French cloths and Parisian fashions were still less known than silver spoons and “rotary stoves.” The men wore homemade jeans, cut after the mode of the forest: its dye a favorite “Tennessean” brownish-yellow; and the women were not ashamed to be seen in linsey-wolsey, woven in the same domestic loom. Knitting was then not only an accomplishment, but a useful art; and the size which a “yarn” stocking gave to a pretty ankle, was not suffered to overbalance the consideration of its comfort. The verge of nakedness was not then the region of modesty: the neck and its adjacent parts were covered in preference to the hands; and, in their barbarous ignorance, the women thought it more shame to appear in public half-dressed, than to wear a comfortable shoe.
They were certainly a very primitive people—unrefined, unfashionable, “coarse”—and many of their sons and daughters are even now ashamed to think what “savages” their parents were! In their mode of life, they sought comfort, not “appearances;” and many things which their more sophisticated descendants deem necessaries, they contemned as luxuries.
But, in the course of time, these things began to change, for simplicity is always “primitive,” and the progress of refinement is only the multiplication of wants. As the country was reduced to cultivation, and peace settled upon its borders, new classes of emigrants began to take possession of the soil; and, for the immediate purposes of rapid advancement, and especially of social improvement, they were better classes than their predecessors: for, as the original pioneers had always lived a little beyond the influences of regular civilization, these had remained within its limits until the pressure of legal organization began to grow irksome to their partially untamed spirits. There was, indeed, an unbroken gradation of character, from the nearly savage hunter, who visited the country only because it was uninhabited, except by wild beasts, to the genuine citizen, who brought with him order, and industry, and legal supremacy.
The emigrants, of whom we are now writing, constituted the third step in this progression; and they imported along with them, or drew after them, the peculiarities belonging to their own degree of advancement. Their notions of comfort and modes of living, though still quite crude, indicated an appreciable stage of refinement. They were better supplied, for example, with cooking utensils—their household furniture was not so primitive—and in wearing apparel, they manifested some regard to elegance as well as comfort. Social intercourse disseminated these ideas among those to whom they were novel; where, previously, the highest motive to improvement had been a desire for convenience, the idea of gentility began to claim an influence; and some of the more moderate embellishments of life assumed the place of the mere necessaries.
The transition was not rapid nor violent, like all permanent changes, it was the work of years, marked by comparatively slow gradations. First, tin-ware, of various descriptions, became necessary to the operations of the kitchen; and that which had been confined to one or two articles, was now multiplied into many forms. A housewife could no more bake a pie without a “scalloped” pie-pan, than without a fire: a tin-bucket was much more easily handled than one of cedar or oak; and a pepper-box, of the same material, was as indispensable as a salt-cellar. A little tea was occasionally added to the ancient regimen of coffee, and thus a tin-canister became necessary for the preservation of the precious drug. With tea came queensware: and half-a-dozen cups and saucers, usually of a dingy white, with a raised blue edge, were needful for the pranking of the little cupboard.
But it was not only in the victualing department that the progress of refinement could be traced; for the thrifty housewife, who thought it proper to adorn her table, and equip her kitchen with all the late improvements, could not, of course, entirely overlook “the fashions:” the decoration of her person has been, in all ages, the just and honest pride of woman. Linsey-wolsey began to give place to calicoes and many-colored prints; calf-skin shoes were antiquated by the use of kid; and ribands fluttered gracefully upon new-fashioned bonnets. Progress of this kind never takes a step backward: once possessed of an improvement in personal comfort, convenience, or adornment, man—or woman—seldom gives it up. Thus, these things, once used, thenceforth became wants, whose gratification was not to be foregone: and it is one of the principles governing commerce, that the demand draws to it the supply.
There were few “country stores,” in those days, and the settlements were so scattered as to make it sometimes very inconvenient to visit them. From ten to twenty miles was a moderate distance to the dépôt of supplies; and a whole day was usually consumed in going and returning. The visits were, therefore, not very frequent—the purchases for many weeks—perhaps months—being made on each occasion. This was a very inconvenient mode of “shopping,” even for the energetic women of that day; and, since the population would not justify more numerous “stores,” it was desirable that some new system should be introduced, capable of supplying the demand at the cost of less trouble, and fewer miles of travel. To answer this necessity there was but one way—the “storekeeper” must carry his wares to the doors of his customers. And thus arose the occupation of the Peddler, or, as he called himself, the “travelling merchant.”
