Books: Nature and Human Nature

T >> Thomas Chandler Haliburton >> Nature and Human Nature

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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."

"What do you think," I said, "of the Elgin treaty as a bargain?"

After some hesitation, he looked up and smiled.

"We can't complain," said he. "As usual we have got hold of the right
eend of the rope, and got a vast deal more than we expected. The truth
is, the English are so fond of trade, and so afraid of war, if we will
only give them cotton, and flour at a fair price, and take their
manufactures in return, we can bully them into anythin' almost. It is
a positive fact, there were fifty deserters from the British army
taken off of the wreck of the 'San Francisco,' and carried to England.
John Bull pretended to wink at it, hired a steamer, and sent them all
out again to us. Lord! how our folks roared when they heard it; and as
for the President, he laughed like a hyena over a dead nigger. Law
sakes alive man! Make a question between our nation and England about
fifty desarters, and if the ministers of the day only dared to talk of
fighting, the members of all the manufactoren towns in England, the
cottonocracy of Great Britain, would desert too!

"It's nateral, as an American, I should be satisfied with the treaty;
but I'll tell you what I am sorry for. I am grieved we asked, or your
Governor-General granted, a right to us to land on these shores and
make our fish. Lord Elgin ought to have known that every foot of the
sea-coast of Nova Scotia has been granted, and is now private
property.

"To concede a privilege to land, with a proviso to respect the rights
of the owner, is nonsense. This comes of not sending a man to
negociate who is chosen by the people, not for his rank, but for his
ability and knowledge. The fact is, I take blame to myself about it,
for I was pumped who would do best and be most acceptable to us
Americans. I was afeared they would send a Billingsgate contractor,
who is a plaguy sight more posted up about fisheries than any member
of parliament, or a clever colonist (not a party man), and they know
more than both the others put together; and I dreaded if they sent
either, there would be a quid pro quo, as Josiah says, to be given,
afore we got the fisheries, if we ever got them, at all. 'So,' sais I,
out of a bit of fun, for I can't help taken a rise out of folks no how
I can fix it, 'send us a lord. We are mighty fond of noblemen to
Washington, and toady them first-rate. It will please such a man as
Pierce to show him so much respect as to send a peer to him. He will
get whatever he asks.'

"Well, they fell into the trap beautiful. They sent us one, and we
rowed him up to the very head waters of Salt River in no time.1 But I
am sorry we asked the privilege to land and cure fish. I didn't think
any created critter would have granted that. Yes, I foresee trouble
arising out of this. Suppose 'Cayenne Pepper,' as we call the captain
that commanded the 'Cayenne' at Grey Town, was to come to a port in
Nova Scotia, and pepper it for insultin' our flag by apprehenden
trespassers (though how a constable is to arrest a crew of twenty men
unless, Irishman like, he surrounds them, is a mystery to me). What
would be done in that case? Neither you nor I can tell, Squire. But
depend upon it, there is a tempestical time comin', and it is as well
to be on the safe side of the fence when there is a chance of kicking
going on.

1 To row up Salt River is a common phrase, used generally to denote
political defeat. The distance to which a party is rowed up Salt River
depends entirely upon the magnitude of the majority against him. If
the defeat is overwhelming, the unsuccessful party is said "to be
rowed up to the very head waters of Salt River." The phrase has its
origin in the fact that there is a small stream of that name in
Kentucky, the passage of which is made difficult and laborious, as
well by its tortuous course as by numerous shallows and bars. The real
application of the phrase is to the unhappy wight who propels the
boat, but politically, in slang usage, it means the man rowed up, the
passenger--I. INMAN.

"The bombardment of Grey Town was the greatest and bravest exploit of
modern times. We silenced their guns at the first broadside, and shut
them up so sudden that envious folks like the British now swear they
had none, while we lost only one man in the engagement, but he was
drunk and fell overboard. What is the cannonade of Sebastopool to
that? Why it sinks into insignificance."

He had hardly ceased speaking, when the wheels of a carriage were
heard rapidly approaching the door. Taking out his watch, and
observing the hour, he said: "Squire, it is now eleven o'clock. I must
be a movin'. Good bye! I am off to Halifax. I am goin' to make a night
flight of it. The wind is fair, and I must sail by daylight to-morrow
morning. Farewell!"

He then shook hands most cordially with me, and said: "Squire, unless
you feel inclined at some future day to make the tour of the States
with me, or somethin' turns up I am not availed of, I am afraid you
have seen the last Journal of your old friend 'Sam Slick.'"

CHAPTER II.

CLIPPERS AND STEAMERS.

