UNCLE PHILIP. (continued 2)

"I deny the players—I deny them altogether," said Mrs. Clavering, with much warmth: "all I admired was their spangled jackets and their caps and feathers, and I had some curiosity to see how they looked off the stage, and therefore was always glad when I met any of them in the street."

"Well, well," replied Uncle Philip, "let the players pass; I was only joking."

"And even if it were true," resumed Mrs. Clavering, "that I had particularly admired one or two of the most distinguished performers, I was then but a mere child, and there is a great difference between playing the fool at sixteen and at sixty."

"I don't see the folly," said Uncle Philip, "of marrying a pretty young girl, who is so devotedly attached to me that she cannot possibly help showing it continually."

"Robertine attached to you!" retorted Mrs. Clavering. "And can you really believe such an absurdity?"

"I thank you again for the compliment," replied Uncle Philip: "but I know that such things have been, strange as they may appear to you. I believe I have all my life undervalued myself; and this young lady has opened my eyes."

"Blinded them, rather," said Mrs. Clavering. "But for your own sake, let me advise you to give up this girl. No marriage, where there is so great a disparity of years, ever did or could, or ever will or can, turn out well—and so you will find to your sorrow."

"I rather think I shall try the experiment," said Uncle Philip. "If I am convinced that Miss Robertine has really a sincere regard for me, I shall certainly make her Mrs. Kentledge—so I must tell you candidly that you need not say another word to me on the subject."

He resumed his writing, and Mrs. Clavering, after pausing a few moments, saw the inutility of urging anything further, and walked slowly and sadly back to the house. The children's quarters at school had nearly expired, and she delighted them all with the information that, finding they had not made as much progress in French as she had expected, and having reason to believe that the plan of learning everything through the medium of that language was not a good one, she had determined that after this week they should quit Monsieur and Madame Franchimeau, and return to Mr. Fulmer and Miss Hickman. She ceased visiting the French family, who, conscious that they would now be unwelcome guests, did not approach Mrs. Clavering's house. But Uncle Philip regularly spent every evening with Robertine; and Mrs. Clavering did not presume openly to oppose what she now perceived to be his fixed intention; but she indulged herself in frequent innuendoes against everything French, which the old gentleman was ashamed to controvert, knowing how very recently he had been in the practice of annoying his niece by the vehement expression of his own prejudices against that singular people; and he could not help acknowledging to himself that though he liked Robertine, all the rest of her family were still fools. That the Franchimeaus and Ravigotes were ridiculous, vulgar pretenders, Mrs. Clavering was no longer slow in discovering; but she was so unjust as to consider them fair specimens of their nation, and to turn the tables so completely as to aver that nothing French was endurable. She even silenced the parrots whenever they said, "Parlons toujours François."[62]

One morning Uncle Philip was surprised in his cabin by the sudden appearance of a very tall, very slender young Frenchman, dressed in the extreme of dandyism; his long, thin face was of deadly whiteness, but his cheeks were tinted with rouge; he had large black eyes, and eyebrows arched up to a point; his immense whiskers were reddish, and met under his chin; but his hair was black, and arranged with great skill and care according to the latest fashion, and filling the apartment with the perfume of attar of roses.

Immediately on entering, he strode up to Uncle Philip, and extending a hand whose fingers were decorated with half a dozen showy rings, presented to him a highly-scented rose-coloured card, which announced him as "Monsieur Achille Simagrée de Lantiponne, of Paris."

"Well, sir," said Uncle Philip, "and I am Captain Philip Kentledge, once of Salem, Massachusetts, and now of Corinth, New York."

"Oui, je le sais,"[63] replied the Frenchman, in a loud shrill voice, and with a frown that was meant to be terrific. "Oui, perfide—traitre—presque scélérat—tremblez! Je vous connois—tremblez, tremblez, je vous dit! Moi, c'est moi qui vous parle!"[64]

"What's all this for?" said Uncle Philip, looking amazed.

"Imbecil," muttered Monsieur de Lantiponne; "il ne comprend pas le Français.[65] Eh, bien; I will, then, address you (roturier comme vous êtes[66]) in perfect English, and very cool. How did you dare to have the temerity to rob from me the young miss, my fiancée, very soon my bride. Next month I should have conducted her up to the front of the altar. I had just taken four apartments in the Broadway—two for the exercise of my profession of artist in hair, and merchant of perfumes and all good smells; and two up the staircase, where Mademoiselle Robertine would pursue her dresses and her bonnets. United together, we should have made a large fortune. My father was a part of the noblesse of France, but we lost all our nobleness by the revolution. 'Virtue, though unfortunate, is always respectable;' that sentiment was inscribed above the door of my mamma's shop in the Palais Royal."

"Well," said Uncle Philip, "and what next?"

