Toppleton's Client; Or, A Spirit in Exile

by John Kendrick Bangs

  CHAPTER XII.

  TOPPLETON MAKES A FAIR START.

  A FEW weeks later Toppleton was able to report progress to his invisibleclient. He had the sonnet to Barncastle of Burningford and was muchpleased with it, because, in spite of the fact that it was two lines toolong, he was confident that it would prove very fetching to the man towhom it was addressed.

  "You ought to take out those two extra lines, though," said the exile."Barncastle is a great stickler for form, and he will be antagonized atonce by your violation of the rules."

  "Not a bit of it," returned Toppleton. "Those lines stay right there,and I'll tell you why. In the first place Barncastle, as an Englishman,will see in the imperfect sonnet something that will strike him as a bitof American audacity, which will be very pleasing to him, and will givehim something to talk about. As a Briton you are probably aware thatyour countrymen are very fond of discovering outrages of that sort inthe work of those over the sea, because it is a sort of convincing proofthat the American as a writer is still an inferior, and that England'scontrolling interest in the Temple of Immortality is in no danger ofpassing into alien hands. In the second place, he will be so pleasedwith the extra amount of flattery that is crammed into those two linesthat he will not have the heart to criticize them; and thirdly, as onewho knows it all, he will be prompted to send for me to come to him, inorder that he may point out to me in a friendly spirit one or two littleimperfections in what he will call my otherwise exquisite verse. I tellyou what it is, Edward," said Toppleton, pausing a moment, "I neverdevoted myself with any particular assiduity to Latin, Greek, ormathematics, but when it comes to human nature, I am, as we New Yorkerssay, a daisy, which means that I am the flower upon which you may safelybet as against the field."

  "You certainly have an ingenious mind, Hopkins," returned the exile,"and I hope it will all go as you say, but I fear, Hopkins, I fear."

  "Wait and see," was Hopkins' confident reply, and being unable to dootherwise the exile obeyed.

  In three days the sonnet was printed, and so fixed that it appeared tobe a clipping from the _Rocky Mountain Quarterly Review, a MonthlyMagazine_.

  "That'll strike him as another interesting Americanism," said Hopkins,with a chuckle. "There is no people on earth but my own who would darepublish a quarterly twelve times a year."

  To the sonnet was appended the name "Hopkins Parkerberry Toppleton;"Parkerberry being a novelty introduced into the signature by the younglawyer, not because he was at all entitled to it, but for the properreason, as he said, that no American poet was worth a nickel who hadn'tthree sections to his name. A note with a distinctly western flavour toit was penned, and with the "decoy" sonnet went that night toBurningford Castle addressed to "His Excellency, Lord Barncastle," andthen Toppleton and the exile sat down to await the result.

  They had not many days to wait, for within a week of the dispatch of thepoem and the note Hopkins, on reaching the office one morning, found theexile in a great state of excitement over a square envelope lying on thefloor immediately under the letter slot Hopkins had had made in thedoor.

  "It's come, Hopkins, it's come!" cried the exile.

  "What's come?" queried Hopkins, calmly.

  "The letter from Barncastle. I recognize my handwriting. It came lastnight about five minutes after you left the office, and I have been in afever of excitement to learn its contents ever since. Do open it atonce. What does he say?"

  "Be patient, Edward, don't get so excited. Suppose you were to have anapoplectic stroke!"

  "I can't be patient, and I can't have apoplexy, so do hurry. What do Isay?"

  "Seems to me," returned Hopkins, picking up the letter and slowlyopening it, "it seems to me you are getting confused. But let's see;what _does_ Barncastle say? H'm!" he said, reading the note."'Barncastle Hall, Fenwick Morton, Mascottonton-on-the-Barbundle,December 19th, 189--. Hopkins Parkerberry Toppleton, Esquire, 17,Temple, London. Dear Sir,--I have to thank you for your favour andenclosure of the 13th inst. Your sonnet is but one of a thousandgratifying evidences I am daily receiving that I have managed to win tono inconsiderable degree the good will of your countrymen. It is alsoevidence to me that you are a young man of much talent in the line oforiginal versification, since, apart from the sentiment you express,your sonnet is one of the most original I have ever seen, not only forits length, but also for the wonderful mixture of your metaphor. It istruly characteristic of your great and growing country, and I cannotresist your naive appeal to be permitted to meet the unworthy object ofits praise. I should be gratified to have you to dinner at BarncastleHall, at eight o'clock on the evening of December 23rd, 189--. Kindlyinform me by return post if your engagements will permit us to have thepleasure of having you with us on that evening. Believe me to be, withsentiments of regard, ever, my dear sir, faithfully yours, BARNCASTLE.'"