The population of the country was then almost exclusively agricultural—the mechanic arts belong to a more advanced period. The consequence was, that the first articles carried about from house to house, were such as are manufactured by artisans—and the chief of these was tin-ware.
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.”
We perceive that the principal study of the peddler is human nature; and though he classifies the principles of his experience, more especially with reference to the profits of his trade, his rapid observation of minor traits and indications, is a talent which might be useful in many pursuits, besides clock-peddling. And, accordingly, we discover that, even after he has abandoned the occupation, and ceased to be a bird of passage, he never fails to turn his learning to a good account.
He was distinguished by energy as well as shrewdness, and an enterprising spirit was the first element of his prosperity. There was no corner—no secluded settlement—no out-of-the way place—where he was not seen. Bad roads never deterred him: he could drive his horses and wagon where a four-wheeled vehicle never went before. He understood bearings and distances as well as a topographical engineer, and would go, whistling contentedly, across a prairie or through a forest, where he had not even a “trail” to guide him. He could find fords and crossings where none were previously known to exist; and his pair of lean horses, by the skilful management of their driver, would carry him and his wares across sloughs and swamps, where a steam-engine would have been clogged by the weight of a baby-wagon. If he broke his harness or his vehicle in the wilderness, he could repair it without assistance, for his mechanical accomplishments extended from the shoeing of a horse to the repair of a watch, and embraced everything between. He was never taken by surprise—accidents never came unexpected, and strange events never disconcerted him. He would whistle “Yankee Doodle” while his horses were floundering in a quagmire, and sing “Hail Columbia” while plunging into an unknown river!
He never met a stranger, for he was intimately acquainted with a man as soon as he saw him. Introductions were useless ceremonies to him, for he cared nothing about names. He called a woman “ma'am” and a man “mister,” and if he could sell either of them a few goods, he never troubled himself or them with impertinent inquiries. Sometimes he had a habit of learning each man's name from his next neighbor, and possessing an excellent memory, he never lost the information thus acquired.
When he had passed through a settlement once, he had a complete knowledge of all its circumstances, history, and inhabitants; and, the next year, if he met a child in the road, he could tell you whom it most resembled, and to what family it belonged. He recollected all who were sick on his last visit—what peculiar difficulties each was laboring under—and was always glad to hear of their convalescence. He gathered medicinal herbs along the road, and generously presented them to the housewives where he halted, and he understood perfectly the special properties of each. He possessed a great store of good advice, suited to every occasion, and distributed it with the disinterested benevolence of a philanthropist. He knew precisely what articles of merchandise were adapted to the taste of each customer; and the comprehensive “rule of three” would not have enabled him to calculate more nicely the exact amount of “talk” necessary to convince them of the same.
His address was extremely insinuating, for he always endeavored to say the most agreeable things, and no man could judge more accurately what would best please the person a
ddressed. He might be vain enough, but his egotism was never obtruded upon others. He might secretly felicitate himself upon a successful trade, but he never boasted of it. He seemed to be far more interested in the affairs of others than in his own. He had sympathy for the afflictions of his customers, counsel for their difficulties, triumph in their success.
Before the introduction of mails, he was the universal news-carrier, and could tell all about the movements of the whole world. He could gossip over his wares with his female customers, till he beguiled them into endless purchases, for he had heard of every death, marriage, and birth within fifty miles. He recollected the precise piece of calico from which Mrs. Jones bought her last new dress, and the identical bolt of riband from which Mrs. Smith trimmed her “Sunday bonnet.” He knew whose children went to “meeting” in “store-shoes,” whose daughter was beginning to wear long dresses, and whose wife wore cotton hose. He could ring the changes on the “latest fashions” as glibly as the skilfulest modiste. He was a connoisseur in colors, and learned in their effects upon complexion. He could laugh the husband into half-a-dozen shirts, flatter the wife into calico and gingham, and praise the children till both parents joined in dressing them anew from top to toe.
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