plan, firm, and grand and decided. And I put in the Ingun summer, because
you know jest how a mountain will look standin’ a considerable ways above
you on the first of October--kind o’ mellow and peaceful and benign. But
you realize all the time, that under all the green and shady growth of
its mosses and evergreens, it has been growin’ gradual but stiddy through
the centuries. Under all that viel of shinin’ blue gawze, wove out of
mist one way, with a warp of sunshine, under all the mellow colerin’ the
time of the year has give it, there is a good strong back bone of solid
rock in the old mountain, that couldn’t be broke by all the hammers in
creation.
That was jest my idee of his face, a mountain in Indgun summer, facin’
the sunrise. Standin’ up so high that it ketches a light on its forward
before the world below gets lit up. Firm, solid principles with the edge
took off of ’em, and kinder topped off with the experiences, and gradual
convictions and discoveries of a noble life. And all softened down by the
calmness and quiet of the time of day, and the fall of the year. That was
the way Horace Greeley’s face looked to me as I got a full view of it as
he set to his desk a writin’.
In the dead of night on my own peaceful goose feather bed at home, I had
made a speech all up in my mind for that glorious occasion, when 2 firm
and true principled minds should meet--which was Horace’s mind and mine.
For though we conflict in some things, the good of the Human Race is as
dear as our apples is, in our eyes. But at the first sight of that noble
face, my emotions got up and overpowered me so, that I forgot every word
of my speech, and all I could say was, in thick tones of feelin’ and
principle,
“Horace, I have come.”
His face grew almost black with fear and anger. He sprang up, and waved
me back with his right hand and shouted to me,
“It is in vain madam! you are the 94th woman who has been here to-day
after office. Female lobsteress depart! Get thee behind me Sa--female!”
Says I with deep emotion, “Horace you don’t know me! I am not a female
lobsteress! I am Josiah Allen’s wife.”
He came forward and shook hands with me, and says he, “I know you will
excuse my vehemence, when I tell you, I am almost devoured by office
seekers!” He cleared a path through the papers on the floor to some
chairs, but as we set down, he continued in tremblin’ tones, for it
seemed as if he couldn’t forget his troubles,
“Foxes and woodchucks have holes, but a candidate for the Presidency
can’t find none small enough to hide in. I _did_,” says he sithin deeply,
“I _did_ have a few peaceful, happy hours in the suller of my dwellin’
house;” he paused, overcome by sad recolections, and says I, deeply
sympathizin’ and interested,
“What broke it up Horace?”
“They found the out door suller way; so,” says he sithin agin, “I lost
that peaceful haven.”
“Wall,” says I, tryin’ to soothe his agitation,
“You’re one in a high, noble place, Horace.”
[Illustration: INTERVIEW WITH HORACE]
“Yes!” says he, “but it places anybody under a very strong light--a very
strong light. I have never done anything out of the way sense I was first
born, but what I have seen it in the papers. I tore my pantaloons once,”
says he, gloomily, “in gettin’ over the fence at the early age of 2 and
a half, and I bit my mother once at the age of 7 months a nursin’, I
could wish these two errors of my past to be forgotten by the world and
overlooked, but in vain. I am taunted with ’em on every side. I never
threw a boot jack at a tom cat in the dead of the night, but what my
picture has been took in the act, I never swore a oath to myself in the
depths of my own stomach, but what I have seen that unspoken oath in the
papers. I never jawed Mrs. Greeley about my shirt buttons,” he continued,
sadly, “in the depths of our secluded chamber, but what it has been
illustrated with notes.”
As he spoke of jawin’ about shirt buttons, I says to myself, “How much!
how much human nature is alike in all men,” and I says aloud,
“How much you remind me of Josiah.”
“Of Josiah!” says he, and that name seemed to make him remember himself,
and to come nobly out of his gloomy reflections. “Josiah, he is your
husband! Oh yes, Josiah Allen’s wife! I am glad to meet you, for although
I couldn’t comply with the request your letter contained, yet it
convinced me that you are a sincere friend to the human race.”
“Yes,” says I, “Horace, I am, and I want you to consider my request over
agin.”
But he interrupted me hurriedly, seemin’ to want to turn my mind from
that subject.
“What do you think of Fourier’s system, Josiah Allen’s wife?” says he,
lookin’ at me languidly over his specks.
Says I, “I never see Mr. Fourier. How can I tell you any thing about
the old man’s health, whether his system is all right, or whether he is
enjoyin’ poor health. Horace, I come to talk with you on more important
things.”
