Sam Slick was the name of a fictional character created by Thomas Chandler Haliburton (1796–1865), a Nova Scotian Canadian author, member of the Nova Scotian Legislative Assembly, judge on the colonial Supreme Court, and later a member of the House of Commons in England. The protagonist Sam Slick would frequently appear in Joseph Howe’s Halifax newspaper The Novascotian and is best related to Haliburton’s famous publication The Clockmaker, or the Sayings and Doings of Samuel Slick of Slicksville (1836). Haliburton’s popular character was noted for his colloquial Yankee voice as well as his perspectives on humanity, daily events, politics, and the world in general. At the time of publication, Haliburton’s original text and character enjoyed widespread popularity in colonial British Nova Scotia, pre-Confederation Canada, the United States, and England. Despite Haliburton’s attempts to move on to other work, the popularity of the publication and character of Sam Slick led to two subsequent Clockmaker series being released in 1838 and 1840, as well as more stories being written in the texts The Attaché; or Sam Slick in England (1843, 1844), and Sam Slick’s Wise Saws and Modern Instances (1853). Owing to their success, tales featuring Slick were continually republished throughout the nineteenth century, making Haliburton one of Canada’s first authors as well as one of the most important English writers of the period, who influenced subsequent literature throughout North America.
The character of Sam Slick of Slicksville was presented as a traveling clock salesman, philosopher, and commentator on human nature in the British Atlantic world of the early nineteenth century. Throughout his appearances in The Novascotian and later in The Clockmaker, Slick discussed the political issues and themes of the period, including British imperial conflicts with France and America, colonial loyalism, patriotism, democracy, and Tory politics. In particular, it was Slick’s observations about colonial life in Nova Scotia and American political and social culture that made the character both a noted satirist and widely popular. Slick’s commentary was often presented as a conversation between himself and the character of the Squire while the two characters were traveling throughout Nova Scotia. During these conservations a combination of tall tales and outlandish stories would be told by Sam as a means of discussing the social and political issues of the time and as a way of presenting his moralizing satire. In particular, Slick’s Yankee perspective and commentary were central to each story in his assessment of colonial Nova Scotians, Americans, and the British. Throughout the arc of his conversations, Slick noted his admiration for British traditions and institutions but critiqued them for their refusal to adapt to new situations. Alternately, he admired American democracy, industriousness, and ingenuity yet also criticized their arrogance and opportunism. In terms of his native colonial Nova Scotia, however, while Slick admired his countrymen for maintaining their British culture and remaining loyal throughout the American Revolution, he equally critiqued them for refusing to change amid the regional economic depression and political circumstances of the period. However, despite his critiques of Nova Scotia, Slick nonetheless believed in the need to improve colonial industriousness and hoped that Nova Scotians would take advantage of the opportunities granted to them to ensure the expansion of British interests across North America.
In the expression of these ideas and the presentation of Slick’s insights into the world of his time, Haliburton’s work became popular because of its commentary in Britain, America, and pre-Confederation Canada. Regardless, late twentieth and early twenty-first-century scholars have been somewhat more critical of Haliburton’s text and protagonist. Specifically, some argue that the characterization of Sam Slick is often inconsistent and does not reflect a specific set of observations and views but instead changes according to the intended audience and the period of publication. Furthermore, academics also contend that the focus of Haliburton’s satirical observations and critique shifted throughout the years. They argue that the first volume of Clockmaker stories likely sought to promote the industriousness of Nova Scotians, while the second collection of tales critiqued the populist and reform-minded politicians of the age, and the third publication strove to argue against the colony of Nova Scotia being granted responsible government. Scholars also note that in later works such as The Attaché the focus of both Haliburton and Slick’s critique was unsuccessfully turned on British society and politics, the results of which were not popular. In addition, there is the suggestion that Haliburton’s subsequent publication, Sam Slick’s Wise Saws and Modern Instances, seems more directed toward entertainment than satirical social critique or political commentary.
