University of Virginia Library

13. CHAPTER XIII.
THE MAN WITH THE TRAVELING-CAP EVINCES MUCH HUMANITY,
AND IN A WAY WHICH WOULD SEEM TO SHOW HIM TO BE ONE
OF THE MOST LOGICAL OF OPTIMISTS.

Years ago, a grave American savan, being in London,
observed at an evening party there, a certain coxcombical
fellow, as he thought, an absurd ribbon in his lapel,
and full of smart persiflage, whisking about to the admiration
of as many as were disposed to admire. Great
was the savan's disdain; but, chancing ere long to find
himself in a corner with the jackanapes, got into conversation
with him, when he was somewhat ill-prepared
for the good sense of the jackanapes, but was altogether
thrown aback, upon subsequently being whispered by a
friend that the jackanapes was almost as great a savan
as himself, being no less a personage than Sir Humphrey
Davy.

The above anecdote is given just here by way of an
anticipative reminder to such readers as, from the kind
of jaunty levity, or what may have passed for such,
hitherto for the most part appearing in the man with the
traveling-cap, may have been tempted into a more or
less hasty estimate of him; that such readers, when

they find the same person, as they presently will, capable
of philosophic and humanitarian discourse—no mere
casual sentence or two as heretofore at times, but solidly
sustained throughout an almost entire sitting; that they
may not, like the American savan, be thereupon betrayed
into any surprise incompatible with their own good
opinion of their previous penetration.

The merchant's narration being ended, the other
would not deny but that it did in some degree affect
him. He hoped he was not without proper feeling for
the unfortunate man. But he begged to know in what
spirit he bore his alleged calamities. Did he despond
or have confidence?

The merchant did not, perhaps, take the exact import
of the last member of the question; but answered, that,
if whether the unfortuante man was becomingly resigned
under his affliction or no, was the point, he could say for
him that resigned he was, and to an exemplary degree:
for not only, so far as known, did he refrain from any
one-sided reflections upon human goodness and human
justice, but there was observable in him an air of
chastened reliance, and at times tempered cheerfulness.

Upon which the other observed, that since the unfortunate
man's alleged experience could not be deemed
very conciliatory towards a view of human nature better
than human nature was, it largely redounded to his
fair-mindedness, as well as piety, that under the alleged
dissuasives, apparently so, from philanthropy, he had
not, in a moment of excitement, been warped over to
the ranks of the misanthropes. He doubted not, also,

that with such a man his experience would, in the end,
act by a complete and beneficent inversion, and so far
from shaking his confidence in his kind, confirm it, and
rivet it. Which would the more surely be the case, did
he (the unfortunate man) at last become satisfied (as
sooner or later he probably would be) that in the distraction
of his mind his Goneril had not in all respects
had fair play. At all events, the description of the
lady, charity could not but regard as more or less exaggerated,
and so far unjust. The truth probably was
that she was a wife with some blemishes mixed with
some beauties. But when the blemishes were displayed,
her husband, no adept in the female nature, had tried to
use reason with her, instead of something far more persuasive.
Hence his failure to convince and convert.
The act of withdrawing from her, seemed, under the
circumstances, abrupt. In brief, there were probably
small faults on both sides, more than balanced by large
virtues; and one should not be hasty in judging.

When the merchant, strange to say, opposed views so
calm and impartial, and again, with some warmth, deplored
the case of the unfortunate man, his companion,
not without seriousness, checked him, saying, that this
would never do; that, though but in the most exceptional
case, to admit the existence of unmerited misery, more
particularly if alleged to have been brought about by
unhindered arts of the wicked, such an admission was,
to say the least, not prudent; since, with some, it might
unfavorably bias their most important persuasions. Not
that those persuasions were legitimately servile to such

influences. Because, since the common occurrences of
life could never, in the nature of things, steadily look one
way and tell one story, as flags in the trade-wind; hence,
if the conviction of a Providence, for instance, were in
any way made dependent upon such variabilities as
everyday events, the degree of that conviction would,
in thinking minds, be subject to fluctuations akin to those
of the stock-exchange during a long and uncertain war.
Here he glanced aside at his transfer-book, and after a
moment's pause continued. It was of the essence of a
right conviction of the divine nature, as with a right
conviction of the human, that, based less on experience
than intuition, it rose above the zones of weather.

When now the merchant, with all his heart, coincided
with this (as being a sensible, as well as religious person,
he could not but do), his companion expressed satisfaction,
that, in an age of some distrust on such subjects,
he could yet meet with one who shared with him,
almost to the full, so sound and sublime a confidence.

