinthians to prove to them our superiority in gentility and
refinement."
"I thought as much," said Uncle Philip; "I knew it would come out this
way. So the Corinthians are learning French out of spite to the
Tusculans. And I suppose, when these Monsieurs and Madames have done
making fools of the people of this village, they will move higher up the
river, and monkeyfy all before them between this and Albany. For, of
course, the Hyde Parkers will learn French to spite the New Paltzers,
and the Hudsonians to spite the Athenians, and the Kinderhookers to
spite the--"
"Now, uncle, do hush," said Mrs. Clavering, interrupting him; "how can
you make a jest of a thing from which we expect to derive so much
benefit?"
"I am not jesting at all," replied Uncle Philip; "I fear it is a thing
too serious to laugh at. But why do you say _we_? I hope, Kitty
Clavering, _you_ are not making a fool of yourself, and turning
school-girl again?"
"I certainly do take lessons in French," replied Mrs. Clavering. "Mrs.
Apesley, Mrs. Nedging, Mrs. Pinxton, Mrs. Slimbridge and myself, have
formed a class for that purpose."
"Mrs. Apesley has eleven children," said Uncle Philip.
"Yes," replied Mrs. Clavering, "but the youngest is more than two years
old. And Mrs. Nedging has only three."
"True," observed the uncle; "one of them is an idiot boy that can
neither hear, speak, nor use any of his limbs; the others are a couple
of twin babies, that were only two months old when I went away."
"But they are remarkably good babies," answered Mrs. Clavering, "and can
bear very well to have their mother out of their sight."
"And Mrs. Pinxton," said Uncle Philip, "has, ever since the death of her
husband, presided over a large hotel, which, if properly attended to,
ought to furnish her with employment for eighteen hours out of the
twenty-four."
"Oh! but she has an excellent barkeeper," replied Mrs. Clavering, "and
she has lately got a cook from New York, to whom she gives thirty
dollars a month, and she has promoted her head-chambermaid to the rank
of housekeeper. Mrs. Pinxton herself is no longer to be seen going
through the house as she formerly did. You would not suppose that there
was any mistress belonging to the establishment."
"So much the worse," said Uncle Philip, "both for the mistress and the
establishment. Well, and let me ask, if Mrs. Slimbridge's husband has
recovered his health during my absence?"
"Oh! no, he is worse than ever," replied Mrs. Clavering.
"And still," resumed Uncle Philip, "with an invalid husband, who
requires her constant care and attention, Mrs. Slimbridge can find it in
her heart to neglect him, and waste her time in taking lessons that she
may learn to read French (though I am told their books are all about
nothing), and to talk French, though I cannot for my life see who she is
to talk to."
"There is no telling what advantage she may not derive from it in future
life," remarked Mrs. Clavering.
"I can tell her one thing," said Uncle Philip, "when poor Slimbridge
dies, her French will never help her to a second husband. No man ever
married a woman because she had learnt French."
"Indeed, uncle," replied Mrs. Clavering, "your prejudices against
everything foreign are so strong, that it is in vain for me to oppose
them. To-night, at least, I shall not say another word on the subject."
"Well, well, Kitty," said Uncle Philip, shaking her kindly by the hand,
"we'll talk no more about it to-night, and perhaps, as you say, I ought
to have more patience with foreigners, seeing that, as no man can choose
his own birth-place, it is not to be expected that everybody can be born
in America. And those that are not, are certainly objects of pity rather
than of blame."
"Very right, uncle," exclaimed Sam; "I am sure I pity all that are not
Americans of the United States, particularly since I have been among the
West Indian Spaniards."
"Now, Kitty Clavering," said Uncle Philip, triumphantly, "you perceive
the advantages of seeing the world: who says that Sam has not profited
by his voyage?"
The family separated for the night; and next morning Sam laughed at Dick
for repeating his French verbs in his sleep. "No wonder," replied Dick,
"if you knew how many verbs I have to learn every day, and how much
difficulty I have in getting them by heart, when I am all the time
thinking of other things, you would not be surprised at my dreaming of
them; as people are apt to do of whatever is their greatest affliction."
At breakfast, the conversation of the preceding evening was renewed, by
Mrs. Clavering observing with much complacency,
"Monsieur Franchimeau will be very happy to find that I have a new
scholar for him."
"Indeed!" said Uncle Philip; "and who else have you been pressing into
the service?"
"My son Sam, certainly," replied Mrs. Clavering. "I promised him to Mr.
Franchimeau, and he of course has been expecting to have him immediately
on his return from the West Indies. Undoubtedly, Sam must be allowed the
same advantages as his brother and sisters. Not to give him an equal
opportunity of learning French would be unjust in the extreme."
"Dear mother," replied Sam, "I am quite willing to put up with that much
injustice."
"Right, my boy," exclaimed Uncle Philip; "and when you have learnt
everything else, it will then be quite time enough to begin French."
