Chapter XXVIII (3)

Hence it is that Mr. Mill, with great earnestness, insists that 'there should be different experiments in living,' and 'that the worth of different modes of life should be proved practically, when any one thinks fit to try them;' for, he continues, 'where not the person's own character, but the traditions and customs of other people are the rule of conduct, there is wanting one of the principal ingredients of human happiness, and quite the chief ingredient of individual and social progress.' Undoubtedly, that man who acts in conformity with his own nature and disposition, if they do not mislead and betray him, will have greater satisfaction and enjoyment than he who is constrained by the opinions or authority of others to pursue courses not conformable to his taste and judgment. That which men naturally incline to undertake and ardently desire to accomplish, is usually that which they are best fitted to do, and which will give the most appropriate exercise to their peculiar faculties. It is evidently the general interest that every individual in society should be employed in that peculiar work which he can best perform. More will be effected, with less dissatisfaction and suffering. And obviously, no better mode can be devised to put every man to the thing for which he is capacitated by nature, than to give full scope to his individuality, under the multiplied and powerful influences which liberal education and elevated society are calculated to exert in impelling him forward. The effect will be not only to do more for society as a whole, but to make superior men by means of self-education. 'He who does anything because it is the custom, makes no choice. He gains no practice either in discerning or desiring what is best. The mental and moral, like the muscular powers, are improved only by being used. The faculties are called into no exercise by doing a thing merely because others do it, no more than by believing a thing only because others believe it. If the grounds of an opinion are not conclusive to a person's own reason, his reason cannot be strengthened, but is likely to be weakened by adopting it: and if the inducements to an act are not such as are consentaneous to his own feelings and character (where affection or the rights of others are not concerned), it is so much done toward rendering his feelings and character inert and torpid, instead of active and energetic.'

Against these views, and, indeed, against the great body of valuable thoughts so admirably presented in this work, no rational objection would seem to be fairly adducible. But there are some very striking passages liable to a very different criticism--passages which, if not founded on actual misconception of facts, are, at least, so exaggerated in statement as to require very material modifications, both as to the existence of the evil they allege and the remedy they propose. Mr. Mill complains of the despotism of society as having utterly suppressed all spontaneity or individuality, and reduced the mass of mankind to a condition of lamentable uniformity. He thinks this evil has not only gone to a dangerous extent already, but that it threatens a still further invasion of individual liberty with even greater disasters in its train. It is better, however, to let Mr. Mill speak for himself in the following passages:

'But society has now fairly got the better of individuality; and
the danger which threatens human nature is not the excess but the
deficiency of personal impulses and preferences.' * * *

'In our times, from the highest class of society down to the
lowest, every one lives as under the eye of a hostile and dreaded
censorship.' * * *

'I do not mean that they choose what is customary, in preference to
what suits their inclination. It does not occur to them to have any
inclination except for what is customary. Thus the mind itself is
bowed to the yoke; even in what people do for pleasure, conformity
is the first thing thought of; they like in crowds; they exercise
choice only among things commonly done; peculiarity of taste,
eccentricity of conduct, are shunned equally with crimes; until by
dint of not following their own nature they have no nature to
follow; their human capacities are withered and starved; they
become incapable of any strong wishes or native pleasures, and are
generally without either opinions or feelings of home growth or
properly their own.'

And so, speaking of men of genius as being less capable than other persons 'of fitting themselves, without hurtful compression, into any of _the small number of moulds_ which society provides in order to save its members the trouble of forming their own character,' he continues:

'If they are of a strong character and break their fetters, they
become a mark for the society which has not succeeded in reducing
them to commonplace, to point at with solemn warning, as 'wild,'
'erratic,' and the like; much as if one should complain of the
Niagara river for not flowing smoothly between its banks like a
Dutch canal.'

Mr. Buckle also bears testimony to the same effect in the following language:

'The immense mass of mankind are, in regard to their usages, in a
state of social slavery; each man being bound under heavy
penalties, to conform to the standard of life common to his own
class. How serious these penalties are, is evident from the fact
that though innumerable persons complain of prevailing customs, and
wish to shake them off, they dare not do so, but continue to
practise them, though frequently at the expense of health, comfort,
and fortune. Men not cowards in other respects, and of a fair share
of moral courage, are afraid to rebel against this grievous and
exacting tyranny.'

Now, we are decidedly of opinion that the expressions used by both these eminent writers are altogether too strong. We think it is true, both in Europe and America, that whenever the masses of society recognize a man of real genius, they are ever ready to welcome him with all his peculiarities--not merely to overlook his ordinary eccentricities, but to pardon grave offences against morality, and even to imitate his errors. It may well be that the multitude are not quick to distinguish superiority; though with the proper information and opportunity of judging, they seldom fail instinctively to appreciate great qualities, especially if these be such as relate to practical life, or artistic development, rather than to abstract and speculative science. Men addicted to pursuits of the latter kind, make their merits known more slowly; but when they are known, they command unbounded respect in society.

