SOURCE: Panofsky, Ruth. “Breaking the Silence: The Clockmaker on Women.” In The Haliburton Bi-centenary Chaplet: Papers presented at the 1996 Thomas Raddall Symposium, edited by Richard A. Davies, pp. 41-53. Wolfville, N.S.: Gaspereau Press, 1997.

In a recent overview of African-Canadian literature, George Elliott Clarke refers to Thomas Chandler Haliburton as “Canada's most vaunted early writer” (7). More than 160 years following the appearance of The Clockmaker sketches, which established Haliburton as British North America's premier writer, Clarke reaffirms the author's unrivaled, hallowed position in Canadian letters. From the moment of conception, it would seem, Sam Slick ensured Haliburton's renown as a comic genius and a writer of political vision. In fact, throughout the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, literary historians and critics alike—from his earliest biographer V. L. O. Chittick to his most recent editor George L. Parker—have emphasized his humour and political themes when discussing Haliburton.

Like the privileged life he enjoyed, Haliburton's oeuvre occupies a place of privilege in our literary canon. To revisit his work in light of such contemporary concerns as misogyny or racism is to question and possibly violate the reputation of one of our great writers and historical figures. Partly for this reason, scholars have chosen to focus on Haliburton's virtues rather than his vices.

As a contemporary female reader and scholar, I am intrigued by Haliburton's continued appeal and reputation as a learned and respected member of the literary elite. I suspect this is the result of deliberately overlooking aspects of his work, as recent scholars—myself among them—have done. When, for example, I chose to write my doctoral dissertation on Haliburton, I took as my focus the bibliographical challenges presented by The Clockmaker series. Given that focus, I could disregard the troubling aspects of the text: the elitist attitudes that shape the narrative; the exclusively male world it depicts; its sharp disdain for Nova Scotians; its unabashed racism; and its denigration of women. I reasoned that my interest in the bibliographical aspects of the series allowed me to put aside my concerns, legitimate as they were and continue to be. Moreover, there could be no doubt that among nineteenth-century Canadian texts, The Clockmaker series raises significant bibliographical questions. Hence, my choice of dissertation topic could not be disputed, and I was encouraged to proceed with my work. As I did so, however, I grew increasingly uncomfortable, particularly when reading Haliburton's text rather than measuring the size of paper or type. I confess that I have always felt ill at ease with The Clockmaker series, and that feeling accounts for this reading of its treatment of women, for if today we remain silent on the disturbing aspects of the work, we are sanctioning the negative views it expresses.

Haliburton's literary status remains unchallenged precisely because so much in his work is ignored. In fact, when the broad range of ideas is considered, Haliburton's writing is shown to be more complex and certainly less innocuous than previously thought. By focusing on the representation of women in The Clockmaker series, I address the conventional whitewashing of Haliburton as comic genius and political visionary. My aim here is neither to malign his character nor to diminish his successes, but to provide the necessary context for an informed reading of Haliburton's most popular work.

What is most striking upon a close rereading of The Clockmaker series is the repeated and caustic derision it directs at women and Blacks alike. This sort of humour—difficult as it is to tolerate today—was publicly sanctioned during the first half of the nineteenth century, when The Clockmaker series was written and first published. No doubt, Haliburton understood that the contempt Sam Slick expressed would be generally accepted—perhaps even by those Slick ridiculed—for he continued to mine the same material in each of the three series of The Clockmaker. In fact, for Slick, women and Blacks represent two disenfranchised groups whose vulnerable positions in an all-white patriarchy make them easy targets for his often-times vicious humour.

While late twentieth-century readers recognize similarities in Slick's treatment of both groups, Haliburton himself would have dismissed this proposition as unthinkable. In fact, despite their inferior social standing, the white women who are vilified in the text remain apart from and, in every respect, superior to the Black characters. This is shown to be the case throughout the series, as Slick carefully directs his barbs at either one group or the other, but rarely at women and Blacks simultaneously. Exceptions occur only when women severely reprimand their Black servants for apparent misdeeds, and thereby show themselves to be assertive and controlling, an important point which I shall consider more fully later in this paper. In a discussion such as this, however, which explores the representation of a particular group, the slightest textual advantage that group enjoys must be acknowledged at the outset.

