The Attache; or, Sam Slick in England (V2)
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Thomas Chandler Haliburton >> The Attache; or, Sam Slick in England (V2)
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THE ATTACHE; OR,
SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND.
BY THOMAS CHANDLER HALIBURTON.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
CONTENTS OF THE SECOND VOLUME.
CHAPTER I. THE NOSE OF A SPY
CHAPTER II. THE PATRON; OR, THE COW'S TAIL
CHAPTER III. ASCOT RACES
CHAPTER IV. THE GANDER PULLING
CHAPTER V. THE BLACK STOLE
CHAPTER VI. THE PRINCE DE JOINVILLE'S HORSE
CHAPTER VII. LIFE IN THE COUNTRY
CHAPTER VIII. BUNKUM
CHAPTER IX. THROWING THE LAVENDER
CHAPTER X. AIMING HIGH
CHAPTER XI. A SWOI-REE
CHAPTER XII. TATTERSALL'S
CHAPTER XIII. LOOKING BACK
CHAPTER XIV. CROSSING THE BORDER
CHAPTER XV. THE IRISH PREFACE
THE ATTACHE; OR SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND.
CHAPTER I.
THE NOSE OF A SPY
"Squire." said Mr. Hopewell, "you know Sam well enough,
I hope, to make all due allowances for the exuberance of
his fancy. The sketch he has just given you of London
society, like the novels of the present day, though
founded on fact, is very unlike the reality. There may
be assemblages of persons in this great city, and no
doubt there are, quite as insipid and absurd as the one
he has just pourtrayed; but you must not suppose it is
at all a fair specimen of the society of this place. My
own experience is quite the reverse. I think it the most
refined, the most agreeable, and the most instructive in
the world. Whatever your favourite study or pursuit may
be, here you are sure to find well-informed and enthusiastic
associates. If you have merit, it is appreciated; and
for an aristocratic country, that merit places you on a
level with your superiors in rank in a manner that is
quite incomprehensible to a republican. Money is the
great leveller of distinctions with us; here, it is
talent. Fashion spreads many tables here, but talent is
always found seated at the best, if it thinks proper to
comply with certain usages, without which, even genius
ceases to be attractive.
"On some future occasion, I will enter more at large on
this subject; but now it is too late; I have already
exceeded my usual hour for retiring. Excuse me. Sam.
said he. 'I know you will not be offended with me, but
Squire there are some subjects on which Sam may amuse,
but cannot instruct you, and one is, fashionable life in
London. You must judge for yourself, Sir. Good night,
my children."
Mr. Slick rose, and opened the door for him, and as he
passed, bowed and held out his hand. "Remember me, your
honour, no man opens the door in this country without
being paid for it. Remember me, Sir."
"True, Sam," said the Minister, "and it is unlucky that
it does not extend to opening the mouth, if it did, you
would soon make your fortune, for you can't keep yours
shut. Good night."
The society to which I have subsequently had the good
fortune to be admitted, fully justifies the eulogium of
Mr. Hopewell. Though many persons can write well, few
can talk well; but the number of those who excel in
conversation is much greater in certain circles in London,
than in any other place. By talking well, I do not mean
talking wisely or learnedly; but agreeably, for relaxation
and pleasure, are the principal objects of social
assemblies. This can only be illustrated by instancing
some very remarkable persons, who are the pride and
pleasure of every table they honour and delight with
their presence But this may not be. For obvious reasons,
I could not do it if I would; and most assuredly, I would
not do it if I could. No more certain mode could be
devised of destroying conversation, than by showing, that
when the citadel is unguarded, the approach of a friend
is as unsafe as that of an enemy.
Alas! poor Hook! who can read the unkind notice of thee
in a late periodical, and not feel, that on some occasions
you must have admitted to your confidence men who were
as unworthy of that distinction as, they were incapable
of appreciating it, and that they who will disregard the
privileges of a table, will not hesitate to violate even
the sanctity of the tomb. Cant may talk of your "_inter
pocula_" errors with pious horror; and pretension, now
that its indulgence is safe, may affect to disclaim your
acquaintance; but kinder, and better, and truer men than
those who furnished your biographer with his facts will
not fail to recollect your talents with pride, and your
wit and your humour with wonder and delight.
We do not require such flagrant examples as these to
teach us our duty, but they are not without their use in
increasing our caution.