The real difficulty, unfortunately, is, that the vast majority of men are not gifted with marked individuality, or great genius. They do not break through the trammels of custom, not so much because these trammels are strong, as because their impulses are weak. Whenever a man of real energy appears, the crowd separates before him, the cobwebs of custom are brushed away as he advances, and the world receives him very generally for what he is worth, and too often for more. That impostors and pretenders frequently succeed in deceiving society, is owing to the fact that it is ever anxious and ready to receive and reward its benefactors.

But even Mr. Mill himself recognizes the wisdom of paying due deference to the experience of mankind, and of considering established customs as _prima facie_ good, and proper to be followed. He admits 'that people should be so taught and trained in youth, as to know and benefit by the ascertained results of human experience,' and that 'the traditions and customs of other people are, to a certain extent, evidence of what their experience has taught _them_; presumptive evidence, and as such, have a claim to his deference.' From all which, it is plain that there is a just medium between what is recognized and established, and what is newly proposed as a substitute for the old. The masses of mankind are incapable of judging between the value of prevailing usages and novel practices; much less are they capable themselves of striking out new paths fit to be followed by their fellow men. The true difficulty then is the want of energetic individuality and original genius, rather than the want of a field for the exhibition of their power, or an opportunity for their exertion. It cannot be denied, however, that there is a certain inertia in society, requiring no little exertion to overcome it, even in the case of unquestionable improvements. But this is unavoidable, and at the same time most fortunate for the safety of mankind; for otherwise, we should be subjected to perpetual changes and sudden convulsions, which would make even progress itself a doubtful good.

There is also another important aspect in which this question may be advantageously considered. No one doubts that coöperation in society contributes vastly to the increase of human power, production, and happiness. Unanimity in sentiment promotes harmony, and contributes to prosperity. Nor will it be denied that if truth could be certainly attained upon any point whatever, it would be desirable that it should be universally recognized and accepted. Undoubtedly, if any man in the community should be disposed to dispute that truth, he ought to be permitted freely to do so; but we cannot see that this opposition would be better than his acquiescence. Now, the problem is to reconcile the degree of unanimity and coöperation which is requisite for the full exertion of social power, with that amount of individuality which would be useful in promoting a progressive change. Spontaneity or originality is disintegrating in its immediate tendency. It disturbs the order of society, though, in the end, on the whole, it is advantageous. Thus we have the tenacity of old habits and prevailing sentiments on the one hand, tending to the harmony of society, and enabling all its members to coöperate in the great works which make communities powerful. On the other hand, we have the sporadic and disturbing efforts of individual genius, ever seeking to withdraw the social current into new channels, and eventually, through many trials, errors, failures, and triumphs, alluring and leading it into better paths. It is not good for society that either of these conflicting forces should gain the decided ascendency; nor do we believe with Mr. Mill, that the preponderance at the present time belongs to the former.

As to the influence of fashion, which is evidently alluded to in the passages quoted, that plainly stands on a different and peculiar footing. It has a double power to enforce its decrees. The one is economical and commercial--the power of capital to control productions, and the advantages of producing largely after a few forms or patterns; the other is the social or psychological influence--the natural sympathy among men which induces uniformity of dress and habit. Extravagant excess often rules. Yet there is never wanting in the public of all civilized countries, a disposition to adopt improvements when they contribute to the general convenience, economy, and happiness; and we believe, on the whole, the tendency is to become more and more rational every day. Besides, a certain degree of uniformity is desirable in this as in all other things. No little loss and inconvenience would ensue if the fancies of every individual were permitted to run riot, and no man's taste were modified by that of his neighbor, or controlled by the general inclination. It is impossible to conceive the motley and discordant mass which a community of such people would present.

The bearing of these social phenomena in other directions and upon other interests, is the subject of equal condemnation by the author. The effect upon government, and the general tendency of the democratic principle, are represented in such highly colored pictures as these:

'In sober truth, whatever homage may be professed, or even paid to
real or supposed mental superiority, the general tendency of things
throughout the world is to render mediocrity the ascendant power
among mankind.

* * * * *

'At present, individuals are lost in the crowd. In politics it is
almost a triviality to say that public opinion rules the world. The
only power deserving the name is that of masses, and of
governments, while they make themselves the organ of the tendencies
and instincts of masses. This is as true in the moral and social
relations of private life as in public transactions. Those whose
opinions go by the name of public opinions, are not always the same
sort of public; in America they are the whole white population; in
England, chiefly the middle class. But they are always a mass, that
is to say, collective mediocrity.

