_ BOOK IV. THE DAY OF THE PLOUGH
CHAPTER XXXI. THE SUCCESS OF BATTERSLEIGH
One morning when Franklin entered his office he found his friend Battersleigh there before him, in full possession, and apparently at peace with all the world. His tall figure was reclining in an office chair, and his feet were supported by the corner of the table, in an attitude which is called American, but which is really only masculine, and quite rational though unbeautiful. Battersleigh's cloak had a swagger in its very back, and his hat sat at a cocky angle not to be denied. He did not hear Franklin as he approached the door, and the latter stood looking in for a moment, amused at Battersleigh and his attitude and his song. When quite happy Battersleigh always sang, and very often his song was the one he was singing now, done in a low nasal, each verse ending, after the vocal fashion of his race, with a sudden uplift of a sheer octave, as thus:
"I-I-I-'d dance li-i-i-ke a fa-a-a-iree-ee-ee,
For to see ould Dunlear-e-e-
e-e-e!
I-I-I-'d think twi-i-i-ice e-e-e-r-r I-I-I-'d lave it,
For to be-e-e-e-e a drag-
o-o-n."
Franklin chuckled at the reminiscent music as he stepped in and said good morning. "You seem in fine fettle this morning, friend," said he. "Very fine, for an old man."
Battersleigh squared around and looked at him soberly. "Ned," said he, "ye're a dethractor of innycince. Batty ould! Listen to me, boy! It's fifty years younger I am to-day than when I saw ye last. I'm younger than ye ivver saw me in all your life before."
"And what and where was the fountain?" said Franklin, as he seated himself at his desk.
"The one fountain of all on earth, me boy--Succiss--succiss! The two dearest things of life are Succiss and Revinge. I've found thim both. Shure, pfwhat is that gives one man the lofty air an' the overlookin' eye, where another full his ekil in inches fears to draw the same breath o' life with him? Succiss, succiss, me boy! Some calls it luck, though most lays it to their own shupayrior merit. For Batty, he lays it to nothin' whativver, but takes it like a philosopher an' a gintleman."
"Well, I suppose you don't mind my congratulating you on your success, whatever it may be," said Franklin, as he began to busy himself about his work at the desk. "You're just a trifle mysterious, you know."
"There's none I'd liever have shake me by the hand than yoursilf, Ned," said Battersleigh, "the more especially by this rayson, that ye've nivver believed in ould Batty at all, but thought him a visionary schamer, an' no more. Didn't ye, now, Ned; on your honour?"
"No," said Franklin stoutly. "I've always known you to be the best fellow in the world."
"Tut, tut!" said Battersleigh. "Ye're dodgin' the issue, boy. But pfwhat wud ye say now, Ned, if I should till ye I'd made over tin thousand pounds of good English money since I came to this little town?"
"I should say," said Franklin calmly, as he opened an envelope, "that you had been dreaming again."
"That's it! That's it!" cried Battersleigh. "Shure ye wud, an' I knew it! But come with me to bank this mornin' an' I'll prove it all to ye."
Something in his voice made Franklin wheel around and look at him. "Oh, do be serious, Battersleigh," said he.
"It's sayrious I am, Ned, I till ye. Luk at me, boy. Do ye not see the years droppin' from me? Succiss! Revinge! Cash! Earth holds no more for Batty. I've thim all, an' I'm contint. This night I retire dhrunk, as a gintleman should be. To-morrow I begin on me wardrobe. I'm goin' a longish journey, lad, back to ould England. I'm a long-lost son, an' thank God! I've not been discovered yit, an' hope I'll not be fer a time.
"I'll till ye a secret, which heretofore I've always neglicted to mintion to anybody. Here I'm Henry Battersleigh, agent of the British-American Colonization Society. On t'other side I might be Cuthbert Allen Wingate-Galt. An' Etcetera, man; etcetera, to God knows what. Don't mintion it, Ned, till I've gone away, fer I've loved the life here so--I've so enjoyed bein' just Batty, agent, and so forth! Belave me, Ned, it's much comfortabler to be merely a' And-so-forth thin it is to be an' Etcetera. An' I've loved ye so, Ned! Ye're the noblest nobleman I ivver knew or ivver expict to know."
Franklin sat gazing at him without speech, and presently Battersleigh went on.
