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Page 2
THE ILLUSTRIOUS GAUDISSART
CHAPTER I
The commercial traveller, a personage unknown to antiquity, is one of
the striking figures created by the manners and customs of our present
epoch. May he not, in some conceivable order of things, be destined to
mark for coming philosophers the great transition which welds a period
of material enterprise to the period of intellectual strength? Our
century will bind the realm of isolated power, abounding as it does in
creative genius, to the realm of universal but levelling might;
equalizing all products, spreading them broadcast among the masses,
and being itself controlled by the principle of unity,--the final
expression of all societies. Do we not find the dead level of
barbarism succeeding the saturnalia of popular thought and the last
struggles of those civilizations which accumulated the treasures of
the world in one direction?
The commercial traveller! Is he not to the realm of ideas what our
stage-coaches are to men and things? He is their vehicle; he sets them
going, carries them along, rubs them up with one another. He takes
from the luminous centre a handful of light, and scatters it broadcast
among the drowsy populations of the duller regions. This human
pyrotechnic is a scholar without learning, a juggler hoaxed by
himself, an unbelieving priest of mysteries and dogmas, which he
expounds all the better for his want of faith. Curious being! He
has seen everything, known everything, and is up in all the ways
of the world. Soaked in the vices of Paris, he affects to be the
fellow-well-met of the provinces. He is the link which connects the
village with the capital; though essentially he is neither Parisian
nor provincial,--he is a traveller. He sees nothing to the core: men
and places he knows by their names; as for things, he looks merely at
their surface, and he has his own little tape-line with which to
measure them. His glance shoots over all things and penetrates none.
He occupies himself with a great deal, yet nothing occupies him.
Jester and jolly fellow, he keeps on good terms with all political
opinions, and is patriotic to the bottom of his soul. A capital mimic,
he knows how to put on, turn and turn about, the smiles of persuasion,
satisfaction, and good-nature, or drop them for the normal expression
of his natural man. He is compelled to be an observer of a certain
sort in the interests of his trade. He must probe men with a glance
and guess their habits, wants, and above all their solvency. To
economize time he must come to quick decisions as to his chances of
success,--a practice that makes him more or less a man of judgment; on
the strength of which he sets up as a judge of theatres, and
discourses about those of Paris and the provinces.
He knows all the good and bad haunts in France, "de actu et visu." He
can pilot you, on occasion, to vice or virtue with equal assurance.
Blest with the eloquence of a hot-water spigot turned on at will, he
can check or let run, without floundering, the collection of phrases
which he keeps on tap, and which produce upon his victims the effect
of a moral shower-bath. Loquacious as a cricket, he smokes, drinks,
wears a profusion of trinkets, overawes the common people, passes for
a lord in the villages, and never permits himself to be "stumped,"--a
slang expression all his own. He knows how to slap his pockets at the
right time, and make his money jingle if he thinks the servants of the
second-class houses which he wants to enter (always eminently
suspicious) are likely to take him for a thief. Activity is not the
least surprising quality of this human machine. Not the hawk swooping
upon its prey, not the stag doubling before the huntsman and the
hounds, nor the hounds themselves catching scent of the game, can be
compared with him for the rapidity of his dart when he spies a
"commission," for the agility with which he trips up a rival and gets
ahead of him, for the keenness of his scent as he noses a customer and
discovers the sport where he can get off his wares.
How many great qualities must such a man possess! You will find in all
countries many such diplomats of low degree; consummate negotiators
arguing in the interests of calico, jewels, frippery, wines; and often
displaying more true diplomacy than ambassadors themselves, who, for
the most part, know only the forms of it. No one in France can doubt
the powers of the commercial traveller; that intrepid soul who dares
all, and boldly brings the genius of civilization and the modern
inventions of Paris into a struggle with the plain commonsense of
remote villages, and the ignorant and boorish treadmill of provincial
ways. Can we ever forget the skilful manoeuvres by which he worms
himself into the minds of the populace, bringing a volume of words to
bear upon the refractory, reminding us of the indefatigable worker in
marbles whose file eats slowly into a block of porphyry? Would you
seek to know the utmost power of language, or the strongest pressure
that a phrase can bring to bear against rebellious lucre, against the
miserly proprietor squatting in the recesses of his country lair?
--listen to one of these great ambassadors of Parisian industry as
he revolves and works and sucks like an intelligent piston of the
steam-engine called Speculation.
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