"What next, coquin?"[67] continued the Frenchman, grinding his teeth. "Listen and die. Yesterday, I received from her this letter, enfolding a ring of my hair which once I had plaited for her. Now, I will overwhelm you with shame and repentance by reading to you this fatal letter, translating it into perfect English. Ah! comme il est difficile d'étouffer mes emotions! N'importe, il faut un grand effort."[68]

"Take a chair," said Uncle Philip, who was curious to know how all this would end; "when people are in great trouble, they had better be seated."

"Ecoutez,"[69] said Lantiponne; "hear this lettre." He then commenced the epistle, first reading audibly a sentence in French, and then construing it into English:—

Corinth,——.

My ever dear Friend:

Destiny has decreed the separation of two hearts that should have been disunited by death alone, and has brought me acquainted with an old man who, since the moment of our introduction, has never ceased to persecute me with the language of love. In vain did I fly from him—for ever did he present himself before me with the most audacious perseverance. My aunt (and what affectionate niece can possibly disobey the commands of her father's sister-in-law?) has ordered me to accept him; and I must now, like a mournful dove, be sacrificed on the altar of Plutus. His name is Captain Kentledge, but we generally call him Old Philip—sometimes the Triton, and sometimes Sinbad, for he is a sailor, and very rich. He is a stranger both to elegance and sentiment; of an exterior perfectly revolting; and his manners are distinguished by a species of brutality. It is impossible for me to regard him without horror. But duty is the first consideration of a niece, and, though the detestable Philip knows that my heart is devoted to my amiable Achille, he takes a savage pleasure in urging me to name the day of our marriage. Compassionate me, my ever dear Lantiponne. I know it will be long before the wounds of our faithful hearts are cicatrized.

I return you the little ring (so simple and so touching) that you made me of your hair. But I will keep for ever the gold essence-bottle and the silver toothpick, as emblems of your tenderness. I shall often bathe them with my tears.

Adieu, my dear friend—my long-beloved Lantiponne. As Philip Kentledge is very bald, I shall, when we are married, compel him to wear a wig, and I will take care that he buys it of you. Likewise, we shall get all our perfumery at your shop.

There are moments when my affliction is so great, that I think seriously of charcoal. If you find it impossible to survive the loss of your Robertine, that is the mode of death which you will undoubtedly select, as being most generally approved in Paris. For my own part, reason has triumphed, and I think it more heroic to live and to suffer.

Uncle Philip listened to this letter with all the indignation it was calculated to excite. But Sam and Dick were so diverted that they could not refrain from laughing all the time; and towards the conclusion, the old gentleman caught the contagion, and laughed also.

"Ah! scélérat—monstre—ogre!"[70] exclaimed Lantiponne—"do you make your amusement of my sorrows? Render me, on this spot, the satisfaction due to a gentleman. It is for that I am come. Behold—here I offer you two pistoles—make your selection. Choose one this moment, or you die."

"Sam," said Uncle Philip, "hand me that stick."

"Which one, uncle?" exclaimed Sam—"the hickory or the maple?"

"The hickory," replied Uncle Philip.

And as soon as he got it into his hand, he advanced towards the Frenchman, who drew back, but still extended the pistols, saying—"I will shoot off both—instantly I will present fire!"

"Present fire if you dare," said Uncle Philip, brandishing his stick.

Monsieur Simagrée de Lantiponne lowered his pistols and walked backward towards the door, which was suddenly thrown open from without, so as nearly to push him down, and Robertine entered, followed by Madame Franchimeau. At the sight of Lantiponne, both ladies exclaimed—"Ah! perfide! traitre!" and a scene of violent recrimination took place in French—Madame Franchimeau declaring that she had never influenced her niece to give up her first lover for "Monsieur Philippe," but that the whole plan had originated with Robertine herself. Lantiponne, in deprecating the inconstancy of his mistress, complained bitterly of the useless expense he had incurred in hiring four rooms, when two would have sufficed, had he known in time that she intended to jilt him. Robertine reproached him with his dishonourable conduct in betraying her confidence and showing her letter to the very person who, above all others, ought not to have seen it; and she deeply regretted having been from home with her aunt and uncle when Lantiponne came to their house immediately on his arrival at Corinth, and before he had sought an interview with Captain Kentledge. He had seen only the old Ravigotes, who were so impolitic as to give him a direction to Uncle Philip's cabin, as soon as he inquired where his rival was to be found.

The altercation was so loud and so violent, that Uncle Philip finally demanded silence in the startling and authoritative tone to which he had accustomed himself when issuing his orders on ship-board; putting his hands before his mouth and hallooing through them as substitutes for a speaking trumpet. He was not so ungallant as to say that in reality the lady had made the first advances, but he addressed his audience in the following words:—

"I tell you what, my friends, here's a great noise to little purpose, and much shrugging, and stamping, and flourishing of hands, that might as well be let alone. As for me, take notice, that I am quite out of the question, and after this day I'll have nothing more to do with any of you. I'm thankful to this young fellow for having opened my eyes; though I can't approve of his showing me his sweetheart's letter. He has saved me from the greatest act of folly an old man can commit, that of marrying a young girl. I shall take care not to make a jackass of myself another time."

