Independance and the right of self-government, when they hold half of
their own race in political bondage?”
Says I, firmly, “I think it is a mean trick in ’em.”
Says she, bitterly: “Can’t you say sunthin’ more than that?”
“Yes,” says I, “I can, and will; it is mean as pusly, and meaner.”
Says she, “What do you think of their meetin’ here and glorifyin’ the
sentiment up to the heavens in words, ‘true government consists in the
consent of the governed’ and tramplin’ it practically down to the dust
under their feet? What do you think of this great ado over grantin’ the
makin’ of our laws to the Irishman jest out of prison, whom they dislike
and despise—and denyin’ these rights to intelligent, native-born
citizens, whom they love and respect? What do you think of their taxin’
the Christian and earnest souled woman, worth half a million, and leave
it to men, not worth the shoes they wear to the pole, the ignorant, and
the vicious, to vote how that money shall be used; she, by the work of
her hands or brains, earnin’ property to be used in this way, in makin’
and enforcin’ laws she despises and believes to be ruinous, and unjust
in the sight of God and man. What do you think of this?” says she.
Says I, with a calm but firm dignity: “I think pusly is no meaner.”
“Oh!” says she, turnin’ her nose in the direction of the Main Buildin’
and shakin’ her brown lisle thread fist at it, “how I despise men! Oh,
how sick I be of ’em!” And she went on for a long length of time, a
callin’ ’em every name I ever heerd men called by, and lots I never
heerd on, from brutal whelps, and roarin’ tyrants, down to lyin’
sneakin’ snipes; and for every new and awful name she’d give ’em, I’d
think to myself: why, my Josiah is a man, and Father Smith was a man,
and lots of other relatives, and 4 fathers on my father’s side. And so
says I:
“Sister, what is the use of your runnin’ men so?” says I, mildly, “it is
only a tirin’ yourself; you never will catch ’em, and put the halter of
truth onto ’em, while you are a runnin’ ’em so fearfully; it makes ’em
skittish and baulky.” Says I, “Men are handy in a number of ways, and
for all you seem to despise ’em so, you would be glad to holler to some
man if your horse should run away, or your house git a fire, or the ship
go to sinkin’, or anything.”
Says she, “Men are the most despiseable creeters that ever trod shoe
leather.”
“Well,” says I, calmly, “take wimmen as a race, mom, and they don’t
cherish such a deadly aversion to the other sect as you seem to make out
they do; quite the reverse and opposite. Why, I have seen wimmen act so,
a follerin’ of ’em up, pursuin’ of ’em, clingin’ to ’em, smilin’ almost
vacantly at ’em; I have seen ’em act and behave till it was more
sickenin’ than thoroughwort to my moral stomach.” Says I, “I cherish no
such blind and almost foolish affection for ’em as a sect, (one, I
almost worship) but I have a firm, reasonable, meetin’-house esteem for
’em, as a race. A calm, firm regard, unmoved and stiddy as a settin’
hen; I see their faults, plainly, very—as my Josiah will testify and
make oath to; and I also see their goodnesses, their strength, their
nobilities, and their generosities—which last named are as much more
generous than ourn, as their strength is stronger.”
Says I, “Pause a moment, mom, in your almost wild career of runnin’ men
down, to think what they have done; look round the world with your
mind’s eye, and see their work on land and sea. See the nations they
have founded; see the cities stand where there used to be a wilderness:
see the deserts they have made to blossom like a rosy; see the victories
they have got over time and space,—talkin’ from one end of the world to
the other in a minute, and travellin’ almost as quick, through mountains
and under the water, and every thing. See how old ocian herself—who used
to roar defiance at ’em—was made by ’em to bile herself up into steam to
git the victory over herself. And in spite of the thunder that tried to
scare ’em out, see how they have drawrd the lightnin’ out of the heavens
to be their servant. Look there,” says I, pintin’ my forefinger
eloquently towards the main Halls: Machinery, Agricultural—and so
4th—“see the works of that sect you are runnin’ so fearfully; see their
time-conquerin’, labor-savin’ inventions, see—”
“I won’t see,” says she, firmly, and bitterly. “I won’t go near any of
their old machines; I’ll stand by my sect, I’ll stick to the Woman’s
Pavilion. I haint been nigh Machinery Hall, nor the Main Buildin’, nor
the Art Gallery, nor I won’t neither.”