Whoever has taken the trouble to read the "Wise Saws" of Mr Slick,
will be prepared to resume the thread of his narrative without
explanation, if indeed these unconnected selections deserve the
appellation. But as this work may fall into the hands of many people
who never saw its predecessor, it may be necessary to premise that our
old friend Sam, having received a commission from the President of the
United States, to visit the coast of Nova Scotia, and report to him
fully on the state of the fisheries, their extent and value, the
manner in which they were prosecuted, and the best mode of obtaining a
participation in them, he proceeded on his cruise in a trading vessel,
called the "Black Hawk," whereof Timothy Cutler was master, and Mr
Eldad Nickerson the pilot. The two preceding volumes contained his
adventures at sea, and in the harbours of the province, to the
westward of Halifax. The present work is devoted to his remarks on
"nature and human nature."

While amusing himself fishing within three miles of the coast, off La
Haive, in contravention of the treaty, he narrowly escaped capture by
the British cruiser "Spitfire," commanded by Captain Stoker. By a
skilful manoeuvre, he decoyed the man-of-war, in the eagerness of the
chase, on to a sand-bar, when he dexterously slipt through a narrow
passage between two islands, and keeping one of them in a line between
the "Black Hawk" and her pursuer, so as to be out of the reach of her
guns, he steered for the eastern shore of Nova Scotia, and was soon
out of sight of the islands behind which his enemy lay embedded in the
sand; from this point the narrative is resumed in Mr Slick's own
words.1

1 His remarks on the fisheries I have wholly omitted, for they have
now lost their interest. His observations on "nature and human nature"
are alone retained, as they may be said to have a universal
application.--ED.

"I guess," said I, "Captain, the 'Spitfire' will have to put into
Halifax to report herself and be surveyed, so we may pursue our course
in peace. But this 'Black Hawk' is a doll, ain't she? don't she skim
over the water like a sea gull? The truth is, Cutler, when you ain't
in a hurry, and want to enjoy yourself at sea, as I always do, for I
am a grand sailor, give me a clipper. She is so light and buoyant, and
the motion so elastic, it actilly exilerates your spirits. There is
something like life in her gait, and you have her in hand like a
horse, and you feel as if you were her master, and directed her
movements. I ain't sure you don't seem as if you were part of her
yourself. Then there is room to show skill and seamanship, and if you
don't in reality go as quick as a steamer, you seem to go faster, if
there is no visible object to measure your speed by, and that is
something, for the white foam on the leeward side rushes by you in
rips, raps, and rainbows like Canadian rapids.

"Then if she is an atrysilly1 like this, and she is doing her
prettiest, and actilly laughs again, she is so pleased, why you are
satisfied, for you don't make the breeze, you take it as you find it,
like all other good gifts of Providence, and say, 'ain't she going
like wink, how she forges ahead, don't she?' Your attention is kept
alive, too, watchin' the wind, and trimmin' sail to it accordingly,
and the jolly 'Oh, heave oh,' of the sailors is music one loves to
listen to, and if you wish to take a stretch for it in your cloak on
deck, on the sunny or shady side of the companion-way, the breeze
whistles a nice soft lullaby for you, and you are off in the land of
Nod in no time."

1 The Atricilla, or laughing sea-gull. Its note resembles a coarse
laugh. Hence its name. It is very common in the Bahamas.

"Dreaming of Sophy Collingwood," sais the Captain, "and the witch of
Eskisooney, eh?"

"Yes, dreamin' of bright eyes and smilin' faces, or anythin' else
that's near and dear, for to my idea, the heart gives the subject for
the head to think upon. In a fair wind and a charmin' day like this, I
never coiled up on the deck for a nap in my life, that I had'nt
pleasant dreams. You feel as if you were at peace with all the world
in general, and yourself in partikeler, and that it is very polite of
folks to stay to home ashore, and let you and your friends enjoy
yourselves without treadin' on your toes, and wakin' of you up if
asleep, or a jostlin' of you in your turn on the quarter-deck, or
over-hearin' of your conversation.

"And ain't you always ready for your meals, and don't you walk into
them in rael right down earnest? Oh, nothing ever tastes so good to me
as it does at sea. The appetite, like a sharp knife, makes the meat
seem tender, and the sea air is a great friend of digestion, and
always keeps company with it. Then you don't care to sit and drink
after dinner as you do at an hotel of an idle day, for you want to go
on deck, light your cigar, take a sweep round the horizon with your
glass to see if there is any sail in sight, glance at the sky to
ascertain if the breeze is likely to hold, and then bring yourself to
anchor on a seat, and have a dish of chat for a dessert with the
captain, if he is a man of books like you, Cutler, or a man of reefs,
rocks, and sandbars, fish, cordwood, and smugglin', or collisions,
wracks, and salvage, like the pilot.

