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Whitman, Walt, 1819-1892

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

Shams, &c.,
will always be the show, like ocean's scum; enough, if waters deep
and clear make up the rest. Enough, that while the piled embroider'd
shoddy gaud and fraud spreads to the superficial eye, the hidden warp
and weft are genuine, and will wear forever. Enough, in short, that
the race, the land which could raise such as the late rebellion, could
also put it down. The average man of a land at last only is important.
He, in these States, remains immortal owner and boss, deriving good
uses, somehow, out of any sort of servant in office, even the basest;
(certain universal requisites, and their settled regularity and
protection, being first secured,) a nation like ours, in a sort of
geological formation state, trying continually new experiments,
choosing new delegations, is not served by the best men only, but
sometimes more by those that provoke it--by the combats they arouse.
Thus national rage, fury, discussions, &c., better than content. Thus,
also, the warning signals, invaluable for after times.
What is more dramatic than the spectacle we have seen repeated, and
doubtless long shall see--the popular judgment taking the successful
candidates on trial in the offices--standing off, as it were, and
observing them and their doings for a while, and always giving,
finally, the fit, exactly due reward? I think, after all, the
sublimest part of political history, and its culmination, is currently
issuing from the American people. I know nothing grander, better
exercise, better digestion, more positive proof of the past, the
triumphant result of faith in human-kind, than a well-contested
American national election.


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