As an author, he first came before the public in 1829, as the historian of his native Province. His work, which was well received by both the public and the press, and was so highly thought of that the House of Assembly tendered him a vote of thanks, is to the present time regarded as a standard work in the Province.
Six years subsequently he became unconsciously the author of the inimitable “Sam Slick.” In a series of anonymous articles in the Nova Scotian newspaper, then edited by Mr. Joseph Howe, he made use of a Yankee peddler as his mouthpiece. The character proved to be “a hit,” and the articles greatly amused the readers of that paper, and were widely copied by the American press. They were collected together and published anonymously by Mr. Howe, of Halifax, and several editions were issued in the United States. A copy was taken thence to England by General Fox, who gave it to Mr. Richard Bentley, the publisher. To Judge Haliburton’s surprise, he found that an edition that had been very favorably received had been issued in England. For some time the authorship was assigned to an American gentleman in London, until Judge Haliburton visited England and became known as the real author.
For his “Sam Slick” he received nothing from the publisher, as the work had not been copyrighted, but Mr. Bentley presented him with a silver salver, on which was an inscription written by the Rev. Richard Barham, the author of the “Ingoldsby Legends.” Between Barham, Theodore Hook and Judge Haliburton an intimacy sprang up. They frequently dined together at the Athenæum Club, to which they belonged, and many good stories told by Hook and Barham were remembered by the Judge long after death had deprived him of their society.
As regards “Sam Slick,” he never expected that his name would be known in connection with it, or that his productions would escape the usual fate of colonial newspaper articles. On his arrival in London, the son of Lord Abinger (the famous Sir James Scarlett) who was confined to his bed, asked him to call on his father, as there was a question which he would like to put to him. When he called, his Lordship said, “I am convinced that there is a veritable Sam Slick in the flesh now selling clocks to the Bluenoses. Am I right?” “No,” replied the Judge, “there is no such person. He was a pure accident. I never intended to describe a Yankee clockmaker or Yankee dialect; but Sam Slick slipped into my book before I was aware of it, and once there he was there to stay.”
In some respects, perhaps, the prominence given to the Yankee dialect was a mistake, for, except in very isolated communities, dialect soon changes. A Harvard professor, nearly fifty years ago, indignantly protested against Sam Slick being accepted “as a typical American.” His indignation was a little out of place. It would be equally foolish in an Englishman should he protest against Sam Weller being regarded as a typical Englishman. Do typical Americans wander about in out-of-the-way regions selling wooden clocks? Sam Slick represented a very limited class that sixty years ago was seen oftener in the Provinces than in the United States, but we have the best proof that The Clockmaker suggested a true type of some “Downeasters” of that day in the fact that the people of many places in the North-eastern States were for many years convinced that they had among them the original character whom Judge Haliburton had met and described.
Sixty years ago the Southern States were familiar with the sight of Sam Slicks, who had always good horses, and whose Yankee clocks were everywhere to be seen in settlers’ log houses.
Since Sam Slick’s day the itinerant vendor of wooden clocks has moved far west, and when met with there, is a very different personage from Sam Slick. Within the past forty years, however, veritable Sam Slicks have occasionally paid a visit to Canada. One of them sold a large number of wooden clocks throughout Nova Scotia and Cape Breton. They were warranted to keep accurate time for a year, and hundreds of notes of hand were taken for the price. The notes passed by indorsement into third hands, but, unfortunately, the clocks would not go. Actions were brought in several counties by the indorsees, and the fact that Seth’s clocks had stopped caused as much lamentation and dismay as a money panic. The first case that came up was tried before Judge Haliburton, much to the amusement of the public and to the edification of the Yankee clockmaker, who had a long homily read to him on the impropriety of cheating Bluenoses with Yankee clocks that would do anything sooner than keep time.
But a man may be a Yankee clockmaker without having the “cuteness” and common sense of Sam Slick. In his Early Reminiscences, Sir Daniel Lysons describes such an one who, while selling clocks in Canada, was tempted to stake his money and clocks, etc., on games of billiards with a knowing young subaltern. “The clocks soon passed into British possession. They then played for the waggon and horse. Finally, Sam Slick, pluck to the backbone, and still confident, staked his broad-brimmed hat and his coat; Bob won them; and putting them on in place of his own, which he gave to his friend Sam, he mounted the waggon and drove into barracks in triumph, to the immense amusement of the whole garrison.”
An English Reader has for half a century been in use in French schools, which gives Sam Slick’s chapter on “Buying a Horse” as one of its samples of classical English literature.
Experience is proving that the value attached by Sam Slick to the geographical position and natural advantages of the Province of Nova Scotia was not a mistaken one. We are, however, apt to be more grateful to those that amuse than to those who instruct us. Many persons who laughed at Sam Slick’s jokes did not relish his truths, and his popularity as an author was far greater out of Nova Scotia than in it; but it had ceased to depend on the verdict of his countrymen.