"You misunderstand entirely," said Mrs. Clavering. "The children _are_
learning everything else. But Mr. Franchimeau goes upon the new system,
and teaches the whole in French and out of French books. His pupils, and
those of Madame Franchimeau, learn history, geography, astronomy,
botany, chemistry, mathematics, logic, criticism, composition, geology,
mineralogy, conchology, and phrenology."
"Mercy on their poor heads," exclaimed Uncle Philip, interrupting her:
"They'll every one grow up idiots. All the sense they have will be
crushed out of them, by this unnatural business of overloading their
minds with five times as much as they can bear. And the whole of this is
to be learned in a foreign tongue too. Well, what next? Are they also
taught Latin and Greek in French? And now I speak of those two
languages--that have caused so many aching heads and aching hearts to
poor boys that never had the least occasion to turn them to any
account--suppose that all the lectures at the Medical Colleges were
delivered in Latin or Greek. How much, do you think, would the students
profit by them? Pretty doctors we should have, if they learnt their
business in that way. No, no; the branches you have mentioned are all
hard enough in themselves, particularly that last ology about the bumps
on people's heads. To get a thorough knowledge of any one of these arts
or sciences, or whatever you call them, is work enough for a man's
lifetime; and now the whole of them together are to be forced upon the
weak understandings of poor innocent children, and in a foreign
language, to boot. Shame on you--shame on you, Kitty Clavering!"
"Uncle Philip," said Mrs. Clavering, smiling at his vehemence, for on
such occasions she had always found it more prudent to smile than to
frown, "you may say what you will now, but I foresee that you will
finally become a convert to my views of this subject. I intend to make
French the general language of the family, and in a short time you will
soon catch it yourself. Why, though I cannot say much for his
proficiency in his lessons, even Ric_har_[4] has picked up without
intending it, a number of French phrases, that he pronounces quite well
when I make him go over them with me."
[Footnote 4: The French pronunciation of Richard.]
"Ric_har_!" cried Uncle Philip, "and pray who is he? Who is Richar?"
"That's me, uncle," said Dick.
"So you have Frenchified Dick's name, have you!" said the old
gentleman, "but I'm determined you shall not Frenchify Sam's."
"No," observed Sam, "I'll not be Frenchified."
"And pray, young ladies," resumed the uncle, "Fanny, Jenny, and Anny,
have you too been put into French?"
"Yes, uncle," replied Jane, "we are now Fanchette, Jeanette, and
Annette."
"So much the worse," said Uncle Philip. "Listen to me, when I tell you,
that all this Frenchifying will come to no good; and I foresee that you
may be sorry for it when it is too late. Of what use will it be to any
of you? I have often heard that all French books worth reading are
immediately done into English. And I never met with a French person
worth knowing that had not learned to talk English."
"Now, uncle," said Mrs. Clavering, "you are going quite too far. If our
knowledge of French should not come into use while in our own country,
who knows but some time or other we may all go to France."
"I for one," replied Uncle Philip, "_I_ know that you will not; at
least, you shall never go to France with my consent. No American woman
goes to France, without coming home the worse for it in some way or
other. There were the two Miss Facebys, who came up here last spring,
fresh from a six months' foolery in Paris. I can see them now, ambling
along in their short petticoats, with their hands clasped on their belt
buckles, their mouths half open like idiots, and their eyes turned
upwards like dying calves."
Here Uncle Philip set the whole family to laughing, by starting from his
chair and imitating the walk and manner of the Miss Facebys.
"There," said he, resuming his seat, "I know that's exactly like them.
Then did not they pretend to have nearly forgotten their own language,
affecting to speak English imperfectly. And what was the end of them?
One ran away with a dancing-master's mate, and the other got privately
married to a fiddler."
"But you must allow," said Mrs. Clavering, "that the Miss Facebys
improved greatly in manner by their visit to France."
"I know not what you call _manner_" replied Uncle Philip, "but I'm sure
in _manners_ they did not. Manner and manners, I find, are very
different things. And I was told by a gentleman, who had lived many
years in France, that the Miss Facebys looked and behaved like French
chambermaids, but not like French ladies. For my part, I am no judge of
French women; but this I know, that American girls had better be like
themselves, and not copy any foreign women whatever. And let them take
care not to unfit themselves for American husbands. If they do, they'll
lose more than they'll gain."
"Well, Uncle Philip," said Mrs. Clavering, "I see it will take time to
make a convert of you."
"Don't depend on that," replied the old gentleman. "I, that for sixty
years have stood out against all foreigners, particularly the French, am
not likely to be taken in by them now."
"We shall see," resumed Mrs. Clavering. "But are you really serious in
prohibiting Sam from becoming a pupil of Mr. Franchimeau?"
"Serious, to be sure I am," replied Uncle Philip. "Of what use can it be
to him, if he follows the sea, as of course he will?"
"Of great use," answered Mrs. Clavering, "if he should be in the French
trade."
