"But, to speak seriously, this shows that French ships ought always to
be furnished with Newfoundland dogs to send in after the lovers, and
spare their friends the trouble of getting a wet jacket for them:--Come
here, old Nep. Up, my fine fellow, up," patting the dog's head, while
the enormous animal rested his fore-paws on his master's shoulders.
Mrs. Clavering now reminded the children that it was considerably past
their hour for going to school, but with one accord they petitioned for
a holiday, as it was the first day of Uncle Philip's and Sam's return.
"You know the penalty," said Mrs. Clavering; "you know that if you stay
away from school, you will be put down to the bottom of the class."
The children all declared their willingness to submit to this punishment
rather than go to school that day.
"Now, Kitty Clavering," said Uncle Philip, "you see plainly that their
hearts are not in the French: and that it is all forced work with them.
So I shall be regularly displeased, if you send the children to school
to-day. They shall go with me to the cabin, and we will all spend the
morning there."
The cabin was a small wooden edifice planned by Uncle Philip, and
erected by his own hands with the assistance of Sam and Dick. It stood
on the verge of the river, where the bank took the form of a little cape
or headland, which Uncle Philip called Point Lookout. On an eminence
immediately above, was the house of Mrs. Clavering, from the front
garden of which a green slope, planted with fruit-trees, descended
gradually to the water's edge.
The building (into which you went down by a flight of wooden steps
inserted in the face of the hill), was as much as possible like the
cabin of a ship. The ceiling was low, with a skylight near the centre,
and the floor was not exactly level, there being a very visible slant to
one side. At the back of this cabin was an imitation of transoms, above
which was a row of small windows of four panes each, and when these
windows were open, they were fastened up by brass hooks to the beams
that supported the roof. In the middle of the room was a flag-staff,
which went up through the centre of a table, and perforated the ceiling
like the mizen-mast of a ship, and rose to a great height above the
roof. From the top of this staff an American ensign, on Sundays and
holidays, displayed its stars and stripes to the breeze. There was a
range of lockers all round the room, containing in their recesses an
infinite variety of marine curiosities that Uncle Philip had collected
during his voyages, and also some very amusing specimens of Chinese
patience and ingenuity. The walls were hung with charts, and ornamented
with four coloured drawings that Captain Kentledge showed as the
likenesses of four favourite ships, all of which he, had at different
times commanded. These drawings were made by a young man that had
sailed with him as mate; and to unpractised eyes all the four ships
looked exactly alike; but Uncle Philip always took care to explain that
the Columbia was sharpest at the bows, and the American roundest at the
stern; that the United States had the tallest masts, and the Union the
longest yards.
An important appendage to the furniture of this singular room was a
hanging-shelf, containing Captain Kentledge's library; and the books
were the six octavo volumes of Cook's Voyages, and also the voyages of
Scoresby, Ross and Parry, the Arabian Nights, Dibdin's Songs, Robinson
Crusoe, and Cooper's Pilot, Red Rover, and Water Witch.
This cabin was the stronghold of Uncle Philip, and the place where, with
Sam and Neptune, he spent all his happiest hours. For here he could
smoke his segars in peace, and chew his tobacco without being obliged to
watch an opportunity of slipping it privately into his mouth. But as
Mrs. Clavering had particularly desired that he would not initiate Sam
into the use of "the Indian weed," he had promised to refrain from
instructing him in this branch of a sailor's education; and being "an
honourable man," Uncle Philip had faithfully kept his word.
Dick (acknowledging that during his uncle's absence he had used the
cabin as a workshop, and that it was now ankle-deep in chips and
shavings), ran on before with a broom to sweep the litter into a corner.
The whole group proceeded thither from the breakfast table, Uncle Philip
wishing he had three hands that he might give one to each of the little
girls; but as that was not the case, they drew lots to decide which
should be contented to hold by the skirt of his coat, and the lot fell
upon Fanny; the old gentleman leading Jane and Anne, while Sam and
Neptune brought up the rear.
Arrived at the cabin, Uncle Philip placed himself in his arm-chair; the
girls sat round him sewing for their dolls; Sam took his slate and drew
upon it all the different parts of the schooner Winthrop, of which (from
his brother's description) Dick commenced making a minature model in
wood; and Neptune mounted one of the transoms and looked out of the
window.
Things were going on very pleasantly, and Uncle Philip was in the midst
of narrating the particulars of a violent storm they had encountered in
the gulf of Florida, when Dick, casting his eyes towards the glass
door, exclaimed, "the French are coming, the French are coming!"