But he continued placidly, hopin’ to draw my mind off,
“What do you think of Darwin’s idees?”
“Darwin who?” says I. “Darwin Gowdey? I don’t know any other Darwin, and
I never mistrusted that he had any idees, he is most a natural fool.”
Says he, “about our descendin’ from a monkey?”
Says I, with dignity, “I don’t know how it is with you, but I know that
I couldn’t descend from a monkey, never bein’ on one’s back in my whole
life.” Says I, “I never looked well in the saddle any way bein’ so hefty.
But,” says I, in a liberal way, “if you, or anybody else wants to ride
monkeys, you have the privilege, but I never had no leanin’ that way.”
And agin, says I, in agitated tones, “you needn’t try to take my mind
oft’en the deep and momentous subject on which it is sot, by talkin’
about ridin’ monkeys. Horace I have come clear down here to the village
on purpose to ask you to examine your platform, and see if there hain’t
no loose boards in it where some of the citizens of the United States,
such as wimmen can fall through. Platforms, that are built over the deep
waters, ought to be sound, and every board ought to be nailed down tight,
so that nobody--not even the smallest and weakest--can fall through and
get drownded.” Says I, “Your door step is most all good solid timber, but
I feel there is one old, mouldy, worm eaten board that is loose in it.”
And with emotion renderin’ my voice weak as a cat, says I, “Horace, I
want you to examine your door step and lay down a new board, and I will
help you do it. I come a purpose to.”
He see it was vain to turn the current of my thoughts round, and says he
in a decided way,
“You must have become aware of my views from the contents of my letter.
You got my letter?” says he in a enquirin’ tone.
“Yes,” says I, “we have framed it and got a glass over it, jest because
it was your writin’, but there seemed to be a mistake in it; it seemed to
be wrote to Josiah.”
Says he, “What did you make it out to be?”
Says I, “it seemed to run as follers--‘I don’t want to purchase any more
shoats.’
“Josiah did have a uncommon kind of pigs, and we thought mebby you had
heard that Josiah wanted to sell you one, though it was a mistake, for
he swapped a couple with Deacon Gowdey for a yearlin’ heifer, and he
didn’t have no more left than he wanted to keep over.”
He said we didn’t read it right. It read, ‘I don’t approve of any
wimmen’s votes.’ And says he, leanin’ back in his chair, “That is the
ground I take, I don’t believe in Wimmen’s Rights. I don’t see what
rights they want--more’n they have now.”
Then I dove right into the subject that was the nearest to my heart (with
the exception of Josiah) and says I, “Horace, we want the right of equal
pay for equal laber. The right of not bein’ taxed without representation.
The right of not bein’ compelled, if she is a rich woman, of lettin’ her
property go to support public men, who are makin’ laws that are ruinin’
them she loves best, such as givin’ licences to ruin body and soul. The
right to stand by the side of all good and true soles in the nation, and
tryin’ to stop this evil spirit of intemperance and licentiousness that
is runnin’ rampant through the land. The right to--”
I don’t know how much longer I should have gone on, but in the noble
forgetfulness of yourself that always accompanies genius, I had riz
up, and by an unguarded wave of my right hand a wavin’ in eloquence I
tipped over my umberell. Horace picked it up (he is a perfect gentleman
at heart) and says he, “Set down Josiah Allen’s wife, don’t fatigue
yourself too much.”
Rememberin’ myself, I sot down, and Horace, pensively wipin’ his brow
with his lead pencil, went on to say,
“I admit there is some truth in what you say, Josiah Allen’s wife. I
admit, as a truthful man should, that whatever wimmen has laid thier
hands to, such as churches, hospital work, foreign missionary work,
ragged schools, Sunday schools, charity balls and fairs, and Good
Templars, they have done more than men in thier efforts and good
influence. They are more patient than men; they are not so strong, but
they are more persistent. When they once get a plan in thier heads, they
are awful to hold on--if they can’t accomplish it in one way, they will
take another.”
Says I, “that is jest what Josiah says. He says, ‘I always have my own
way.’”
“I admit, that whenever wimmen have been admitted in any public affairs,
they have had a puryfyin’, and softnin’ and enoblin’ influence. But I
deny that votin’ and havin’ a voice in public affairs is goin’ to better
the condition of either wimmen or the nation.”
Says I, “Horace, the old White House needs puryfyin’ more than any
horsepittle or meetin’ house in creation.” And says I, “Let wimmen lay
to, and help clean house.” Says I, “let her try her hand for one year,
and see what she can do.”