When Mr. Hopewell withdrew, Mr. Slick observed:
"Ain't that ere old man a trump? He is always in the
right place. Whenever you want to find him, jist go and
look for him where he ought to be, and there you will
find him as sure as there is snakes in Varginy. He is a
brick, that's a fact. Still, for all that, he ain't jist
altogether a citizen of this world nother. He fishes in
deep water, with a sinker to his hook. He can't throw a
fly as I can, reel out his line, run down stream, and
then wind up, wind up, wind up, and let out, and wind up
again, till he lands his fish, as I do. He looks deep
into things, is a better religionist, polititioner, and
bookster than I be: but then that's all he does know. If
you want to find your way about, or read a man, come to
me, that's all; for I'm the boy that jist can do it. If
I can't walk into a man, I can dodge round him; and if
he is too nimble for that, I can jump over him; and if
he is too tall for that, although I don't like the play,
yet I can whip him.
"Now, Squire, I have been a good deal to England, and
crossed this big pond here the matter of seven times,
and know a good deal about it, more than a great many
folks that have writtin' books on it, p'raps. Mind what
I tell you, the English ain't what they was. I'm not
speakin' in jeest now, or in prejudice. I hante a grain
of prejudice in me. I've see'd too much of the world for
that I reckon. I call myself a candid man, and I tell
you the English are no more like what the English used
to be, when pigs were swine, and Turkey chewed tobacky,
than they are like the Picts or Scots, or Norman, French,
or Saxons, or nothin'."
"Not what they used to be?" I said. "Pray, what do you
mean?"
"I mean," said he, "jist what I say. They ain't the same
people no more. They are as proud, and overbearin', and
concaited, and haughty to foreigners as ever; but, then
they ain't so manly, open-hearted, and noble as they used
to be, once upon a time. They have the Spy System now,
in full operation here; so jist take my advice, and mind
your potatoe-trap, or you will be in trouble afore you
are ten days older, see if you ain't."
"The Spy System!" I replied. "Good Heavens, Mr. Slick,
how can you talk such nonsense, and yet have the modesty
to say you have no prejudice?"
"Yes, the Spy System," said he, "and I'll prove it. You
know Dr. Mc'Dougall to Nova Scotia; well, he knows all
about mineralogy, and geology, and astrology, and every
thing a'most, except what he ought to know, and that is
dollar-ology. For he ain't over and above half well off,
that's a fact. Well, a critter of the name of Oatmeal,
down to Pictou, said to another Scotchman there one day,
'The great nateralist Dr. Mc'Dougall is come to town.'
"'Who?' says Sawney.
"'Dr. Mc'Dougall, the nateralist,' says Oatmeal.
"'Hout, mon,' says Sawney, 'he is nae nateral, that chiel;
he kens mair than maist men; he is nae that fool you take
him to be.'
"Now, I am not such a fool as you take _me_ to be, Squire.
Whenever I did a sum to, school, Minister used to say,
'Prove it, Sam, and if it won't prove, do it over agin,
till it will; a sum ain't right when it won't prove.'
Now, I say the English have the Spy System, and I'll
prove it; nay, more than that, they have the nastiest,
dirtiest, meanest, sneakenest system in the world. It is
ten times as bad as the French plan. In France they have
bar-keepers, waiters, chamber galls, guides,
quotillions,--"
"Postilions, you mean," I said.
"Well, postilions then, for the French have queer names
for people, that's a fact; disbanded sodgers, and such
trash, for spies. In England they have airls and countesses,
Parliament men, and them that call themselves gentlemen
and ladies, for spies."
"How very absurd!" I said.
"Oh yes, very absurd," said Mr. Slick; "whenever I say
anythin' agin England, it's very absurd, it's all prejudice.
Nothin' is strange, though, when it is said of us, and
the absurder it is, the truer it is. I can bam as well
as any man when bam is the word, but when fact is the
play, I am right up and down, and true as a trivet. I
won't deceive you; I'll prove it.
"There was a Kurnel Dun--dun--plague take his name, I
can't recollect it, but it makes no odds--I know _he_ is
Dun for, though, that's a fact. Well, he was a British
kurnel, that was out to Halifax when I was there. I know'd
him by sight, I didn't know him by talk, for I didn't
fill then the dignified situation I now do, of Attache.
I was only a clockmaker then, and I suppose he wouldn't
have dirtied the tip eend of his white glove with me
then, any more than I would sile mine with him now, and
very expensive and troublesome things them white gloves
be too; there is no keepin' of them clean. For my part,
I don't see why a man can't make his own skin as clean
as a kid's, any time; and if a feller can't be let shake
hands with a gall except he has a glove on, why ain't he
made to cover his lips, and kiss thro' kid skin too.