The Clockmaker, first series, begins, “I was always well mounted” (8), which ostensibly refers to Squire Poker's preference for fast horses. To mount, however, can mean “to get upon, for the purpose of copulation” (Oxford 710), so the line may also be read as a bawdy joke. In fact, throughout The Clockmaker series, Sam Slick compares horses and women, which supports a non-literal reading of this first line of text. As he says, “Any man … that understands horses, has a pretty considerable fair knowledge of women too, for they are jist alike in temper, and require the very identical same treatment” (52). Women are so many “grey mare[s]” (Haliburton 120) or “splendid little fillies” (Haliburton 465) who entrap men, for

matrimony … an't like a horse deal, where, if you don't like the beast, you can put it off in a raffle, or a trade, or swop and suit yourself better; but you must make the best of a bad bargain, and put up with it. It ain't often you meet a crittur of the right mettle; spirited, yet gentle; easy on the bit, sure-footed and spry; no bitin', or kickin', or sulkin', or racin' off, or refusin' to go or runnin' back, and then clean-limbed and good carriage. It's about the difficultest piece of business I know.

(Haliburton 401-02)

The metaphor of woman as “crittur” to be “mounted” ensures the success of the first joke of the series. The Squire strategically employs sexual innuendo at the start of the sketches, interpellating an audience of mostly male readers who certainly would enjoy his wit. Moreover, the instantaneous connection between text and reader is reinforced regularly by similar comic moments that punctuate the narrative, aimed deliberately at those who would appreciate sexual humour.

Reducing women to their sexual function—which likens them to animals—is a familiar comic technique. In fact, women are presented as animals or “critturs” (465) throughout The Clockmaker series. Having begun with an analogy of women and horses, the text continues in this vein, picturing women as heifers. According to Slick, all “galls” (196) are heifers, young cows who have not yet produced calves. Slick is particularly fond of young girls on the brink of maturity. He enjoys their mischievous ways, made all the more pleasant by their openness and nubile bodies. Although they are often foolish and naive, these traits further endear young women to Slick.

Interestingly, The Clockmaker series is unusually forgiving of “galls” who have yet to cross over into womanhood, an inevitability of marriage. In fact, the experience of legitimate, adult sexual relations within marriage transforms young girls into shrewish wives, the unfortunate victims of Slick's tireless attacks throughout the sketches. With sexual experience comes knowledge and a degree of sophistication that neither Slick nor his narrative will tolerate in women. Hence, his adoration of the beguiling “heifers” he meets on his travels: sexually naive girls who remain subordinate to men.

Throughout The Clockmaker, youth is the most valuable female asset. Past the first blush of young womanhood—with its promise of vitality and fertility—one's opportunities of marriage diminish significantly. Slick understands the dependent position of young women in the society of his day, their urgent need to marry for economic security and social standing, and he recounts the cautionary tale of Dora, who “warnt a bad lookin heifer”:

Whenever you see … [a gall] with a whole lot of sweet hearts, its an even chance if she gets married to any on em. One cools off, and another cools off, and before she brings any on em to the right weldin heat, the coal is gone and the fire is out. Then she may blow and blow till she's tired; she may blow up a dust, but the deuce of a flame can she blow up agin, to save her soul alive. I never see a clever lookin gall in danger of that, I dont long to whisper in her ear, you dear little critter, you, take care, you have too many irons in the fire, some on ‘em will get stone cold, and tother ones will get burnt so, they'll never be no good in natur.

(196-97)

Slick uses the very real vulnerability of women as the basis for this humorous anecdote. It was generally understood in the clockmaker's time—as it is today among certain cultural groups—that women become less marriageable as they age. Hence, Slick's advice to his female readers is not to squander valuable male attention. Rather, a young woman ought to choose her spouse wisely, and not delay that important decision. To illustrate this point, Slick cites the resourcefulness of Phoebe, Reverend Joshua Hopewell's daughter, who against her father's advice accepted “the next offer she had … said she had no notion to loose another chance, [and] off she sot to Rhode Island and got married” (72).