* * * * *

'Their thinking is done for them by one mind like themselves,
addressing them or speaking in their name, on the spur of the
moment, through the newspapers. I do not assert that anything
better is compatible, as a general rule, with the present low state
of the human mind. But that does not hinder the government of
mediocrity from being mediocre government. No government by a
democracy or a numerous aristocracy, either in its political acts,
or in the opinions, qualities, and tone of mind which it fosters,
ever did or could rise above mediocrity, except in so far as the
sovereign many may have let themselves be guided (which in their
best times they have always done) by the counsels and influence of
a more highly gifted and instructed One or Few. The initiation of
all wise or noble things comes and must come from individuals;
generally at first from some one individual.'

In all this there is too much truth; but it is truth which is wholly unavoidable. Nor are the circumstances complained of peculiar to the present age, or to the institutions which now generally prevail. Democratic and representative forms of government have so degenerated, as to fail in the vital point of bringing the best and ablest men to the control of affairs. But has any more despotic or hereditary form been equally successful, in the long run, in promoting the freedom, progress, and grandeur of nations? Is the mediocrity of a whole people more injurious to humanity than the precarious superiority of distinguished families, or the selfish power of haughty privileged classes? One important consideration seems to be overlooked by Mr. Mill in these one-sided views of the present condition of society; and that is, the comparatively greater elevation and improvement of the whole mass of civilized communities; and the question is suggested, whether humanity is more interested in the mediocre power of the millions, or the exceptional greatness of a few men of extraordinary genius; whether the influence of individual originality is actually lost to the world, because it is apparently overshadowed by the moderate intelligence of the countless masses of men. We maintain that the loss of this influence is not real, but merely apparent: like some great wave in the boundless ocean, it seems to sink into the quiet surface, while in truth its effects are necessarily felt on the shores of the most distant continents and islands. Society, at the present time, is in a state of transition; it is engaged in absorbing ideas and influences which seem utterly to disappear in its fathomless depths, while it is simply preparing for higher exertions and nobler conquests over ignorance and tyranny.

One thing at least may be said with obvious truth, and with certainty of large compensation for the evils supposed to exist in the present condition of society, as represented by Mr. Mill; it is this: if public opinion is so omnipotent in the enforcement of mediocre schemes and ideas, it can bring to bear a vast fund of power, whenever real genius may be so fortunate as to make itself felt and respected. No man having any faith in humanity, not even Mr. Mill himself, will deny the power of individual genius to make its impression even on the mediocre masses; for that would be to deny the essential nature and efficiency of originality, and its capacity to accomplish the work which it is destined to do for the benefit of mankind. Actual conditions at the present moment, may possibly place unusual obstructions in the way of genius; though the entire freedom and accessibility of the press would seem to negative that view. At any rate, it follows from the very premises of Mr. Mill and those who think with him, that the actual organization of society, of which he complains, if it can be wielded in the interest of great ideas, is possessed of an authority which will make its decrees irresistible. In this fact we see ground of hope, rather than of despair, for the future of mankind. Mediocrity cannot always hold the reins and direct the progress of human society.

In his work on representative government, Mr. Mill fully recognizes the operation of free institutions as 'an agency of national education;' and he well says, 'a representative constitution is a means of bringing the general standard of intelligence and honesty existing in the community, and the individual intellect and virtue of its wisest members more directly to bear upon the government, and investing them with greater influence in it than they would have under any other mode of organization.' It cannot be otherwise. The masses are gradually rising in intelligence, as well as in the capacity and disposition to recognize and receive real superiority wherever it may be found. Certain cumbrous machinery heretofore used in social and political action, now stands in the way of free and efficient efforts to reach the best results. But these impediments will soon be swept away. They cannot remain eternally in the path of society; for, if by no other means, they will be removed by the flood of discontent and denunciation which now surges violently against them, and threatens them every instant with demolition and destruction.

CLOUD AND SUNSHINE.

A dusky vapor veils the sky,
And darkens on the dewy slopes;
Chill airs on rustling wings flit by,
Sad as the sigh o'er buried hopes:
I tread the cloistered walk alone,
Between the shadow and the light,
While from the church tower thronging down
Pale phantoms greet the coming night.

My heart swells high with scorn and hate
At social fictions, narrow laws
By which the few maintain their state,
And build us out with golden bars:
'She wears a careless smile,' I said,
'And regal jewels on her brow;
Those queenly lips, ere now, have made
Rare mockery of her broken vow.

'And what was I,--to touch that heart?
Only a poet, made to pour
Love's silver phrase with subtle art
In tides of music at her door.
What though she bore a brightened blush,
As if the echo linger'd long?
Even so she listens to the thrush
That thrills the air with eddying song.

'How sweet, on summer-scented morns,
To hear through all our lingering walk,
As soft as dew on fragrant lawns,
The wandering music of her talk!
Ah! dreaming heart, that asked no more
When dower'd with that o'erflowing smile:
Ah! foolish heart, to linger o'er
The memories that can still beguile.'