"But to get back to the kurnel, and it's a pity he hadn't
had a glove over his mouth, that's a fact. Well, he went
home to England with his regiment, and one night when he
was dinin' among some first chop men, nobles and so on,
they sot up considerable late over their claret; and poor
thin cold stuff it is too, is claret. A man _may_ get
drowned in it, but how the plague he can get drunk with
it is dark to me. It's like every thing else French, it
has no substance in it; it's nothin' but red ink, that's
a fact. Well, how it was I don't know, but so it
eventuated, that about daylight he was mops and brooms,
and began to talk somethin' or another he hadn't ought
to; somethin' he didn't know himself, and somethin' he
didn't mean, and didn't remember.
"Faith, next mornin' he was booked; and the first thing
he see'd when he waked was another man a tryin' on of
his shoes, to see how they'd fit to march to the head of
his regiment with. Fact, I assure you, and a fact too
that shows what Englishmen has come to; I despise 'em,
I hate 'em, I scorn such critters as I do oncarcumcised
niggers."
"What a strange perversion of facts," I replied.
But he would admit of no explanation. "Oh yes, quite
parvarted; not a word of truth in it; there never is when
England is consarned. There is no beam in an Englishman's
eye; no not a smell of one; he has pulled it out long
ago; that's the reason he can see the mote in other
folks's so plain. Oh, of course it ain't true; it's a
Yankee invention; it's a hickory ham and a wooden nutmeg.
"Well, then, there was another feller got bagged t'other
day, as innocent as could be, for givin' his opinion when
folks was a talkin' about matters and things in gineral,
and this here one in partikilar. I can't tell the words,
for I don't know 'em, nor care about 'em; and if I did,
I couldn't carry 'em about so long; but it was for sayin'
it hadn't ought to have been taken notice of, considerin'
it jist popt out permiscuous like with the bottle-cork.
If he hadn't a had the clear grit in him, and showed
teeth and claws, they'd a nullified him so, you wouldn't
have see'd a grease spot of him no more. What do you call
that, now? Do you call that liberty? Do you call that
old English? Do you call it pretty, say now? Thank God,
it tante Yankee."
"I see you have no prejudice, Mr. Slick," I replied.
"Not one mite or morsel," he replied. "Tho' I was born
in Connecticut, I have travelled all over the thirteen
united univarsal worlds of ourn and am a citizen at large.
No, I have no prejudice. You say I am mistaken; p'raps
I am, I hope I be, and a stranger may get hold of the
wrong eend of a thing sometimes, that's a fact. But I
don't think I be wrong, or else the papers don't tell
the truth; and I read it in all the jarnals; I did, upon
my soul. Why man, it's history now, if such nasty mean
doins is worth puttin' into a book.
"What makes this Spy System to England wuss, is that
these eaves-droppers are obliged to hear all that's said,
or lose what commission they hold; at least so folks tell
me. I recollect when I was there last, for it's some
years since Government first sot up the Spy System; there
was a great feed given to a Mr. Robe, or Robie, or some
such name, an out and out Tory. Well, sunthin' or another
was said over their cups, that might as well have been
let alone, I do suppose, tho' dear me, what is the use
of wine but to onloosen the tongue, and what is the use
of the tongue, but to talk. Oh, cuss 'em, I have no
patience with them. Well, there was an officer of a
marchin' regiment there, who it seems ought to have took
down the words and sent 'em up to the head Gineral, but
he was a knowin' coon, was officer, and _didn't hear it_.
No sooner said than done; some one else did the dirty
work for him; but you can't have a substitute for this,
you must sarve in person, so the old Gineral hawls him
right up for it.
"'Why the plague, didn't you make a fuss?' sais the
General, 'why didn't you get right up, and break up the
party?'
"'I didn't hear it,' sais he.
"'You didn't hear it!' sais Old Sword-belt, 'then you
had ought to have heerd it; and for two pins, I'd sharpen
your hearin' for you, so that a snore of a fly would wake
you up, as if a byler had bust.'
"Oh, how it has lowered the English in the eyes of
foreigners! How sneakin' it makes 'em look! They seem
for all the world like scared dogs; and a dog when he
slopes off with his head down, his tail atween his legs,
and his back so mean it won't bristle, is a caution to
sinners. Lord. I wish I was Queen!"
"What, of such a degraded race as you say the English
are, of such a mean-spirited, sneaking nation?"
"Well, they warn't always so," he replied. "I will say
that, for I have no prejudice. By natur, there is sunthin'
noble and manly in a Britisher, and always was, till this
cussed Spy System got into fashion. They tell me it was
the Liberals first brought it into vogue. How that is.
I don't know; but I shouldn't wonder if it was them, for
I know this, if a feller talks _very_ liberal in politics,
put him into office, and see what a tyrant he'll make.