“I have,” says I, in triumphant, joyful tones, “I have been lost in ’em
repeatedly, and expect to be again. I have been destracted and melted
down in ’em, and have been made almost perfectly happy, for the time
bein’, to see the wonderful fruits of men’s intellects; the labor of
strong heads and hearts; to see the works of men’s genius, and
enterprise, and darin’; the useful, the beautiful and grand, the heroic
and sublime. Why I have been so lifted up that I didn’t know but I
should go right up through the ruff, (over 200 pounds in all). I have
been elevated and inspired as I don’t expect to be elevated and lifted
up again for the next 100 years. And lookin’ round on what I see, and
thinkin’ what I thought, it made me so proud and happy, that it was a
sweet thought to me that my Josiah was a man.”
“Oh shaw!” says she, “you had better be a lookin’ at the Woman’s
Pavilion, than lookin’ on what them snipes have done.”
Says I, “Do you take me for a natteral fool mom? Do you s’pose I am such
a fool or such a luny, that every time I have looked at the Woman’s
Pavilion, and gloried over the works of her hands and brains, I haint
felt jest so—only more so?” Says I, “That buildin’ stands there to-day
as a solid and hefty proof that wimmen are sunthin’ more than the
delicate, and helpless zephyrs and seraphines, that they have been
falsely pointed out to be.” Says I, “It is a great scientific fact, that
if men go to canterin’ blindly down that old pathway of wimmen’s
weakness and unfitness for labor and endurance and inability to meet
financikal troubles and discouragements again, they must come bunt up
ag’inst that buildin’ and recognize it as a solid fact, and pause before
it respectfully, ponderin’ what it means, or else fall. They can’t step
over it, their legs haint long enough.”
And says I, “It is earnest thought and work that has filled it, and that
is what wimmen want to do—to do more, and say less. No stream can rise
higher than its fountain; a universe full of laws to elevate wimmen
can’t help her, unless she helps herself. Sufferagin’ will do a good
deal, but it haint a goin’ to fill up a empty soul, or a vacant
frivolous mind. There are thoughts that have got to turn right square
round and travel another road; there is tattin’ and bobinet lace to be
soared over; there is shoulder blades that has got to be put to the
wheel. Every flag on the buildin’ seems to float out like good deeds and
noble eloquent thoughts, while the gabriel ends stand firm under ’em,
like the firm, solid motives and principles that great and good deeds
have got to wave out from, in order to amount to anything.”
“But,” says she, “the mean snipes won’t let us vote.”
Says I calmly, “That’s so; they haint willin’ all on ’em, to give us the
right of sufferagin’ jest at present, and as I have said, and say now,
it is mean as pusly in ’em. But it don’t look so poor in them as it does
in the wimmen that oppose it, a fightin’ ag’inst their own best
interests. It seems to me that any conscientious, intelligent woman, who
took any thought for herself and her sect, would want a Right to—”
Here she hollered right out interruptin’ me; says she: “Less vote! less
take a hammer and go at the men, and make them let us vote this minute.”
Says I, “I’d love to convince men of the truth, but it haint no use to
take a hammer and try to knock unwelcome truths into anybody’s head,
male or female. The idee may be good, and the hammer may be a moral,
well meanin’ hammer; but you see the dander rises up in the head that is
bein’ hit, and makes a impenetrable wall, through which the idee can’t
go; that is a great philosophical fact, that can’t be sailed round, or
climbed over. And it is another deep scientific principle, that you
can’t git two persons to think any more of each other or think any
nearer alike by knockin’ their heads together. Nobody can git any water
by breakin’ up a chunk of ice with a axe; not a drop; you have got to
thaw it out gradual; jest like men’s and wimmen’s prejudices in the
cause of Wimmen’s Rights. Public sentiment is the warm fire that is a
goin’ to melt this cold hard ice of injustice that we are contendin’
ag’inst; laws haint good for much if public opinion don’t stand behind
’em pushin’ ’em onward to victory.”
“I wont wait a minute,” says she, “I will vote.”
But I argued with her; says I: “Sister, you are well meanin’, no doubt,
but you ort to remember that the battle haint always to the swift.” Says
I, “It wont harm none of us to foller Nater’s ways a little more close;
and Nater is a female that—if she is ruther slow motioned—generally has
her way in the end to an uncommon degree. You don’t catch her gittin’
mad, wild, impatient, tearin’ open a kernel of corn, or grain of wheat,
or anything, and growin’ a stalk out of it sudden and at once. No! jest
like all patient toilers for the Right, she plants the seed, and then
lets it take time to swell out, and git full to bustin’ with its own
convictions and desires to grow, till it gits so sick of the dark ground
where it is hid, and longs so for the light and the free air above it,
that it can’t be kep’ back a minute longer, but soars right up of its
own free will and accord, towards the high heavens and the blessed
sunlight. But if seeds haint good for nothin’, they wont come up; all
the sunshine and rain on earth can’t make ’em grow, nor cultivators, nor
horse rakes, nor nothin’.