Regardless, overall, the writings of Thomas Haliburton, his characterization of Sam Slick, and the stories in which he appeared serve as some of the first examples of Canadian national literature. In addition, given the range of Sam Slick’s observations and commentary, the writings in which he appears provide a clear presentation of colonial British society in North America, post-Revolutionary American attitudes, and imperial British politics of the period. As such, given the influence of Haliburton, his character Sam Slick, and his protagonist’s commentary, Haliburton received an honorary degree from Oxford (1858) for his contribution to English literature. Beyond his tales centered on Slick from 1823 until 1860, Haliburton produced a range of texts related to colonial history and political pamphlets including A General Description of Nova Scotia (1823), An Historical and Statistical Account of Nova Scotia (1829), The Bubbles of Canada (1839), A Reply to the Report of the Earl of Durham (1839), The Old Judge; or Life in a Colony (1849), The English in America (1851), and Rule and Misrule of the English in America (1851). As a result, given his role as one of colonial Nova Scotia’s premier authors and his promotion of regional development, Haliburton eventually had a number of Canadian regions and landmarks named in his honor.
Sean Morton
See also Irving, Washington; Yankee Doodle
Further Reading
Chittick, V. L. O. 1924. Thomas Chandler Haliburton: A Study in Provincial Toryism. New York: Columbia University Press.
Davies, R. 2005. Inventing Sam Slick: A Biography of Thomas Chandler Haliburton. Toronto: University of Toronto Press.
Fraser, Mary L. 1975. Folklore of Nova Scotia. Halifax: Formac.
Trueman, Stuart. 1979. Tall Tales and True Tales from Down East: Eerie Experiences, Heroic Exploits, Extraordinary Personalities, Ancient Legends and Folklore from New Brunswick and Elsewhere in the Maritimes. Toronto: McClelland & Stewart.
Sam Slick—Primary Document
Thomas Chandler Haliburton, Sam Slick, the Clockmaker (1836)
The character of Sam Slick in the writings of Thomas Chandler Haliburton influenced American humor and folklore in the nineteenth century. Haliburton was a Canadian author who first published a number of Sam Slick pieces in the Halifax newspaper, Novascotian, in the 1830s. Slick stories were Haliburton’s way of poking fun at certain aspects of Canadian and American life, particularly the advancing democratic tendencies of maritime Atlantic culture. In this selection, Sam Slick encounters a New Englander on the road to Fort Lawrence, and his dislike of Yankee assertiveness is clearly evident in the narrative.
THE TROTTING HORSE.
I WAS always well mounted: I am fond of a horse, and always piqued myself on having the fastest trotter in the province….
On my last journey to Fort Lawrence, as the beautiful view of Colchester had just opened upon me, and as I was contemplating its richness and exquisite scenery, a tall thin man, with hollow cheeks and bright, twinkling black eyes, on a good bay horse, somewhat out of condition, overtook me, and drawing up, said, “I guess you started early this morning, sir?”
“I did, sir,” I replied.
“You did not come from Halifax, I presume, sir, did you?” in a dialect too rich to be mistaken as genuine Yankee. “And which way may you be travelling?” asked my inquisitive companion.
“To Fort Lawrence.”
“Ah!” said he, “so am I; it is in my circuit.” …
“I am not aware,” said I, “that there is a court sitting at this time at Cumberland.”
“Nor am I,” said my friend. What, then, could he have to do with the circuit? It occurred to me he must be a Methodist preacher. I looked again, but his appearance again puzzled me. His attire might do, the color might be suitable, the broad brim not out of place; but there was a want of that staidness of look, that seriousness of countenance, that expression, in short, so characteristic of the clergy.
