The tinkers of the rural districts in older countries, were, however, not known in this—they were not adapted to the genius of the people. The men who sold the ware were, scarcely ever, the same who made it; and, though the manual dexterity of most of these ready men, might enable them to mend a broken pan, or a leaky coffeepot, their skill was seldom put in requisition. Besides, since the mending of an old article might interfere with the sale of a new one, inability to perform the office was more frequently assumed than felt.
In the course of time—as the people of the country began to acquire new ideas, and discover new wants—other articles were added to the peddler's stock. Calicoes were often carried in the same box with tin pans—cotton checks and ginghams were stowed away beneath tin-cups and iron-spoons—shining coffee-pots were crammed with spools of thread, papers of pins, cards of horn-buttons, and cakes of shaving-soap—and bolts of gaudy riband could be drawn from pepper-boxes and sausage-stuffers. Table-cloths, of cotton or brown linen, were displayed before admiring eyes, which had turned away from all the brightness of new tin plates; and knives and forks, all “warranted pure steel,” appealed to tastes, which nothing else could excite. New razors touched the men “in tender places,” while shining scissors clipped the purses of the women. Silk handkerchiefs and “fancy” neckcloths—things till then unknown—could occupy the former, while the latter covetously turned over and examined bright ribands and fresh cotton hose. The peddler was a master of the art of pleasing all tastes: even the children were not forgotten; for there were whips and jew's-harps for the boys, and nice check aprons for the girls. (The taste for “playing mother” was as much an instinct, with the female children of that day, as it is in times more modern; but life was yet too earnest to display it in the dressing and nursing of waxen babies.) To suit the people from whom the peddler's income was derived, he must consult at least the appearance of utility, in every article he offered; for, though no man could do more, to coax the money out of one's pocket, without leaving an equivalent, even he could not succeed in such an enterprise, against the matter-of-fact pioneer.
The “travelling merchants” of this country were generally what their customers called “Yankees”—that is, New-Englanders, or descendants of the puritans, whether born east of the Hudson or not. And, certainly, no class of men were ever better fitted for an occupation, than were those for “peddling.” The majority of them were young men, too; for the “Yankee” who lives beyond middle age, without providing snug quarters for the decline of life, is usually not even fit for a peddler. But, though often not advanced in years, they often exhibited qualities, which one would have expected to find only in men of age and experience. They could “calculate,” with the most absolute certainty, what precise stage of advancement and cultivation, was necessary to the introduction of every article of merchandise their stock comprised. Up to a certain limit, they offered, for example, linen table-cloths: beyond that, cotton was better and more saleable; in certain settlements, they could sell numbers of the finer articles, which, in others, hung on their hands like lead; and they seemed to know, the moment they breathed the air of a neighborhood, what precise character of goods was most likely to pay.
Thus—by way of illustration—it might seem, to one not experienced in reading the signs of progress, a matter of nice speculation and subtle inquiry, to determine what exact degree of cultivation was necessary, to make profitable the trade in clocks. But I believe there is no instance of an unsuccessful clock-peddler on record; and, though this fact may be accounted for, superficially, by asserting that time is alike important to all men, and a measure of its course, therefore, always a want, a little reflection will convince us, that this explanation is more plausible than sound.
It is, perhaps, beyond the capacity of any man, to judge unerringly, by observation, of the usual signs of progress, the exact point at which a community, or a man, has arrived in the scale of cultivation; and it may seem especially difficult, to determine commercially, what precise articles, of use or ornament, are adapted to the state indicated by those signs. But that there are such indications, which, if properly attended to, will be unfailing guides, is not to be denied. Thus, the quick observation of a clock-peddler would detect among a community of primitive habits, the growing tendency to regularity of life; for, as refinement advances, the common affairs of everyday existence, feeling the influence first, assume a degree of order and arrangement; and from the display of this improvement, the trader might draw inferences favorable to his traffic. Eating, for example, as he would perceive, is done at certain hours of the day—sleep is taken between fixed periods of the night and morning—especially, public worship—which is one of the best and surest signs of social advancement—must be held at a time generally understood.
The peddler might conclude, also, when he saw a glazed window in a house, that the owner was already possessed of a clock—which, perhaps, needed repairing—or, at least, was in great need of one, if he had not yet made the purchase. One of these shrewd “calculators” once told me, that, when he saw a man with four panes of glass in his house, and no clock, he either sold him one straightway, or “set him down crazy, or a screw.”
“Have you no other 'signs of promise'”? I asked.
“O yes,” he replied, “many! For instance: When I am riding past a house—(I always ride slowly)—I take a general and particular survey of the premises—or, as the military men say, I make a reconnaissance; and it must be a very bare place, indeed, if I can not see some 'sign,' by which to determine, whether the owner needs a clock. If I see the man, himself, I look at his extremities; and by the appearance of hat and boot, I make up my opinion as to whether he knows the value of time: if he wears anything but a cap, I can pretty fairly calculate upon selling him a clock; and if, to the hat, he has added boots, I halt at once, and, without ceremony, carry a good one in.
“When I see the wife, instead of the husband, I have no difficulty in making up my mind—though the signs about the women are so numerous and minute, that it would be hard to explain them. If one wears a check-apron and sports a calico dress, I know that a 'travelling merchant' has been in the neighborhood; and if he has succeeded in making a reasonable number of sales, I am certain that he has given her such a taste for buying, that I can sell her anything at all: for purchasing cheap goods, to a woman, is like sipping good liquor, to a man—she soon acquires the appetite, and thenceforward it is insatiable.
“I have some customers who have a passion for clocks. There is a man on this road, who has one for every room in his house; and I have another with me now—with a portrait of General Jackson in the front—which I expect to add to his stock. There is a farmer not far from here, with whom I have 'traded' clocks every year since I first entered the neighborhood—always receiving about half the value of the article I sell, in money, 'to boot.' There are clock-fanciers, as well as fanciers of dogs and birds; and I have known cases, in which a man would have two or three time-pieces in his house, and not a pair of shoes in the family! But such customers are rare—as they ought to be; and the larger part of our trade is carried on, with people who begin to feel the necessity of regularity—to whom the sun has ceased to be a sufficient guide—and who have acquired some notions of elegance and comfort. And we seldom encounter the least trouble in determining, by the general appearance of the place, whether the occupant has arrived at that stage of refinement.”