"Then, if you have a decent sample or two of passengers on board, you
can discuss men and things, and women and nothings, law, physick, and
divinity, or that endless, tangled ball of yarn, politicks, or you can
swap anecdotes, and make your fortune in the trade. And by the same
trail of thought we must give one or two of these Blue-Noses now and
then a cast on board with us to draw them out. "Well, if you want to
read, you can go and turn in and take a book, and solitudinise to it,
and there is no one to disturb you. I actilly learned French in a
voyage to Calcutta, and German on my way home. I got enough for common
use. It warn't all pure gold; but it was kind of small change, and
answered every purpose of trade or travel. Oh, it's no use a talkin';
where time ain't the main object, there's nothin' like a sailin'
vessel to a man who ain't sea-sick, and such fellows ought to be
cloriformed, put to bed, and left there till the voyage is over. They
have no business to go to sea, if they are such fools as not to know
how to enjoy themselves.

"Then sailors are characters; they are men of the world, there is
great self-reliance in them. They have to fight their way in life
through many trials and difficulties, and their trust is in God and
their own strong arm. They are so much in their own element, they seem
as if they were born on the sea, cradled on its billows, and, like
Mother Carey's chickens, delighted in its storms and mountain waves.
They walk, talk, and dress differently from landsmen. They straddle as
they pace the deck, so as to brace the body and keep their trowsers up
at the same time; their gait is loose, and their dress loose, and
their limbs loose; indeed, they are rather too fond of slack. They
climb like monkeys, and depend more on their paws than their legs.
They tumble up, but never down. They count, not by fingers, it is
tedious, but by hands; they put a part for the whole, and call
themselves hands, for they are paid for the use of them, and not their
heads.

"Though they are two-handed they are not close-fisted fellows. They
despise science, but are fond of practical knowledge. When the sun is
over the foreyard, they know the time of day as well as the captain,
and call for their grog, and when they lay back their heads, and turn
up the bottom of the mug to the sky, they call it in derision taking
an observation. But though they have many characteristics in common,
there is an individuality in each that distinguishes him from the
rest. He stands out in bold relief--I by myself, I. He feels and
appreciates his importance. He knows no plural. The word 'our' belongs
to landsmen; 'my' is the sailor's phrase--my ship, my captain, my
messmate, my watch on deck, 'my eyes!' 'you lubber, don't you know
that's me?' I like to listen to their yarns and their jokes, and to
hear them sing their simple ditties. The odd mixture of manliness and
childishness--of boldness and superstitious fears; of preposterous
claims for wages and thoughtless extravagance; of obedience and
discontent--all goes to make the queer compound called 'Jack.' How
often have I laughed over the fun of the forecastle in these small
fore and aft packets of ourn! and I think I would back that place for
wit against any bar-room in New York or New Orleans, and I believe
they take the rag off of all creation.

"But the cook is my favourite. He is a scientific man, and so skilful
in compounds, he generally goes by the name of doctor. I like the
daily consultation with him about dinner: not that I am an epicure;
but at sea, as the business of life is eating, it is as well to be
master of one's calling. Indeed, it appears to be a law of nature,
that those who have mouths should understand what to put in them. It
gratifies the doctor to confer with him, and who does it not please to
be considered a man of importance? He is therefore a member of the
Privy Council, and a more useful member he is too than many Right
Honourables I know of--who have more acres than ideas. The Board
assembles after breakfast, and a new dish is a great item in the
budget. It keeps people in good humour the rest of the day, and
affords topics for the table. To eat to support existence is only fit
for criminals. Bread and water will do that; but to support and
gratify nature at the same time is a noble effort of art, and well
deserves the thanks of mankind. The cook too enlivens the consultation
by telling marvellous stories about strange dishes he has seen. He has
eaten serpents with the Siamese, monkeys in the West Indies,
crocodiles and sloths in South America, and cats, rats, and dogs with
the Chinese; and of course, as nobody can contradict him, says they
are delicious. Like a salmon, you must give him the line, even if it
wearies you, before you bag him; but when you do bring him to land his
dishes are savoury. They have a relish that is peculiar to the sea,
for where there is no garden, vegetables are always most prized. The
glorious onion is duly valued, for as there is no mistress to be
kissed, who will dare to object to its aroma?

"Then I like a Sunday at sea in a vessel like this, and a day like
this, when the men are all clean and tidy, and the bell rings for
prayers, and all hands are assembled aft to listen to the captain as
he reads the Church Service. It seems like a family scene. It reminds
me of dear old Minister and days gone by, when he used to call us
round him, and repeated to us the promise 'that when two or three were
gathered together in God's name, he would grant their request.' The
only difference is, sailors are more attentive and devout than
landsmen. They seem more conscious that they are in the Divine
presence. They have little to look upon but the heavens above and the
boundless ocean around them. Both seem made on purpose for them--the
sun to guide them by day, and the stars by night, the sea to bear them
on its bosom, and the breeze to waft them on their course. They feel
how powerless they are of themselves; how frail their bark; how
dependent they are on the goodness and mercy of their Creator, and
that it is He alone who can rule the tempest and control the stormy
deep. Their impressions are few, but they are strong. It is the world
that hardens the heart, and the ocean seems apart from it.