I could not account for my idle curiosity,—a curiosity which, in him, I had the moment before viewed both with suspicion and disgust; but so it was, I felt a desire to know who he could be who was neither lawyer nor preacher, and yet talked of his circuit with a gravity of both. How ridiculous, I thought to myself, is this; I will leave him. Turning towards him, I said I feared I should be late for breakfast, and must therefore bid him good morning, Mohawk felt the pressure of my knees, and away we went at a slapping pace. I congratulated myself on conquering my own curiosity, and on avoiding that of my travelling companion. This, I said to myself, this is the value of a good horse; I patted his neck; I felt proud of him. Presently I heard the steps of the unknown’s horse—the clatter increased. Ah, my friend, thought I, it won’t do; you should be well mounted if you desire my company. I pushed Mohawk faster, faster, faster—to his best. He outdid himself; he had never trotted so handsomely, so easily, so well.
“I guess that is a pretty considerable smart horse,” said the stranger, as he came beside me, and apparently reined in to prevent his horse passing me; “there is not, I reckon, so spry a one on my circuit.”
Circuit or no circuit, one thing was settled in my mind,—he was a Yankee, and a very impertinent Yankee too. I felt humbled, my pride was hurt, and Mohawk was beaten. To continue this trotting contest was humiliating; I yielded, therefore, before the victory was palpable, and pulled up.
“Yes,” continued he, “ a horse of pretty considerable good action, and a pretty fair trotter too, I guess.” Pride must have a fall: I confess mine was prostrate in the dust. These words cut me to the heart. What! is it come to this, poor Mohawk, that you, the admiration of all but the envious, the great Mohawk, the standard by which all other horses are measured—trots next to Mohawk, only yields to Mohawk, looks like Mohawk—that you are, after all, only a counterfeit, and pronounced by a straggling Yankee to be merely “a pretty fair trotter!”
“If he was trained, I guess that he might be made to do a little more. Excuse me, but if you divide your weight between the knee and the stirrup, rather most on the knee, and rise forward on the saddle, so as to leave a little daylight between you and it, I hope I may never ride this circuit again, if you don’t get a mile more an hour out of him.”
What! not enough, I mentally groaned, to have my horse beaten, but I must be told that I don’t know how to ride him; and that, too, by a Yankee! …
“That is a superior animal you are mounted on,” said I; “I seldom meet one that can travel with mine.”
“Yes,” said he coolly, “a considerable fair traveller, and most particular good bottom.” I hesitated; this man, who talks with such unblushing effrontery of getting up cases, and making profit out of them, cannot be offended at the question—yes, I will put it to him.
“Do you feel an inclination to part with him?”
“I never part with a horse, sir, that suits me,” said he. “I am fond of a horse: I don’t like to ride in the dust after every one I meet, and I allow no man to pass me but when I choose.” Is it possible, I thought, that he can know me,—that he has heard of my foible, and is quizzing me? or have I this feeling in common with him?
“But,” continued I, “you might supply yourself again.”
“Not on this circuit, I guess,” said he, “nor yet in Campbell’s circuit.”
“Campbell’s circuit—pray, sir, what is that?”
“That,” said he, “is the western; and Lampton rides the shore circuit; and as for the people on the shore, they know so little of horses that, Lampton tells me, a man from Aylesford once sold a hornless ox there, whose tail he had cut and nicked, for a horse of the Goliath breed.”
“I should think,” said I, “that Mr. Lampton must have no lack of cases among such enlightened clients.”
“Clients, sir!” said my friend, “Mr. Lampton is not a lawyer.”
“I beg pardon, I thought you said he rode the circuit.”
“We call it a circuit,” said the stranger, who seemed by no means flattered by the mistake; “we divide the province, as in the almanac, into circuits, in each of which we separately carry on our business of manufacturing and selling clocks. There are few, I guess,” said the clockmaker, “who go upon tick as much as we do, who have so little use for lawyers; if attorneys could wind a man up again, after he has been fairly run down, I guess they’d be a pretty harmless sort of folks.”
This explanation restored my good humor, and as I could not quit my companion, and he did not feel disposed to leave me, I made up my mind to travel with him to Fort Lawrence, the limit of his circuit.
Source: Haliburton, Thomas Chandler. Sam Slick, the Clockmaker: The Sayings and Doings of Sam Slick, of Slickville. New York: John B. Alden, Publisher, 1887, pp. 5–6.