We ourselves doubt whether any vigour on the part of Louis XVI., united even with the prescient intellect of Turgot, could have postponed the Revolution for long, though it might somewhat have moderated its violence. This violence indeed was greatly aggravated by the interference of foreigners. The pretext, and perhaps the cause, of the massacres of September was the necessity for striking terror into Pitt and Cobourg.' But we believe that the stream which finally burst over the precipice with such terrible fury, had long been pouring downwards with a deep and steady current, such as no virtue or wisdom on the part of Louis XVI. could have barred or diverted.

We have mentioned Tocqueville's name: let us now quote from the argument of Aristocraticus a passage which contains a tribute to him, and expresses, briefly, the author's sentiments with reference to Napoleon:

'Alas! poor Tocqueville! would that he had lived to execute his projected survey of Napoleon's policy. A history of Napoleon, affording a correct estimate of his character and influence, is the great desideratum of modern political literature; and no such work would produce any impression on the opinion of France, unless it were written by a Frenchman. An unfavourable judgment of Napoleon-the only judgment consistent with truth-would, if proceeding from an Englishman, be infallibly attributed to national prejudice and jealousy.' (P. 56.)

There follows in the Dialogue a most instructive discussion on the character of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, and the false position assumed by the English Tories under George III.: they are charged with betraying their own order and making themselves mere monarchists, when they were willing to lay the liberties of the country at the foot of the king.'

Up to this point the advocates of aristocracy and monarchy have been allowed to argue their respective cases one against the other; but now Democraticus comes forward, and whilst he concurs in all that Aristocraticus has urged against kingly power, calls on him to show why he would exclude the bulk of the people from all share in the government. The reply is that the models of ancient democracy were based on slavery as a necessary condition, and that stability and permanency have

*

* Mr. Freeman, in his able work (History of Federal Go'vernment,' 1863), says: The real special weakness of pure 'democracy is that it almost seems to require slavery as a neces6 sary condition of its existence. It is hard to conceive that a large 'body of men, like the qualified citizens of Athens, can ever give so 'large a portion of their time as the Athenians did to the business of 'ruling and judging (ãpɣei kaì dikáεv) without the existence of an

ever been the attributes of aristocratic governments, as in the cases of Sparta, Carthage, and Venice. The rejoinder is given that common plunder of the people no doubt secures harmony among the oppressors; but when they have become so strong as to fear no resistance from without, they quarrel among themselves, as the feudal barons of England and the freeRitter'schaft' of the empire used to do. Democraticus alleges that the interests of the minority are separate from those of the community, and often hostile to them; that abuse of power by a minority is certain, and can only be prevented by vesting it in the people at large. His opponent grounds his exclusion of the working class from authority on their practical unfitness for its exercise, which is such as to require that they should be placed under tutelage. Moreover,' he adds, they are deficient in the proprietary feeling, which is one of the great safeguards of society.' The advocate of popular government on the other hand assumes that no credit must be given to any man for good intentions, and that the only security against the effect of sinister interests is the absence of power to do mischief.

We will now lay before our readers the arguments used by both disputants on the subject of the ballot :

'Aristocraticus.-The expediency of the ballot, as a system of secret voting, now rests principally on the example of the Australian colonies. It is admitted that the American ballot is practically a system of open voting, and that in the American elections votes are not concealed. Now, I have no hesitation in saying that, in my opinion, the influence exercised at elections by the landlord over the tenant, by the employer over the workman, is one of the legitimate influences of property, and ought not to be disturbed. Like other moral influences, it may be abused; but public opinion is, in the long run, a sufficient safeguard against its abuse. It is one of the indirect

'inferior class to relieve them from at least the lowest and most 'menial duties of their several callings. Slavery therefore is com'monly taken for granted by Greek political thinkers.' The author goes on to show, however, that slavery was no special sin of democracy in ancient times :-'it was an institution common to the whole 'ancient world, quite irrespective of particular forms of government.' (P. 38, note.) This last observation is quite true, but at the same time the objection to pure democracy remains unanswered; other forms might exist without slavery: pure democracy in the Greek sense could scarcely do so. The only possible solution of the difficulty is by means of a representative system, which virtually does away with the personal share of each citizen in the management of the government, and thus negatives those advantages of the direct political training of each individual citizen which are so much relied on by the advocates of the Athenian Agora.

means by which a preponderance is secured to intelligence in an electoral system, without resorting to the contrivance of plural

votes.

"Democraticus.-I admire your candour in spurning all subterfuge, and in putting the aristocratic argument against secret voting on its true ground. I know of no legitimate influence of property, except its direct economical uses; I cannot consent that it should be employed for a political object. It seems to me to be sheer hypocrisy to give a man a vote and to deny him the only means by which he can obtain its full and free exercise. It is only by secret voting that the working classes can give a genuine expression to their opinions, and can secure the return of representatives really devoted to their interests.' (Pp. 83, 84.)