Uncle Philip testified much dissatisfaction at the intrusion of these
unwelcome visitors, and Dick again fell to work with the broom. In a few
minutes Mrs. Clavering entered the cabin, bringing with her Monsieur and
Madame Franchimeau, and the _vieux_ papa, and _vieille_ mama,[5]
Monsieur and Madame Ravigote.
[Footnote 5: The old papa, and the old mamma.]
Mr. Franchimeau was a clumsy, ill-made man, fierce-eyed,
black-whiskered, and looking as if he might sit for the picture of
"Abællino the Great Bandit." Madame Franchimeau was a large woman, with
large features, and a figure that was very bad in dishabille, and very
good in full dress. Her father and mother were remnants of the _ancien
régime_, but the costume of the _vieux_ papa was not at all in the style
of Blissett's Frenchman. His clothes were like those of other people,
and instead of a powdered toupee and pigeon-wing side-curls, with a
black silk bag behind, he wore a reddish scratch-wig that almost came
down to his eyebrows. Why do very old men, when they wear wigs,
generally prefer red ones? Madame Ravigote was a little withered,
witch-like woman, with a skin resembling brown leather, which was set
off by four scanty flaxen ringlets.
Soon after breakfast, Mrs. Clavering had sent a message to "the French
Study," implying the arrival of Captain Kentledge, and the consequent
holiday of the children; and the Gauls had concluded it expedient to
dismiss their school at twelve o'clock, and hasten to pay their
compliments to the rich old uncle, of whom they had heard much since
their residence at Corinth.
When they were presented to Captain Kentledge, he was not at all
prepossessed in favor of their appearance, and would have been much
inclined to receive them coldly; but as he was now called upon to appear
in the character of their host, he remembered the courtesy due to them
as his guests, and he managed to do the honors of his cabin in a very
commendable manner, considering that he said to himself, "for my own
sake, I cannot be otherwise than civil to them; but I despise them,
notwithstanding."
There was much chattering that amounted to nothing; and much admiration
of the cabin, by which, instead of pleasing Uncle Philip, they only
incurred his farther contempt, by admiring always in the wrong place,
and evincing an ignorance of ships that he thought unpardonable in
people that had crossed the Atlantic. On Sam being introduced to them,
there were many overstrained compliments on his beauty, and what they
called his _air distingué_. Monsieur Franchimeau thought that _le jeune
Sammi_[6] greatly resembled Mr. Irvine Voshintone, whom he had seen in
Paris; but Monsieur Ravigote thought him more like the portrait of Sir
Valter Scotch. Madame Franchimeau likened him to the head of the Apollo
Belvidere, and Madame Ravigote to the Duke of Berry. But all agreed that
he had a general resemblance to La Fayette, with a slight touch of Dr.
Franklin. However these various similitudes might be intended as
compliments, they afforded no gratification to Uncle Philip, whose
secret opinion was, that if Sam looked like anybody, it was undoubtedly
Paul Jones. And during this examination, Sam was not a little
disconcerted at being seized by the shoulders and twirled round, and
taken sometimes by the forehead and sometimes by the chin, that his face
might be brought into the best light for discovering all its affinities.
[Footnote 6: The young Sammy.]
There was then an attempt at general conversation, the chief part of
which was borne by the ladies, or rather by Madame Franchimeau, who
thought in her duty to atone for the dogged taciturnity of her husband.
Monsieur Franchimeau, unlike the generality of his countrymen, neither
smiled, bowed, nor complimented. Having a great contempt for the manners
of the _vieille cour_[7] and particularly for those of his
father-in-law; he piqued himself on his _brusquerie_,[8] and his almost
total disregard of _les bienséances_,[9] and set up _un esprit
fort_:[10] but he took care to talk as little as possible, lest his
claims to that character should be suspected.
[Footnote 7: Old Court.]
[Footnote 8: Bluntness, roughness.]
[Footnote 9: Customs of polite society.]
[Footnote 10: A person of strong mind, superior mind.]
Uncle Philip, though he scorned to acknowledge it, was not in reality
destitute of all comprehension of the French language, having picked up
some little acquaintance with it from having, in the course of his
wanderings, been at places where nothing else was spoken; and though
determined on being displeased, he was amused, in spite of himself, at
some of the tirades of Madame Franchimeau. Understanding that Monsieur
Philippe (as much to his annoyance she called him) had just returned
from the West Indies, she began to talk of Cape François, and the
insurrection of the blacks, in which, she said, she had lost her first
husband, Monsieur Mascaron. "By this terrible blow," said she, "I was
_parfaitement abimé_,[11] and I refused all consolation till it was my
felicity to inspire Monsieur Franchimeau with sentiments the most
profound. But my heart will for ever preserve a tender recollection of
my well-beloved Alphonse. Ah! my Alphonse--his manners were adorable.