The imbalance of power between men and women becomes painfully evident here. As soon as she moves beyond marriageable age—an age designated by men—a young woman loses the fleeting advantage she may have enjoyed. Or as Slick says in his own inimitable style,

when a woman begins to grow saller its all over with her; she's up a tree then you may depend, there's no mistake. You can no more bring back her bloom, than you can the color to a leaf the frost has touched in the fall. It's gone goose with her, that's a fact. And that's not all, for the temper is plaguy apt to change with the cheek too. When the freshness of youth is on the move, the sweetness of temper is amazin apt to start along with it.

(200)

Moreover, Slick's anecdotes and advice concern attractive women only, an implicit but nonetheless clear signal that plain women are severely disadvantaged in courtship and marriage, if they participate at all in these social rituals. In fact, Slick infrequently encounters homely women, who remain largely invisible throughout his travels across the province.

In Slick's counsel that wives, like other domesticated beasts, are tempered by the occasional beating, The Clockmaker further exploits the metaphor of woman as animal. For today's readers, this is perhaps the least palatable aspect of the series' harsh treatment of women. When Haliburton wrote his sketches, however, Slick's advice was in accordance with law and social convention. In her ground-breaking study, Petticoats & Prejudice: Women and Law in Nineteenth-Century Canada, Constance Backhouse explains the “‘doctrine of marital unity’” which “meant that the very existence of the wife was legally absorbed by her husband” (177). In marriage, husband and wife were regarded as one person, with all the power and privilege held by the man. Backhouse describes the typical nineteenth-century marriage as follows:

Wives … were to be obedient, restrained, forgiving, and passive. Through prudent forbearance and submission they were to accommodate themselves to their husbands' desires. Legally denied any semblance of independence or autonomy, women were admonished to meet temper with meekness and harsh conduct with self-abasement. Most important, patriarchal marriage was predicated upon the silence of women. Institutionalized male supremacy in marriage required that family problems be screened from public gaze. Those who complained too loudly threatened the entire inequitable arrangement with exposure.

(176-77)

In fact, the law encouraged the perception and treatment of wives as the property of their husbands who were legally permitted, within reason, to “correct” spousal “misbehaviour.” That “wife battering was the logical, inevitable consequence” (Backhouse 179) is not surprising since “a husband's violence was thought to be but one manifestation of the commonly accepted power imbalance between spouses” (Backhouse 187).

Throughout The Clockmaker series, the characterization of women is coloured by their inferior position within Nova Scotia law. As lawyer and later judge with the Inferior Court of Common Pleas, Haliburton himself would be intimately familiar with the laws pertaining to women and marriage. In fact, it was during his early years of tenure as judge that he began work on The Clockmaker sketches, which draw so obviously on his legal and political knowledge.

Slick advocates whipping women who disobey men. Proudly, he tells the tale of an unfortunate woman—identified only as John Porter's impudent wife—whom he subdues by “seizing her by the arm with one hand … [and quilting] her with the horsewhip real handsum, with the other” (150). Humiliation is another favourite technique to ensure wifely obedience. One woman who “tried to rule her husband a little tighter than was agreeable,—meddlin' with things she didn't onderstand, and dictatin' in matters of politicks and religion” (Haliburton 253) is publicly shamed for her inappropriate behaviour and attitudes. Clearly, women who find their roles too circumscribed and act on their desires and interests—no matter how innocent their actions may be—face extreme censure and possible violence. As Slick proclaims, “A woman, a dog, and a walnut tree / The more you lick ‘em, the better they be” (152).