Still, he was far from the illiberality of denying that
philosophy duly bounded was not permissible. Only
he deemed it at least desirable that, when such a case as
that alleged of the unfortunate man was made the subject
of philosophic discussion, it should be so philosophized
upon, as not to afford handles to those unblessed
with the true light. For, but to grant that there was
so much as a mystery about such a case, might by those
persons be held for a tacit surrender of the question.
And as for the apparent license temporarily permitted
sometimes, to the bad over the good (as was by implication

alleged with regard to Goneril and the unfortnnate
man), it might be injudicious there to lay too much
polemic stress upon the doctrine of future retribution as
the vindication of present impunity. For though, indeed,
to the right-minded that doctrine was true, and of sufficient
solace, yet with the perverse the polemic mention
of it might but provoke the shallow, though mischievous
conceit, that such a doctrine was but tantamount to the
one which should affirm that Providence was not now,
but was going to be. In short, with all sorts of cavilers,
it was best, both for them and everybody, that whoever
had the true light should stick behind the secure
Malakoff of confidence, nor be tempted forth to hazardous
skirmishes on the open ground of reason. Therefore,
he deemed it unadvisable in the good man, even in
the privacy of his own mind, or in communion with a
congenial one, to indulge in too much latitude of philosophizing,
or, indeed, of compassionating, since this might
beget an indiscreet habit of thinking and feeling which
might unexpectedly betray him upon unsuitable occasions.
Indeed, whether in private or public, there was
nothing which a good man was more bound to guard
himself against than, on some topics, the emotional unreserve
of his natural heart; for, that the natural heart,
in certain points, was not what it might be, men had
been authoritatively admonished.

But he thought he might be getting dry.

The merchant, in his good-nature, thought otherwise,
and said that he would be glad to refresh himself with
such fruit all day. It was sitting under a ripe pulpit,

and better such a seat than under a ripe peach-tree.

The other was pleased to find that he had not, as he
feared, been prosing; but would rather not be considered
in the formal light of a preacher; he preferred
being still received in that of the equal and genial companion.
To which end, throwing still more of sociability
into his manner, he again reverted to the unfortunate
man. Take the very worst view of that case;
admit that his Goneril was, indeed, a Goneril; how
fortunate to be at last rid of this Goneril, both by
nature and by law? If he were acquainted with the
unfortunate man, instead of condoling with him, he
would congratulate him. Great good fortune had this
unfortunate man. Lucky dog, he dared say, after all.

To which the merchant replied, that he earnestly
hoped it might be so, and at any rate he tried his best
to comfort himself with the persuasion that, if the unfortunate
man was not happy in this world, he would,
at least, be so in another.

His companion made no question of the unfortunate
man's happiness in both worlds; and, presently calling
for some champagne, invited the merchant to partake,
upon the playful plea that, whatever notions other than
felicitous ones he might associate with the unfortunate
man, a little champagne would readily bubble away.

At intervals they slowly quaffed several glasses in
silence and thoughtfulness. At last the merchant's expressive
face flushed, his eye moistly beamed, his lips
trembled with an imaginative and feminine sensibility.

Without sending a single fume to his head, the wine
seemed to shoot to his heart, and begin soothsaying
there. “Ah,” he cried, pushing his glass from him,
“Ah, wine is good, and confidence is good; but can wine
or confidence percolate down through all the stony
strata of hard considerations, and drop warmly and
ruddily into the cold cave of truth? Truth will not be
comforted. Led by dear charity, lured by sweet hope,
fond fancy essays this feat; but in vain; mere dreams
and ideals, they explode in your hand, leaving naught
but the scorching behind!”

“Why, why, why!” in amaze, at the burst; “bless
me, if In vino veritas be a true saying, then, for all the
fine confidence you professed with me, just now, distrust,
deep distrust, underlies it; and ten thousand
strong, like the Irish Rebellion, breaks out in you now.
That wine, good wine, should do it! Upon my soul,”
half seriously, half humorously, securing the bottle,
“you shall drink no more of it. Wine was meant to
gladden the heart, not grieve it; to heighten confidence,
not depress it.”

Sobered, shamed, all but confounded, by this raillery,
the most telling rebuke under such circumstances, the
merchant stared about him, and then, with altered mien,
stammeringly confessed, that he was almost as much
surprised as his companion, at what had escaped him.
He did not understand it; was quite at a loss to account
for such a rhapsody popping out of him unbidden. It
could hardly be the champagne; he felt his brain unaffected;
in fact, if anything, the wine had acted upon

it something like white of egg in coffee, clarifying and
brightening.”

“Brightening? brightening it may be, but less like
the white of egg in coffee, than like stove-lustre on a
stove—black, brightening seriously, I repent calling for
the champagne. To a temperament like yours, champagne
is not to be recommended. Pray, my dear sir, do
you feel quite yourself again? Confidence restored?”

“I hope so; I think I may say it is so. But we have
had a long talk, and I think I must retire now.”

So saying, the merchant rose, and making his adieus,
left the table with the air of one, mortified at having
been tempted by his own honest goodness, accidentally
stimulated into making mad disclosures—to himself as
to another—of the queer, unaccountable caprices of his
natural heart.