However, my regards are great for _mon ami_[12] Monsieur Franchimeau. It
is true, he is _un pen brusque--c'est son caractère_.[13] But his heart
is of a goodness that is really inconceivable. He performs the most
charming actions, and with a generosity that is heroic. _Ah! mon
ami_--you hear me speak of you--but permit me the sad consolation of
shedding yet a few tears for my respectable Alphonse."
[Footnote 11: Perfectly destroyed, plunged into an abyss of despair.]
[Footnote 12: My friend, my dear].
[Footnote 13: A little blunt--a little rough. It is his character.]
Madame Franchimeau then entered into an animated detail of the death of
her first husband, who was killed before her eyes by the negroes; and
she dwelt upon every horrid particular, till she had worked herself into
a passion of tears. Just then, Fanny Clavering (who had for that purpose
been sent up to the house by her mother) arrived with a servant carrying
a waiter of pine-apples, sugar and Madeira.
Madame Franchimeau stopped in the midst of her tears, and exclaimed--"_Ah!
des ananas--mon ami (to her husband)--maman--papa--voyez--voyez--des
ananas._[14] Ah! my poorest Alphonse, great was his love for these--what
you call them--apple de pine. He was just paring his apple de pine, when
the detestable negroes rushed in and overset the table. _Ah! quel
scène--une véritable tragédie!_[15] _Pardonnez_, Madame Colavering, I
prefer a slice from the largest part of the fruit.--Ah! my amiable
Alphonse--his blood flew all over my robe, which was of spotted Japan
muslin. I wore that day a long sash of a broad ribbon of the colour of
Aurore, fringed at both of its ends. When I was running away, he grasped
it so hard that it came untied, and I left it in his hand.--May I beg
the favour of some more sugar?--_Mon ami_, you always prefer the
pine-apple bathed in Champagne."
[Footnote 14: "Ah! pine-apples--my dear--(to her
husband)--mamma--papa--see--see--pine-apples!"]
[Footnote 15: Ah! what a scene--a real tragedy!]
"Yes," replied Franchimeau, "it does me no good, unless each slice is
soaked in some wine of fine quality." But Mrs. Clavering acknowledging
that she had no Champagne in the house, Franchimeau gruffly replied,
that "he supposed Madeira might do."
Madame then continued her story and her pine-apple. "_Ah! mon bien-aimé
Alphonse_,"[16] said she, "he had fourteen wounds--I will take another
slice, if you please, Madame Colavering. There--there--a little more
sugar. _Bien obligé_[17]--a little more still. _Maman, vous ne mangez
pas de bon appetit. Ah! je comprens--vous voulez de la crème avec votre
anana._[18]--Madame Colavering, will you do mamma the favour to have
some cream brought for her? and I shall not refuse some for myself.
Ah! _mon Alphonse_--the object of my first grand passion! He
exhibited in dying some contortions that were hideous--_absolument
effroyable_[19]--they are always present before my eyes--Madame
Colavering, I would prefer those two under slices; they are the best
penetrated with the sugar, and also well steeped in the _jus_."[20]
[Footnote 16: My beloved Alphonse.]
[Footnote 17: Much obliged to you.]
[Footnote 18: Mamma, you do not eat with a good appetite. Ah! I
understand--you wish for some cream with your pine-apple.]
[Footnote 19: Absolutely frightful.]
[Footnote 20: Juice.]
The cream was procured, and the two Madames did it ample justice.
Presently the youngest of the French ladies opened her eyes very wide,
and exclaimed to her father, "_Mon cher papa, vous n' avez pas déjà
fini?_"[21] "My good friend, Madame Colavering, you know, of course,
that my papa cannot eat much fruit, unless it is accompanied by some
_biscuit_--for instance, the cake you call sponge."
[Footnote 21: My dear papa, you have not finished already?]
"I was not aware of that," replied Mrs. Clavering.
"_Est-il possible?_"[22] exclaimed the whole French family, looking at
each other.
[Footnote 22: Is it possible?]