I paused. On distant breezes borne,
A silken stir floats slowly by,
And from the clouds a silver dawn
Breaks through the vapor-shrouded sky;
The cloister'd walk is paved with light,
And bathed in crystal beams she stands:
No jewels crown her presence bright,
A single rose is in her hands.

'Oh! fair white rose,' she softly said,
'Make peace between my love and me;
Lest from my life the colors fade,
And leave me faint and pale like thee:
Tell him that dearer is the flower
Once honored by his poet hand,
Than ermined rank, and princely power,
With any noble in the land.'

* * * * *

Then soft as rose-leaf on my brow
A sudden kiss comes floating down,
On wings as light as angels know,
And crowns me with a kingly crown.
And banish'd by a touch divine,
Fled all the memories of pain;
I clasped the pleading hands in mine,
And told her all my love again.

The pale mist like an incense cloud
From some great altar drifts away,
In silvery fullness o'er us flows
The glory of a pallid day.
Amid the opening buds of hope
I smile at half-forgotten fears;
For love, I said, grows holier still
And purer through baptismal tears.

'IS THERE ANYTHING IN IT?

'A true bill.'-SHAKSPEARE.

I used to be 'verdant' in the art of legislation. A short time since I paid my initiation fee, and learned the mystery. It is true I had heard much of legislative corruption, and had often seen paragraphs relating thereto in the newspapers, but I looked upon them as political squibs, put forth by the 'outs' in revenge for the defeat of their party schemes. Here let me stoutly assert that I cannot testify of my own knowledge to any instance of legislative corruption. _Mem:_ This declaration is intended to save me from being called before any of the numerous investigating committees, which, like the schoolmaster, are abroad just now. At the same time I propose to relate in brief terms how I was initiated, and the reader may rest assured that it is 'an ower true tale.'

In the winter of 186-, not very long ago, you will perceive, the corporation of which I was a member found it important to obtain some legislation which would be very serviceable to those concerned. I was selected to go to Harrisburg, to see the members of the Legislature individually, and request them, if there was nothing objectionable in the bill, to vote for it. I had no doubt but that my reasons would prove satisfactory, especially as our business was of a nature to essentially contribute to the development of the mineral and agricultural resources of the State. With these honest and innocent ideas of legislation, I started on my mission. On arriving at the capitol, I called on our immediate member, Mr. Jones, who, if his own professions were to be trusted, was anxious to do all he could to promote the object of my visit. He was an old member, and 'knew the ropes.' From him I had every reason to expect aid in procuring the passage of my bill. His room was at a hotel, where a large number of the members of both houses boarded, and he knew them all. Of course, it was a very proper place for me to take rooms. I accompanied Jones to the gentlemen's sitting room in the evening, where he introduced me to many of his fellow legislators, at the same time hinting to them that I might have a bill of some importance for them to consider. In one or two instances, I noticed that knowing glances were exchanged between Jones and those to whom he introduced me. On one occasion a member called him aside, and, after some other conversation, in a low tone, said: _'Is there anything in it?'_ The remark was so decidedly foreign to anything that could refer to my bill, that I concluded that it related to some rumor that was floating about without any certainty of its truth.

During the next day, I employed myself in listening to the debates and watching the course of business in the House. It was all new to me, and, of course, very interesting. While seated in the lobby, a middle-aged man of short stature, dark whiskers, and limping gait, whom I had heard designated as 'Sheriff,' and who appeared to have no visible means of support in Harrisburg, except his cane, carelessly dropped into a seat by my side, and engaged in commonplace conversation. He soon approached a more business-like matter, and said he had understood I was interested in some local legislation which would come before the House. I told him that I had charge of a bill which I should endeavor to have passed, 'It requires some tact and experience,' said he, 'to engineer a bill through such a House as this;' and he ended this preliminary conversation by asking the same mysterious question I had heard the night previous, viz.; _'Is there anything in it?'_ I answered that I hoped there would be something in it, if it passed, for the parties interested, as it would enable us to develop certain matters of interest to the State, as well as to make a profit for the stockholders. 'If,' said he, 'it is a bill of such importance, you ought to have some man of experience to assist you in putting it through.' I assured him that 'our member' was a man of experience, and would stand by me, and be ready and willing to impart any instruction that might be necessary. The answer I received was a sarcastic smile, and the 'Sheriff' left.

I continued to watch the course of legislation for a few days, and soon discovered that I was the object of considerable interest to a number of outsiders. Whenever I entered the lobby, the 'Sheriff' and several gentlemen, who were always in his company, would cast their eyes in the direction of my seat, and then confer together. They seemed to keep a strict watch on my movements. At last, when an opportunity offered, I asked Jones what this 'Sheriff' was doing about the House. 'He seems to have no business, and is constantly watching the proceedings of both Houses, vibrating between them like an animated pendulum,' said I. 'Oh,' said Jones, 'he is a member of the _Third House!_' Here was a new thing to me. I evidently had not learned all the machinery of legislating. I asked for an explanation, and soon learned that the 'Third House' consisted of old ex-members of either House or Senate, broken-down politicians, professional borers, and other vagrants who had made themselves familiar with the _modus operandi_ of legislation, and who negotiated for the votes of members on terms to be agreed upon by the contracting parties--in short, these were the Lobby members of the Legislature--a portion of mankind which I had never heard mentioned in terms other than contempt and disgust. Was I then to become familiar with these leeches--these genteel loafers, who, having no apparent business, yet manage to live at the best hotels, drink the best of wines, and go home at the end of the session with more money than any of the _honest_ members? The sequel will show.