Throughout The Clockmaker sketches, in addition to his treatment of women as animals, Slick sees humour in female stereotypes. The women Slick meets on his travels are often mothers and housewives, those most likely to show an interest in his clocks. In fact, without his female patrons—who appreciate the clocks as both practical and attractive—Slick would not have succeeded as a salesman. In return for their trade, however, he regards them as fools and uses them harshly as targets of ridicule throughout his narrative.

Mothers are excessively fond of their children, taking “more pains to spoil ‘em and make ‘em disagreeable than any thing else” (Haliburton 401). Nonetheless, Slick uses maternal love to his advantage, praising children in order to win their mothers' admiration. In fact, The Clockmaker series upholds the contemporary “cult of motherhood”—meant to elevate the role of mothers (Backhouse 202)—as it exploits its comic potential. Haliburton appears to have understood that any power mothers may have held was tenuous for, in reality, they were little more than figureheads within their own households. As Clara Brett Martin, Canada's first woman lawyer, pointed out, a mother was “legally in exactly the same position as a stranger,” since

children belong to the father,—they are his, and his only. The father is the sole guardian of his infant children, and no contract before marriage that the mother is to have the custody and control of the children of that marriage is binding on the husband, nor will the courts enforce it.

(34)

Today one recognizes the irony in a law that blatantly denied the real circumstances of a woman's life—that the care and rearing of children were, in fact, her primary responsibilities within the family. By mocking the devoted mother, Slick exploits that irony for comic purposes and exposes the vulnerability of women within a patriarchal institution that disregarded maternal rights.

While mothers are accorded a slight respect, housewives are a constant source of humour throughout the series. Wives and homemakers are regarded as ignorant and superficial, traits that Slick repeatedly scorns in order to show the wisdom of men and the folly of women. In fact, the housewives Slick encounters are caricatures that draw on popular stereotypes. They are easily flattered, susceptible to the “soft sawder” (Haliburton 16) Slick practices so skillfully. Always hoping to impress others, they are greedy and materialistic. Vain and romantic, they occupy their leisure time with idle chatter and malicious gossip. Housewives are falsely modest and innately inferior to their spouses. Their wily attempts to cuckold their husbands, for example, always fail. For Slick, however, their greatest shortcoming is their unattractiveness, since housewives soon lose the beauty they once had as “galls” and young brides.

The general disdain for housewives and mothers expressed throughout The Clockmaker series—the only acceptable roles for females at the time—speaks to the difficult position and narrow lives of women in nineteenth-century Nova Scotia. As subordinates to and the property of men, women had no autonomy and no power to change their enforced dependency. As we have seen, even minor deviations from normative behaviour were regarded as severe violations of sacrosanct rules. If she acted inappropriately, a woman was defying patriarchal convention and was ostracized as a result.

One such woman was the accomplished British author, Harriet Martineau, who is attacked in the second series for having written daring and outrageous “books on economy,—not domestic economy, as galls ought, but on political economy, as galls oughtent, for they don't know nothin' about it” (249). An independent, intellectual woman who appears to be travelling alone through the United States, Martineau is an obvious target for Slick's satire. What proves most galling to Slick, however, is that she boldly expresses personal views that differ strikingly from his own.

Both in conversation and in her books, Martineau deliberately oversteps nineteenth-century limitations imposed on womens' activities. By participating fully in public life—by publishing her work to wide acclaim, travelling across the ocean to visit foreign countries, and engaging strangers in conversation—Martineau can only be seen as a threatening presence and dismissed as an aberration within the pages of The Clockmaker series. In fact, so at odds is she with the text's ideological position on women, that she must be framed as somewhat less than a complete woman. Hence, Slick begins by ridiculing Martineau's deafness: “She had a trumpet in her hand,—thinks I, who on airth is she agoin to hail, or is she agoin' to try echoes on the river? I watched her for some time, and found it was an ear trumpet” (249). Since Martineau challenges Slick's perception of women as naive and beautiful “critturs,” she must be considered unnatural. Thus, to discredit both her intellect and her womanliness, the author is presented as marred and imperfect, an insidious but necessary characterization in a text that will not accommodate the expression of female autonomy.