“And so with principles. Lots of folks spend most of their days a
plantin’ seeds that wont come up. What is worthless wont amount to
nothin’—in accordance with that great mathematical fact, that scientific
folks like me apply to lots of things, and find that it comes right
every time—that ort from ort leaves nothin’, and nothin’ to carry. But
if the idee is true and has got life in it, no matter how dark the mould
that covers it, it is morally bound to sprout—positively bound to, and
can’t be hindered. Don’t you know, when a big forest has been cut down,
berry bushes will spring right up, seem to have stood all ready to
spring up for the refreshin’ of men and wimmen jest as quick as the
shadders of the tall trees had got offen ’em; curious, but so it is. Who
knows how many centuries them seeds have laid there a waitin’ their time
to grow, gittin’ sick of the shadders mebby, but jest a waitin’ with
considerable patience after all.
“And thinkin’ of these things mom, ort to make us considerable patient
too, willin’ to work, and willin’ to wait; knowin’ that gittin’ mad and
actin’ haint a goin’ to help us a mite; knowin’ that the seeds of good
and right, planted with tears and prayers, are bound to spring up
triumphant; knowin’ that the laughin’ and cold sneers of the multitude
haint a goin’ to frost bite ’em; knowin’ that the tears of weakness, and
weariness, and loneliness, fallin’ from human eyes over the hoe handle
in plantin’ time, only moistens the sod, and kinder loosens it up
first-rate. And that even the ashes of persecution, and all the blood
that falls in righteous cause, only nourishes the snowy flowers and
golden grain of the future. Mebby it is our mission to clear away trees
and stumps—sort o’ wood choppers, or sawyers—I don’t care a mite what I
am called. We may never see the seed spring up; we may not be here when
it breaks through the dark mould triumphant; but somebody will see it;
happy skies will bend over it; happy hearts will hail it; and if
Freedom, Truth, and Justice is remembered, what matters it if Josiah
Allen’s wife is forgotten.”
Says she, “I _will_ hammer ’em.”
I declare for’t I had forgot where I was, and who I was, and who she
was, and who Josiah was—I was carried away such a distance by my
emotions. But her remark soared up like a brass pin or a tack nail, and
pierced my wrapped mood. I see I hadn’t convinced her, her eyes looked
wild and glarin’.
“Well,” says I, “if you do you will probable have the worst of it,
besides injurin’ the hammer.”
Jest at that very minute I see Josiah a comin’, and I watched that
beloved and approachin’ form for mebby half or two thirds of a minute,
and when I looked round again she was gone, and I was glad on’t; I never
liked her looks. And in a few minutes Miss Bean come too, and says she:
“Don’t you want to go and see some relicks?”
Says I, “I haint particular either way. Bein’ a respectable married
woman with a livin’ pardner of my own, I shant make no move either way,
I shant run towards ’em or from ’em. Havin’ lived a vegetable widow for
so many years, I s’pose _you_ feel different about relicks.”
Says she, “I mean relicks from Jerusalem and other old places, made out
of wood from Mount Olive, and the cross, and the Holy Sepulchre, and so
4th.” And then she kinder whispered to me: “They do say that they have
used up more than ten cords of stove-wood right here in the village of
Filadelphy, a makin’ relicks for Turks to sell—Turks right from
Ireland.” Says she, “You are so awful patriotic you ort to see George
Washington’s clothes, and old Independence Hall, and Liberty bell.”
[Sidenote: AMONG THE RELICS]
Says I in agitated axents: “Cousin Bean has George Washington got any
clothes here to the Sentinal?”
“Yes,” says she, “they are in the United States Government Buildin’.”
I gripped holt of her hand, and says I, “Lead me there instantly!” and
she led the way to the buildin’.
But though I see everything on my way and more too seeminly, I didn’t
seem to sense anything as it should be sensed, till I stood before them
relicks; and then, oh! what feelins I did feel as I see that coat and
vest that George had buttoned up so many times over true patriotism,
truthfulness, and honor. When I see the bed he had slept on, the little
round table he had eat on, the wooden bottomed chair he had sot down on,
the belluses he had blowed the fire with in cold storms and
discouragements; and then to see the bed quilts worked by his own
mother, and to think what powerful emotions, what burnin’ plans, what
eager hopes, and what dark despairs they had covered up in 76. And then
to see—a layin’ on the bed—the cane that Benjamin give to George, and to
see George’s glasses and candle stick, and trunks and etcetery. Why,
they all rousted up my mind so, that I told Josiah I must see
Independance Hall before I slept, or I wouldn’t answer for the
consequences. I was fearfully rousted up in my mind, as much so as if my
emotions had been all stirred up with that little hatchet that G. W.
couldn’t tell a lie with.