After waiting a week, I became impatient at the want of interest on the part of Jones in my bill, which so materially concerned a large number of his constituents. He, better than any other member, knew how much our company was doing for the development of the country, the furnishing of employment for laborers, and the increase of taxable inhabitants. He knew that not a man in the county had an objection to urge, or a remonstrance to present against our proposition. Why, then, did he not take my ready-drawn bill and present it without any further delay?

Jones was a member of the committee on corporations, and was said to have much influence in that important vestibule to the temple whence corporate privileges issue. He might, then, if so disposed, soon have my bill through that committee, I determined to bring the matter to a point at once, and cut short my board bill by a speedy presentation of my legislative bill, or obtain the unequivocal refusal of 'our member' to act. I had spent one Sunday in Harrisburg, and did not wish to suffer another infliction of the kind, if any effort of mine could avoid it. On Monday the House did not meet until three o'clock, as those members who live within a few hours' ride of the capital always wish to go home, and another class wish to spend Saturday and Sunday in Philadelphia, enjoying the various _hospitalities_ of the city of Brotherly Love, and the superior facilities for religious instruction, of which legislators generally stand in great need. These two parties combine, and have no difficulty in adjourning over from Friday noon to Monday evening.

At the meeting of the House, I was promptly on hand, and at once attacked Jones. I handed him my bill, drawn in due form, saying:

'Mr. Jones, I have been here a week, and have made no progress in the business for which I came. I am anxious to be at home attending to other duties. I propose to leave the bill in your hands, and depend upon you to see it through. There seems to be no necessity of my being detained longer, for I cannot hasten the matter. There cannot be the slightest objection, I presume, to its passage, when once introduced.'

Jones saw that I was becoming impatient, and seemed to be entirely satisfied that I should be quite so; and he informed me that the chief difficulty would be in passing it through the committee on corporations. The bills referred to that committee, he said, were always scrutinized very closely, and it would need some engineering. He clapped his hands, and called a page to his seat, whispered a few words to him, when he, like Puck, darted off on his errand. Jones then turned to me, and renewed the conversation. I soon saw the veritable Third House 'Sheriff,' whom I have described, approaching us. 'Our member' then handed him the bill, saying:

'My friend here is very desirous of pushing his bill through. Do you think there will be any difficulty about it?'

I could not see the propriety of consulting this Third House borer, especially as he was a total stranger to me. The 'Sheriff' looked wise a short time, and then said:

'Well' (addressing his conversation to me), 'you know that we have all kinds of men to deal with here, and some of them will pay no attention to a bill, however meritorious, _if there is nothing in it_--I mean, if it brings no money to their pockets. It is very lamentable that such is the case, but long experience has taught me that no bill of as much importance as yours, can get through here, without the aid of money.'

I was dumb with indignation! The flood of legislative light thus suddenly shed upon my unsophisticated mental vision, was too dazzling for me. I replied, when I could command my voice, with some very severe animadversions on bribery and corruption, with which the 'Sheriff' and Jones expressed a hearty agreement, but they said we must take men as we find them, and deal with them accordingly, or do without what we knew to be our just dues; and the 'Sheriff' hobbled away, and took a seat in the lobby. I left Jones with a determination to go over to the Senate and consult with the Senator from our district, and ascertain whether he entertained the same views of necessary appliances for legislation, as did my friends of the Second and Third Houses. Our Senator was a very sedate man, who had a reputation for honesty and piety, equalled only by that of Jones himself. I explained my business, showed him my bill, and he read it carefully through. On handing it back to me, he said, quietly:

'If there _is anything in it,_ it will pass without much opposition. If not, it will hardly go through the House. There is a _Ring_ formed over there, which will prevent any legislation of this kind, unless it is well paid for.'

Here was another legislative idiom! 'The Ring.' What did that mean? I was not long kept in ignorance, for I soon learned that it was a combination of members who had agreed to vote for no bill unless approved by them, and not only approved, but well paid for. It was easy for twenty or thirty individuals to control all important legislation in this way, by casting their votes for one side or the other. This ring is always in alliance with the Third House, and always in market, as I learned by my brief experience.