"It's a bit of a story, lad," said he kindly. "Ye see, I've been a poor man all me life, ye may say, though the nephew of one of the richest women in the United Kingdom--an' the stingiest. Instid of doin' her obvayus juty an' supportin' her nephew in becomin' station, she marries a poor little lordlet boy, an' forsakes me entirely. Wasn't it hijjus of her? There may have been raysons satisfyin' to her own mind, but she nivver convinced me that it was Christian conduct on her part. So I wint with the Rile Irish, and fought fer the Widdy. So what with likin' the stir an' at the same time the safety an' comfort o' the wars, an' what with now an' thin a flirtashun in wan colour or another o' the human rainbow, with a bit of sport an' ridin' enough to kape me waist, I've been in the Rile Irish ivver since--whin not somewhere ilse; though mostly, Ned, me boy, stone broke, an' ownin' no more than me bed an' me arms. Ye know this, Ned."
"Yes," said Franklin, "I know, Battersleigh. You've been a proud one,"
"Tut, tut, me boy; nivver mind. Ye'll know I came out here to make me fortune, there bein' no more fightin' daycint enough to engage the attention of a gintleman annywhere upon the globe. I came to make me fortune. An' I've made it. An' I confiss to ye with contrition, Ned, me dear boy, I'm Cubberd Allen Wiggit-Galt, Etcetera !"
After his fashion Franklin sat silent, waiting for the other's speech.
"Ned," said Battersleigh at length, "till me, who's the people of the intire worrld that has the most serane belief in their own shupayriority?"
"New-Yorkers," said Franklin calmly.
"Wrong. Ye mustn't joke, me boy. No. It's the English. Shure, they're the consatedest people in the whole worrld. An' now, thin, who's the wisest people in the worrld?"
"The Americans," said Franklin promptly again.
"Wrong agin. It's thim same d----d domineerin' idjits, the yally-headed subjecks o' the Widdy. An' pfwhy are they wise?"
"You'll have to tell," said Franklin.
"Then I'll till ye. It's because they have a
sacra fames fer all the land on earth."
"They're no worse than we," said Franklin. "Look at our Land-Office records here for the past year."
"Yis, the Yankee is a land-lover, but he wants land so that he may live on it, an' he wants to see it before he gives his money for it. Now, ye go to an Englishman, an' till him ye've a bit of land in the cintre of a lost island in the middle of the Pacific say, an' pfwhat does he do? He'll first thry to stale ut, thin thry to bully ye out of ut; but he'll ind by buyin' ut, at anny price ye've conscience to ask, an' he'll thrust to Providence to be able to find the island some day. That's wisdom. I've seen the worrld, me boy, from Injy to the Great American Desert. The Rooshan an' the Frinchman want land, as much land as ye'll cover with a kerchief, but once they get it they're contint. The Haybrew cares for nothin' beyond the edge of his counter. Now, me Angly-Saxon, he's the prettiest fightin' man on earth, an' he's fightin' fer land, er buyin' land, er stalin' land, the livin' day an' cintury on ind. He'll own the earth!"
"No foreign Anglo-Saxon will ever own America," said Franklin grimly.
"Well, I'm tellin' ye he'll be ownin' some o' this land around here."
"I infer, Battersleigh," said Franklin, "that you have made a sale."
"Well, yis. A small matter."
"A quarter-section or so?"
"A quarter-township or so wud be much nearer," said Battersleigh dryly.
"You don't mean it?"
"Shure I do. It's a fool for luck; allowin' Batty's a fool, as ye've always thought, though I've denied it. Now ye know the railroad's crazy for poppylation, an' it can't wait. It fairly offers land free to thim that'll come live on it. It asks the suffrin' pore o' Yurrup to come an' honour us with their prisince. The railroad offers Batty the Fool fifteen hundred acres o' land at three dollars the acre, if Batty the Fool'll bring settlers to it. So I sinds over to me ould Aunt's country--not, ye may suppose, over the signayture o' Cubberd Allen Wiggit-Galt, but as Henry Battersleigh, agent o' the British American Colonization Society--an' I says to the proper party there, says I, 'I've fifteen hundred acres o' the loveliest land that ivver lay out of dures, an' ye may have it for the trifle o' fifty dollars the acre. Offer it to the Leddy Wiggit,' says I to him; 'she's a philanthropist, an' is fer Bettherin' the Pore' ('savin' pore nephews,' says I to mesilf). 'The Lady Wiggit,' says I, ''ll be sendin' a ship load o' pore tinnints over here,' says I, 'an' she'll buy this land. Offer it to her,' says I. So he did. So she did. She tuk it. I'll be away before thim pisints o' hers comes over to settle here, glory be! Now, wasn't it aisy? There's no fools like the English over land, me boy. An' 'twas a simple judgment on me revered Aunt, the Leddy Wiggit."