Says Horace, goin’ on placidly with his own thoughts, “It is not the
change that would be wrought in public affairs I dread, so much as the
change in the wimmen themselves, if they should mingle in the wild vortex
of political life. I have two daughters, and rather than have them lose
all thier delicacy, and enter political life and mount the rostrum, I
would lay them in thier grave. I don’t believe,” says he, with great
decision, “I don’t believe in wimmen leadin’ off into politics, and
mountin’ the rostrum.”
I interupted him with a earnest tone; “you needn’t twit me of that, no
more Horace. I don’t want to mount no rostrum. I had ruther give Josiah
20 curtain lectures than to give half of one to the public, there would
be more solid satisfaction in it. But as far as indelicacy is concerned,
it is no more immodest for a woman to lead off in politics than to lead
off one of your indecent German waltzes with a man.” Says I, “you men
think it hain’t indelicate for wimmen to go with you to balls, and to
theatres, and into the wild vortex of the ocean a bathin’ with you--and
to post offices, and to fires, and fairs, and horse races, and to church,
and to heaven with you. But it is awful to go and drop a little slip of
white paper into a box, once a year with you.”
Says Horace wavin’ off that idee, “Woman holds in her arms a more
powerful ballot than she can in her hands. Let her mould her baby boy, so
that in the future his mother will vote through him.”
Horace looked noble as he said this. His silver mounted spectacles shone
with pure feelin’ and principle. “But,” says I, in a reasonable tone,
“How can wimmen mould children, if she haint got any to mould? I haint
got any of my own, and lots of wimmen haint.” Says I, “such talk is
unreasonable, how can she go to mouldin’, when she haint got the
materials?”
“Let them influence thier husbands then,” says he, “the influence of
wimmen over men, is wonderful, and they can in this way wield a almost
sovereign power. And they do in many instances exert this indirect power
in an eminent degree.”
Says I, finally, “I don’t believe in no underhand proceedin’, I never
did. The idee of wimmen bein’ underhand, and go to mouldin’ men on the
sly, I don’t believe in it.” Says I, “accordin’ to your own story Horace,
wimmen have a influence in politics now.”
“Wall--yes--a sort of a indirect influence in thier families, as it were.”
Says I, “Horace can you look me straight in the spectacles and deny that
there is wimmen’s influence in politics at Washington to-day?” Says
I, “look at them female lobsteresses there.” Says I, “one handsome,
brilliant, unprincipled bad woman will influence 14 common men where a
modest humbly well wisher of her sect will one.” And says I, warmly, for
the thought of these female lobsteresses always madded me--“I should be
ashamed if I was in some of them Senators’ places, makin’ laws about the
Mormans.”
I see my deep principle was a floatin’ me off into a subject where as a
female I didn’t want to go, and so I choked back the words I was about to
utter which was, “I had jest as lives jine a Morman, as to jine one of
them.” I choked it back, and struggled for calmness, for I was excited.
But I did say this,
“I think good wimmen ought to have a chance with bad ones in political
affairs. For there is more good wimmen in the land than there is bad
ones, but now the bad ones have it all thier own way.”
Horace wiped his brow gently with his lead pencil, and said in a
thoughtful accent,
“There may be some truth in what you say Josiah Allen’s wife. I confess I
never looked at it in exactly this light before.”
Says I, in a triumphant glad tone, “That is jest what I told Josiah.”
Says I, “Josiah, Horace is all right, there never was a better meanin’
man on the face of the earth than Horace is. All he wants is to have some
noble principled woman to set him right in this one thing.”
I see in a minute that I had made a mistake. Men hate to be dictated
to by a woman, they hate to, like a dog. I see by his lowery brow that
I had put the wrong foot forrerd. For the time bein’ the sage and the
philosifer sunk down in his nature, and the _man_ spoke in the usual
manlike way.
“I say wimmen’s brains are too weak to grasp public matters. They have
remarkable intuitions I grant. A woman’s insight or instinct or whatever
you may term it, will, I grant, fly over a mountain and discover what is
on the other side of it, while a man is gettin’ his gunpowder ready to
make a tunnel through it. But they are not logical, they have not the
firm grasp of mind, the clear comprehension requisite to a voter.”
Says I, “Horace, which has the firmest grasp--the clearest comprehension,
a earnest intellegent christian woman, or a drunken Irishman?” Says I,
“Understand me Horace, I don’t ask which would sell thier votes at the
best lay, or vote the most times in one day--I dare say the man would
get ahead of the woman in these respects, bein’ naturally more of a
speculator--and also bein’ in practice. You know practice makes perfect.