  "By heavens!" ejaculated the exile, in delighted accents, "you've gotthere, Hopkins, you've got there. You'll go, of course?"

  "Well, rather," returned Toppleton; "and to carry out the illusion, aswell as to pique his interest in America, I'll wear a blue dress coat.But first let me reply."

  "Dear Barncastle," he wrote. "I'll be there. Yours forkeeps,--TOPPLETON."

  "How's that?" he asked, reading it aloud to the exile.

  "You're not going to send that, are you?" said the exile in disgust.

  "I'm not, eh? Well just you watch me and see," said Toppleton. "Why,Edward, that will be the biggest _coup_ of the lot. He will get thatletter, and he will be amused by it, and the more he thinks of it themore he'll like it, and then he'll say to himself, 'why, this man is acharacter;' and then do you know what will happen, Chatford?"

  "I'll be hanged if I do," growled the exile.

  "Well, I'll tell you. He will invite all the high panjandrums he knowsto that dinner to meet me, and he will tell them that I am an original,and they'll all come, Chatford, just as they would flock to see aseven-humped camel or a dwarf eight feet high, and then I will have LordBarncastle of Burningford just where I want him. I could browbeat himfor weeks alone and never frighten him, but once I let him know that Iknow his secret, in the presence of his wife and a brilliant company,_he_ will be apprehensive, and, if I mistake not, will be more or lesswithin my reach."

  "Lady Barncastle is no longer living," said the exile. "His household ispresided over by his daughter."

  "Very well," said Hopkins. "We'll dazzle the daughter too."

  "Is this the way American lawyers do business generally?" sneered theexile.

  "No," returned Toppleton; "there is probably not another American lawyerwho would take a case like yours. That's the one respect in which theyresemble your English lawyers, but I'll tell you one thing. When theystart in to do a thing they do it, unless their clients get too fresh,and then they stop _in medias res_."

  "I hope there is nothing personal in your remarks, Hopkins," said theexile, uneasily.

  "That all depends on you," retorted Hopkins. "Despite your croakings andfears, the first step we have taken has proven justifiable. We haveaccomplished what we set out to accomplish. I am invited to meet thefiend. Score one point for us. Now, when I advance a proposition for thescoring of a second point, you sneer. Well, sneer. I'll win the case foryou, just to spite you. This despised note posted to Barncastle, I shallorder a blue dress coat with brass buttons on it. I shall purchase, ifit is to be found in London, one of those beaver hats on which the furis knee deep, a red necktie, and a diamond stud. My trousers I shallhave cut to fit the contour of my calves like a glove. I shall sport thelargest silver watch to be found on the Strand, with a gold chain heavyenough to sustain a weight of five hundred pounds; in short, Chatford,you won't be able to distinguish me from one of Teniel's caricatures ofUncle Sam."

  "You won't be able to deceive Barncastle that way. He's seen New Yorkersbefore."

  "Barncastle doesn't know I'm a New Yorker, and he won't find it out. Hethinks I'm from the Rocky Mountains, and he knows enough about geographyto be aware th
at the Rocky Mountains aren't within two hours' walk ofManhattan Island. He knows that there is a vast difference between aLondon gentleman and a son of the soil of Yorkshire, and he doesn't knowbut what there are a million citizens of our great republic who go aboutdressed up in fantastic garments similar to those I shall wear to hisdinner. If he is surprised, his surprise will add to his interest, andmaterially contribute to the pleasure of those whom he invites to seethe animal the untamed poet of the Rockies. See?"

  "Yes, I see," said the exile. "But clothes won't make the illusioncomplete. You look too much like a gentleman; your manners are toopolished. A man like Barncastle will see through you in a minute."

  "Again, Chatford, I am sorry that your possessions are nil, for I wouldlike to wager you that your noble other self will do nothing of thesort. I have not been an amateur actor for nothing, and as for manners Ican be as bad mannered as any nabob in creation if I try. Don't youworry on that score."