We have extracted this passage, not because we are about to enter on the discussion of the ballot, but because it affords a good example of the fairness and precision with which our author states a political issue. It is not necessary for our present purpose to follow closely the thread of the argument in the Dialogue; but it appears to us that more might be said by the supporter of democracy than Sir George Lewis has put into his mouth, especially with reference to the political education of the people. Aristocraticus maintains that the representative system is the philosopher's stone of politics,' and that it is essential the relation between the executive and the representative body should be well organised. The argument gradually passes on to the subject of the Government of the United States; and Democraticus attacks it thus:

"The American plan of electing an irremoveable prime minister for a fixed term of four years, of making the cabinet ministers his clerks, and of excluding them from the legislative body, seems to me to be founded on a weak mistrust of the democratic influence. It is a contrivance, and a foolish contrivance, for counteracting the democratic tendency to changes, and for giving to the executive a stability with which, it is supposed, the pressure of democratic forces would be incompatible; but I do not share those apprehensions, and am quite willing that the prizes which can be safely contended for in England by a selfish aristocracy, should, under a democracy, be contended for by the representatives of the people at large, who must in general be actuated by pure and disinterested motives.' (Pp. 90, 91.)

There is, we think, much good sense in this criticism of the American system, as viewed by a thorough and consistent advocate of democracy; and the passage which follows is still more important and interesting at the present moment. He goes on to say :—

'Admiring as I do the character and opinions of the great men who founded the government of the United States, and believing that,

VOL. CXVIII. NO. CCXLI.

L

up to the present deplorable division, it secured more happiness to the people than the government of any other country upon the earth, I yet cannot consent that democracy should be judged by the working of the American Constitution. The American Constitution is an intricate system, compounded of federal and state elements; the sovereignty is partitioned between the central federal power and the separate state governments. Both are indeed fashioned upon democratic principles; but the constant conflict between federal powers and state powers, and still more between federal interests and state interests, prevents the democratic element from having a perfectly free play. This conflict has been particularly manifested during the present civil war. If the United States had been a nation under a simple democratic government, the civil war would either never have arisen, or, if it had arisen, it would not have assumed such gigantic dimensions, and it would have been brought to an earlier termination. American politics have chiefly turned on a set of compromises between the North and the South, worked out through the medium of the Federal Government. These compromises have infected the whole public life of America, and have influenced the character and conduct of all its statesmen.' (Pp. 91, 92.)

The speaker then ascribes the low character of public men in America, not to the jealous and levelling spirit of democracy,' but rather to the working of the federal system, which he considers as the unsound part of the whole constitution.

We are rather disposed to agree with Aristocraticus in attributing this last defect to the Caucus system,' which pervades the action both of the federal and state governments. It is as if a body like the Marylebone Vestry were empowered to select the sovereign and the great functionaries. The conditions of popularity and the canvass for power are made distasteful in the highest degree to those who are highly educated and who possess means of their own. Full scope is given to such petty jealousies and enmities as attach themselves to every man of eminence or distinction in public life. The eyes of those who seek to lead the public are naturally turned to the men who, in mediocrity and narrowness of views, most resemble themselves. They are not only jealous of any superiority, but they fear that such superiority will enable a man to throw off the trammels of party and the influence which they hope to exercise over him when he is in office. They think that they themselves may thus fail to secure their share in the plunder which is distributed once in four years to the supporters of a new President and his ministry. The spirit of Ostracism becomes quickened by a sense of self-interest; and the result of the whole is what we now see exemplified-that the government of a great country, and the guidance of great armies, fall into the hands of the men who are least fitted for the charge of either.

We are well aware that it may be argued in reply, as it is by Democraticus, that the indirect effects of democratic universal suffrage are far more than a compensation for the disadvantage of second-rate rulers; and that its tendency to elevate the position and intelligence of the individual man makes up for these defects in administration; but it must be remembered that the existence of the body politic-that for the sake of which all government is valuable is thus placed in perpetual peril.

Monarchicus interposes as the advocate of the federal principle. He says:

'It is an error to attribute the late secession to federalism. If the entire country from Canada to the Gulf of Mexico had been under a national government, the conflicts of interests between the North and South, and the differences on the subject of slavery, might equally have produced a separation and a rebellion.' (P. 95.) On this point we must pause a little, and offer some observations of our own.

Mr. Freeman, in the book to which we have already referred, has defined a federal commonwealth, in its perfect form, as one which is a single State in its relation to other nations, but which consists of many States with regard to its internal government. He says (p. 90.):- Federalism is essentially a compromise: 'an artificial product of an advanced state of political culture.'

This is assuredly in one sense true, for the parts must exist before the whole can be constituted. Separate States must have been organised, considerable political experience acquired, and each must be in a condition to exercise, as a community, a free-will of its own, before they can combine, and agree on the conditions and modifications necessary to consolidate their union. In discussing the American question the same author admits that secession is the mildest form which rebellion can take, and that it is sometimes necessary; he says that, as the Federal Government is entitled to full obedience in its own sphere, the refusal of that obedience, whether by States or individuals, is essentially an act of rebellion. He adds, that a seceding State may be fully justified, but that it ought to be provided with at least as good a case as the original States had for their secession from Great Britain.* But, together with these doctrines, Mr. Freeman admits that a federation, though legally perpetual, is something 'which is in its own nature essentially voluntary.' He even says:-There is a sort of inconsistency in retaining members 'against their will.' Does it not almost appear that, on these

Freeman's History of Federal Government,' pp. 116, 119.