Leavin’ Miss Bean, we started off for Independance Hall. What feelins I
felt, as I stood in the room where our 4 fathers signed the papers
givin’ their childern liberty; where them old fathers signed the deed
without flinchin’ a hair, though they well knew that it had got to be
sealed red with their blood. To stand on that very floor—kinder
checkered off—that they had stood on, to see them very chairs that they
had sot in, and then to see their brave, heroic faces a lookin’ down on
me—I felt strange, curious. And there was that old bell that had rung
out the old slavery and oppression, and rung in the new times of freedom
and liberty. My emotions tuckered me out so that when I got to sleep
that night, I was dreamin’ that I was upon the top of that bell a
swingin’ over the land, soarin’ right back and forth; a swingin’ back
into them times that tried men’s and wimmen’s souls, and then forth
again into the glorious nineteenth century. I had a awful time of it,
and so did Josiah, and I wouldn’t go through it again for a dollar bill,
and Josiah says he wouldn’t.
[Illustration]
ANOTHER DAY ON THE GROUNDS.
The next mornin’ we got onto the grounds early and took a short tower
through the Main Buildin’ when Josiah says to me all of a sudden:
“Less go and be elevated Samantha!”
Says I, “What do you mean, Josiah Allen?” I was skairt; I thought he was
goin’ the way of lunys.
“Why,” says he “I mean less go and be elevated up in the elevator.”
“Oh!” says I, “I thought you wanted me to go and git intoxicated with
you.”
I didn’t blame Josiah, for I knew it was a principle implanted in his
sect to see all they could see, but still I hung back; I didn’t feel
like it; somehow I didn’t feel like bein’ elevated; and knowin’ what
would be the strongest argument to bear onto him, I mentioned the
expense, but he argued back again:
“Ten cents won’t make or break us. Do less be elevated Samantha; come
on, less.”
So seein’ he was determined on’t, we went back again into the Main
Buildin’ and was elevated. And what a sight that was that was spread out
below us. Never shall I forget it while memory sets up in her high
chair. As I looked on it all, I couldn’t think of but jest one thing,
how the—the—D—D—David took the Master up on a high mountain, and showed
him all the kingdoms and glory of the world, and—Josiah hunched me jest
then and says he: “Haint you glad I took you up here, Samantha?”
And then I told him what I was thinkin’ of, and he didn’t seem to like
it; he wanted to know in a cross, surly tone “if I was a hingin’ on
him;” I told him I wasn’t.
And then we traipsed around to see several other things, until I was
tired completely out. I thought seein’ so much would sort o’ quiet
Josiah down, but it only made him more rampant to see more; he wanted to
see some wild beasts; he said he wanted to go to the bear pits.
Says I, “_I_ don’t want to see any wild beasts.”
“Well,” says he, “you set down here and rest, and I will come back in
half an hour or three quarters.”
So he left me, and soon after, I thought I would saunter around the
grounds all alone by myself, and while doin’ so, I arrove at the same
fountain I and Josiah had looked upon several days previous; where the
beautiful girls was upholdin’ the platter on which the water was a
fallin’; and as my eyes fell upon it, they also fell upon the form of my
Josiah, a gazin’ upon the female figgers in wrapped attention.
[Illustration: ADMIRIN’ THE BEAUTIFUL WATER.]
[Sidenote: AMONG THE WILD BEASTS]
But as I have remarked once before (I believe,) I haint a jealous hair
in my head, but I can’t deny that I was dumbfoundered now. I took him
firmly by the arm; says I:
“What are you a lookin’ at, Josiah Allen?”
He was awful surprised; but it’s wonderful how the male sect will turn
off anything. Says he: “I was a admirin’ the water, Samantha, how
beautiful it biles up and then falls down into the platter.” And he
turned round to the fountain.
Says I, “Josiah Allen, are these the wild beasts, is this the bear pit
you wanted to see?” And I added in dry tones: “You had better hereafter
remain near your pardner.” And I led him away. We sauntered along for
some time, but Josiah was dretful uneasy. I never see him so restless;
and anon, says he: “I feel to-day, somehow, Samantha, jest like
meanderin.”
I see it was no use to restrain him, and says I:
“Well, _you_ can keep right on a meanderin’, but _I_ can’t meander
another step.” Says I—wipin’ my heated forward on my white cotton
handkerchief—“I have meandered too much now for my own good, and I must
go to some quiet spot, where I can rest both my limbs and the eyes of my
spectacles, for they are both fearfully weary. I must have a little
quiet, Josiah Allen.”