"They are noble fellows, sailors, and I love them; but, Cutler, how
are they used, especially where they ought to be treated best, on
board of men-of-war? The moment a ship arrives in port, the anchor
cast and the sails furled--what dees the captain do? the popular
captain too, the idol of the men; he who is so kind and so fond of
them? Why, he calls them aft, and says, 'Here, my lads, here is lots
of cash for you, now be off ashore and enjoy yourselves.' And they
give three cheers for their noble commander--their good-hearted
officer--the sailor's friend--the jolly old blue jacket,--and they
bundle into the boats, and on to the beach, like school-boys. And
where do they go? Well, we won't follow them, for I never was in them
places where they do go, and so I can't describe them, and one thing I
must say, I never yet found any place answer the picture drawn of it.
But if half only of the accounts are true that I have heerd of them,
they must be the devil's own seminaries of vice--that's a fact. Every
mite and morsel as bad as the barrack scenes that we read of lately.

"Well, at the end of a week back come the sailors. They have had a
glorious lark and enjoyed themselves beyond anything in the world, for
they are pale, sick, sleepy, tired out, cleaned out, and kicked out,
with black eyes, broken heads, swelled cheeks, minus a few teeth, half
their clothes, and all their money.

"'What,' says the captain, 'what's the matter with you, Tom Marlin,
that you limp so like a lame duck?'

"'Nothing, your honour,' says Tom, twitching his forelock, and making
a scrape with his hind leg, 'nothing, your honour, but a scratch from
a bagganet.'

"'What! a fight with the soldiers, eh? The cowardly rascals to use
their side arms!'

"'We cleared the house of them, Sir, in no time.'

"'That's right. Now go below, my lads, and turn in and get a good
sleep. I like to see my lambs enjoy themselves. It does my heart
good.'

"And yet, Cutler, that man is said to be a father to his crew."

"Slick," said Cutler, "what a pity it is you wouldn't always talk that
way!" Now if there is any created thing that makes me mad, it is to
have a feller look admiren at me, when I utter a piece of plain common
sense like that, and turn up the whites of his eyes like a duck in
thunder, as much as to say, what a pity it is you weren't broughten up
a preacher. It ryles me considerable, I tell you.

"Cutler," said I, "did you ever see a colt in a pasture, how he would
race and chase round the field, head, ears, and tail up, and stop
short, snort as if he had seen the ghost of a bridle, and off again
hot foot?"

"Yes," said he, "I have, but you are not a colt, nor a boy either."

"Well, did you ever see a horse when unharnessed from a little, light
waggon, and turned out to grass, do nearly the same identical thing,
and kick up his heels like mad, as much as to say, I am a free nigger
now?"

"Well, I have," said he.

"Stop," said I, a touchin' of him on his arm; "what in the world is
that?" and I pointed over the taffrail to the weather-bow.

"Porpoises," said he.

"What are they a doin' of?"

"Sportin' of themselves."

"Exactly," sais I, "and do you place man below the beasts of the field
and the fishes of the sea? What in natur' was humour given to us for
but for our divarsion? What sort of a world would this be if every
fellow spoke sermons and talked homilies, and what in that case would
parsons do? I leave you to cypher that out, and then prove it by
algebra; but I'll tell you what they wouldn't do, I'll be hanged if
they'd strike for higher wages, for fear they should not get any at
all."

"I knock under," said he; "you may take my hat; now go on and finish
the comparison between Clippers and Steamers."

"Well," sais I, "as I was a sayin', Captain, give me a craft like
this, that spreads its wings like a bird, and looks as if it was born,
not made, a whole-sail breeze, and a seaman every inch of him like you
on the deck, who looks you in the face, in a way as if he'd like to
say, only bragging ain't genteel, Ain't she a clipper now, and ain't I
the man to handle her? Now this ain't the case in a steamer. They
ain't vessels, they are more like floating factories; you see the
steam machines and the enormous fires, and the clouds of smoke, but
you don't visit the rooms where the looms are, that's all. They plough
through the sea dead and heavy, like a subsoiler with its eight-horse
team; there is no life in 'em; they can't dance on the waters as if
they rejoiced in their course, but divide the waves as a rock does in
a river; they seem to move more in defiance of the sea than as if they
were in an element of their own.

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