I don’t ask you this. But I ask you and I want you to answer me Horace,
which would be in the best condition for votin’, Elizabeth Cady Stanton
gettin’ up off of her religious knees in the mornin’ after family
prayers, and walkin’--with the Constitution in one hand and the Bible in
the other--coolly and sensibly to the pole, or Patrick oh Flanegan comin’
out of a drunken wake, and staggerin’ up against the pole with a whisky
bottle in one hand and a club in the other, when he didn’t know nothin’
in the first place, and then had lost half or 3 quarters of that, in the
liquer some clear minded, logical man give him, for votin’ a few dozen
times for him?”
At this question Horace quailed a very little. But it was not the quail
of a weak man, there was principle in that quail, and a determination to
argue to the end, which is one of the charicterestics of that great and
good man. She that was Samantha Smith also possesses some of this spirit.
“Set down, Josiah Allen’s wife and don’t fatigue yourself too much,” says
Horace, for almost carried away by my emotions, I had riz’ up and stood
on my feet agin.
And he went on, “You put the case in a very strong light Josiah Allen’s
wife. That is one of the peculiar weaknesses of your sect. You don’t
possess sufficient moderation. You exaggerate too much.”
Says I, “publishin’ a daily paper for 20 years, has a tendency to make
any man a good judge of exaggeration, and if you see by my symptoms that
I have got it, I haint a goin’ to deny it. But you haint answered my
question yet Horace.”
Says he “Josiah Allen’s wife, my mind is firmly made up on this subject.
And nothin’ upon earth will ever change it. I am fully convinced that
woman’s enterin’ into public duties would result in makin’ her coarse and
unfeminine, and make her lose her love for home and husband. And then,
suppose she were eligible for public offices; imagine a lady blacksmith!
a lady constable! a lady president! it is absurd, Josiah Allen’s wife.”
Says I, “Horace, you are too smart a man to bring up such poor
arguments. You don’t see a little sickly, literary, consumptive,
broken backed blacksmith or constable. Men choose the occupations most
congenial, and suitable for them, and wimmen would do the same, anyway.
Rosa Bonheur chooses to live out doors half the time among cattle and
horses, and I presume she haint half so afraid of ’em as Mr. A. Tennyson
would be. I have heerd Thomas Jefferson read about ’em both. I don’t
suppose any woman would be compelled to be made a constable of, though if
they was, I presume men would submit to be incarcerated by ’em as quick
as they would by a male man.
“As for the idee of a lady president, I don’t know as it would be any
more absurd than a lady queen. Victory sets up pretty easy in her high
chair, there don’t seem to be anything very absurd about the Widder
Albert. You say public duties makes a woman coarse, and forgetful of home
and husband. Horace, look for one minute at the Widder Albert. Where
will you find among your weak fashionable wimmen, so lovin’ a wife, so
devoted a mother? Where will you find a bigger housefull of children,
brought up better than hern? She has had more public duties to perform
than goin’ once a year by the side of her husband, and votin’ for Justice
and Temperance. But did these public duties, that she performed so well,
wean her from her husband?” Says I, “did they take up her mind so that
she didn’t almost break her heart when he died?” says I, “Do you think a
honest desire to live a full life--to use every power that God has given
you--to do your very best for God and humanity, do you think that this
desire modestly and consistently carried into action, will make a woman
coarse and unwomanly, any more than this present fashionable education,
to flirt and simper and catch a rich husband?”
Says I, “You seem to think that votin’ is goin’ to be such a weight onto
a woman that it will drag her right down from her home into public and
political affairs and leave her there. Such talk is simple, for love
and domestic happiness will be the other weight to the steelyards, as
long as the world stands, and keep a woman’s heart and mind jest as
straight as a string. Votin’ haint a goin’ to spile any woman at all,
be she married, or be she single, and there is a class at the mercy of
the world, fightin’ its hard battle alone--it will _help_ them. The idee
of its hurtin’ a woman to know a little somethin’, is in my mind awful
simple. That was what the slaveholders said about the black Africans--it
would hurt ’em to know too much. That is what Mr. Pope says to-day about
his church members. But I say that any belief, or custom that relies on
oppression and ignorance and weakness to help it on in any degree, ought
to be exploded up. Beautiful weakness and simplicity, haint my style at
all in the line of wimmen. I have seen beautiful simplicities before
now, and they are always affected, selfish critters, sly, underhanded,
their minds all took up with little petty gossip and plottin’s. Why they
can’t set a teacup on the table in a open-hearted noble way. They have
to plot on some byway to get it there, unbeknown to somebody. Their
mouths have been drawed so into simpers, that they couldn’t laugh a
open generous laugh to save their lives. Always havin’ some spear ready
under their soft mantilly, to sweetly spear some other woman in the
back. Horace, they haint my style. Beautiful weakness and simplicity
may do for one evenin’ in a ball room. But it don’t wear well for all
the cares and emergencies that come in a life of from 40 to 50 years.