If he talks very liberal in religion, it's because he
hante got none at all. If he talks very liberal to the
poor, talk is all the poor will ever get out of him. If
he talks liberal about corn law, it tante to feed the
hungry, but to lower wages, and so on in every thing a
most. None is so liberal as those as hante got nothin'.
The most liberal feller I know on is "Old Scratch himself."
If ever the liberals come in, they should make him Prime
Minister. He is very liberal in religion and would jine
them in excludin' the Bible from common schools I know.
He is very liberal about the criminal code, for he can't
bear to see criminals punished. He is very liberal in
politics, for he don't approbate restraint, and likes to
let every critter 'go to the devil' his own way. Oh, he
should be Head Spy and Prime Minister that feller.
"But without jokin' tho', if I was Queen, the fust time
any o' my ministers came to me to report what the spies
had said, I'd jist up and say, 'Minister,' I'd say, 'it
is a cussed oninglish, onmanly, niggerly business, is
this of pumpin', and spyin', and tattlin'. I don't like
it a bit. I'll have neither art nor part in it; I wash
my hands clear of it. It will jist break the spirit of
my people. So, minister look here. The next report that
is brought to me of a spy, I'll whip his tongue out and
whop your ear off, or my name ain't Queen. So jist mind
what I say; first spy pokes his nose into your office,
chop it off and clap it up over Temple Bar, where they
puts the heads of traitors and write these words over,
with your own fist, that they may know the handwritin',
and not mistake the meanin', _This is the nose of a Spy_."
CHAPTER II.
THE PATRON; OR, THE COW'S TAIL.
Nothing is so fatiguing as sight-seeing. The number and
variety of objects to which your attention is called,
and the rapid succession in which they pass in review,
at once wearies and perplexes the mind; and unless you
take notes to refresh your memory, you are apt to find
you carry away with you but an imperfect and indistinct
recollection.
Yesterday was devoted to an inspection of the Tunnel and
an examination of the Tower, two things that ought always
to be viewed in juxta-position; one being the greatest
evidence of the science and wealth of modern times; and
the other of the power and pomp of our forefathers.
It is a long time before a stranger can fully appreciate
the extent of population and wealth of this vast metropolis.
At first, he is astonished and confused; his vision is
indistinct. By degrees he begins to understand its
localities, the ground plan becomes intelligible and he
can take it all in at a view. The map is a large one; it
is a chart of the world. He knows the capes and the bays;
he has sailed round them, and knows their relative
distance, and at last becomes aware of the magnitude of
the whole. Object after object becomes more familiar. He
can estimate the population; he compares the amount of
it with that of countries that he is acquainted with,
and finds that this one town contains within it nearly
as great a number of souls as all British North America.
He estimates the incomes of the inhabitants, and finds
figures almost inadequate to express the amount. He asks
for the sources from whence it is derived. He resorts to
his maxims of political economy, and they cannot inform
him. He calculates the number of acres of land in England,
adds up the rental, and is again at fault. He inquires
into the statistics of the Exchange, and discovers that
even that is inadequate; and, as a last resource, concludes
that the whole world is tributary to this Queen of Cities.
It is the heart of the Universe. All the circulation
centres here, and hence are derived all those streams
that give life and strength to the extremities. How vast,
how populous, how rich, how well regulated, how well
supplied, how clean, how well ventilated, how healthy!--what
a splendid city! How worthy of such an empire and such
a people!
What is the result of his experience? _It is, that there
is no such country in the world as England, and no such
place in England as London; that London is better than
any other town in winter, and quite as good as any other
place in summer; that containing not only all that he
requires, but all that he can wish, in the greatest
perfection, he desires never to leave it._
Local description, however, is not my object; I shall
therefore, return to my narrative.
Our examination of the Tower and the Tunnel occupied the
whole day, and though much gratified, we were no less
fatigued. On returning to our lodgings, I found letters
from Nova Scotia. Among others, was one from the widow
of an old friend, enclosing a memorial to the
Commander-in-Chief, setting forth the important and
gratuitous services of her late husband to the local
government of the province, and soliciting for her son
some small situation in the ordnance department, which
had just fallen vacant at Halifax. I knew that it was
not only out of my power to aid her, but that it was
impossible for her, however strong the claims of her
husband might be, to obtain her request. These things
are required for friends and dependants in England; and
in the race of competition, what chance of success has
a colonist?
I made up my mind at once to forward her memorial as
requested, but pondered on the propriety of adding to it
a recommendation. It could do no good. At most, it would
only be the certificate of an unknown man; of one who
had neither of the two great qualifications, namely,
county or parliamentary interest, but it might do harm.