  The acceptance of Lord Barncastle's invitation was therefore sent asHopkins wrote it, and the ensuing days were passed by the young lawyerin preparing the extraordinary dinner suit he had described to hisanxious client, who could hardly be persuaded that in taking this stepToppleton was not committing a bit of egregious folly. He could notcomprehend how Barncastle upon receipt of Hopkins' note could beanything but displeased at the familiarity of its tone. The idea of acommon untitled mortal like Toppleton even assuming to be upon familiarterms with a member of the aristocracy, and especially one so high asBarncastle of Burningford, oppressed him. He would as soon expect anordinary tradesman to slap the Prince of Wales on the back, and call himby one of his first names, without giving offence, as that Barncastleshould tolerate Toppleton's behaviour, and he in consequence was fearfulof the outcome.

  Toppleton, on the other hand, went ahead with his extraordinarysartorial preparations, serenely confident that the events of the nextfew days would justify his course. The exile was relieved to find thatthe plan was of necessity modified, owing to Toppleton's inability tofind a typical Uncle Sam beaver in London; but his relief wasshort-lived, for Hopkins immediately proceeded to remedy this defect bypurchasing a green cotton umbrella, which, he said, was perhaps betterthan the hat as an evidence of eccentricity.

  "If I cling to that umbrella all through dinner, Chatford," saidToppleton, with a twinkle in his eye, "preferring rather to part withlife, honour, or virtue than lose sight of it, I will simply make animpression upon the minds of that assembled multitude that they'll notforget in a hurry."

  "They'll think as I do," sighed the exile. "They'll think you are acraz--"

  "What?" asked Toppleton, sharply.

  "They'll think you are a genius," returned the exile humbly and quicklytoo, fearing lest Toppleton should take offence. "Have you--er--have youconsidered what Barncastle's servants will think of this strangeperformance? They won't let you into the house, in the first place," headded, to cover his retreat.

  "I shall be admitted to the house by Barncastle himself; for I prophesythat his curiosity to meet this Rocky Mountain poet will be so greatthat he will be at the railway station to greet me in person. Besides,"continued Toppleton, "why should I care what his servants think? I neverhad nor ever knew any one who had a servant whose thoughts were worththinking. A servant who can think becomes in my country a servant of thepeople, not the lackey of the individual. Furthermore, I am after highgame, and servants form no part of my plan. They are not in it. When Igo out on a lion hunt I don't bother my head about or waste myammunition upon beasts of burden. I am loaded to the muzzle for thepurpose of bringing down Barncastle. If he can't be brought down withoutthe humbling of his butler, why, then, his butler must bite the dust. IfI become an object of suspicion to the flunkies, I shall not concernmyself about it unless they become unpleasant, and if they becomeunpleasant I shall corrupt them. I'll buy every flunkey in the house, ifit costs a five-pound note."

  "Well, go your own gait," said the exile, not much impressed byToppleton's discourse. "If you are not clapped into a lunatic asylum, Ishall begin to believe that the age of miracles is still extant; notthat _I_ think you crazy, Hopkins, but these others do not know you aswell as I do. For my part, I think that by going to Barncastle's as yourown handsome, frank, open-hearted self, you will accomplish more thanyou will in this masquerade."

  "Your flattery saves your cause," said Hopkins. "I cannot be indignant,as I ought, with a man who calls me handsome, frank, and open-hearted,but you must remember this: in spite of your long absence from yourbody, you retain all the commonplace weakness of your quondamindividuality. You would have me do the commonplace thing you yourselfwould have done thirty years ago. If there is a common, ordinary,uninteresting individual in the world, it is the handsome, frank, andopen-hearted man. You find him everywhere--in hut and in palace, invillage, town, and city. He is the man who goes through life unobserved,who gets his name in the paper three times in his lifetime, and alwaysat somebody else's expense. Once when he is born, once when he marries,and once when he dies, and it is a paid advertisement, not an earnedone, each time. The first is paid for by his parents, the second by hisfather-in-law, the third by his executors. People like him well enough,but no one ever cares enough about him to hate him. His conversationranges from babies--if he has any himself--through the weather topolitics. Beyond these subjects he has nothing to say, and he rarelydines out, save with the parson, the candidate, or the man who wants toget the best of him in a business transaction. He is an idol at home, azero abroad. Nobody is interested in him, and he would as likely befound dining with the Khedive of Egypt as with Lord Barncastle, and I'llwager that, even if he should in some mysterious manner receive aninvitation to lend his gracious presence to the Barncastle board, hewould be as little in evidence as an object of interest as thescullery-maid. Were I to accept your advice, Chatford, Barncastle'sguests would be bored, Barncastle himself would be disappointed, andyour chance of ever becoming the animating spirit of your own body wouldcorrespondingly diminish. Only by a bold stroke is success to beobtained. The means I am about adopting are revolting to me as a man oftaste, but for the sake of our cause I am willing to stifle my naturaldesire to appear as a gentleman, to sink my true individuality, and togo as a freak."