"But, Battersleigh, look here," said Franklin, "you talk of fifty dollars an acre. That's all nonsense--why, that's robbery. Land is dear here at five dollars an acre."
"Shure it is, Ned," said Battersleigh calmly. "But it's chape in England at fifty dollars."
"Well, but--"
"An' that's not all. I wrote to thim to send me a mere matter of tin dollars an acre, as ivvidence a' good faith. They did so, an' it was most convaynient for settlin' the little bill o' three dollars an acre which the railroad had against me, Batty the Fool."
"It's robbery!" reiterated Franklin.
"It wud 'av' been robbery," said Battersleigh, "had they sint no more than that, for I'd 'av' been defrauded of me just jues. But whut do you think? The murdherin' ould fool, me revered Aunt, the Leddy Wiggit, she grows 'feard there is some intint to rob her of her bargain, so what does she do but sind the entire amount at wance--not knowin', bless me heart an' soul, that she's thus doin' a distinguished kindness to the missin' relative she's long ago forgot! Man, would ye call that robbery? It's Divine Providince, no less! It's justice. I know of no one more deservin' o' such fortune than Battersleigh, late of the Rile Irish, an' now a Citizen o' the World. Gad, but I've a'most a mind to buy a bit of land me own silf, an' marry the Maid o' the Mill, fer the sake o' roundin' out the play. Man, man, it's happy I am to-day!"
"It looks a good deal like taking advantage of another's ignorance," said Franklin argumentatively.
"Sir," said Battersleigh, "it's takin' advantage o' their Wisdom. The land's worth it, as you'll see yoursilf in time. The price is naught. The great fact is that they who own the land own the earth and its people. 'Tis out of the land an' the sea an' the air that all the wilth must come. Thus saith Batty the Fool. Annyhow, the money's in the bank, an' it's proper dhrunk'll be Batty the Fool this night, an' likewise the Hon. Cubberd Allen Wiggit-Galt, Etcetera. There's two of me now, an' it's twice the amount I must be dhrinkin'. I swear, I feel a thirst risin' that minds me o' Ingy in the hills, an' the mess o' the Rile Irish wance again."
"You'll be going away," said Franklin, sadly, as he rose and took Battersleigh by the hand. "You'll be going away and leaving me here alone--awfully alone."
"Ned," said the tall Irishman, rising and laying, a hand upon his shoulder, "don't ye belave I'll be lavin' ye. I've seen the worrld, an' I must see it again, but wance in a while I'll be comin' around here to see the best man's country on the globe, an' to meet agin the best man I ivver knew. I'll not till why I belave it, for that I can not do, but shure I do belave it, this is the land for you. There'll be workin' an' thinkin' here afther you an' Batty are gone, an' maybe they'll work out the joy an' sorrow of ut here. Don't be restless, but abide, an' take ye root here. For Batty, it's no odds. He's seen the worrld."
Battersleigh's words caused Franklin's face to grow still more grave, and his friend saw and suspected the real cause. "Tut, tut! me boy," he said, "I well know how your wishes lie. It's a noble gyurl ye've chosen, as a noble man should do. She may change her thought to-morrow. It's change is the wan thing shure about a woman."
Franklin shook his head mutely, but Battersleigh showed only impatience with him. "Go on with your plans, man," said he, "an' pay no attintion to the gyurl! Make ready the house and prepare the bridal gyarments. Talk with her raysonable, an' thin thry unraysonable, and if she won't love ye peaceful, thin thry force; an' she'll folly ye thin, to the ind of the earth, an' love ye like a lamb. It's Batty has studied the sex. Now, wance there was a gyurl--but no; I'll not yet thrust mesilf to spake o' that. God rist her asy ivermore!"
"Yes," said Franklin sadly, "that is it. That is what my own answer has been. She tells me that there was once another, who no longer lives--that no one else--"
Battersleigh's face grew grave in turn. "There's no style of assault more difficult than that same," said he. "Yet she's young; she must have been very young. With all respect, it's the nature o' the race o' women to yield to the livin', breathin' man above the dead an' honoured."