It might, by engendering ridicule from the insolence of
office, weaken a claim, otherwise well founded. "Who the
devil is this Mr. Thomas Poker, that recommends the prayer
of the petition? The fellow imagines all the world must
have heard of him. A droll fellow that, I take it from
his name: but all colonists are queer fellows, eh?"
"Bad news from home?" said Mr. Slick, who had noticed
my abstraction. "No screw loose there, I hope. You don't
look as if you liked the flavour of that ere nut you are
crackin' of. Whose dead? and what is to pay now?"
I read the letter and the memorial, and then explained
from my own knowledge how numerous and how valuable were
the services of my deceased friend, and expressed my
regret at not being able to serve the memorialist.
"Poor woman!" said Mr. Hopewell, "I pity her. A colonist
has no chance for these things; they have no patron. In
this country merit will always obtain a patron--in the
provinces never. The English are a noble-minded, generous
people, and whoever here deserves encouragement or reward,
is certain to obtain either or both: but it must be a
brilliant man, indeed, whose light can be perceived across
the Atlantic."
"I entertain, Sir," I said, "a very strong prejudice
against relying on patrons. Dr. Johnson, after a long
and fruitless attendance on Lord Chesterfield, says:
'Seven years, my Lord, have now past, since I waited in
your outward rooms, or was repulsed from your door; during
which time I have been pushing on my work, through
difficulties, of which it is useless to complain, and
have brought it at last to the verge of publication,
without one act of assistance, one word of encouragement,
or one smile of favour. Such treatment I did not expect,
for I never bad a patron before."
"Ah!" said Mr. Hopewell, "a man who feels that he is
wrong, is always angry with somebody else. Dr. Johnson,
is not so much to be admired for the independence that
dictated that letter, as condemned for the meanness and
servility of seven years of voluntary degradation. It is
no wonder he spoke with bitterness; for, while he censured
his Lordship, he must have despised himself. There is
a great difference between a literary and a political
patron. The former is not needed, and a man does better
without one; the latter is essential. A good book, like
good wine, needs no bush; but to get an office, you want
merits or patrons;--merits so great, that they cannot be
passed over, or friends so powerful, they cannot be
refused."
"Oh! you can't do nothin', Squire," said Mr. Sick, "send
it back to Old Marm; tell her you have the misfortin to
be a colonist; that if her son would like to be a constable,
or a Hogreave, or a thistle-viewer, or sunthin' or another
of that kind, you are her man: but she has got the wrong
cow by the tail this time. I never hear of a patron, I
don't think of a frolic I once had with a cow's tail;
and, by hanging on to it like a snappin' turtle, I jist
saved my life, that's a fact.
"Tell you what it is, Squire, take a fool's advice, for
once. Here you are; I have made you considerable well-known,
that's a fact; and will introduce you to court, to king
and queen, or any body you please. For our legation,
though they can't dance, p'raps, as well as the French
one can, could set all Europe a dancin' in wide awake
airnest, if it chose. They darsent refuse us nothin',
or we would fust embargo, and then go to war. Any one
you want to know, I'll give you the ticket. Look round,
select a good critter, and hold on to the tail, for dear
life, and see if you hante a patron, worth havin'. You
don't want none yourself, but you might want one some
time or another, for them that's a comin' arter you.
"When I was a half grow'd lad, the bears came down from
Nor-West one year in droves, as a body might say, and
our woods near Slickville was jist full of 'em. It warn't
safe to go a-wanderin' about there a-doin' of nothin',
I tell _you_. Well, one arternoon, father sends me into
the back pastur', to bring home the cows, 'And,' says
he, 'keep a stirrin', Sam, go ahead right away, and be
out of the bushes afore sun-set, on account of the bears,
for that's about the varmints' supper-time.'
"Well, I looks to the sky, and I sees it was a considerable
of a piece yet to daylight down, so I begins to pick
strawberries as I goes along, and you never see any thing
so thick as they were, and wherever the grass was long,
they'd stand up like a little bush, and hang in clusters,
most as big and twice as good, to my likin', as garden
ones. Well, the sun, it appears to me, is like a hoss,
when it comes near dark it mends its pace, and gets on
like smoke, so afore I know'd where I was, twilight had
come peepin' over the spruce tops.
"Off I sot, hot foot, into the bushes, arter the cows,
and as always eventuates when you are in a hurry, they
was further back than common that time, away ever so fur
back to a brook, clean off to the rear of the farm, so
that day was gone afore I got out of the woods, and I
got proper frightened. Every noise I heerd I thought it
was a bear, and when I looked round a one side, I guessed
I heerd one on the other, and I hardly turned to look
there before, I reckoned it was behind me, I was e'en
a'most skeered to death.
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