Satisfied that I must go about the business of legislation as I would any other purchase, I began to figure up the profit and loss account, to see how much fleecing we could stand, and make the bill profitable to ourselves. I returned to Jones to ascertain, if possible, if he was in the ring, and how much money it would require to get my bill through. He at once and most emphatically disclaimed all knowledge of the ring, and could not tell at all, how much money would be needed. He advised me to go to my Third House friend, the 'Sheriff,' who was posted up in such matters, and I concluded to act on his suggestion. The 'Sheriff's' advice was of a very practical nature. He thought it might take $3,000 to get it through--perhaps $5,000 for both House and Senate. It seemed a sheer piece of robbery and corruption, and I delayed further action until I could write to the directors of our corporation and state the case to them. This delayed me another week. When the answer came, it enclosed a check for $5,000, with directions to 'buy the scoundrels, if they were for sale, like dogs in the market.' On the day after I received the check, I went to the House, determined to make the best terms I could among those who followed legislation as a trade and made merchandise of their votes. Jones thought $3,000 would get it through the committee on corporations, and if I would hand him that amount he would manage it as economically as possible. He insisted that he did not wish anything for himself. He would scorn to accept a cent for his influence, and would feel everlastingly disgraced to take a farthing from a constituent. He was only anxious to serve me and have me fleeced as little as possible. Of course, I believed him. In proof of my confidence, I immediately handed over $2,000 to his custody, in convenient packages for distribution. The same day my bill was read in place and referred to the committee on corporations! This was on Tuesday. On Thursday I was at the seat of Jones, when he reported the bill from his committee. As he took it from his desk, a small strip of paper was dropped upon the floor. It seemed to have been accidentally folded in the bill. It was, beyond all question, accidentally dropped. I picked it up, not knowing but that it might be of some importance. As he was reporting various bills, I looked at the slip of paper. The title of my bill was at the head, or immediately following the words, 'In committee,' and below were eight names, foremost of which was that of 'our member.' The names and figures were as follows:

Jones, $125 McGee, $125
Smith, 125 McMurphy, 125
Baker, 125 Grabup, 125
Van Dunk, 125 Holdum, 125
-----
Am't received by Jones, $1,000

I folded this interesting _morceau_, and placed it in my pocket. I was greatly surprised to see the name of Jones down for $125, when he had so positively declared that he did not want a cent; but I was happy to find that he had expended only $1,000 to get it through the committee. When he took his seat, I asked him if he had any difficulty in passing the bill through the committee? He said he had a little. The members thought $2,000 rather a small 'divy' (the legislative commercial phrase for dividend) for such a bill; but he induced them to let it go through for that sum. I could not but remember that little memorandum in my pocket, which only exhibited a distribution of half that amount, including one eighth of the sum to 'Jones.' It looked very much as if his fellow committee men had been sold as well as bought, and that he had quietly pocketed $1,125 in the operation. However, I said nothing, but concluded that I was fast being initiated into the mysteries of _honorable_ legislation. I must now wait to see if my money would hold out to carry the bill through, provided Jones continued to be the financial agent, and continued to make a fifty per cent. dividend for himself before disbursing to his fellows. I thought his course did not look like 'honor among thieves.'

After the bill was reported, my friend, the 'Sheriff,' came to congratulate me on such prompt action by the committee, and hoped I would be as successful with the ring on the floor of the House. I told him that he seemed to be well posted on such matters, and I would like to retain him as my counsellor in the case. With that characteristic modesty which adheres to a veteran member of the Third House, who has served fifteen winters in the lobby, he protested his want of ability to manage such matters; but concluded that, if I really desired it, he would assist me all in his power. I insisted that he was just the man, and must stand by me. We immediately entered into negotiations, I was to place my remaining $3,000 in his hands, and he would use such portions of it as would be necessary to secure the ring in both branches of the Legislature. He would disburse as little as possible, and return me what remained, out of which I could pay him what I thought proper for his services. As he was well acquainted with nearly all the members, I had no doubt of his ability to carry it through, for it was just that kind of a bill that no valid objection could be raised against. Jones, who had proved by his acts how entirely disinterested he was in all his efforts in my behalf, told me that there need be no fear of the 'Sheriff,' and he (Jones) would be responsible for a fair account of the disbursement of the money. I could have no suspicion of Jones's honesty and fair dealing after my previous experience; so, in presence of our honest member, I handed over the $3,000. Soon after this, I saw the 'Sheriff' and Jones figuring earnestly together, and then go and consult with several members, who I supposed were in the ring. It would be ungenerous to suppose that Jones would receive money for voting for a bill to improve his own county, and he was undoubtedly doing all he could without compensation, while entirely conscious that others were being paid. My readers will be as ready to adopt this opinion as myself after what I have already recorded of him. Private bill day came, and mine was on the calendar. I must confess to a little palpitation when I heard the title read. I was made anxious and indignant, when a member from Philadelphia started to his feet, and said:

'I object to that bill.'