"I had my hopes," said Franklin, "but they're gone. They've been doing well at the Halfway House, and I've been doing well here. I've made more money than I ever thought I should, and I presume I may make still more. I presume that's all there is--just to make money, and then more, if you can. Let it go that way. I'll not wear my heart on my sleeve--not for any woman in the world."
Franklin's jaws set in fashion still more stern than their usual cast, yet there had come, as Battersleigh did not fail to notice, an older droop to the corners of his mouth, and a loss of the old brilliance of the eye.
"Spoken like a man," said Battersleigh, "an' if ye'll stick to that ye're the more like to win. Nivver chance follyin' too close in a campaign ag'inst a woman. Parallel an' mine, but don't uncover your forces. If ye advance, do so by rushes, an' not feelin' o' the way. But tin to wan, if ye lie still under cover, she'll be sendin' out skirmishers to see where ye are an' what ye are doin'. Now, ye love the gyurl, I know, an' so do I, an' so does ivery man that ivver saw her, for she's the sort min can't help adorin'. But, mind me, kape away. Don't write to her. Don't make poetry about her--God forbid! Don't do the act o' serrynadin' in anny way whativver. Make no complaint--if ye do she'll hate ye, like as not; for when a gyurl has wronged a man she hates him for it. Merely kape still. Ye've met your first reverse, an' ye've had your outposts cut up a bit, an' ye think the ind o' the worrld has come. Now, mind me, ould Batty, who's seen the lands; only do ye attind to dhrill an' sinthry-go an' commissariat, till in time ye find your forces in thrim again. By thin luk out fer heads stickin' up over the hills on the side o' the inimy, who'll be wonderin' what's goin' on. 'Go 'way,' she says to you, an' you go. 'Come back,' she whispers to herself, an' you don't hear it. Yet all the time she's wonderin' pfwhy you don't!"
Franklin smiled in spite of himself. "Battersleigh's Tactics and Manual of Strategy," he murmured. "All right, old man. I thank you just the same. I presume I'll live, at the worst. And there's a bit in life besides what we want for ourselves, you know."
"There's naught in life but what we're ready to take for oursilves!" cried Battersleigh. "I'll talk no fable of other fishes in the say for ye. Take what ye want, if ye'll have it. An' hearken; there's more to Ned Franklin than bein' a land agent and a petty lawyer. It's not for ye yersilf to sit an' mope, neyther to spind your life diggin' in a musty desk. Ye're to grow, man; ye're to grow! Do ye not feel the day an' hour? Man, did ye nivver think o' Destiny?"
"I've never been able not to believe in it," said Franklin. "To some men all things come easily, while others get on only by the hardest knocks; and some go always close to success, but die just short of the parapet. I haven't myself classified, just yet."
"Ye have your dreams, boy?"
"Yes; I have my dreams."
"All colours are alike," said Battersleigh. "Now, whut is my young Injun savage doin', when he goes out alone, on top of some high hill, an' builds him a little fire, an' talks with his familiar spirits, which he calls here his 'drame'? Isn't he searchin' an' feelin' o' himsilf, same as the haythin in far-away Ingy? Git your nose up, Ned, or you'll be unwittin' classifyin' yersilf with the great slave class which we lift behind not long ago, but which is follyin' us hard and far. Git your nose up, fer it's Batty has been thinkin' ye've Destiny inside your skin. Listen to Batty the Fool, and search your sowl. I'll tell ye this: I've the feelin' that I'll be hearin' of ye, in all the marrches o' the worrld. Don't disappoint me, Ned, for the ould man has belaved in ye--more than ye've belaved in yersilf. As to the gyurl--bah!--go marry her some day, av ye've nothin' more importhant on yer hands.
"But, me dear boy, spakin' o' importhant things, I ralely must be goin' now. I've certain importhant preparations that are essintial before I get dhrunk this avenin'--"
"O Battersleigh, do be sensible," said Franklin, "and do give up this talk of getting drunk. Come over here this evening and talk with me. It's much better than getting drunk."
Battersleigh's hand was on the door knob. "The consate o' you!" he said. "Thrue, ye're a fine boy, Ned, an' I know of no conversayshun more entertainin' than yer own, but I tale that if I didn't get dhrunk like a gintleman this avenin', I'd be violatin' me juty to me own conscience, as well as settin' at naught the thraditions o' the Rile Irish. An' so, if ye'll just excuse me, I'll say good-bye till, say, to-morrow noon." _