Says he, “How will you git holt of any quiet here, Samantha?”
Says I, “I have heerd it is to be obtained down in the raven between
this Hall and the Artemus Gallery;” so he said he would meet me there in
a couple of hours, and started off. The raven (probable so called from
ravens bein’ found there in the past) is perfectly delightful. A brook
goes laughin’ through it; there is beautiful shady walks and bridges,
easy benches are to be found under the great noble forest trees, and
there is green grass, and ferns, and daisies, and a spring with a
tin-dipper. It is a lovely place, and I sot down feelin’ first-rate.
Nobody’s arms, not even the most trained nurses, can rest a tired baby
so well as its mother’s; nobody can rest the weary, and fatigued out
like Nater. I hadn’t been there more’n 2 minutes before I begun to feel
rested off, and as it is my way to do, I begun to think deeply and
allegore to myself. Thinks’es I, here I be in Pennsylvany; and then I
went to thinkin’ of Penn,—thought what a noble, good man he was;
thinks’es I, no wonder the Pennsylvanyans have prospered; no wonder the
Sentinal stands firm, for they all stand on ground honestly bought from
their true owners, by that noble Penn, and paid for.
[Sidenote: THE INDIAN QUESTION]
And then I thought a sight about Penn; how firm his scalp always stood,
how peaceful his frontiers was, and I wondered if there would be so much
Injun difficulty if the spirit of honesty, justice, and truth, that he
showed to the Injuns, could be showed to ’em now. Anyway, as I sot
there, I wished eloquently to myself, that when he ascended to the
Heavens prepared for just men, his mantilly could have fell onto the men
who make our laws, and could be wore now in Washington by them, and laid
gracefully accrost the Injun Buro.
I was just a thinkin’ this to myself when I see a dretful pleasant
lookin’ lady come and set down on a bench only a little ways from me.
She had such a good look onto her that I says to a man who happened to
be a goin’ by where I sot, “Can you tell me who that lady is?” “Mrs.
Ulysses Grant,” says he. “Not she that was Julia Dent?” says I. “Yes,”
says he. I walked right up to her and says I—holdin’ out my hand in a
warm and affectionate manner:
“How do you do, Julia? I am highly tickled to see you; how does the baby
do—and how does Mr. Dent’ses folks do? Are they all so as to be about?”
says I, “I am Josiah Allen’s wife.”
“Oh!” says she, “I have heerd my husband speak of you.” And she shook
hands with me, and made room on the bench for me to set down by her.
“Yes,” says I, “I rescued him when he called for peace and couldn’t find
it; I had the honor of savin’ him from pain and Betsey Bobbet.” I
thought I would explain it to her, though she didn’t act jealous a mite.
But it is always best to explain to wimmen jest what business you and
her pardner have been talkin’ about.’ It may save some bad feelin’
towards _you_, and some curtain lectures for _him_.
Says I, “I had a talk with your husband in the cause of Right, and
advised the Nation promiscously through him. But there was several other
things I wanted to say, but I see he was gittin’ hungry, and so, of
course, fractious and worrysome, and I stopped in a minute, for I well
know there is a time to advise men, and a time to refrain from it.” Says
I, “Wimmen who have had a man to deal with for any length of time, learn
to take advantage of times and seasons.”
I see by her looks she didn’t want no tutorin’ on that subject—she haint
nobody’s fool. Says she, “What did you want to speak to my husband
about?”
Says I, “I wanted to talk to him more about the Injuns.”
Says she, “My husband has honestly tried to do the best he could with
’em.”
Says I, “I believe it Julia; I believe it from nearly the bottom of my
heart.”
Says she, “They are a low, dirty, degraded race.”
Says I, “It haint reasonable to expect to git high-toned virtues and
principles from ignorance and superstition. Think of minds narrowed down
to one thought, by a total lack of culture and objects of interest;
think of their constant broodin’ over the centuries of wrongs they think
they have endured from the white race; and what wonder is it that this
spirit flames out occasionally in deeds that make the world shudder. And
then, people will shet their eyes to the causes that led to it, and lift
up their hands in horrer, and cry out for extermination.”
Says Julia, “It is Destiny; it is the wave of civilization and progress
that is movin’ on from the East to the West. The great resistless wave
whose rush and might nothin’ can withstand. Rushin’ grandly onward,
sweepin’ down all obstacles in its path.”
Says I, “Julia, that is a sublime idee of yourn, very sublime, and
dretful comfortin’ to the waves; but let me ask you in a friendly way,
haint it a little tough on the obstacles?”
She said that it was, though she hadn’t never looked at it so much in
that light before.