Jones trusted the member would not insist on his objection to that purely local bill. It was no use, the objection was adhered to. When business proceeded again, Jones went to the objecting member, who sat near where I stood anxiously watching the proceedings. Jones spoke to him warmly, when the other retorted with:

'Well, _if there is anything in it,_ I will withdraw my objection, but not until I am _satisfied_.'

The objector passed into the rotunda with Jones and the 'Sheriff,' where he _must_ have been satisfied, for when he returned to his seat, he withdrew his objection, and it was, with the others, laid aside for a second reading. I never knew the arguments which were presented to induce him to withdraw his objection, but he probably found _how much_ there was 'in it.' In the afternoon my bill passed without opposition.

The 'Sheriff' now informed me that I must hurry up the transcribing of my bill, or it would be a long time in getting over to the Senate. I told him that I supposed all bills must take their course according to their numbers. He said he would go to the clerk with me and get it 'hurried up.' When we spoke to the clerk, he said it could not be transcribed for a day or two, for it was nearly at the bottom of the large package that had been passed. The 'Sheriff' quietly handed a five-dollar note to the clerk, and his mind suddenly changed, and, 'seeing it is for you,' he would have it attended to immediately. The next thing to be looked for was a transcribing clerk who would do it. Another five-dollar note accomplished this object, and the work was finished up that night. In the morning it went to the Senate, and there it went through smoothly.

After my success, I called on the 'Sheriff' to see how much of the $3,000 he had used. As I anticipated, it was all used; but I strongly suspected that the whole ring, in this case, consisted of Jones, the 'Sheriff,' and the objecting member who went into the rotunda, and that the two former made a pretty large 'divy,' and paid the others, including the clerks, as little as possible.

In the course of my investigations, I learned that one of the Third House often receives money on his own representation that certain members will not vote without pay, when they (the members) are entirely innocent and unsuspecting, while the leeches of the lobby are selling their votes and charging them with bribery.

Such is the little 'mystery' which I paid five thousand dollars to become acquainted with. As our company has no more acts of incorporation to ask for, I hope never to be obliged to learn the lesson over again.

Perhaps others may manage better and cheaper from taking note of my experience.

THE CONFEDERATION AND THE NATION.

When the States which are now in war against the Government, declared themselves no longer bound by the Constitution, and no longer parts of the nation, they rested their action, so far as they deigned to account for it, on the ground that the United States were nothing more than a confederation, constituted such by a mere compact, which could be broken when the interests or the whim of any party so dictated. The loyal States, on the other hand, straightway took up arms in defence of the integrity of the nation, constituted such by organic law, which is supreme forever throughout the length and breadth of the land. Now, while there are in our midst men base enough to endeavor to seduce the unthinking portion of our community to the idea that the traitors are entitled to those rights, and to be treated in that way conceded only by one nation to another, it may be well to consider, in the light of our own history, the argument as to the nature of our Government; for it is only by granting the correctness of the view advanced by the rebels, that we can for one moment entertain any proposition for compromise, or any of those vague but pernicious ideas brought forward by Peace Democrats looking to a disgraceful settlement of this war. With this purpose in view, we propose to briefly examine the main points in the Articles of Confederation and the Constitution, and by thus comparing the frameworks of the two governments, to show the definite and irreconcilable difference which exists between them.

The Articles of Confederation were entered on within four days after the second anniversary of the Declaration of Independence, by the same body which adopted that instrument, and about nine years before the adoption of the Constitution in convention. The three years which just elapsed had been a season of singular and searching trial. While unity of feeling was compelled in the face of a powerful and aggressive foe, and in the defence of liberties held and prized in common, the mutual relations of the colonies were so indefinitely ascertained, and authority was so loosely bestowed, that unity of action was impossible; there was no power to do the very things which necessity and desire alike dictated. Having taken up arms against the most powerful nation of the time, whose system enabled it to concentrate vast energies on the subjugation of this dozen revolted colonies scattered along the Atlantic coast, they found themselves in so helplessly disorganized a condition, that, separated from the mother country, they could hardly, for any length of time, have successfully pursued the quiet life of peace.

Under these circumstances, they bound themselves together by Articles of Confederation. These were, what similar articles had always been, a species of treaty, having peculiar objects, seeking them in a peculiar way, and declared perpetual, but having an obligation no stronger than that of a treaty, and practically dissoluble at the will of the parties. Thus, the States issued letters of marque and reprisal; Congress determined on peace and war, but the States were depended on to accept the former and carry on the latter when declared. Congress might ascertain the number of ships and men to be furnished, but the States appointed the officers. Congress might fix the sums necessary to be used in defraying public expenses, but the States must raise them. Congress might regulate the value of coin, but the States might issue it. The loose character of this tie is seen still more plainly in the fact that there was no efficient final tribunal. The commissioners appointed by Congress might decide a controversy arising between two States, but there was nothing by which the commissioners could be guided, no stability or force as precedents in their decisions when made, and no power to enforce them if neglected or rejected by one or both the parties. It was simply a provision for constantly recurring arbitration, obtained by reference to a changeable, and practically unauthoritative board of judges. Moreover, this government, weak and unorganized as it was, was withdrawn on the adjournment of Congress; for the Committee of States, appointed to act in the recess, was useless, as well from the paucity of its powers, as from the fact that a quorum of its members could seldom be obtained.