"I look forward to his being in the India trade," said Uncle Philip,
proudly.
"But suppose, uncle," said Fanny, "he should happen to have French
sailors on board his ship?"
"French sailors! French!" exclaimed Uncle Philip; "for what purpose
should he ship a Frenchman as a sailor? Why, I was once all over a
French frigate that came into New York, and she was a pretty thing
enough to look at outside. But when you got on board and went between
decks, I never saw so dirty a ship. However, I won't go too far--I won't
say that all French frigates are like this one, or all French sailors
like those. Besides, this was many years ago, and, perhaps, they've
improved since."
"No doubt of it," said Mrs. Clavering.
"Well," pursued Uncle Philip, "I only tell you what I saw."
"But, not knowing their language, you must have misunderstood a great
deal that you saw," observed Mrs. Clavering.
"The first-lieutenant spoke English," said Uncle Philip, "and he showed
me the ship; and, to do him justice, he was a very clever fellow, for
all he was a Frenchman. There must certainly be _some_ good ones among
them. Yes, yes--I have not a word to say against that first-lieutenant.
But I wish you had seen the men that we found between decks. Some were
tinkling on a sort of guitars, and some were tooting on a kind of
flutes, and some were scraping on wretched fiddles. Some had little
paint-boxes, and were drawing watch-papers, with loves and doves on
them; some were sipping lemonade, and some were eating sugar-candy; and
one (whom I suspected to have been originally a barber), was combing and
curling a lapdog. It was really sickening to see sailors making such
fools of themselves. By the bye, I did not see a tolerable dog about the
ship. There was no fine Newfoundlander like my gallant Neptune (come
here, old fellow), but there were half a dozen short-legged,
long-bodied, red-eyed, tangle-haired wretches, meant for poodles, but
not even half so good. And some of the men were petting huge cats, and
some were feeding little birds in cages."
"Well," said Mrs. Clavering, "I see no harm in all this--only an
evidence that the general refinement of the French nation pervades all
ranks of society. Is it not better to eat sugar-candy than to chew
tobacco, and to sip lemonade than to drink grog?"
"And then," continued Uncle Philip, "to hear the names by which the
fellows were calling each other, for their tongues were all going the
whole time as fast as they could chatter. There were Lindor and Isidore,
and Adolphe and Emile. I don't believe there was a Jack or a Tom in the
whole ship. I was so diverted with their names, that I made the
first-lieutenant repeat them to me, and I wrote them down in my
pocket-book. A very gentlemanly man was that first-lieutenant. But as to
the sailors--why, there was one fellow sprawling on a gun (I suppose I
should say reclining), and talking to himself about his amiable Pauline,
which, I suppose, is the French for Poll. When we went into the
gun-room, there was the gunner sitting on a chest, and reading some
love-verses of his own writing, addressed to his belle Celestine, which,
doubtless, is the French for Sall. Think of a sailor pretending to have
a belle for his sweetheart! The first-lieutenant told me that the gunner
was the best poet in the ship. I must say, I think very well of that
first-lieutenant. There were half a dozen boys crowding round the gunner
(or forming a group, as, I suppose, you would call it), and looking up
to his face with admiration; and one great fool was kneeling behind him,
and holding over his head a wreath of some sort of green leaves,
waiting to crown him when he had done reading his verses."
"Well," observed Mrs. Clavering, "I have no doubt the whole scene had a
very pretty effect."
"Pshaw," said Uncle Philip. "When I came on deck again, there was the
boatswain's mate, who was also the ship's dancing-master (for a
Frenchman can turn his hand to anything, provided it's foolery), and he
was giving a lesson to two dozen dirty fellows with bare feet and red
woollen caps, and taking them by their huge tarry hands, and bidding
them _chassez_ here, and _balancez_ there, and _promenade_ here, and
_pirouette_ there. I was too angry to laugh, when I saw sailors making
such baboons of themselves."
"Now," remarked Mrs. Clavering, "it is an established fact, that without
some knowledge of dancing, no one can move well, or have a graceful air
and carriage. Why, then, should not sailors be allowed an opportunity of
cultivating the graces as well as other people? Why should they be
debarred from everything that savours of refinement?"
"I am glad," said Uncle Philip, laughing, "that it never fell to my lot
to go to sea with a crew of refined sailors. I think, I should have
tried hard to whack their refinement out of them. Why the French
first-lieutenant (who was certainly a very clever fellow), told me that,
during the cruise, five or six seamen had nearly died of their
sensibility, as he called it; having jumped overboard, because they
could not bear the separation from their sweethearts."
"Poor fellows," said Fanny, "and were they drowned?"
"I asked that," replied Uncle Philip, "hoping that they were; but,
unluckily for the service, they were all provided with sworn friends,
who jumped heroically into the sea, and fished the lubbers out. And, no
doubt, the whole scene had a very pretty effect."
"How can you make a jest of such things?" said Mrs. Clavering,
reproachfully.