Ironically, when women are given any autonomy in The Clockmaker series, they behave with extreme cruelty and malice. As I suggested earlier in this paper, wives are assertive and controlling only when dealing with their Black servants. Significantly, female employers, rather than their husbands, are vengeful toward servants who always receive the full extent of their wrath, regardless of the circumstance. Slick describes a plantation owner, for example,

a dreadful cross grained woman, a real cantamount, as savage as a she bear that has cubs, an old farrow crittur, as ugly as sin, and one that both hooked and kicked too—a most particular onmarciful she devil, that's a fact. She used to have some of her niggers tied up every day and flogged uncommon severe, and their screams and screaches were horrid, no soul could stand it—nothin was heerd all day but oh Lord Missus, oh Lord Missus.

(64)

Another woman reprimands her maid—“you good for nothin hussy … You good for nothin stupid slut” (Haliburton 170)—for inadvertently allowing the family dog into the dairy. That The Clockmaker series sanctions the ruthless treatment of Blacks generally has been examined elsewhere by George Elliott Clarke.¹ What concerns me here is the aggressive response to Blacks by women specifically, and a possible explanation for that hostility.

The malevolence of white women toward their Black domestic workers is always impulsive and random. Their reactions are irrational and strong, having little connection to the actual behaviour of their servants. At the slightest provocation, they lash out verbally and physically, seeming to relish the powerful expression of outrage. As we have seen, however, women's usual bearing throughout The Clockmaker sketches—even when there is legitimate cause for a different response—is passive obedience. Only with their servants are they rash authoritarians.

An imbalance of power is likely at the root of this contradictory behaviour. Within their domestic prisons, white women had no autonomy and held little real power. As wives and mothers, they were responsible for fulfilling the needs of others and were expected to deny their own desires. If they felt dissatisfied and restrained, to express those feelings would be to defy the patriarchal norms for women, a risk they likely would avoid. Hence, they direct their indignation outward to their Black servants, men and women who were considered racially and socially inferior to their white mistresses. This expression of rage—sadly misdirected and reaping tragic results—provides the illusion of power for a fleeting moment. In fact, throughout The Clockmaker series, women are only permitted illusory power—at infrequent intervals and at great cost to their own domestic situations. The abuse of Blacks by women, however, serves two important textual functions that Haliburton was not loath to exploit. First, it reinforces the pro-slavery ideology of the sketches, carefully documented by George Elliott Clarke, and second, it aims to pacify, however superficially, white women's thwarted desire for autonomy.

Today, as we honour Thomas Chandler Haliburton's historical significance and literary genius, we can neither ignore nor deny the subject matter of so much of his humour. To do so is to disregard the complexity of his work, in particular the immensely successful Clockmaker series. Studied in context, Haliburton emerges as a controversial figure whose writing addresses the most compelling issues of his time. That we now find Sam Slick a contentious character and his views rife with prejudice makes our task as late twentieth-century readers of Haliburton a challenging one, and shows his work to be significantly less transparent than once thought.

Notes

1. See “White Niggers, Black Slaves: Slavery, Race and Class in T. C. Haliburton's The Clockmaker,” Nova Scotia Historical Review 14.1 (1994): 13-40.

Works Cited

Backhouse, Constance. Petticoats & Prejudice: Women and Law in Nineteenth-Century Canada. Toronto: Women's, 1991.

Clarke, George Elliott. “A Primer of African-Canadian Literature: George Elliott Clarke's Short But Filled-to-Bursting History.” Books in Canada March 1996: 7-9.

Haliburton, Thomas Chandler. The Clockmaker: Series One, Two, and Three. Ed. George L. Parker. Centre for Editing Early Canadian Texts 10. Ottawa: Carleton UP, 1995.

Martin, Clara Brett. “Legal Status of Women in the Provinces of the Dominion of Canada (Except the Province of Quebec).” Women of Canada: Their Life and Work. National Council of Women of Canada. Ottawa, 1900. 34-35.

“Mount.” Oxford English Dictionary. Compact ed.