Such a system, or rather, lack of system, could be tolerated only while the peril of their life and liberties compelled the people to perform the duties the government was powerless to enforce. After the war was over, and the people were left with independence and freedom, with a powerful ally in Europe, with elements of unrivalled resource, but with a heavy load of debt, with disorganized social and political relations, with crippled commerce, and without the powerful uniting pressure from outside, this system of confederation began to develop its evils and its insufficiency. To complete the triumph begun by the desolating struggle through which we had just passed, and, by building up a system under whose operation the nation's wealth could pay the nation's debt, and the nation's power protect the nation's honor and interest, to assert at once the claim and the right to respect, was the necessity of the time. To answer this necessity was a very different thing from conducting the war. Commerce was now to take the place of naval conflict; mutual intercourse in the interest of trade was to replace the performance of those duties which the common defence had imposed. The life of the people was now to be saved, not by armed struggles in its defence, but by nurturing its resources, opening its various channels, and freeing it for the performance of its healthful and renewing functions.

For this purpose, a system which could not make treaties of commerce without leaving it in the power of thirteen States to break them by retaliation, which could not prevent one or all of these States from utterly prohibiting the import or export of such commodities as they chose, and which left the people powerless to induce or compel advantages from foreign commerce, while it was even more helpless in regard to domestic commerce--for this purpose such a system was absolutely useless.

After struggling for a few years under the cramping and confusing effects of this system, it was given up, and the Constitution, as framed in 1787, was adopted. The relations assumed by the States at this time were marked. By the Articles, each State had retained its sovereignty, freedom, and independence. By the Constitution, the people and the States reserved such powers as were not expressly given to the United States, or prohibited to the States. The omission of the claim to sovereignty and independence in the Constitution, is as significant as is its presence in the Articles. It appears as a definite surrender of those attributes, as complete, as binding, as permanent as language could make it. Nor must we forget, while the momentous questions of our times are yet undecided, that sovereignty once surrendered can never be 'resumed.' The relations, the duties, and the attributes of the life to which it belongs have been completely and forever given up, while those of another have been as entirely and irrevocably assumed.

The States had thus passed from one into another sphere of existence, whose relations were as different as their objects. The Articles were a league of friendship for common defence, the security of liberties, and the general and mutual welfare. No identity of interest was supposed to exist or sought to be served. Such needs as were, at the time of the adoption, felt in common, were provided for, and the States were left to provide, as best they could, for the others. This much and no more was sought by the States. That the objects of the Constitution were different, as well as that they were avowed by a far different authority, is shown in the declaration with which it opens: 'We THE PEOPLE of the United States, in order to form a more perfect union'--not as to time, for both the old and the new union were declared perpetual; but in kind, for which the States surrendered the former claim to sovereignty and independence. 'To establish justice'--not to insure the amicable relations of allied States, but to form a tribunal which should decide upon the common allegiance and the common privileges of the people. 'To insure domestic tranquillity'--an object unrecognized in the Articles of Confederation, and implying, not association but identity; not the mutual obligations of partnership, but the intimate connection of the national household. 'Do ordain and establish this Constitution.' There is no longer the indefinite expression of half-conceived obligation, nor the imperfect pledge to imperfect union, but there is, instead, the solemn, authoritative language of a sovereign people, self-contained, self-sufficing, conscious alike of its duties and its rights, giving form to what shall be the law of the land, fundamental as being based on the will of the people, supreme as higher than the will of any part of the people, whether individual or State.

A difference as radical pervades all the provisions of the Constitution. By the Articles, the vote in Congress was taken by States. By the Constitution, a majority controls in all but extraordinary business, and the vote is always taken by members. The Congress is no longer the assembled States; it is the assembled representatives of the people--of the nation. It is no longer charged with the management of the mutual relations of parties to an alliance, but with the making of laws which shall be the supreme law of the land throughout its entire extent. By the Articles, prohibitions to the States are made conditional on the consent of Congress--but by the Constitution, the more important acts of sovereignty--forming treaties, issuing bills of credit, regulating the circulating medium--are unconditionally forbidden to the States. The Congress now controls foreign commerce, raises the revenue, levies taxes, and cares for the welfare of the nation. By the Articles, new members of the Confederation were to be admitted by the consent of nine--about two-thirds of the States. By the Constitution, the applicants are regarded rather as an organized body of men, seeking to identify themselves with the American people. To such the national Congress extends the privilege of citizenship, and from such demands conformity to our method of national life.