“And let ’em git a straight plain answer to it, before they set foot on it. Good land! The idee of shettin’ your eyes blindly, and runnin’ up a rascal because he happens to belong to your party. As for me, when I hold a rose I don’t care a cent whether it grew in a marble basin, or in the corner of a rail fence; I only ask myself calmly, is it fresh and sweet? If it is, I treasure it highly; if it is wormy and rotten at the heart, I spurn it from me almost indignantly.
“I advise this Nation as a friend and well wisher, to worship the true God, and not make a God of party and bow down to it. I advise it to choose men for leaders, who are true, and honest and God-fearin’. Men who are more careful of their character than of their reputation; more careful to have the National capitol clean on the inside than to flower off the front gate with brass nails; more sot on the Nation’s well-bein’ and prosperity, than on a big pocket-book, or a post-office and some minin’ and railroad shares for that brother-in-law; more anxious to have a white soul, than to white-wash their sepulchres. If the Nation votes for bad men, how does it expect to have good laws?” says I almost wildly. “Tell me, Ulysses, and tell me plainly; how can you expect to be led onward in a straight path by a blind man? How can you obtain figs from thistles, or anything to carry from an ort?
“If this Nation trusts God, and prizes the great gift our 4 fathers died to leave us as it ort to be prized, who can paint the glory and splendor before it. It is the home of the oppressed, and (when its laws relatin’ to wimmen are changed slightly) the true and only land of liberty and freedom; its virtues ort to be grand and lofty and picturesque—on a big noble New World plan. It ort to be as rich in goodness, as its earth is rich in gold and silver and preciousness. Its dignity and calmness ort to be wide and level and even, like its boundless praries; and at the same time, it ort to have brilliant, unexpected streaks and flashes of dazzlin’ generosities, jest like its flashin’ water-falls. Its principles ort to be as firm and solid and high toned and soarin’ as the biggest mountain peaks on the Yo Semitry; and these solid virtues ort to be trimmed and ornamented off with consideration for the rights of others, humanity, charity, courtesy and etcetery, and they ort to be jest as pinted and as ever-green as the big pines them firm old mountains have trimmed themselves off with. It should be jest as set on follerin’ the right, and headed jest as strong that way, and be jest as deep and earnest in that flow as Niagara is in hern; turnin’ not to the right hand nor to the left, not multiplyin’ words nor foolin’, but jest keep on a mindin’ its own business, and floodin’ right on.”
SAMANTHA ADVISIN’ PRESIDENT GRANT.
I ADVISE THE NATION THOUGH ITS GREAT MEN
And then I advised the Nation (through Ulysses,) what to do in the great cause of Wimmen’s Rights. I talked eloquent on that subject, and in closin’ up I drawed his mind back a few years to the time when a great war was goin’ on between justice and injustice, and how God wrought out of it the freedom of a race, before He gave the victory. I reminded him that another great battle was goin’ on now between temperance and intemperance, and how, in that warfare, I believed God was helpin’ another race of human female beins to liberty; by showin’ to man how He enabled them to win greater victories than had ever crowned man’s efforts, and provin’ what they would do for God and humanity if the power was given them. I told him I didn’t want to scare him or the Nation, but still it wouldn’t do no hurt for ’em to think back how God had kep’ that oppressed race from all harm while the warfare for ’em was a goin’ on, while thousands of them who had unjestly denied them their rights went down on the battle-field; and I hinted to him in a kind of a blind way, that it wouldn’t do no harm for the Nation once in a while to read over that old story of Pharioh; I told him—not knowin’ how well off they was for such readin’ in Washington—that he would find that story in the Bible.
I talked about the Heathen Chinee; I told him it seemed jest about as impossible to git a stun to keep company with a turnip, and make it its bride as to git a Chinee to fall in love with our institutions and foller ’em; and after a man had tried to git water and oil to mix in a friendly and sociable way—after he has sot and stirred ’em, and sweat over ’em for weeks and weeks, I don’t know as he would be to blame to empty the basin out for good; but then when I’d think again, I’d know it was cruel and awful to turn anybody out doors, (as it were) especially a heathen. And I knew I never could have the heart to do it, never in the world. So says I, “I cannot advise the Nation what to do. It must try to git along in this thing, without my tellin’ it what to do; it must think it over and do the very best it can.”
But on the warlike fightin’ question, I come out strong; I knew jest what advice to give the Nation, and I give it freely without money, and without price.
Says I, “I should think the Nations would all be perfectly ashamed of themselves to git together to show off their civilization and progress, when they hold on to that most barbarious of all barbarism, that ever come from Barbery. The most cruel and awful and the most simple too; why,” says I, “you’d whip a lot of school childern that would go to settlin’ their quarrels with their jack knives; you’d make ’em leave it out to their teacher, or the trustees, or somebody; you’d spank ’em till their nose bled if they didn’t, and,” says I, “childern ort to grow wiser as they grow older instead of foolisher; it haint a mite handsomer in grown folks than it is in childern.”