Nature and Human Nature

by Thomas Chandler Haliburton

“On the other hand, Squire, you will find passages in this Journal that have neither Yankee words nor Yankee brag in them. Now pray don’t go as you did in the last, and alter them by insarten here and there what you call ‘Americanisms,’ so as to make it more in character and uniform; that is going to t’other extreme, for I can write as pure English, if I can’t speak it, as anybody can.¹ My education warn’t a college one, like my brothers, Eldad’s and Josiah’s, the doctor and lawyer; but it was not neglected for all that. Dear old Minister was a scholar, every inch of him, and took great pains with me in my themes, letters, and composition. ‘Sam,’ he used to say, ‘there are four things needed to write well: first, master the language grammatically; second, master your subject; third, write naturally; fourth, let your heart as well as your hand guide the pen.’ It ain’t out of keeping therefore for me to express myself decently in composition if I choose. It warn’t out of character, with Franklin, and he was a poor printer boy, nor Washington, and he was only a land-surveyor, and they growed to be ‘some punkins’ too.

¹ The reader will perceive from a perusal of this Journal, that Mr Slick, who is always so ready to detect absurdity in others, has in this instance exhibited a species of vanity by no means uncommon in this world. He prides himself more on composition, to which he has but small pretensions, than on those things for which the public is willing enough to give him full credit. Had he however received a classical education, it may well be doubted whether he would have been as useful or successful a man as President of Yale College, as he has been as an itinerant practical Clockmaker.

“An American clockmaker ain’t like a European one. He may not be as good a workman as t’other one, but he can do somethin’ else besides makin’ wheels and pulleys. One always looks forward to rise in the world, the other to attain excellence in his line. I am, as I have expressed it in some part of this Journal, not ashamed of having been a tradesman—I glory in it; but I should indeed have been ashamed if, with the instruction I received from dear old Minister, I had always remained one. No, don’t alter my Journal. I am just what I am, and nothing more or less. You can’t measure me by English standards; you must take an American one, and that will give you my length, breadth, height, and weight to a hair. If silly people take you for me, and put my braggin’ on your shoulders, why jist say, ‘You might be mistakened for a worse fellow than he is, that’s all.’ Yes, yes, let my talk remain ‘down-east talk,’¹ and my writin’ remain clear of cant terms when you find it so.

¹ It must not be inferred from this expression that Mr Slick’s talk is all “pure down-east dialect.” The intermixture of Americans is now so great, in consequence of their steamers and railroads, that there is but little pure provincialism left. They have borrowed from each other in different sections most liberally, and not only has the vocabulary of the south and west contributed its phraseology to New England, but there is recently an affectation in consequence of the Mexican war, to naturalise Spanish words, some of which Mr Slick, who delights in this sort of thing, has introduced into this Journal.—ED.

“I like Yankee words—I learned them when young. Father and mother used them, and so did all the old folks to Slickville. There is both fun, sense, and expression in ’em too, and that is more than there is in Taffy’s, Pat’s, or Sawney’s brogue either. The one enriches and enlarges the vocabulary, the other is nothing but broken English, and so confoundedly broken too, you can’t put the pieces together sometimes. Again, my writing, when I freeze down solid to it, is just as much in character as the other. Recollect this—Every woman in our country who has a son knows that he may, and thinks that he will, become President of the United States, and that thought and that chance make that boy superior to any of his class in Europe.

“And now, Squire,” said he, “I believe there has been enough said about myself and my Journal. Sposen we drink success to the ‘human nature,’ or ‘men and things,’ or whatever other name you select for this Journal, and then we will talk of something else.”

“I will drink that toast,” I said, “with all my heart, and now let me ask you how you have succeeded in your mission about the fisheries?”

“First rate,” he replied; “we have them now, and no mistake!”

“By the treaty?” I inquired.

“No,” he said, “I have discovered the dodge, and we shall avail of it at once. By a recent local law foreigners can hold real estate in this province now. And by a recent Act of Parliament our vessels can obtain British registers. Between these two privileges, a man don’t deserve to be called an American who can’t carry on the fisheries in spite of all the cruisers, revenue officers, and prohibitary laws under the sun. It is a peaceable and quiet way of getting possession, and far better than fighting for them, while it comports more with the dignity of our great and enlightened nation.”