Mrs. Clavering then recollecting that there was some sponge-cake in the
house, sent one of the children for it, and when it was brought, their
French visiters all ate heartily of it; and she heard the _vieille
maman_[23] saying to the _vieux papa_,[24] "_Eh, mon ami, ce petit
collation vient fort à-propos, comme notre déjeûner était seulement un
mauvais salade._"[25]
[Footnote 23: Old mamma.]
[Footnote 24: Old papa.]
[Footnote 25: Eh! my dear, this little collation comes very seasonably,
as our breakfast was nothing but a bad salad.]
The collation over, Mrs. Clavering, by way of giving her guests an
opportunity of saying something that would please Uncle Philip, patted
old Neptune on the head, and asked them if they had ever seen a finer
dog?
"I will show you a finer," replied Madame Franchimeau; "see, I have
brought with me my interesting _Bijou_"--and she called in an ugly
little pug that had been scrambling about the cabin door ever since
their arrival, and whose only qualification was that of painfully
sitting up on his hind legs, and shaking his fore-paws in the fashion
that is called begging. His mistress, with much importunity, prevailed
on him to perform this elegant feat, and she then rewarded him with a
saucer-full of cream, sugar, and sponge-cake. He was waspish and
snappish, and snarled at Jane Clavering when she attempted to play with
him; upon which Neptune, with one blow of his huge forefoot, brought the
pug to the ground, and then stood motionless, looking up in Uncle
Philip's face, with his paw on the neck of the sprawling animal, who
kicked and yelped most piteously. This interference of the old
Newfoundlander gave great offence to the French family, who all
exclaimed, "_Quelle horreur! Quelle abomination! En effet c'est
trop!_"[26]
[Footnote 26: What horror! What abomination! It is really too much!]
Uncle Philip could not help laughing; but Sam called off Neptune from
Bijou, and set the fallen pug on his legs again, for which compassionate
act he was complimented by the French ladies on his _bonté de
coeur_,[27] and honoured at parting, with the title of _le doux
Sammi_.[28]
[Footnote 27: Goodness of heart.]
[Footnote 28: The mild Sammy--the gentle Sammy.]
"I'll never return this visit," said Uncle Philip, after the French
guests had taken their leave.
"Oh! but you _must_," replied Mrs. Clavering; "it was intended expressly
for you--you _must_ return it, in common civility."
"But," persisted Uncle Philip, "I wish them to understand that I don't
intend to treat them with common civility. A pack of selfish,
ridiculous, impudent fools. No, no. I am not so prejudiced as to believe
that all French people are as bad as these--many of them, no doubt, if
we could only find where they are, may be quite as clever as the first
lieutenant of that frigate; but, to their shame be it spoken, the best
of them seldom visit America, and our country is overrun with ignorant,
vulgar impostors, who, unable to get their bread at home, come here full
of lies and pretensions, and to them and their quackery must our
children be intrusted, in the hope of acquiring a smattering of French
jabber, and at the risk of losing everything else."
"Don't you think Uncle Philip always talks best when he's in a passion?"
observed Dick to Sam.
After Mrs. Clavering had returned to the house, Dick informed his uncle
that, a few days before, she had made a dinner for the whole French
family; and Captain Kentledge congratulated himself and Sam on their not
arriving sooner from their voyage. Dick had privately told his brother
that the behaviour of the guests, on this occasion, had not given much
satisfaction. Mrs. Clavering, it seems, had hired, to dress the dinner,
a mulatto woman that professed great knowledge of French cookery, having
lived at one of the best hotels in New York. But Monsieur Franchimeau
had sneered at all the French dishes as soon as he tasted them, and
pretended not to know their names, or for what they were intended;
Monsieur Ravigote had shrugged and sighed, and the ladies had declined
touching them at all, dining entirely on what (as Dick expressed it)
they called roast beef de mutton and natural potatoes.[29]
[Footnote 29: The vulgar French think that the English term for all
sorts of roasted meat is _rosbif_--thus _rosbif de mouton--rosbif de
porc_. Potatoes plainly boiled, with the skins on, are called, in
France, _pommes de terre au naturel_.]
It was not only his regard for the children that made Mrs. Clavering's
French mania a source of great annoyance to Uncle Philip, but he soon
found that much of the domestic comfort of the family was destroyed by
this unaccountable freak, as he considered it. Mrs. Clavering was not
young enough to be a very apt scholar, and so much of her time was
occupied by learning her very long lessons, and writing her very long
exercises, that her household duties were neglected in consequence. As
in a provincial town it is difficult to obtain servants who can go on
well without considerable attention from the mistress, the house was not
kept in as nice order as formerly; the meals were at irregular hours,
and no longer well prepared; the children's comfort was forgotten,
their pleasures were not thought of, and the little girls grieved that
no sweetmeats were to be made that season; their mother telling them
that she had now no time to attend to such things. The children's
story-books were taken from them, because they were now to read nothing
but Telemaque; they were stopped short in the midst of their talk, and
told to _parlez Français_.[30] Even the parrots heard so much of it
that, in a short time, they prated nothing but French.