  "But why do you think you will succeed, Hopkins? Even granting that youmake a first-class freak, has it really ever happened that idiocy--I sayidiocy here not to imply that I think you are an idiot, understandme--has it ever happened that a freak succeeds with us where thatbetter, truer standard which is represented by you as you really are hasfailed?"

  "Not exactly that way," replied Hopkins. "But this has happened. YourEnglishmen have flocked by the tens of thousands to see, and have beeninterested by an American Wild West show, where tens of hundreds havestraggled in to witness the thoughtful Shakespearian productions of ourmost intellectual tragedians. Barncastle can have a refined, quiet,gentlemanly appearing person at his table three hundred and sixty-fivetimes a year. He can get what I am going to give him but once in alifetime, so say no more about it. I am set in my determination to standor fall in the manner I have indicated."

  "All right," said the exile. "I've nothing more to say; but there's onething mighty certain. I'm going with you. I want to witness yourtriumph."

  "Very well," said Toppleton. "Come along. But if you do, leave thatinfernal whistle of yours home, or there'll be trouble."

  "I'm hardly anything else but a whistle. I can't help whistling, youknow."

  "Then there are only two things to be done. You must either get yourselfset to the tune of Yankee Doodle, or stay right here. I'm not going tohave my plans upset by any such buoy like tootle-toot as you are whenyou get excited."

  "Perhaps, on the whole, I'd better stay home."

  "I think you had," said Toppleton. "You would be sure to whistle beforewe were out of the woods."

  Hopkins and his invisible client had hardly finished this interview whenthe tailor's boy arrived, bringing with him the fantastic garmentsHo
pkins had ordered, and almost simultaneously there came a secondletter from Barncastle of Burningford, which set many of the exile'sfears at rest, and gave Toppleton good reason to believe that for thefirst part of his plan all was plain sailing. Barncastle's note was veryshort, but it was a welcome one, for it acknowledged the receipt ofToppleton's "characteristically American acceptance to dine," and closedwith an expression of Barncastle's hope that Hopkins would become one ofhis guests for the Christmas holidays at the Hall.

  "See, there!" said Hopkins, triumphantly. "That is the way my planswork."

  "You are a Napoleon!" ejaculated the exile.

  "Not quite," returned Hopkins, drily. "I won't have any Waterloo inmine; but say, Edward, let's try on our Uncle Sam's."

  "Let's!" echoed the exile. "I am anxious to see how we look."

  "There!" said Toppleton, ten minutes later, as he grasped the greencotton umbrella, and arrayed in the blue dress coat and red tie andother peculiar features of the costume he had adopted, stood awaitingthe verdict of the exile.

  "You look it, Toppleton; but I think there is one thing missing. Whereis your chin whisker?"

  "By Jove!" ejaculated Hopkins, with a gesture of impatience. "How couldI forget that? And it's too late now, for if there is one thing a Yankeecan't do, Chatford, it is to force a goatee inside of forty-eight hours.I'll have to cook up some explanation for that--lost it in an Indianfight in Fairmount Park, Philadelphia, or some equally plausible theory,eh?"

  "I think that might work," said the exile, in an acquiescent mood sincethe receipt of Barncastle's second note.

  "I thought you would," returned Hopkins. "The little detail that therearen't any Indians in Fairmount Park, Philadelphia, doesn't affect theresult, of course. But tell me, Chatford, how do I look?"

  "Like the very devil!" answered the exile with enthusiasm.

  "Good," said Toppleton. "If I look like him I've got Barncastle down,for if the devil is not his twin brother, he is his master. In eitherevent I shall be a _persona grata_ at the court of Barncastle ofBurningford."