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Whitman, Walt, 1819-1892

"Complete Prose Works Specimen Days and Collect, November Boughs and Goodbye My Fancy"

Perhaps,
indeed, it is, (like Nature,) of no account in itself. It is that, as
we see, it is the best, perhaps only, fit and full means, formulater,
general caller-forth, trainer, for the million, not for grand material
personalities only, but for immortal souls. To be a voter with the
rest is not so much; and this, like every institute, will have its
imperfections.
But to become an enfranchised man, and now, impediments removed, to
stand and start without humiliation, and equal with the rest; to
commence, or have the road clear'd to commence, the grand experiment
of development, whose end, (perhaps requiring several generations,)
may be the forming of a full-grown man or woman--that _is_ something.
To ballast the State is also secured, and in our times is to be
secured, in no other way.
We do not, (at any rate I do not,) put it either on the ground that
the People, the masses, even the best of them, are, in their latent or
exhibited qualities, essentially sensible and good--nor on the ground
of their rights; but that good or bad, rights or no rights, the
democratic formula is the only safe and preservative one for coming
times. We endow the masses with the suffrage for their own sake, no
doubt; then, perhaps still more, from another point of view, for
community's sake. Leaving the rest to the sentimentalists, we
present freedom as sufficient in its scientific aspect, cold as ice,
reasoning, deductive, clear and passionless as crystal.
Democracy too is law, and of the strictest, amplest kind.


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