[Footnote 30: Speak French.]
Uncle Philip had put his positive veto on Sam's going to French school,
and he insisted that little Anne had become pale and thin since she had
been a pupil of the Franchimeaus. Mrs. Clavering, to pacify him,
consented to withdraw the child from school; but only on condition that
she was every day to receive a lesson at home, from old Mr. Ravigote.
Anne Clavering was but five years old. As yet, no taste for French "had
dawned upon her soul," and very little for English; her mind being
constantly occupied with her doll, and other playthings. Monsieur
Ravigote, with all the excitability of his nation, was, in the main, a
very good-natured man, and was really anxious for the improvement of his
pupil. But all was in vain. Little Anne never knew her lessons, and had
as yet acquired no other French phrase than "_Oui, Monsieur_."[31]
[Footnote 31: Yes, sir.]
Every morning, Mr. Ravigote came with a face dressed in smiles, and
earnest hope that his pupil was going that day to give him what he
called "one grand satisfaction;" but the result was always the same.
One morning, as Uncle Philip sat reading the newspaper, and holding
little Anne on his knee while she dressed her doll, Mr. Ravigote came
in, bowing and smiling as usual, and after saluting Captain Kentledge,
he said to the little child: "Well, my dear little friend, _ma gentille
Annette_,[32] I see by the look of your countenance that I shall have
one grand satisfaction with you this day. Application is painted on your
visage, and docility also. Is there not, _ma chère_?"[33]
[Footnote 32: My pretty Annette.]
[Footnote 33: My dear.]
"_Oui, Monsieur_," replied the little Anne.
"_J'en suis ravi._[34] Now, _ma chère, commençons--commençons tout de
suite_."[35]
[Footnote 34: I am delighted at it.]
[Footnote 35: Now, my dear, let us begin--let us begin immediately.]
Little Anne slowly descended from her uncle's knee, carefully put away
her doll and folded up her doll's clothes, and then made a tedious
search for her book.
"_Eh! bien, commençons_," said Mr. Ravigote, "you move without any
rapidity."
"_Oui, Monsieur_," responded little Anne, who, after she had taken her
seat in a low chair beside Mr. Ravigote, was a long time getting into a
comfortable position, and at last settled herself to her satisfaction by
crossing her feet, leaning back as far as she could go, and hooking one
finger in her coral necklace, that she might pull at it all the time.
"_Eh! bien, ma chère_; we will first have the lessons without the book,"
said Mr. Ravigote, commencing with the vocabulary. "Tell me the names of
all the months of the year--for instance, January."
"_Janvier_," answered the pupil, promptly.
"Ah! very well, very well, indeed, _ma chère_--for once, you know the
first word of your lesson. Ah! to-day I have, indeed, great hope of you.
Come, now, February?"
"_Fevrier_," said little Anne.
"Excellent! excellent! you know the second word too--and now, then,
March?"
"Marsh."
"Ah! no, no--but I am old; perhaps I did not rightly hear. Repeat, _ma
chère enfant_,[36] repeat."
[Footnote 36: My dear child.]
"Marsh," cried little Anne in a very loud voice.
"Ah! you are wrong; but I will pardon you--you have said two words
right. _Mars, ma chère, Mars_ is the French for March the month. Come
now, April."
"Aprile."
"Aprile! there is no such word as Aprile--_Avril_. And now tell me, what
is May?"
"_Mai._"
"Excellent! excellent! capital! _magnifique!_ you said that word
_parfaitement bien_.[37] Now let us proceed--June."
[Footnote 37: Perfectly well.]
"Juney."
"Ah! no, no--_Juin, ma chère, Juin_--but I will excuse you. Now, tell me
July."
Little Anne could make no answer.
"Ah! I fear--I begin to fear you. Are you not growing bad?"
"_Oui, Monsieur_," said little Anne.
"Come then; I will tell you this once--_Juillet_ is the French for July.
Now, tell me what is August?"
"Augoost!"
"Augoost! Augoost! there is no such a word. Why, you are very bad,
indeed--_Août, Août, Août_."