Sam and Dick exchanged looks of congratulation.

"Now," continued Uncle Philip, "if, after all this, the young barber-man is still willing to take the girl, I know not what better either of them can do than to get married off-hand. I shall not feel quite satisfied till I have seen the ceremony myself, so let it take place immediately. I happen to have a hundred dollar bill in my pocket-book, so I'll give it to them for a wedding present. Come, I'm waiting for an answer."

Madame Franchimeau and the young couple all hesitated.

"Uncle," whispered Sam, "they have just been quarrelling violently—how can you expect them to get over it so soon, and be married directly?"

"Pho!" replied Uncle Philip, "an't they French?"

There was a pause of some moments. At last Robertine put on her best smile, and said in French to Lantiponne—"My estimable friend, pardon the errors of a young and simple heart, which has never for a moment ceased to love you."

"What candour!" exclaimed Lantiponne—"what adorable frankness! Charming Robertine!"—kissing her hand—"more dear to me than ever."

The aunt, though much displeased at Robertine for missing Uncle Philip, thought it best that the affair should go off with as good a grace as possible, and she exclaimed, while she wiped tears of vexation from her eyes—"How sweet to witness this reunion!"

"Boys," said Uncle Philip, "which of you will run for Squire Van Tackemfast? To prevent all future risks, we'll have the marriage here on the spot, and Miss Robertine shall return to New York to-day as Madame"—he had to consult the young Frenchman's card—"as Madame Achille Simagrée de Lantiponne."

Both boys instantly set off for the magistrate, but as Sam ran fastest, Dick gave up the chase, and turned to the house, where he startled his mother by exclaiming—"Make haste—make haste down to the cabin—there's to be marrying there directly."

"Shocking!" cried Mrs. Clavering, throwing away her sewing. "Is Uncle Philip really going to play the madman? Can there be no way of saving him?"

"He is saved," replied Dick; "he has just been saved by a French barber, Miss Robertine's old sweetheart; and so Uncle Philip is going to have them married out of the way, as soon as possible. I suppose he is determined that Miss Robertine shall not have the least chance of making another dead set at him. Sam is gone for Squire Van Tackemfast."

"But the cabin is no place for a wedding," said Mrs. Clavering.

"Why," replied Dick, "Uncle Philip seems determined not to quit the cabin till all danger is over. Dear mother, make haste, or Miss Robertine may yet win him back again."

Mrs. Clavering hastily changed her cap, and ordered a servant to follow with cake and wine; and on their way to the cabin Dick gave her an account of all that had passed. In a few minutes Sam arrived, accompanied by Squire Van Tackemfast, with whom Captain Kentledge exchanged a few explanatory words. There was no time for any further preparation. Uncle Philip instantly put the hand of Robertine into that of her lover. The young couple stood up before the magistrate, who merely uttered a few words, but which were sufficient in law to unite them for ever—"In the name of the commonwealth, I pronounce you man and wife." This was the whole of the ceremony; the magistrate writing a certificate, which was duly signed by all present.

"Now," said Uncle Philip, looking at his watch and addressing Lantiponne, "the steamboat will soon be along, and if you are going down to the city to-day, you will have little enough time to make your preparations."

The bride and groom curtsied and bowed gracefully, and departed with Madame Franchimeau, whose last words were—"What a surprise for Monsieur Franchimeau, and also for papa and mamma and my little darlings!"

When they were all fairly off, Mrs. Clavering felt as if relieved from the weight of a mountain; and she could not quit the cabin till she had had a long discussion with Uncle Philip on the recent events.

In about an hour, the steamboat passed along, going close in shore to get all the advantage of the tide; and Robertine, who stood on the deck leaning on her husband's arm, smiled and waved her handkerchief to Uncle Philip.

To conclude—it was not long before the old gentleman prevailed on Mrs. Clavering and her family to remove with him to a house of his own at Salem, a plan which had been in agitation for the last year; and in due time the boys commenced their apprenticeships, Sam to the captain of an Indiaman, and Dick to a shipbuilder. Both succeeded well; and have since become eminent in their respective professions.

Uncle Philip looks not much older than when he first allowed himself to be smitten with Miss Robertine; but he has never since fallen into a similar snare. He has made his will, and divided his whole property between Mrs. Clavering and her children, with the exception of some legacies to old sailors.

The Simagrée de Lantiponnes have a large establishment in Broadway.

The Franchimeaus and their system soon got out of favour at Corinth, and they have ever since been going the rounds of new villages.