Was George Washington’s mother any the less a industrious equinomical
and affectionate wife and mother, because she took a interest in public
affairs?” And says I, with a lower and more modest tone, “Is Josiah
Allen’s wife on that account any the less devoted to Josiah?”
He knew I was perfectly devoted to that man. He set mewsin’ silently for
a time seemin’ly on somethin’ I had said heretofore, and finally he spoke
up. “The case of Victory is very different. A crown that descends on a
hereditary head is a different thing.”
“So ’tis,” says I, “But the difference is on the wrong side, for sposin’
it descends onto the head of a hereditary fool--or a hereditary mean
woman. If a woman was voted for it would be for goodness, or some other
good quality.”
Says Horace, wavin’ off that idee and pursuin’ after his own thoughts,
“Man is sometimes mistaken in his honest beliefs, but Nature makes her
laws unerringly. Nature intended the male of every species to take the
preeminence. Nature designed man to be at the head of all public affairs.
Nature never makes any mistakes.”
“Nature made queen bees Horace. Old Nature herself clapped the crown on
to ’em. You never heard of king bees, did you? Industrious equinomical
critters the bees are too. The public duties of that female don’t spile
her, for where will you find house-work done up slicker than hern? Where
will you find more stiddy, industrious, equinomical orderly doin’s
through a whole nation than she has in hern? All her constituents
up to work early in the mornin’, home at night too, jest as stiddy
as the night comes. No foreign spys can come prowlin’ ’round her
premises--speculators on other folks’es honey haint encouraged,--tobacco
is obnoxious to ’em. Only one thing I don’t approve of, if food is
skurce, if the females don’t get honey enough to last the whole hive,
all winter, they slaughter the male bees in the fall to save honey. I
don’t approve of it; but where will you find a great nater that haint
got its peculiar excentricities? This is hern. She wants to dispose of
the drones as they call the lazy husbands of the workin’ wimmen, and
she thinks killin’ is the easiest way to dispose of ’em. I say plainly
I don’t approve of it, it don’t seem exactly right to kill a husband to
save winterin’ him, it would seem better to me to get divorces from ’em
and set ’em up in business in a small way. But as I said, where is there
a nater that haint got a weakness? _this_ is hern. But aside from this
where will you find a better calculator than she is? No dashin’ female
lobsteresses pullin’ the wool over the eyes of _her_ Senators. No old
men bees gaddin’ ’round evenin’s when their confidin’ wives think they
are a-bed dreamin’ about their lawful pardners--no wildcatishness, and
smokin’ and drunkenness, and quarellin’ in _her_ Congress. You can’t
impeach _her_ administration no how, for no clock work ever run smoother
and honester. In my opinion there has a great many men set up in their
high chairs that would have done well to pattern after this Executive
female.”
As I finished, flushed with several different emotions, Horace rose up
and grasped me by the hand, and says almost warmly,
“I am glad to have met you, Josiah Allen’s wife, you have presented the
subject in a new, and eloquent light. I admire eloquence wherever I meet
it.”
The praise of this great, and good man was like manny to an Isrealitess.
My breast almost swelled with proud and triumphant emotions. But even
then, in that blissful moment, I thought of Josiah, no rock was ever
firmer than my allegience to that man, I withdrawed my hand gently from
his’en, and I said to him, with a beamin’ face,
“You grasped holt of my hand, Horace, with the noblest and purest of
feelin’s, but I don’t think Josiah would like to have me shake hands so
often with any man.”
Says he, “I honor your sentiments, Josiah Allen’s wife, I think you are a
firm principled woman, and a earnest, well wisher of your sect. But I do
think you are in a error, I honestly think so. The Creator designed woman
for a quiet, home life, it is there she finds her greatest happiness and
content. God gave her jest those faculties that fit her for that life.
God never designed her to go rantin’ round in public, preachin’ and
lecturin’.”